Short story: Finn and Catherine go on a date
Hi! As you may know, I'm currently in the process of finishing the last book in my Shadow Thane series, Dragon Queen.
While writing, I tend to keep a doc with a whole bunch of random scenes and sometimes I end up scrapping ones that are redundant or don't fit. Some are experimental, others are just to amuse me or explore ideas and character development. This one was so cute that I decided to post it as a short story for free.
Warning: Spoilers for books 1-4. Background: Phineas is a witch, Catherine is a shape-shifter, and they used to hate each other before hating each other was cool.
Also, Finn drinks his coffee with lots of salt because that is what witches do.
NOTE: This story is basically self-fanfiction of a much darker work and takes place after he's redeemed. Finn is a raging asshole in books 1-3 of the ST series. The main series is not this cute and I'm happy to provide CWs to anyone who is interested to read it but unsure.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Phineas was initially delighted when Catherine told him she wanted to go on a date. He had been trying to court her unsuccessfully for weeks, sending her gifts for her domicile, which, he imagined, she would put in various places on honor.
Instead, she had called him on the phone and told him to stop, that nobody in their right mind needed that much lace underwear and if they did, they were doing something terribly wrong.
“You have to stop,” she told him. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but my mail carrier hates me, and I can’t use these things. Do you realize I have more underwear than clothes, now? If you’re going to send me things, send me food. But you don’t have to send me anything at all.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” he said. “I wanted to please you.”
“Please stop pleasing me,” said Catherine. “I am over-pleased.”
Finn ended the call and began sending cases of meat to her house instead. A week later, she called him up again. “If you don’t stop,” she said. “I am going to kill you and preserve your corpse in the two tons of spam you shipped to my house. Nobody will find your body.”
“I want to see you,” he said, and he heard her sigh. But it was not the angry sigh, and so he pressed, adding, “I will buy you a meal.”
“Okay,” she said. “But I’m choosing the place.”
She took him to a teahouse, which sounded elegant until they went inside and he saw the baby humans crawling on the floor and the bright music pulsing from the speakers. If it was terrible for him, it would be worse in triplicate for her, with her supernatural hearing, which made him suspect she had done this with the intent of torturing him. He gave her an accusatory look, which made her grin.
“They put salt in the tea here,” she said. “It’s perfect for you.”
“I don’t put salt in my tea,” he retorted. “This is a disgrace to teahouses.”
“It’s not actually a teahouse. I lied.” With that stunning act of defiance, Catherine shrugged him off and went up to the counter to order the drinks, leaving him to fume.
Teahouse, thought Finn, eying a garish painting of a large-eyed panda on the wall. I don’t think so.
“Let’s sit outside,” said the shape-shifter.
He allowed himself to be led. The music was faint outdoors, and she chose a plastic table under the purple awning that would allow her a clear view of the streets.
She was wearing a sundress that revealed her sunburned shoulders and shoes with woven soles that brought her up to his shoulder. They tied at the ankle with ribbon and he found himself studying her legs, until she kicked at him with one of her shoes.
Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away. “Yes?”
“You aren’t listening to me.” She tapped his ‘tea.’ “And you haven’t touched your drink.”
He eyed it with disgust. “It has layers.”
“It’s salt cheese.”
Finn gave her a look. “I,” he said, “do not imbibe cheese.”
She took a sip of her own drink, which was a horrid green. He had to resist the urge to shudder.
“Try it.”
“No.”
Catherine shook her head slowly. “You might like it.”
“It’s lamentable how unfamiliar you are with my preferences.”
She grinned at him, baring her sharp canines. “Not all your preferences.”
Finn choked, and attempted to cover it with a cough. “Really, shape-shifter. How improper.”
“You know,” she said, “you’re kind of cute when you’re a prude.”
He leveled a glare at her that would have had his people scrambling to hide from the inevitable onslaught of magic fire.
She gave him a sunny smile and pushed against his shoe with her foot. Finn caught her leg between his and tugged, yanking her into the table.
“Provocative beast.”
Catherine righted their tipped drinks. “Are you always this uptight?”
Finn looked down at her small, muscular arm, so close to his own. “Only around you.”
“Liar.” She plucked at his shirtsleeve. “If someone mounted the stick up your ass, they could fly a flag on it that would be seen from space.”
“I can think of better things for you to mount.”
“Now who’s being improper?”
Finn opened his mouth to defend himself, until he saw the smile. So this was teasing then. He rallied himself to deliver a rejoinder and then abruptly broke off, eying a goggling group of human women.
“Why are those human females staring at us?”
“They’re staring at you,” she said. “They think you’re cute.”
“What?” he bit off the word incredulously. “Is that what passes for human courtship? Gaping as if at a third-rate attraction at some off-road festival? Do they,” he said, drawing himself up, “even know who I am?”
“I’m sure they only like you because they don’t know who you are.” She arched her eyebrows mockingly. “You do look like a prince, you know. Perhaps not quite what they imagined, but still not—mpphhh?”
Finn kissed her hard, winding his fingers in her long hair to keep her still. Her hot tongue had been chilled by her drink and he could taste the cloying sweetness of it, artificial and fruity, and the saltiness of what was—he fought a shudder—layered cheese.
He let a bit of his magic curl around her body, until she gasped into his mouth.
“I think,” he said roughly, “that I’m exactly what they imagined. You do me so little credit, shifter mine. I’m well versed in human princes, and I’ve saved the kingdom, rescued the princess—and, oh yes.” He ran his fingers down her cheek. “Slayed the dragon.”
She stared at him, momentarily robbed of speech, and he allowed himself a smile.
"For you, my lady, I would imbibe the foulest cheese in all the land."
She shook her head, flushing. "Never say 'my lady' again."
"Very well," he said, "but only if you kiss me."
/end
While writing, I tend to keep a doc with a whole bunch of random scenes and sometimes I end up scrapping ones that are redundant or don't fit. Some are experimental, others are just to amuse me or explore ideas and character development. This one was so cute that I decided to post it as a short story for free.
Warning: Spoilers for books 1-4. Background: Phineas is a witch, Catherine is a shape-shifter, and they used to hate each other before hating each other was cool.
Also, Finn drinks his coffee with lots of salt because that is what witches do.
NOTE: This story is basically self-fanfiction of a much darker work and takes place after he's redeemed. Finn is a raging asshole in books 1-3 of the ST series. The main series is not this cute and I'm happy to provide CWs to anyone who is interested to read it but unsure.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Phineas was initially delighted when Catherine told him she wanted to go on a date. He had been trying to court her unsuccessfully for weeks, sending her gifts for her domicile, which, he imagined, she would put in various places on honor.
Instead, she had called him on the phone and told him to stop, that nobody in their right mind needed that much lace underwear and if they did, they were doing something terribly wrong.
“You have to stop,” she told him. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but my mail carrier hates me, and I can’t use these things. Do you realize I have more underwear than clothes, now? If you’re going to send me things, send me food. But you don’t have to send me anything at all.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” he said. “I wanted to please you.”
“Please stop pleasing me,” said Catherine. “I am over-pleased.”
Finn ended the call and began sending cases of meat to her house instead. A week later, she called him up again. “If you don’t stop,” she said. “I am going to kill you and preserve your corpse in the two tons of spam you shipped to my house. Nobody will find your body.”
“I want to see you,” he said, and he heard her sigh. But it was not the angry sigh, and so he pressed, adding, “I will buy you a meal.”
“Okay,” she said. “But I’m choosing the place.”
She took him to a teahouse, which sounded elegant until they went inside and he saw the baby humans crawling on the floor and the bright music pulsing from the speakers. If it was terrible for him, it would be worse in triplicate for her, with her supernatural hearing, which made him suspect she had done this with the intent of torturing him. He gave her an accusatory look, which made her grin.
“They put salt in the tea here,” she said. “It’s perfect for you.”
“I don’t put salt in my tea,” he retorted. “This is a disgrace to teahouses.”
“It’s not actually a teahouse. I lied.” With that stunning act of defiance, Catherine shrugged him off and went up to the counter to order the drinks, leaving him to fume.
Teahouse, thought Finn, eying a garish painting of a large-eyed panda on the wall. I don’t think so.
“Let’s sit outside,” said the shape-shifter.
He allowed himself to be led. The music was faint outdoors, and she chose a plastic table under the purple awning that would allow her a clear view of the streets.
She was wearing a sundress that revealed her sunburned shoulders and shoes with woven soles that brought her up to his shoulder. They tied at the ankle with ribbon and he found himself studying her legs, until she kicked at him with one of her shoes.
Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away. “Yes?”
“You aren’t listening to me.” She tapped his ‘tea.’ “And you haven’t touched your drink.”
He eyed it with disgust. “It has layers.”
“It’s salt cheese.”
Finn gave her a look. “I,” he said, “do not imbibe cheese.”
She took a sip of her own drink, which was a horrid green. He had to resist the urge to shudder.
“Try it.”
“No.”
Catherine shook her head slowly. “You might like it.”
“It’s lamentable how unfamiliar you are with my preferences.”
She grinned at him, baring her sharp canines. “Not all your preferences.”
Finn choked, and attempted to cover it with a cough. “Really, shape-shifter. How improper.”
“You know,” she said, “you’re kind of cute when you’re a prude.”
He leveled a glare at her that would have had his people scrambling to hide from the inevitable onslaught of magic fire.
She gave him a sunny smile and pushed against his shoe with her foot. Finn caught her leg between his and tugged, yanking her into the table.
“Provocative beast.”
Catherine righted their tipped drinks. “Are you always this uptight?”
Finn looked down at her small, muscular arm, so close to his own. “Only around you.”
“Liar.” She plucked at his shirtsleeve. “If someone mounted the stick up your ass, they could fly a flag on it that would be seen from space.”
“I can think of better things for you to mount.”
“Now who’s being improper?”
Finn opened his mouth to defend himself, until he saw the smile. So this was teasing then. He rallied himself to deliver a rejoinder and then abruptly broke off, eying a goggling group of human women.
“Why are those human females staring at us?”
“They’re staring at you,” she said. “They think you’re cute.”
“What?” he bit off the word incredulously. “Is that what passes for human courtship? Gaping as if at a third-rate attraction at some off-road festival? Do they,” he said, drawing himself up, “even know who I am?”
“I’m sure they only like you because they don’t know who you are.” She arched her eyebrows mockingly. “You do look like a prince, you know. Perhaps not quite what they imagined, but still not—mpphhh?”
Finn kissed her hard, winding his fingers in her long hair to keep her still. Her hot tongue had been chilled by her drink and he could taste the cloying sweetness of it, artificial and fruity, and the saltiness of what was—he fought a shudder—layered cheese.
He let a bit of his magic curl around her body, until she gasped into his mouth.
“I think,” he said roughly, “that I’m exactly what they imagined. You do me so little credit, shifter mine. I’m well versed in human princes, and I’ve saved the kingdom, rescued the princess—and, oh yes.” He ran his fingers down her cheek. “Slayed the dragon.”
She stared at him, momentarily robbed of speech, and he allowed himself a smile.
"For you, my lady, I would imbibe the foulest cheese in all the land."
She shook her head, flushing. "Never say 'my lady' again."
"Very well," he said, "but only if you kiss me."
/end
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