Work Header

Creamy Tory Love Goo

Work Text:

Night? Morning? Afternoon? Who knows.
The big orange ball that we'll henceforth refer to as the sun was low enough in the sky that Mike, on his eternal struggle of restoring Button House, was calling it a pretty chilled out evening. Daddy had been drillin', and that drillin' had been disturbing the ghostly residents of the house.
The library was deathly silent, and by deathly silent I mean the ghosts had been arguing since exactly 2:21pm over daddy's drilling.
"But he's not even a father!" Thomas whined. "He is childless! Childless!"
"Easy, Thomas." Pat patted his shoulder in that Pat-like gentleness he often had.
Kitty clapped her hands together and grinned. "Oh I think it's lovely."
"Lovely?" Thomas snapped at her with a scowl.
"Yes! Lovely!" A giggle from Kitty and she strolled away from the group to do whatever it is Kitty does when Alison is elsewhere and she can't totally lescrush on her.
Fanny didn't say anything, which was probably for the best because Robin was already getting really impatient with Thomas' constant complaining and was just about ready to punt someone, very unlike him what with him being an absolute sweetheart.
So, Fanny was there, Kitty was there, Pat, Thomas, and Robin were there.
"Where's the Captain and Julian gone to?" Pat stared around the library, only just now noticing that the Tory and the creaky-knee'd military gay had disappeared. Most interesting...


Some time passed, as time tends to do ever since humans invented it back in 1988 to prevent the Great Time Stagger of the 80s. They based the model off some old Roman dude because the Mayan calendar scared them to look at. Maybe it was the big face in the middle.
Alison was sneaking around the house all stealthy like because it was actually night now. Well, it was easy to assume it was night because Moonah was all up there in the sky. Pitter patter pitter patter splish.
"Aww I've stepped in a puddle..." Alison groaned, moving to hop on one foot because her other sock was all damp now, and damp socks are disgusting. "Mike, we've got another leak!"
Alison, however, had not stepped in a puddle. She did, in fact, step in the creamy love goo of a Tory. A ghost Tory.
I suppose, in a way, at least it wasn't warm. I mean, how could it be? It's ghostly love goo. Ghostly love goo that came from a Tory, the coldest creature known to mankind.
It was also a good thing that Alison hadn't had a high-speed collision with the ground just yet, because Julian was right beside her, spewing stories of how she's not the first to have stepped in that, and she won't be the last.