• Published 25th Dec 2014
  • 4,083 Views, 171 Comments

Simple Melodies are for Fillies - bahatumay

Introverted DJ Vinyl Scratch tries to win over a famous cellist while her roommate Lyra tries to figure out where she stands with the candy maker at the mall. It sortof works.

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Slice of Life and Lasagna

Lyra examined herself in the mirror and rotated her torso slightly. She tugged down the tight shirt she wore and considered her cleavage and adjusted the wide belt that held up her tight pants, and then a wide smile split her face. She had been trying for a happy medium of playful teasing without coming across as too explicit, and she had absolutely nailed it, if she did say so herself.

And say so she did. “Looking good, Lyra!” she said, giving herself a wink and a thumbs up.

Satisfied, she opened the door to her room and stopped short. It smelled delicious in the house. She glanced left and right, but didn’t see Vinyl. She quickly scampered over to the kitchen and peeked inside. Her eyes widened as they landed on a small plate of garlic breadsticks. She licked her lips. Surely Vinyl wouldn't mind if she took just one?

Looking around, she sneaked in further and slowly reached for one.

And then an oven mitt carried in light cobalt blue magic bopped her lightly on the back of the head. “No! Bad Lyra! No eating yet,” Vinyl scolded from behind her. “Dinner is in half an hour, you can wait.”

Lyra turned to glare at Vinyl and rubbed the back of her head, but it was more for show than anything; it had been a playful hit and nothing more. “It smells so good, though,” she whined.

Vinyl grinned as she finished tying back her hair. “My world-famous lasagna with six layers and five, count them, five kinds of cheeses, lovingly coated in a variety of spices and just a hint of parsley on top.”

Lyra contented herself by peeking in the oven door. Then she shut it and turned back to Vinyl, frowning. “This isn't enough for three,” she protested.

“No, but it is enough for two.”

“You're not staying?” Lyra asked, surprised.

“Nah. Tonight, I feast on complimentary peanuts and pink lemonade.” She grinned as she headed for a supply drawer. “And most of your garlic bread, so sorry in advance.”

Lyra grinned ruefully. “Gig tonight?”

“Yep. Pon-3 does, anyway. Do I usually wear this much mascara?” Vinyl asked rhetorically.

Lyra folded her arms. “Aww. I wanted you to meet Bon Bon.”

Vinyl scoffed as she finished loading her pockets with glowsticks. “And I want my wallet to not be as empty as the Rusty Horseshoe's manager's head, so it’ll have to be next time.”

Lyra smiled a consoling smile. “You're working for her tonight, eh?”

“She's not too bright, but she pays good,” Vinyl shrugged and hit the drawer shut with her hip. “And it's not so bad a gig, really.”

“Vinyl, you perform behind a chicken wire cage because that one DJ got hit with a bottle and had to be taken to the hospital,” Lyra deadpanned.

“I know who you're talking about, and he kindof deserved it,” Vinyl said dismissively. “He was always bad at reading the crowd. You gotta feel the crowd, you dig?”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Just as long as the crowd doesn’t feel like sending you to the hospital,” she muttered darkly. “I am not staying up until three AM in the ER with you again.”

“It was one time!” Vinyl protested as she tossed her oven mitts on the counter. “I gotta go get dressed. Just remember to take the lasagna out of the oven in half an hour.”

“More like undressed,” Lyra said cheekily.

“Excuse you,” Vinyl said, feigning offense. “I'll have you know I wear more articles of clothing as Pon-3 than not.”

Lyra grinned, teasing. “Gloves don't count as two articles of clothing.”

“They do, too!” Vinyl said.

“And fishnets aren't clothes, either.”

Vinyl paused, then retorted, “You've obviously never worn them.”

Lyra opened her mouth… then shut it.

“You’ve never worn fishnets?” Vinyl laughed, but then it trailed off. “Eh, you're not missing too much,” she admitted wryly. “They ride up something awful. But they get some good reactions. Especially when they match with the top.”

Lyra shrugged.

Vinyl removed her hairtie and ran her hand through her hair, sending a jolt of static electricity that made it stand on end and look even wilder than usual. “Just remember. Thirty minutes.”

* * *

Vinyl pushed the box of records to the edge of the bottom step with her foot and then groaned. It was only about four steps to the top, but still it looked like an insurmountable mountain to someone as tired as she. She threw her head back and exhaled her displeasure roughly towards the sky. It had been a long, rough show, and the adrenaline had worn off a bit earlier than she would have liked.

But still, she couldn’t exactly sleep out here, so she forced herself up the stairs and fell against the door. The handle didn’t move at her touch. Cursing locks and doors in general, she dug around for her keys in the tiny pockets of her far-too-tight shorts and then nudged the door open. She stopped short as the stench of burnt something assaulted her senses.

Her eyes widened. Now fully alert, she left her records on the ground and sprinted into the kitchen.

There was no fire; but there was definitely charred evidence of one. The oven door and the space above was blackened with soot, and Vinyl groaned.

Lyra jumped up from the kitchen table and banged her knee against the tabletop. She hissed under her breath and hopped around for a bit, then looked up and smiled at Vinyl. “Vinyl! You're home early.”

“I went overtime an hour and a half and earned an extra seventy bits.” Her eyes wandered behind Lyra to examine the oven again. “And something tells me that's going to go down the drain pretty soon.”

“Oh, don’t think of it like that. Think instead, it’s going into a well-needed home improvement project!” Lyra said brightly.

Vinyl raised an eyebrow.

Lyra managed to maintain her smile for only a few more minutes before her hands dropped and her face fell. “Ok, I forgot the lasagna in the oven and then I didn't notice until Bon Bon knocked on the door,” Lyra confessed sheepishly.

Vinyl looked at her flatly. She had worked hard on that lasagna.

“It worked out,” Lyra defended herself lamely. “We ate what wasn't charred and she said it was really good, and then we went to her house and made chocolate.”

Vinyl blinked.

“I brought you some?” Lyra offered hopefully, lifting one in her golden magic.

Vinyl snatched it away with her own magic and pulled it into her hand. She examined it critically (by that, it should be understood that she squinted at it suspiciously; she knew nothing about chocolate except that it tasted good), and then tossed it into her mouth. She chewed slowly… and then her eyes widened. “You have got to get this girl,” she said.

Lyra grinned sheepishly. “I'm trying,” she said. “Awesome cleavage or no, burnt stuff doesn't quite set a romantic mood. But she said ok to going out to lunch next week, so there's that.”

“What were you doing that you didn't smell it?”

Lyra mumbled an answer that seemed slightly disturbing.


“Trying on your fishnets?” Lyra said a bit louder.

Vinyl blinked.

Lyra shuffled slightly.

Vinyl squinted. “You have a bigger butt than me,” she pointed out.

“They stretch,” Lyra said sheepishly. “And leave markings.”

Vinyl groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Keep them. I will deal with the rest of this in the morning. Good night, Lyra.” Still holding a hand to her face, Vinyl lit her dominant hand, magically dragged her records inside and shut the front door, and then shuffled back to her bedroom.

“If it makes a difference, I left a mint one on your pillow?” Lyra called after her.

There was a quiet squelch from the bedroom as Vinyl’s head hit the pillow. Lyra winced. Her warning had not come quick enough.

But when she stepped inside, Vinyl was fast asleep. Lyra grinned and lit her hand. A little cleaning spell, and Vinyl would be none the wiser.