Shiro & Clarice, Thursday afternoon

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Clarice teleports Shiro back to New York, and they continue to re-establish their friendship.


It had taken some time initially to get used to teleporting long distances. Not just the physical strain of instantly being pulled from one space to another miles away, but the worry that you wouldn't end up in one piece since you weren't the one doing the teleporting. For Shiro, even though he'd passed through Clarice's portals numerous times and didn't usually doubt her control, doing it while sick as a dog brought those concerns back. He didn't stumble out of the portal as it opened up in the common room of the suite he shared with Tommy, but his landing was by no means graceful. That it was followed by a violent fit of coughing that ended with Shiro spitting something foul into the trash can made it an even less pleasant end to the trip for either of them.

Making a face, Clarice got a glass of water from the kitchen, "You really should see a doctor, Shiro," she told him. She'd said this several times over the past hour or so, but she hadn't changed her mind. She'd never teleported someone who wasn't in good health and she was beginning to think that it was not a good idea. She didn't want to kill someone on accident.

"I saw someone back home," he replied, aimlessly flinging his bags somewhere in the general vicinity of his room. His aching back and feet ordered him not to stand anymore, so he all but collapsed onto the couch. "Thank you," he said, accepting the glass from Clarice. "The doctor thought that I caught some virus, so I have medication." Which he even took on schedule.

"You need more than just the meds," she sat down, concerned. Shiro did not get sick often, "I'll bring you some food. And you should sleep. Are you done with classes?" She thought he was, but she wasn't sure. At least he'd gone to the doctor though. He could be stubborn sometimes.

Shiro's first reaction was to protest. He didn't want to bother Clarice, especially after she'd just extended him such a courtesy by blinking him halfway around the world. But he knew that it wouldn't stop her, so he just sighed and flopped back into the couch. "Yeah, I finished," he said, his tone defeated like he'd just lost an argument. "And no summer classes this year, either, so I have the next three months to relax. You?"

"I'm working as an EMT again in same unit as a couple years ago," she busied herself by exploring his kitchen. Unsurprisingly, it was not very well stocked. "And you need food. I'm going to make a list." One of the good things about Shiro being an artist was that there was always paper and a pen around. It might be his nicest paper and special ink pen, but there was always something. Thankfully, she found a bic and pad of post-its.

"Ooh, I can go to the ritzy overpriced grocery store this week. Get the special organic eggs that cost twice as much as real eggs because they are 'organic.'" He needed to do something with his inheritance, after all. Food seemed like a good enough investment.

Rolling her eyes, Clarice read over her list, "You are not going anywhere. I will go buy you stuff so you will not die. Anything else you want other than comfort foods? There's this awesome Asian supermarket in Chinatown I was thinking of stopping in at. I totally need more of those little jello-shooter cups and chocolate koalas." There was no alcohol in them, but they looked like individually wrapped jello shots. And chocolate koala cookies were just awesome. If there was one thing Clarice loved, it was Japanese candy.

It's why they stayed together for so long, probably. It made Shiro smile a little before he was interrupted by another bout of coughing, this time at least sans phlegm. "Clarice, I appreciate the help, I really do, but you are not . . ." He literally bit his tongue before he could finish that sentence, and looked away, embarrassed.

"I'm not what?" she asked, confused, "Rich enough? Dressed appropriately? Male enough?" Okay, the last one was a cheap shot and she instantly wished she hadn't said it, but he had liked her quite a bit when she'd been male for that week, "'Cause I'm totally using your debit card and changing before I go. Can't change the gender thing, I mean, it was good for a week, but men have the most boring shoes."

"No!" Shiro jumped out of his seat so he could look directly at her. Conveniently ignoring the fact that he looked like a mess and must look like a raging nutcase to her. "I was going to say that you are not my . . ." He gulped and muttered "girlfriend" before scratching his nose and turning away from her again. "You do not have to make such a fuss for me," he added lamely.

Yeah, she knew what he was going to say, she was trying to make a joke. Obviously, it had failed, "Lay back down," she ordered, almost pushing him back onto the couch. He needed to shower and put on clean clothes, she noted idly, "Just because we're not dating, does not mean we can't be friends, right?" Well, now that she wasn't punching him for dating Alex. That they broke up made it easier for her, but she felt bad that it had happened. She didn't actually wish him pain, anymore.

A sentiment he'd certainly appreciate. He acquiesced and sat, downing the rest of his water before sprawling miserably over the length of the sofa. "I do want that. I watched you slice off a ninja's hand. It is not an easy task to break the bond that forms from such a shared experience, ne?"

Why did he always have to bring that up!? "Let's not get into that again," she said, turning her attentions to unpacking his suitcase a little. Toiletries she threw into the bathroom and clothes into the laundry hamper. That counted as unpacking, didn't it? "How are you doing though? I mean....since Alex....yeah."

"Hey, you don't have to . . ." He stopped, realizing that telling her to not babysit him would be a waste of breath. He sighed again and tried to relax into the couch before answering her question. "My suddenly transgender significant other kisses his suddenly transgender ex-significant other, and then just a week later I nearly kill a man because I was hallucinating. And now I am the wealthiest twenty year-old in Japan. I'm adjusting."

Clarice shrugged, "One out of three isn't bad," not that it was very good either, "And you didn't actually kill him. Which is a plus. And you weren't exactly right in the head. You could apologize though, if you want."

"To Slab?" Shiro barked out a laugh. "I do not regret the pain I caused him. I just wish that I had been conscious when I did it, and that I hurt him for the right reasons. He kidnapped children so they could be violated. I do not shed a tear."

Oh. Well. That was slightly different. "So then really, two out of three good things. Not bad at all." she handed him a glass of water and finally sat down again, "You know..." she began with a sly smile and an evil glint in her eyes, "If you're the wealthiest twenty year old in Japan, that means you can buy decent clothing, right?" Clarice really did have a one track mind sometimes.

"I have nice clothing," he protested. "What is wrong with my clothes?" He looked down at the jeans and tennis shirt he wore. He looked like he could have walked out of an Old Navy advertisement, but of course he'd hit the first person who suggested that.

"Nothing," Clarice responded, she had gone through this all the time when they were dating, being a walking Old Navy ad wasn't a bad thing per se, it just wasn't very indicative of a the person inside the clothing, "That taste wouldn't fix. Gimme your debit card and I'll go get you food. Try to shower and clean up and you'll feel better, okay? Then rest."

Shiro pulled out his wallet from his pocket and passed the plastic card to her. "Thank you, Clarice. I owe you."