Curiosity Killed The Cat (Khan/OC Fanfiction)

Something Wicked This Way Comes

(Authors Note: It's the third of October...Happy birthday, Elizabeth! Also, I hope you all appreciate the relevant Mean Girls video, because I do.  As always, thank you for reading, I love and appreciate your existence and I hope you have a wonderful week. LLAP. -M)

John's flat had serious character, unlike his white blank apartment back in San Francisco. Elizabeth didn't know how he bared that place when he could have been here at home instead.

The sitting room was her personal favorite, it was cluttered and cozy, and reflected him in a way his old place never could have. There was a large bookshelf on the far wall that was crammed with books (Elizabeth had left most of hers in Frisco, but the dozen or so she'd brought were in three neat stacks on top of the structure). Also along that wall was a small window overlooking the street, next to which was an even smaller table that was precariously balancing a three-dimensional chessboard (she was terrible at it, but insisted on playing him anyway, and he beat her every time). The sofa was brown and worn, it complimented the diamond-patterned dhurrie carpet that covered most of the hardwood (on that stood the antique coffee table, which Elizabeth had been overjoyed to see). Also, of course, there was a large viewing screen (that they never used) as well as a monitor (the latter of which she used to video call Dawn as frequently as possible). Recently, her easel and a half-finished canvas, along with her other art supplies, had been put in the far corner next to the clear, double doors to the dining room.

John didn't use the dining room for eating, he'd transformed it into an office soon after moving there, (they ate in the kitchen). Since the doors were glass, and she occasionally passed through there to get to the adjoining kitchen, Elizabeth knew it was distinctly less John-Like and more 23rd-Century-Like, but she didn't snoop around in there enough to know much else. In fact, she tried to avoid the place out of respect of the fact that John still, yes, got pissed when she asked for too specific details on his work. (By this point, Elizabeth didn't care so much about it, if she was worried about anything it was the increasing frequency of his painful flashbacks.)

Now, the kitchen was just fucking endearing altogether. There wasn't anything particularly decorative about it, but the sheer amount of spices and all the odd cooking utensils made her want to gush. The first time they'd cooked in there (a few hours after she'd initially arrived and more pressing issues than food had been dealt with--twice), she'd nearly lost her mind due to the quaintness and meticulous organization of the whole arrangement.

Elizabeth loved the place. She'd been so worried it wouldn't fit her and she would miss San Francisco, but being there in that flat with him was the closest to home she'd ever find herself.

Although, it did get boring after a time. It was all right when John was there, but most of the time during the day he was at work, and Elizabeth was left to her own devices. To rearrange the arbitrary booking system, occasionally paint...or accidentally run into the person who (apparently) cleaned the place once a week and nearly kill them with a well-aimed, hardback projectile.

That had been fun.

Elizabeth had returned from one of her Explore-London-And-Pray-I-Don't-Get-Lost excursions when she walked into the sitting room and there was a pale, white-haired Canadian, standing in the middle of the floor, holding a vacuum cleaner and staring at her like Elizabeth was the one intruding. After all the confusion had been cleared and Elizabeth lowered the book she'd been holding aloft threateningly, she'd actually found that Kelowna was a pretty cool person. They were an extremely patriotic Canadian that loved maple syrup and hockey, and was in London studying. They cleaned John's flat every week for spare credits.

She was glad she hadn't clobbered them with The Complete Works of William Shakespeare when they'd given her that fright, because they went out with her sometimes on the weekends, which was something John practically refused to do so she needed someone to get drunk with. Going out with Dawn wasn't an option anymore, after all.