Poison Ivy

Chapter Twelve: Queen Wesley

- GAH, I've been having inner confrontations because this chapter is just so riling and yet perfect (for how I wrote it and intended it to be) that I just want to punch a puppy - Yes, I know! - so yes, it'd really mean a lot - 10 times as much now than before (that's a lie) - if you comment me your opinions and vote if you think it's good, ok? Ok. Also, before I leave you to read, can you pretty please not skip the end note? Thanks. ~Talia. xoxo. -

PS. LONG CHAPTER; I'm proud.

"Mother Nature has sure done you a hell of a favour, girl, how's my bitch?"

I scowled at my MacBook screen, folding my arms across my chest. "I'm not your bitch, Wes." I answered, though I knew my effort was futile.

"Bitch, puh-lease, I own you and you know it." He grinned and I sighed, rolling my eyes and holding up a finger.

"One minute, I'm going to change into something more comfortable." I excused myself, pushing my body up until I stood over the webcam.

I saw Wes' ultimate Cheshire Cat grin spread wide across his lips as he leaned closer to his webcam. "Are you gonna give me a show, boo?"

"Shove off," I answered before walking away and leaving him alone to occupy himself. Shouldn't be hard, this is Wesley Burner we're talking about and Wesley Burner knows how to keep himself from boredom.

As I prepared myself to search for something comfortable yet 'stylish' to wear – just to appease Wes, really, so I didn't hear him complain to no end about my dress sense – I mentally raked through my wardrobe, already thinking of simple items such as a pair of denim shorts.

Opening up the treasure trove that is my wardrobe, I pulled at some hangers, shuffling the garments along the rail to closer inspect. I settled on something plain and boring; – like myself – a cream oversized knitted sweater that was 'so in right now' and, just like my previous thought, some denim shorts.

After changing into my 'ready to relax, I'll kick ass another day' attire, I headed back into what I would not really describe as a living area rather a mess (Like the ones that can be located in Fire stations). I took up residence in my previous spot, watching with a little amusement but no confusion as Wes bopped from side to side, his hands moving alternately, singing "All my- all my- all my bitches, all my- all my- all my bitches" over and over. His face lit up when he realised I had returned, however, his singing stopped when he took in my dull expression and even then his dancing continued until it eventually dissipated.

We sat silently, his expression questioning me, though I didn't answer until-

"What's up, Ivy?" Wes' sing-song voice vibrated through the speakers of my MacBook as I slouched in front of the webcam, my eyes drooping slightly.

"Nothing," I sighed, and he rolled his eyes.

"Girl, I've known you since we were looking fabulous in diapers, playing with our Barbie dolls ... well, I was, you had Ken. I think I know when something's up." He stated matter-of-factly, flicking back a strand of hair from his face sassily as he smiled at me with his super white, super great and super straight toothy grin.

"You've done your teeth again, haven't you?"

"What can I say, the orthodontist is super cute, and sure he's straight but it's not like I haven't turned anyone before." He rolled his eyes even more so dramatic than previously, smirking at me. "And you, you're trying to change the subject on me."

"I still stand with my theory that he was a gay in denial." I told him and he laughed.

"Sure," he scoffed. "He was good, though, wasn't he?"