Ration Day: The Game of Truth.
by Overlord-Flinx
First published
All couples have ways to find out the truth... They just use noodles and cheese.
Every fortnight, Vinyl and Octavia leave the safety of their abode to procure provisions for the coming days... Or, in a less grandiose way of saying it; once every two weeks, the two go shopping for food. But, shopping for food comes with a secondary motive for both of them. A motive they lovingly call "Ration Day". A day where the two bet, wager, and offer the food they buy to one another in exchange for information on the other. The bigger the wager, the deeper the truth they can ask for.
Secrets will be shared, lusts exploited. With possible delving to each with each passing chapter.
Humanized characters.
The name of the day...
This is the day... The big one. The final countdown. The day of Titans. The one day out of the month -even though it comes around twice a month- where the game goes down! And Vinyl Scratch NEVER LOSES THIS DAY! RAAAH! RAH! RAH! RAH!
...So, yeah. Maybe I should pay attention to what I'm doing. Alright, let's see... This time the limit is set at one-hundred bucks. God... I could buy a year supply of ramen with that... And I bet that's EXACTLY what Octavia's thinking right now! That cheater! Unless she's planning on using her lump of the cash to buy her fancy tuna or-or-or some brie! That brie-tuna eatin' mother-fucker... I wish I could just see what's buying so I could cheat! But, nooooo... "Rule number four: No shopping at the same place". Cheep. Well, forget that for now...
Hm? Gah! Forgot you were there. What'm I doing? Simple... Well, simple because I've been doing it for three years. It'll probably be a little harder for a new player to understand. I'll try and explain. See, every two weeks, Tavi and I go grocery shopping. BUT! We don't go together, and we don't tell the other what we're getting. Why? Well, because when we used to shop together, we'd always fight over this or that. After we were banned from the third store, we came up with another way for us to shop, get food, and still be satisfied with what we got in the end.
It works a little something like this... Say, I buy a piece of brie cheese. Now, I hate this crud. Smells bad, looks moldy, and it feels like chalk to me. But Octavia LOVES the stuff. So, I buy it for her. OH! But wait, when we get home, I find out Octavia didn't get any of her fancy-smelly-bird-crap cheese. Now, the fun starts... You see, our fridge and closety-thing-that-holds-food (panty or something) are split down the middle. One side for me, one side for Octavia... And we have a little middle shelf in both for when someone gives us something to share. We call that "the battleground", 'cause it's anyone's game to have. Anyway, whatever we buy at the store goes onto OUR side of the fridge and whatever-it's-called. Except, before anything gets put away, we can wager up whatever we have that the other person doesn't have.
But we don't wager other foods; that'd be corny and boring... Corning. Hm... That sounds like something sexual, but it's not really coming to me at the moment. I'll come back to that later... Where was I? Right, right. Wagers. You can bet any food the other person doesn't have in exchange for the truth. The bigger you wager, the bigger truth you can ask. So, let's say I wager the brie stuff. Octavia loves it, so that's a pretty big wager on her. With that, I could ask -I don't know- how often did she flick the bean at work. And, if she wants the brie, she's gotta talk! We just go on the honor system for lying... If you can't trust your food-trading buddy, who can you trust?
That's how the game works. Actually pretty simple when you get right down to it. Now, part of the game is buying for yourself as much as you're gonna buy for the other person. Like, I need to stock up on ramen, because Octavia knows that's an easy shot against me. But, if I buy too many of them, I'm not gonna have enough for something juicy to pull out on Octavia. So it gets kinda stressin'. Buuuuut... It's all in good fun, ya'know? No hard feelings, no digging up dirt, no telling lies. It's just for fun... And to get a little fun out of something as boring as shopping...
Now then... Cheese steak, or cheese whip? Choices...
It is rather refreshing, isn't it? The smell of the crisp vegetables; the hot, wafting air of the summer afternoon; and even the lively chatter of people doing business. This is why I enjoy grocery shopping on a Sunday. The farmers' market is in full swing. Nothing can really compare to a sun-kissed tomato or a glazed doughnut that had the chance to bake under the sun after being taken out of the oven. It simply makes me tingle from my nose to my toes, if I had to be honest. I'm positive that Vinyl is at this moment shopping in some processed, bleach-white convenience store. A place where you can buy a dog in the same aisle you'd buy a hot-dog.
Every time she tries to beat me at this game, and every week... Every week she strikes me to my knees. I admit, I do have my weaknesses. Weaknesses I try to avoid every shopping day for my own health and well-being. And every shopping day she exploits those weaknesses to her advantage... I do so love a person who can be so tactical at times. Mmmm... M-Moving on. Fortune may be on my side this time, however. It seems some farmers from the orient have come to peddle their exotic ingredients, recipes, and the sort. Which, I can very well use to my advantage...
Yes... There are a few things I'd like to pry out from Vinyl's secretive lips tonight. Things that she'd only relent with the allure of her beloved noodles and meat. I may have to strengthen my deals with promises that I'll cook for her... But, we'll cross that road when it comes to it. Let's see if I procured all that I need before I forget something...
Yes... Yes that should cover all of my primary necessities. And these should prove to be useful tools in the coming duel with Vinyl. Know your enemy as well as you know yourself... That is the code of war. And this is indeed war. Much like the mall during the holiday rush; only this war has far less bloodshed... And slightly more nudity and depravity. But that's usually calculated in when my Vinyl worms her way into any plans. Not that I mind.
After all... These shopping trips always end in the bedroom come the end of the night. It's tradition. And as Vinyl would remind anyone, I never break tradition... Particularly the traditions I so richly enjoy... Ehem. Off I go.
Tick-tock. The familiar cat that hung in the kitchen of the dark apartment clicked at each second passing by. Small cracks ran through the glass cover of the normality clock, each crack being mended over by an ample amount of clear tape in layers. One of the cat's eyes was now entirely missing, replaced by an eye-patch that had a skull and crossbones embroidered on it. Still, the clock ticked at each second, the three hands moving as they always did to tick away at the passing moments until the masters came home. The ticks and tocks were joined for one second by the sudden swing and bang of the front door being nearly knocked off its hinges to welcome in the two residents of the abode; both of which carried multiple bags in their labored arms. Though he was always smiling, the cat seemed to smile a little wider when the lights of the apartment clicked on and Vinyl threw her bags onto the counter.
Octavia soon joined in Vinyl's actions and gently let her bags fall against the kitchen counter. The cellist brushed off the cusps of her lapel, which had gathered a bit of dirt from the burlap farming bags she brought home while Vinyl messed with the several paper bags she had lugged all the way home. Octavia gave a small chuckle as she took a seat on one side of the counter, rolling her fingers against the cool surface of the ivory counter. "Paper bags?" She playfully quirked a brow at her lover, who only smirked back at her with a bright look in her eyes.
Vinyl flopped back onto a stool and swung herself to face Octavia on the other side of the counter, one hand on the bag and the other on the lid of the seat she herself sat on. "Happy Ration Day, baby!"
The two exchanged a quick but fiery glare before combat; fearless, energetic red eyes meeting for a momentary clash with cool, composed violet eyes. "Let's begin..."
...The way of the game.
Rule Number One: All sales are final, and thus the receipt must be discarded upon vacating whatever facility it originated from.
Rule Number Two: What items you end the night with will remain your take for the duration between "Ration Days".
Rule Number Three: No hittin' below the belt. You know exactly what that means. No I'm not being defensive. I'm just bringing it up so we don't argue about it later. How is it suspicious I'd put it on the table? It works both ways! No, I'm not accusing you of anything! I'm just putting it out there so there's no hard feelings, I didn't expect an inquisition about wanting it put on the list! Are you writing this all down?
Rule Number Four: No shopping at the same place.
Rule Number Five: No further rules.
Save only for the rhythmic 'tick-tock-tick-tock' of the gaudy cat clock overseeing what was to proceed, both dining room and kitchen alike fell to a hush. Yet, the air was electric as the two combatants locked eyes from across the ivory counter; their collective troves close at hand for the ensuing battle. Amethyst to ruby, the eyes of two seasoned veterans exchanged all too familiar intents. Indignation, pride, an undertone of lust on one side, a bemused eyeroll from the other. The foreplay they were accustomed to before their familiar bouts, certainly.
While both could have certainly stared intently into the other for days on end, most inevitably ending in an impassioned tryst that would encompass every surface leading to one of their rooms (Octavia's if she had any pull over it); but that wasn't in the spirit of Ration Day! This... Was far more important. Vinyl broke the contact as she shifted over to her paper bags, riffling through it for her first bit of ammo to the night. Octavia was made to watch in a cautious curiosity as her lover looked for something that would knock her designer heels off!
"Lets keep it... cas'..." Vinyl purred out her word, assured she would be the cat lording over the mouse as she produced her first finding: coco powder.
The cheek. Cellist lips curved to a wounded grimace, only serving to embolden the Cheshire-Vinyl. How much powder did she have left in the jar? Enough for a cake? Barely for a scone? If she went to go take stock, she'd show her hand in how important the powder truly was to her... But if she took it and had a surplus... Vinyl would have an excuse to ask for freshly baked cookies! The good ones with chocolate in every bite. The special ones Octavia had said "it's a lot of ingredients. I cannot simply make them without a surplus"... The sly fox. She was caught between a scone and a greedy place... And yet.
"...Name your price," it was too much of a gamble to miss out on. She kept her tone smooth, measured, hoping to not give way that she was kicking herself for not checking her supply beforehand.
"Do you wuv me?" Oddly colored eyelashes batted 'cutely' at Octavia as Vinyl played up her question.
Oh, so this is the game we shall be playing? It was an odd feelings, wanting to reach across a counter to both slap someone out of what little sense they had as well as kiss their ridiculous 'pouting' lips. Instead, Octavia decided for the more dignified approach of answering the court jester as she reached over to collect her winnings. "Oh, so very, very much, Vinyl. With all that I am, and all that I ever aim to be."
Even though Octavia's words dripped with playful sarcasm, it was Octavia-brand sarcasm. Vinyl snickered to herself as she sloped back into her chair. "D'awww, I feel all the warm and fuzzies over here. I'm half tempted to end it here. All I want is your love," Vinyl spun around on the baring of the seat, so content with herself already.
In those moments, Vinyl was the picture of youthful exuberance. So pleased. So happy. So very much in the need of a smack down to reality. One that her dearly-beloved delivered with a single fluid motion. Octavia's hand had not slipped into her musty-old farmer's market sack for a second before it returned with righteous triumph. A thunderous crash so far as Octavia felt erupted through the kitchen as she presented her own weapon against Vinyl.
At once, the jubilation of the Scratch came to an end and the poor DJ was forced to bare witness to Octavia's find: a case of home-made pasta noodles. The tramp! The unrelenting fiend! Vinyl could have broken down there, bawling her poor little eyes out. How could she forget to buy packaged spaghetti? But, alas, even if she had been given the foresight... These were home-made. From the mark on the box, it must have been that hot chick with the floofy hair who comes to the market once a week. Damn Octavia, and damn that floofy-haired fiend!
"...I neeeeeeeed it..." Vinyl flopped onto the counter with outstretched hands, already relinquishing herself to defeat.
"'Need' is a word holding a great deal of gravity, Vinyl..." her tone was as teasing as it was sultry, rolling each syllable with the intent to torment her cornered adversary, "Supply should most definitely meet the demand... when and where was the last place you 'relieved' yourself?"
Tick-tock. Vinyl remained sprawled against the counter in her facedown status for a good moment, letting the cat's toying clicks treat the tension for as long as she could. With a snatch, the fallen warrior claimed her ration of noodles and pulled her form up to a proper stand; a cheesy smirk plastered on her face.
"It's a story, let me tell you," Octavia flittered her wrist in Vinyl's direction, more than eager to hear this wild tale, "It was yesterday. Aaaaand… It was in the first floor bathroom at gramps' place."
She asked to hear the truth, so she had no right to facepalm at the admission. However, Octavia could afford herself one luxury as she watched Vinyl tuck her noodles away: "Why?"
"He was in a meeting, I didn't wanna go too far if he finished early... What more can you do to pass time than the ol' bean wiggle?" It was crass... But she wasn't wrong.
"I would imagine there were magazines you could have read."
"Psh, yeah. Golfing For Grannies, that's gonna put honey in the pot..." Vinyl's mocking tone brought a simple smile to her lover, "Now, let's see here..." With a fumble, Vinyl rooted through her paper bags once more, looking for something that would give Octavia rightful returns for the noodle play.
The grace of which Vinyl presented the moldy piece of cheese was left to be desired, but the sight of it piqued Octavia's interest. A single black brow twitched at the mere sight of the cut of brie, a motion Octavia wished to keep unnoticed. "Brie, is it? My... One has to wonder how much that set you back. Would seem you are losing your edge at this, Miss Scratch," taunts and playing coy was Octavia's natural defense on the battlefield.
The proud woman's words did not fall on deaf ears---despite how often the woman would blast God-knows what into her own ears ad nauseam---as Vinyl reached for her jacket. With a flourish, Octavia had several scraps of loose paper waved in her perfectly poised visage. "Coupons, baby. Been cutting them for weeks! Found a sweet one a month ago for 50% off," such a mundane thing to be a braggart over, but Vinyl flaunted it like she presented the Golden Ticket to a chocolate factory.
"Thrifty shopping and frugal management? You've never looked more sexy to me..." Octavia leaned over the counter, playing a little wink at Vinyl.
"Never? What about that time I dressed like an elf?"
"Honey, that was during Easter."
"Still hot though."
"Always," for the briefest moment, a ceasefire.
Both parties came to an agreement that in that moment, they'd share in a quick but welcomed kiss as they met over the counter. Vinyl herself had to stand on her tiptoes and balance on the bars of her seat to make the full distance. But, to meet Octavia's lips, it was always worth the extra mile; even as her beloved backed away and let her fall flat on her chest against the hard countertop. In the moment Octavia's couldn't help but giggle as Vinyl sprawled almost her entire form wide across the counter with a 'thud'.
"Gah! I think I sprained my tit!" Vinyl hissed out, unable to stop herself from letting her own laugh out over her stumble.
"Poor thing... I suppose that means I can just..." Not so subtly, Octavia reached over her fallen foe to collect the block of brie. Not surprising to her, Vinyl miraculously found the strength to pull herself back to her seat as well as pull the brick away from Octavia's clutches. "Seeing as I cannot simply have it, you have me at your mercy."
"If you want this smelly slab, answer me this... No shame, no harm, no foul, just straight up honesty..." Vinyl let the moment hang to build up that dramatic tension, aided by the rhythmic tick-tock punctuating the dead air, "If you could organize a three-way, who would you bring in?"
"Anyone at all?" Octavia pressed without a hint of a pause.
"Well I'd prefer someone I could get on the phone or something sometime," joked Vinyl in response, though there was a distinct 'Vinyl way' about it that clued Octavia in that in may not always be a joke.
"It would be the same, nevertheless. Miss Lulamoon," taking her opportunity as Vinyl was left reeling from her matter-of-fact answer, Octavia pilfered the brick of cheese.
"Trixie? I thought you'd go with Twilight or even Lyra," bewildered didn't even begin to describe Vinyl in that moment; but not entirely opposed to the idea.
"By social obligation, I have to face Twilight often when I peruse her library. Having had an ---albeit not entirely unconsidered--- tryst involving her may make any future visits... difficult. The same would roughly apply to our Lyra as well... That and the only way I could see the suggestion being met would be to include Bon Bon as well. Which, upon that point, would be far too much carnal indulgence for me. Miss Lulamoon on the other hand...? We have little social obligations to her, with no mention to how personal she tends to be," Octavia's response was nearly practiced in how ready she was to exposit her exact reasoning to Vinyl, "That all said, outside of social ques and status quo… Trixie is by far our most sensuous acquaintance on the eyes."
"I'll ask if she's down next time she's in town," Vinyl stuck her tongue out with a wink, both knowing full well that conversation would never come. It was rare Trixie ever came into town; rarer still that she came into town for any other reason but to harass Twilight's residence for one reason or another.
"I await with bated breath. Now... I do believe the time of dancing around with paltry offerings has come to an end," Octavia collected her Pièce De Résistance from her scruffy sack.
She didn't require cumulative victories over Vinyl, merely only a single airstrike of substantial force that would leave the bright eyed girl reeling. "Ration Day" was more than simply an arbitrary and roundabout way of grocery shopping and fishing embarrassing questions out of your better half. It was about bringing Vinyl to her knees and shaming her into total annihilation! In the most loving way. A gestured furthered as they both bore witness to this grand showing: a pre-packaged bento box with no discerning markings along the outside.
Tick... Tock... The incessant clicks of each occupied second were distant thrums of an ethereal sort as Vinyl sat there eying the indescript box. The young DJ rolled her knuckles against her jawline as she pondered upon her next step, all but pleasing Octavia to no end.
A box can be anything... It can even be a box of shrimp or something! But, no... No-no-no-no, hah! That's what she wants me to think! She's bluffing. This thing's empty. Or-or it's filled with fuckin' cashews. Wait, who would fill a bento box with cashews? Looks like it's never been opened... Unless she had them reseal it after getting it filled with guacamole! No... That's too much work to put in for a bit. Unless that's what she WANTS me to think!
The raging war just beneath the surface of Vinyl's eyes was clear as day to Octavia as she watched the other woman twitch one eye, flex her fingers, and nibble at her bottom lip. She was truly adorable when she got like this. A conclusion had to be reached, and as uncertain as she was about what could possibly be in the box... Vinyl was certain she did not want Octavia to have it.
"Alright! Your damn mystery box wins! I want it noooooow!" Pleading fingers splayed in and out towards the glorious mystery box much to Octavia's delight.
"Not so fast," Octavia mockingly tugged the box just out of Vinyl's reach as she wagged a disapproving finger at the mewling child, "If you want this box... You will need to answer a deeply personal inquiry. Since you seem to want it so desperately."
Curse impulse control and Vinyl's distinct lack of one. The poor creature receded into her chair with a slump, prepared to accept what would surely be a devastating attack. For her part, Octavia mauled over her options; this was too soft, that one's too weak, another won't end this the way she desired. A plethora of options spread out before her eyes, and her lips curled to a devious smirk that displayed her pristine teeth as a simple idea made itself known.
"Miss Scratch, would you rather continue our bimonthly bout in hopes of catching me off kilter, thus claiming a victory... Or admit defeat in exchange of ravishing me for the rest of the night?" Octavia's tone drifted as sultry as ever to Vinyl's ears, pinpricks spiking along her every nerve.
"I mean, you know I love banging it out with you. But I think--" every word caught in Vinyl's throat as if the life was sucked right from her very being as she watched a familiar display, but not one that ever ceased to disarm her.
With a practiced ease and effortless flourish, Octavia slid one hand to the line of her lapel and unfastened a series of gilded buttons. In the display, the cellist's suitcoat slumped off her slender form with ease, leaving Octavia in a simple frilled blouse; the crest of her breasts just peaking enough from the neckline that Vinyl could see an almost unabashed view.
"...Call it a draw?" Vinyl managed to squeak out her attempt at a deal.
As if playing at every emotion Vinyl felt in that moment, the proud cellist hooked her index finger against the curve of her collar to tug it down just a few inches more to treat Vinyl to a sight she had seen ten times over but continued to make her weak. "Afraid not, Vinyl..." her words were taunting and cruel, much like the way she sauntered away from the counter and around the bend leading to her own room.
Vinyl kept her eyes glued to Octavia at every step, watching her hips sway one way, sashay the other in a manner that betrayed every notion of how proper she truly was. Watching the other woman disappear into her room, Vinyl hardened herself. No, she's trying to bate you! You can't just through in the towel over-- Out from the corner of Vinyl's eye, she saw the familiar frilled blouse flop down on the floor as it was tossed from the nearby room.
"...Okay you win," Vinyl remarked with little hesitation after that final display of goading.
In a flash of blue, Vinyl leapt from her chair and followed in toe with her victorious lover. With a slam of the door, the groceries were left to sit on the counter for some time. The winnings would be collected another time, the victory gloated over, and the mystery box's contents revealed; all in due course. In the battle of Ration Day, all things are fair, and the rules are hardly ever adhered to. For who could say no to someone so tactful and beautiful?
Author's Notes:
And I promise... next chapter? It's gonna be here a LOT sooner.
