![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[SCA] Deed Transfer
Title: Deed Transfer
Universe: Sharpay's Crossover Adventure
Fandoms: crossover between DC Comics, High School Musical, and the Vampire Diaries
Relationships: antagonistic Tom Bronson + Damon Salvatore, Tom Bronson + Peyton Leverett
Summary: Peyton never gets the context for the strange requests Tom makes him do - and this time, he's learned to stop caring.
Notes: Inspired by my tag ramblings on tumblr. Tom WOULD transfer the deed to Peyton, if only for a few hours!
hey, do you mind if I put you down for the deed to the brownstone? I've got a notary coming in at work, and it's a bit urgent.
Your texts from Bronson just kept getting stranger and stranger. A few years ago, you might've balked at the idea - you, help pay for the mortgage on that thing? Was he insane? You also figured, he had to have a good reason for asking out of the blue.
Maybe his real estate agent was cracking down on payments and he needed to lay low. Doubtful, since Sharpay would've pitched in. (Or more realistically, Sharpay's parents would've pitched in. Tom and Sharpay were pretty close to marriage at this point, after all.)
It still wasn't any stranger than the time Uncle Nate asked you about salmon pink paint (or rather, what color covered salmon pink up best), so you awkwardly texted back,
nothing, i promise.
i'll explain later :(
A few hours later, after you'd finished your shoot for the day, you entered the brownstone through your usual back entrance. Tom was waiting on the couch, leaning forward and playing one of his myriad video games. From the various go-karts, you guessed it was Mario Kart, but you couldn't tell from your vantage point.
Tom paused his game, glancing over his shoulder at you. "How'd the shoot go?"
You shrugged, flopping onto the couch beside him. "Same as usual. So how come I'm now one of the property owners? Couldn't get Sharpay on this?"
"Wouldn't have worked. Shar accidentally invited him in." Tom bit on his upper lip, resuming his game. (Of course. When that guy was focused on his video game, nothing else in the world mattered.) You sighed inwardly, turning to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.
"Accidentally invited him in?"
Tom didn't respond. What kind of trouble had he gotten into this week? For a few minutes, all seemed quiet on the Western front.
Then the doorbell rang.
"Don't get it," Tom warned, as you rushed to open it. "Probably a telemarketer--"
"Aw, really?" An unfamiliar voice called as you swung the door open. You stared back into crystal-clear blue eyes that could give Tom a serious run for his money. This guy wasn't as tall as you, though his intimidating stance and aloof expression more than made up for it, even as he swung his leather jacket over his shoulders. "Tommy boy, I thought we had something special."
"Sorry, you'll have to get in line." You grinned cheekily, turning back towards Tom. "Trying to get rid of an ex, huh?"
(Logically, you knew that Tom was pretty straight. Still didn't stop you from teasing him about it almost all the time.)
Tom scrunched up his face. "I wish."
"Like I'd date you," the stranger retorted, wrinkling his nose at the thought. "You stink, Bronson."
In what world? You glanced back at Tom, trying to recall his usual scent - it alternated between cologne, beer, and tea leaves - and how it would appall this stranger. You finally settled on saying, "You hate tea that much?"
The stranger blinked back surprise, as Tom struggled to rein in his laughter. He took one precarious step forward - and recoiled, as if there were an imaginary border separating him from your threshold.
"Look, just let me in," the stranger insisted, peering through you. "It's kinda important."
"I don't know, can you?"
The stranger growled - actually growled - at you, before he sighed. "Fine. Bronson, just... call me back later. It's about Bonnie."
(Bonnie? The girl that sometimes played D&D with you? What about her?)
He closed the door on you (a first), leaving you to stare back at the Brownstone's front door.
"What just happened?"
Tom shrugged, rising to his feet as he paused his video game for the first time. "He's a real estate agent. Hence why I might've transferred the deed to you for a bit..."
Oh.
You scowled at him, finally taking the opportunity to uncap your bottle of water and drink it. "You could've just said so."
For a real estate agent, though, you had to admit: something was a little too polished about that dude. If Bronson was actually lying to you, he was getting better at it than before.
Universe: Sharpay's Crossover Adventure
Fandoms: crossover between DC Comics, High School Musical, and the Vampire Diaries
Relationships: antagonistic Tom Bronson + Damon Salvatore, Tom Bronson + Peyton Leverett
Summary: Peyton never gets the context for the strange requests Tom makes him do - and this time, he's learned to stop caring.
Notes: Inspired by my tag ramblings on tumblr. Tom WOULD transfer the deed to Peyton, if only for a few hours!
hey, do you mind if I put you down for the deed to the brownstone? I've got a notary coming in at work, and it's a bit urgent.
Your texts from Bronson just kept getting stranger and stranger. A few years ago, you might've balked at the idea - you, help pay for the mortgage on that thing? Was he insane? You also figured, he had to have a good reason for asking out of the blue.
Maybe his real estate agent was cracking down on payments and he needed to lay low. Doubtful, since Sharpay would've pitched in. (Or more realistically, Sharpay's parents would've pitched in. Tom and Sharpay were pretty close to marriage at this point, after all.)
It still wasn't any stranger than the time Uncle Nate asked you about salmon pink paint (or rather, what color covered salmon pink up best), so you awkwardly texted back,
no? I guess?? what's wrong?
nothing, i promise.
huh?
i'll explain later :(
A few hours later, after you'd finished your shoot for the day, you entered the brownstone through your usual back entrance. Tom was waiting on the couch, leaning forward and playing one of his myriad video games. From the various go-karts, you guessed it was Mario Kart, but you couldn't tell from your vantage point.
Tom paused his game, glancing over his shoulder at you. "How'd the shoot go?"
You shrugged, flopping onto the couch beside him. "Same as usual. So how come I'm now one of the property owners? Couldn't get Sharpay on this?"
"Wouldn't have worked. Shar accidentally invited him in." Tom bit on his upper lip, resuming his game. (Of course. When that guy was focused on his video game, nothing else in the world mattered.) You sighed inwardly, turning to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.
"Accidentally invited him in?"
Tom didn't respond. What kind of trouble had he gotten into this week? For a few minutes, all seemed quiet on the Western front.
Then the doorbell rang.
"Don't get it," Tom warned, as you rushed to open it. "Probably a telemarketer--"
"Aw, really?" An unfamiliar voice called as you swung the door open. You stared back into crystal-clear blue eyes that could give Tom a serious run for his money. This guy wasn't as tall as you, though his intimidating stance and aloof expression more than made up for it, even as he swung his leather jacket over his shoulders. "Tommy boy, I thought we had something special."
"Sorry, you'll have to get in line." You grinned cheekily, turning back towards Tom. "Trying to get rid of an ex, huh?"
(Logically, you knew that Tom was pretty straight. Still didn't stop you from teasing him about it almost all the time.)
Tom scrunched up his face. "I wish."
"Like I'd date you," the stranger retorted, wrinkling his nose at the thought. "You stink, Bronson."
In what world? You glanced back at Tom, trying to recall his usual scent - it alternated between cologne, beer, and tea leaves - and how it would appall this stranger. You finally settled on saying, "You hate tea that much?"
The stranger blinked back surprise, as Tom struggled to rein in his laughter. He took one precarious step forward - and recoiled, as if there were an imaginary border separating him from your threshold.
"Look, just let me in," the stranger insisted, peering through you. "It's kinda important."
"I don't know, can you?"
The stranger growled - actually growled - at you, before he sighed. "Fine. Bronson, just... call me back later. It's about Bonnie."
(Bonnie? The girl that sometimes played D&D with you? What about her?)
He closed the door on you (a first), leaving you to stare back at the Brownstone's front door.
"What just happened?"
Tom shrugged, rising to his feet as he paused his video game for the first time. "He's a real estate agent. Hence why I might've transferred the deed to you for a bit..."
Oh.
You scowled at him, finally taking the opportunity to uncap your bottle of water and drink it. "You could've just said so."
For a real estate agent, though, you had to admit: something was a little too polished about that dude. If Bronson was actually lying to you, he was getting better at it than before.