FIC: Favor For Favor - 3

[graycardinal]

3 • Girl-Stuff Delicate

The Kimmunicator beeped exactly five seconds after Kim finished getting dressed the next morning. Which could have been creepy, she thought, if Wade were three or four years older. But even though he had her morning routine memorized down to the second, she just couldn’t envision the chubby ten-year-old as a potential stalker.

“So what’s up? Is Drakken after someone else’s death ray again, or is it Senor Senior Sr. buying up black-market disco balls?”

The boy genius giggled nervously. “Nothing like that. Just – one of the favor requests in today’s email is kind of . . . umm . . . delicate.”

Kim cocked an eyebrow at the screen. “Are we talking national-security delicate, priceless-Ming-vase delicate, or brain-surgery delicate?”

Wade shook his head at each query, and his face was turning an interesting shade of pink – which, given his complexion, was no small event. Kim stared at him for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Oh. Girl-stuff delicate. Just send it on – we wouldn’t want those girl-cooties infecting your computer system.”

“Not – exactly.” Wade shook his head again. “And it’s a little late for that, anyway. That’s just it, though – I’m not sure I should let you see this.”

“I’m a big girl, Wade,” she told him. “Just spill it. What kind of this are we talking about here?”

He took a deep breath, then another. “Fanfic. More specifically, Narbonic fanfic. Really slashy Narbonic fanfic – and I mean really slashy. She wants you to – what’s the word? – beta it.”

“Oh.” Kim’s tone was abruptly much more serious. “I – see.” Then she frowned. “Wait a second; you’re worried about me reading major slash-fic? What are you doing reading that stuff? You’re – you’re . . . .” She trailed off, realizing that there was no safe way to finish that sentence.

Now Wade’s laughter sounded more genuine. “Good grief, I didn’t actually read it. I’ve got filters installed – only that’s the thing. That piece of slash-fic was so, uh, hot it melted the filtering software.”

Kim’s eyebrow went back up. “Come on, Wade, even I know you can’t melt software – it’s all ones and zeroes, right?”

“Wanna bet?” Wade shot back. He held up a CD-ROM. “This is before. And this is after.” He set down the disc and tapped a Pyrex measuring cup half full of thick, silvery liquid. “Not to worry; I’ve got backups. But still – you see what I’m talking about.”

“Okay, I’m impressed.” Clearly, Kim needed to have a talk with Monique. Beta reading was something she did for fun – relaxing-fun, that is, as opposed to the exciting-fun that went with saving the world regularly. If her working Web site was drawing beta requests, she’d have to figure a way to deal with a big spike in volume.

Or maybe not. “Any reason we shouldn’t just send this one back?” she asked Wade, trying to sound noncommittal. But she couldn’t help being curious. Narbonic fandom wasn’t large to start with; any new fanfic was ordinarily grounds for enthusiasm. And of course there was the hormonally driven sort of curiosity. It was only text, after all – surely it couldn’t be that trashy, and she was a red-blooded American teenager. A very mature teenager. A –

Wade’s response interrupted her train of thought. “I don’t know,” he said. “You might want to look at the cover message, at least; she sounded awfully desperate, and she says we can name our own favor in return.” That made Kim’s ears tingle; not many of her customers offered blank-check favors, especially for something as straightforward as a story beta.

“Let me see it,” she replied, then toggled the Kimmunicator screen to display the text file. She studied the note briefly, and frowned. “Hmm – Lady Noir? I don’t recognize the handle, and that’s weird. I thought I knew most of the name authors writing Narbonic, at least by reputation – even the slashers, and there’s even fewer of those. Wade, can you run a trace on that ID?”

“On it,” Wade said, sounding relieved to have something relatively safe to do. “Meanwhile, what about the story?”

“Send that to me,” Kim said firmly. “Until I decide what to do with it, it’s better off on my computer than yours. I promise I won’t actually read it yet – at least not till after you’ve IDed this Lady Noir.”

Wade gave her a skeptical look. “Cross my heart,” said Kim, suiting action to word.

“All right,” he said doubtfully. “I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve got something.” The visual signal clicked off, and a few moments later the Kimmunicator beeped an upload-received tone, confirming the file’s arrival. Kim picked the device up, glanced at the filename – The Bad, the Worse, and the Fuzzy – and slid it into its usual pocket in her school pack.