His Eyes, Her Peppermints
Part One: His Eyes
Everyone knows that Alex has serious, brown eyes, and Mrs. Jones has a peppermint addiction. Well, what else is there to say on the subject? A twoshot parody.
Disclaimer: Anthony Horowitz owns Alex Rider. I do not. Therefore, I am not Anthony Horowitz, nor do I own Alex Rider. (Ah, the power of logic!)
Mrs. Jones had been waiting in her office for half an hour before he bothered to show up.
"You're late, Mr. Rider," she observed, turning from the window. Immediately, Mrs. Jones wished she had waited.
Because there stood Alex Rider, leaning against the open doorway, arms crossed against his chest. He was still in his school uniform and looked like a teenager for all intents and purposes…
Until you met his eyes.
For once, his eyes weren't obscured by fallen strands of fair hair. They were awfully visible, ready to pierce the windows of the soul of whoever dared to look. It didn't even matter if those windows were dirty; Alex's eyes carried a ready supply of Windex to clean soul-windows with. Mrs. Jones' windows were very dirty. Yet Alex cleaned them just the same, scrubbing off the grime and grit that had crusted into the cracks of her soul-window frames. He even got the little spot in the spider cracks from when someone had metaphorically thrown a ball at her soul-eye-window. This ability of his made her feel bare; it was as if he were a peeping Tom (peeping Alex? Tom wasn't really the type to peek). Alex was an intruder into the spartan apartment complex that was her soul. When she had first recognised this skill, Mrs. Jones had been amazed yet again by the young spy. Apparently, Alex was not only an incredible agent, but his allegorical window-washing skills were extraordinary.
But there was more to his eyes than just the soul-window phenomenon. When he gazed at you, his look was so intense that he seemed ready to shoot lasers from his eyes at any time. Not the wimpy lasers people use to point to things from across a room, but rather the kind that bore holes into concrete walls, only leaving behind smoke because the deadly red beam vaporized everything in its path. If only Ian had somehow taught Alex that skill before dying! Alex was raised with all of his other impressive abilities; lasers weren't too far of a stretch, were they? Had she raised Alex, that lesson would have been after learning basic karate, but before the kayaking lessons. Lasers definitely beat kayaking.
Mrs. Jones would have to send a note to Smithers. Actual lasers for Mr. Rider to supplement the power that already emanated from his eyes would do wonders for the agent on missions. Though she would have to be wary of Alex becoming a cyborg; Alex would be all too capable of leading a robotic takeover of London.
Even more intriguing than the intensity of his eyes were their deep, gorgeous colour. It would be blasphemy to simply call them brown. Too many inapplicable objects were also brown. Dirt was brown, but were Alex Rider's eyes dirt brown? They couldn't be; remember the Windex? Nor were his eyes the velvety brown of a moose's fur. The only characteristic that could possibly be compared between the two were the intimidating stares they both had. Alex was not known for his impressive set of antlers and no moose had ever been complimented on their spy skills. No, Alex's eyes were chocolate, a melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate that even held the bitterness detectable in such a delicacy.
Better yet, Alex's eyes were hot cocoa (certainly not hot chocolate because that was too graceless a phrase to equate Alex Rider with). They were the colour of hot cocoa, the steaming, piping hot kind that's abundant with miniature marshmallows. Of course, his eyes didn't steam, nor did they actually have mini marshmallows in them; that would not only be awkward, but might also hurt quite a bit. Not that Mrs. Jones would know; her eyes were nowhere near the colour of cocoa. Maybe more of a chocolate pudding, sans the sweetness.
Perhaps those deep, dark, and ultimately delicious eyes were the reason why his enemies had a rather strange fascination with him. One look and anyone could become mesmerized, drawn into Alex's gaze. It was like staring up at a ceiling fan and attempting to catch a single blade turn around and around; dizziness eventually trounces the body and those spinning swirls of red and white commonly seen in the background of a falling silhouette became literally all Mrs. Jones could see (though her swirl colour scheme was probably affected by abnormal exposure to peppermints).
As soon as Alex had opened the door, she took one glance and fell into the deep, intense, chocolaty-with-red-swirls-and-Windex stare that was always present. Mrs. Jones was pulled in deeper...
And deeper...
And deeper...
And—
"Hey! Are you done staring?"
Mrs. Jones snapped out of her reverie. "Oh, yes, Alex, come, take a seat."
Alex shuffled in, dropping his bookbag against the side of her desk. He sat, glaring at her with those eyes.
Note to self, cancel that note to Smithers. Alex's eyes do not need any more ammo than they already have. Also, buy hot cocoa mix, marshmallows included.
I accidentally gave Alex the wrong eye color in my other fic An Unexpected Return, which made me realize what an idiot I was (and am), which led to this. Now, time to plead for some reviews: review please! This story was really because I wanted to experiment, see what reactions I got, if the idea itself was hated/loved/neither, which diction/syntax worked and which didn't, and all the usual reviewing basics. Even if it's just one word or even an emoticon, review! All reviewers are cherished. Hope you liked this, and give me your ideas, comments, questions, criticisms, witticisms, and/or limericks!
Edits 9/16/14: Minor grammar fixes.