# Roommates

Characters: Fang, Naomi
Status: Complete
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: F4L
Summary: Fang and Naomi living together as roommates.
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Dear diary,
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Finally, it's over. The last of my things are unpacked and in their proper place. Only took the better part of an entire day, being organized paying off once again. Unlike my new roommate, who still has most of her belongings inside boxes. When asked she just said she'd unpack her things as she needed them.
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Fang just can't help herself from acting like a rebel. The boxes aren't even labeled using the ISO 511007 standard. Still can't believe we're roommates. I thought that after the events at prom, she wouldn't want anything to do with me. But I was wrong. Still can't believe she was the one to ask me. Something about Trish changing her mind at the last second. Still can't believe I said yes. Maybe I misjudged her. Well, if she's willing to bury the hatchet, then so am I. Perhaps if I cooked something nice for her. Fang would surely appreciate a home-cooked meal instead of her regular diet of junk food and whatever Mrs. Aaran makes.
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Addendum
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That did not go as I had hoped it would. Fang did seem excited at first. Until I specified that it would be a vegan meal. Then she thought I was joking. Who would joke about vegan food? It didn't help that she was on the phone with Anon and put him on speaker. Fang called me a soyboy which was, for some reason, absolutely hilarious to the both of them. I corrected her that while I do not know what the word means, the proper term would be soygirl. You'd think she'd be the last person to misgender someone. All that did was make them laugh harder.
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According to Anon, I do "gobble at least one kind of meat". Such accusations are completely baseless. It is a well know fact that parasaurolophuses are obligate vegetarians. Fang did admonish Anon for the remark. Slightly, after a good few minutes of laughing about it on the floor. Even then, she struggled to stay composed. I may yet regret signing that contract.
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Several pieces of chicken sizzle in the lightly oiled frying pan. Fang focuses intently on the task at hand. Only occasionally does she glance at the recipe book to ensure she's not deviating too much from the instructions. As her mom said, they're guidelines, not rules.
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'Rosemary on chicken, whoever came up with that was insane.'
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Busy with cooking and criticizing the seasoning choice of the recipe author, Fang doesn't notice someone is trying to unlock the apartment door. Moments later, a frustrated Naomi is standing in the doorway.
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"Fang! You left the front door unlocked! Again!"
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The ptero doesn't bother turning around.
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"I didn't forget. I'm right here."
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"What if instead of me, it was some hardened criminal looking for an easy score?"
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Fang turns her head just enough to look the pink parasaur in the eye.
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"A hardened criminal. In this neighborhood, in this apartment complex, robbing the apartment that reeks of tofu and cabbage every other day?"
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"Yes?"
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The ptero thinks about it for a while before letting out a groan.
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"Fiiiiine. I'll lock the door next time. I'll even get a gun so you'll feel safer."
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Thinking her skittish roommate is placated, Fang returns her focus to the now almost seared meat. It isn't until Naomi takes off her coat and starts rummaging through the fridge that realization hits her.
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"Wait, did you say gun?"
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"I did."
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The disbelief in the marzipan monarch's voice is apparent.
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"You know how to handle a gun?"
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Fang frowns while transferring the chicken pieces from the pan to her waiting plate. Try as she might, the ptero can't hide that she is becoming annoyed.
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"Is it that surprising that the police commissioner's daughter knows how to handle a gun? God, it was the same shit when I told Anon."
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Shock roots Naomi in place in front of the open refrigerator. Plate in hand, Fang not so patiently waits for the candied czarina to move out of the way, but she never does.
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"But what if you miss and hurt some innocent bystander?"
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"I. Don't. Miss."
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Each word was punctuated by a clawed finger poking Naomi's chest. Fang's expression softens once she notices the sugary sultan is on the verge of tears. She taps her snoot with a finger.
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"Built-in iron sight. You can check my scores at the shooting range if you don't believe me. Now move, I need barbecue sauce."
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Somewhat reassured, but not really, Naomi moves out of the way. She knows better than to stand between Fang and her sauce. Or Fang and pretty much anything food-related. The ptero proceeds to slather the meat with barbecue sauce before taking a picture with her phone. Suppressing thoughts of Fang with a gun, Naomi once again tries to connect with her roommate.
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"Didn't take you for the type to upload pictures of your food to social media, Fang. Maybe we could exchange contacts and-"
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"First off, no. Secondly, it's not for the internet. It's for Anon."
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"Aww, you guys send each other pictures of your lunches. Adorable."
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"What? No, we don't."
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Try as she might, the blush on Fang's cheeks betrays her for a liar.
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"Fine, so what if we do? Not this time, though. See, I've positioned the pieces and changed the colors in such a way that when the image is spoilered, it looks like me in an, um..."
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Fang struggles to find the appropriate words as her face becomes positively flushed.
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"...provocative pose?"
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An awkward silence hangs in the air. Naomi regretted asking in the first place, and Fang regretted replying at all. After a while, the ptero clears her throat.
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"Anyway, awkward talk, let's never do it again."
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With that said, Fang grabs her plate and rushes into her room, door slamming behind her followed by a click from the lock. With a pre-prepared meal box in hand, Naomi heads to her room as well. It's going to be a very long diary entry today.
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Dear diary,
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Long time no see. Fang and I have been roommates for a couple of weeks now. I still have both my sanity and my life. For a while, I was worried she'd either drive me insane or I'd make her so mad at me she'd tear out my throat. Neither happened, so I'm counting that as a decisive victory.
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Yes, she still complains about my food "stinking" up the place. Her attempts at cooking don't smell any better, to tell the truth. A few days ago, I managed to convince Fang to try a plant-based meat alternative burger. The only condition was that I had to try a slice of Moe's pizza. Long story short, Fang hated it. I was ready for her to curse and scream at me, but she was just... sad. Somehow, that made me feel even worse.
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As for the pizza, I'm ashamed to say I loved it. Fang must never know. The downside is that whenever I eat anything, Fang makes gagging noises, calls me a soygal, or punches me in the shoulder. It's obvious she's holding back and not hitting me for real, but it still hurts. I worry she might have a point about the vegan diet. But not as much as I crave more of that god damn pizza.
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In other news, Fang wasn't kidding when she said she'd get a gun. When I opened the door and saw Mr. Aaran, I thought it was some sort of unannounced visit to make sure his daughter wasn't up to no good. But no, he had a gun safe and a revolver with him. He assured me Fang wasn't just boasting about her sharpshooter skills. That did put me at ease a little bit.
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All in all, things aren't that bad. Fang has shared some of her favorite albums with me. In an attempt to elevate me from the level of "tastelet" according to her. Little does she know I have a few terabytes of d-pop. I'll play her some of my favorite songs. I bet she'll like it.
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Addendum
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She did not like it. Ever showed a friend a funny video, only for them to not laugh at all? When the funny bits come and go, and they don't laugh at all? It was like that, only with Fang was digging her claws deeper into my shoulders every passing second. At least Fang refrained from any rude comments, instead, she bolted the moment the video ended. Dino-pop remains an acquired taste.