#bh90210 rewrite

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x18: It’s Only A Test

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: The SATs, health emergencies, and way too many feelings.

Warnings: mentions of tumors and loss of a loved one, a little bit of angst, maybe a swear word somewhere. I think that’s it!

Word Count: 2,300 My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!) Feedback is incredibly appreciated! :)

A/N:Thanks for everyone’s patience! I had to take a little time off due to Shannen coming out about her cancer returning. It just felt weird to hear about that and then write a chapter about Brenda having a cancer scare. I just needed a little time to process it, but now I’m back and the next chapter (April is the Cruelest Month) is ACTUALLY going to come out next week! Very excited about that. Okay, okay, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! :) I’d usually link the song for the chapter but it’s not letting me for some reason. The song I would’ve linked is Opposites Attract by Paula Abdul if you still want to check it out! -

Seven days. Seven days! You have seven days to prepare for the SAT. Not six. Sure, you’ve been preparing for it practically your entire life but… a week? It’s like a sick joke or something.

You chew on the end of your pencil, bouncing your leg in a monotonous yet anxious fashion against the wooden desk in the newsroom. Staring down at the article in front of you, your heart pounds. It’s official. No one at this school knows how to use a comma and you can’t possibly fix everyone’s mistakes but you’re gonna die trying. How the hell does Andrea do this? And why did she think dropping all of her work on you right before the biggest test of your life was a good idea?

So you have to cover for her and prepare for the SATs all at the same time— not a big deal! It’s fine! You’d still have plenty of time to see your boyfriend, make sure you can get into a decent college, and see that the next issue of the Blaze gets out on time. Piece of cake! And hey, if you happen to make it out of all of this sane, that’s just a bonus.

“Y’know, I’ve wondered who’s been masticating all the pencils around here,” Brandon teases you as he struts over. You look up from the desk for the first time in half an hour to meet his glance.

“Masticating? Why— why use that word? You could’ve used chewed or chomped or a thousand other words. Masticating is totally unnecessary. Masticating is the kind of word that you learn on one of those super expensive, way too exclusive SAT prep courses.”

“What, like Alfred B. Cook?” He cocks an eyebrow up, pulling a stool from beside him to sit down next to you.

“‘Or you be fried,’” you quote exasperatedly, resting your head in your hand.

“Let me guess— Steve?”

“Bingo,” you sigh.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think those prep courses even work. The SATs are designed to test you on stuff you already know, you can’t cram for them.”

“That’s what I told Steve to begin with but… then again, maybe you can! I mean if there is some kind of system or something, then everyone else who can’t afford those stupid overpriced courses is put at a total disadvantage! And I- I can’t afford to be put at any kind of disadvantage, not with everything I have to do!“

“First off, Y/N/N, you’re the smartest person I know! Besides, it’s just a test. A test that you can take twice if you want to. Second… I think you need to cut back on the coffee because you’re about five seconds away from short-circuiting.” You roll your eyes at him for the coffee jab, but you know he’s right.

“Well, sure, it’s just a test— but it’s a test that’ll determine whether I end up at Stanford or San Quentin.”

-

“So, you know how we were all at Kelly’s studying for the SATs?” You nod in response, joining Brenda on the edge of her bed. Brenda crosses her arms over her chest, settling back into her bed. “Well, she was reading this magazine and it had this thing in it about… where y’know, you check your breasts for lumps.” She stirs in her spot, kicking her feet up onto the bed. “So—“ she inhales and her voice is low, solemn. “we all decided to do it. I don’t know why, I guess we were bored.” There’s something in the way that she starts gazing off, staring mindlessly into the corner of her bedroom that rubs you the wrong way. Something was off.

“Bren, that’s not something we have to worry about at our age.”

“Well, the article said that even people our age should get into the habit. So, we all did the test,” her words begin to waver as she speaks, “And I thought I felt something.” Her eyes well up, lower eyelids reddening against her tears that are threatening to break through. “So, I talked to my mom and we went to the doctor.”

No. No no no no no. There’s no way… but would she even be telling you about this if there was nothing to worry about? Your stomach lurches instinctively. Suddenly you didn’t feel so well.

“And?” The second she takes to respond feels like an hour as you await her response.

“It’s a tumor.” You shake your head, stammering.

“That—that— How is that possible? I mean, you’re only sixteen and—and—“ you stop yourself short to take a deep, thoughtful breath. “Bren…”

You don’t know what else there is to do besides pulling her into a hug. Her head sits on your shoulder and your hand is resting on her back. You sit like that for a moment, finding comfort in each other’s company. You’d never had a friend like her before. Sure, you’ve had friends, but nothing could hold a candle to what you have with her. It was nice, having someone you could talk about anything with, free of judgment, free of criticism. And the thought of losing that… losing her? As that starts to sink in, it terrifies you.

“We’re getting a biopsy on Saturday,” she whispers.

There’s a beat before you mumble, “At least you get to miss the SATS?”

-

“So, Steve, any glorious plans this evening?” You meet up with your friend on the way out of West Beverly.

“I was planning on studying. You know what they say— ‘Alfred B. Cook—‘“

“Or you be fried, yeah, I get it. Can I come?”

“Are you asking me for a date?” He flashes a mischievous grin, to which you scoff.

“Of course I am,“ you tease, “Nothing and I mean nothing gets me in the mood for romance like my boyfriend’s best friend and the impending doom of a standardized test.” Steve rolls his eyes, waiting for you to finish. “Look, of course I’m not asking you for a date. What I am asking you for is the Alfred B. Cook advantage. The notes, practice tests, secret government documents– whatever you’ve got.” You shoot him a pair of pleading eyes. "Hey, I’ve gotta go… see you at eight?” You start to slowly tread backward in the direction of your car as you talk.

You turn on your heel toward the parking lot as you hear him call out “It’s a date!”

“No it’s not!”

-

“Hey, turn it off— we’re supposed to be studying!” You plead loudly as he turns the radio on his nightstand up, pop music blaring so loud you’re surprised the furniture isn’t shaking.

“Come on, you love this song!”

“Steve, everybody loves this song. Paula‘s a goddess of pop,” you dismiss him, reaching over and twisting the dial down.

“Loosen up. Y’know, what you really need is some fun,” he turns the dial to the other side, and now you’re back at square one.

“I have plenty of fun!” you narrow your eyes challengingly, but when you go to turn it back down, a small neon orange ball comes hurdling at your face. You gasp, dodging the projectile aimed at your head. “Did you really just throw an off-brand cheese ball at my face?”

“Maybe I did… maybe I didn’t,” he shrugs nonchalantly, moving over to the lounge chair in the corner of his room.

“What are you, five?” You reprimand him, and as he bends over to pick up a pencil from his carpet, you scoop the plastic bucket of cheese balls, firing a few directly at him. They hit his shoulder blade, crumbling as they fall down to the carpet, hints of orange residue leaving itself all over Steve.

“Who’s five now?”

-

“Okay, you got four choices, right? Well, out of those four, one will be a total throwaway,” Steve explains, pacing around his room as you catapult yourself back onto his bed, settling to sit cross-legged. It had only taken an hour and a handful of cheese balls to get a Steve to actually start studying.

“Wait, really?“

“Yeah! They do it so they can weed out the morons,” he nods, “No you’ve got three choices left and out of those three choices, one word will often mean the total opposite, so you can rule that one out too. Then you’re down to two choices, and even if you don’t know the answer, you’ve still got a 50/50 shot.”

“That makes it so much easier!” You fall back dramatically and rest your forearm under the back of your head.

“Yeah, you just can’t spend too much time on one question, you have to breeze through it with total confidence and no hesitation.”

“God, I hope I can do it.” You exhale, watching the fan on the ceiling swirl around.

“You can do it. You’re smart already. In fact, I think that’s your problem. You totally outsmart yourself.” He joins you on his queen size bed, lying down beside you.

“Well, sometimes I wish I wasn’t so ‘smart,’” you scoff.

“You know what?” He waits until you’re looking at him with curious eyes to continue, “you’re pretty cute when you’re not biting my head off.” You roll your eyes at his bluntness. If he was anyone else you’d probably be a little offended, but it was Steve. You were way too used to it now.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?”

“No…” You watch as his eyes flicker from your own, to your lips, then slowly back up to your eyes. “This is.” He leans forward, and before you can even process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

You sock him hard in the shoulder, shooting up from his bed.

“Steve!”

“What?” He grabs his shoulder as if in pain, but you know it’s only his ego that’s wounded.

“What the hell, man?!” You run your hands through your hair, groaning out in frustration. “Why on earth would you do that?!”

“Well, uh… I don’t know. I thought I was picking up on something, that’s all.”

“I have to go… Hey, I’m sure you helped my score two—three hundred points.” You scramble to get your things together, actively avoiding looking Steve in the eye.

-

“Hey, B,” you join Brandon on the grass in the quad, a small thud as you set your food down beside you.

“Hey, Y/N/N. What’s for lunch?” It was unusually cold today. Clouds covered the usually beaming sun, though little beams of light peeked through every once in a while.

“How can you even think about food right now?“ You fold your hands in your lap, swallowing. You hadn’t eaten all day, but you couldn’t make yourself hungry if you wanted to.

“Actually, there’s something pretty important I want to tell you—“

“Wait. Before you say anything…” you catch his gaze thoughtfully, “how’re you holding up with everything?”

He sighs at that, letting his eyes drift to the ground. “Look, I can’t really flip out at home because of Brenda… but the truth is, inside I’m- I’m flipping out, Y/N/N.” You grab his hand silently, holding it and resting your intertwined fingers on your lap as he continues. “I mean, I know she’s gonna be fine but…”

“Hey, hey… of course she’s gonna be fine.” But then again…

“But then again, there’s always that chance,” his voice is quivering as he swallows, “And I can’t even comprehend it.” You place your free hand over the hand that you’re holding. You sit in silence for a moment, and you think about how you’ve never seen him like this before. Your typically mild-mannered boyfriend’s quiet. He’s vulnerable. He’s scared.

“Brandon, just know that no matter what it is, you can always come talk to me about it.“

"I know… you too, Y/N/N.”  You give him a soft, empathetic smile.

“So, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

-

“Well, it’s almost been three hours,” Brenda sighs.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m sure she’ll call any minute!” Cindy agrees, chewing mindlessly on her thumbnail.

“And when she does I’ll answer it,” Brenda states, glaring in an accusatory way towards her mother.

“Fine, can I get anybody something to eat?” Cindy jolts up, making you realize how antsy everyone is. You’re tapping your foot as you stand next to Dylan at a hundred miles a minute, Brandon’s been pacing around the couch for twenty minutes, and Jim hasn’t said a word this entire time.

“Doesn’t anyone know any more jokes?” Brenda suggests, eyeing Dylan.

“None that I could tell here… Y/N/N?” Dylan looks to you, but you shake your head.

The doorbell rings, causing Cindy to go careening towards the phone. She whips it up to her ear and shouts impatiently into it.

“Hello?!”

“See, I told you she’d answer it,” Brenda grumbles, going over to the front door. She swings it open as Kelly and Donna walk in, giant gift baskets in hand. “You guys, I’m not dead.” The telephone starts to ring, interrupting Kelly when she opens her mouth to speak. “I’ll get it, I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” Brenda shouts, bolting over to the phone and bringing the antenna up. She lifts it to her ear. “Hello? Yes, this is Brenda… hi, Dr. Donner… Uh-huh…” Oh god. This is it. “Uh-huh!” A grin spreads across her face, “It is?!” You can feel the weight lifting off of your shoulders with pure relief. You quickly send up a collective thank you to any and every god you can think of, just in case. “It’s fibroadenoma, just like she thought. Fairly common in teenage girls due to an abnormally high level of estrogen. I guess my hormones were raging,” she giggles.

“Tell me about it,” Dylan smirks, and Brandon sends his elbow into his stomach at the exact same moment you smack Dylan on the back of the head. “Hey!”

Now, time to tackle your next crisis: the fact that you just bombed your SATs.

-

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Taglist: @be-patient-be-good​ @mpmarypoppins​ @bevelyhills90210​ @blueoz​ @harleylilo88​ @princess-ghost-alien​ @hueycat2004​ @l4life​ @keepcalm-and-beyou​​ @palefiregiver​​ @rosy-pugs​

[shannendoherty-fans]

2019 - BH90210 - 1x04 - The Table Read

Episode aired 28 August 2019

The fan reaction from the release of the first cast photo has the gang riding high, until the table read serves up major disappointment. The cast bands together to try to rewrite the script, but can't come to an agreement on storylines.

Meanwhile, Shannen questions her decision to join the reboot, Jennie lets Kyler (Karis Cameron) audition for a role, and Brian learns some shocking information about Zach (Ty Wood).

[uniquestream]

BH90210: Season 1 Episode 4 When the table read serves up major disappointment, the cast bands together to try to rewrite the script, but can't come to an agreement on storylines; Shannen questions her decision to join the reboot.

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x17: Stand (Up) And Deliver.

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Tensions run high when Brandon decides to run for class president.

Warnings: It’s like 90% angst this week. Everyone’s a jerk at some point in this. Brandon’s a jerk. You’re a jerk. Kelly’s a jerk. Just be prepared haha. There might be a swear word in there somewhere. If any of you find something that should be tagged in the warnings, let me know! 

Words: 4,100. 

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!!)

A/N: Just a little disclaimer beforehand: I like Kelly. I know this chapter doesn’t exactly paint her in the best way, but all of the relationships will heal in due time. This one was really fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you guys think!

-

“Brandon, wait up!” You swerve around the clumps of people in the hall to catch up to him, “I’ve got a proposition.”

“Yeah? Your desk or mine?” He wraps his left arm around you, hand warm against your waist as he pulls you close.

 "Well, actually, Andrea has a proposition for you. I’m just the messenger,“ You slip a paper out of the folder in your hands and pass it to him. His head cocks, looking back at you peculiarly.

 “‘Run for office?’ Y/N/N… no one even knows me here.” 

“That’s what makes this so perfect, no one knows you enough to hate you or anything! Look, this is a good idea because from what Andrea told me, the rest of the candidates are a bunch of popular airheads. And with your Kennedy hair and actual set of morals, you’d be a total shoo-in! At least think about it, okay?” He pecks the top of your head, fiddling with the paper in his hand. 

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

-

“Yo, politicos! Last-minute dark horse entry into the class presidential elections!” One minor downfall to Brandon’s entry— David Silver. You forgot he was documenting the entire thing and you didn’t find out about it until he was there sticking a camera in your face and asking you what made Brandon such a ‘suitable candidate.’ You might just lose your mind. “Brandon Walsh, the new kid on the West Beverly block.”

“The sister is always the last to know,” Brenda grumbles, leaning back into the lockers as she watches her brother get relentlessly hounded by a few bulky cameras. 

“He kind of looks like a politician,” Kelly shrugs, “He’s got that Kennedy hair.” Kelly watches as well, though she’s much more interested than the candidate’s sister. Brandon turns down the hall and out of sight, the group of cameras following his every move. She bites her lip amorously. “It’s like a magnet.” 

“What?” 

“Power,” she smirks, a devilish glint in her eye. 

Brenda shoots her a warning glare, “Kelly, don’t.”

-

“What great news!” Mrs. Walsh gushes, “You know, we’ve always felt bad about moving here and screwing up your plans to run back home.” 

“Do you think you can pull it off?” Jim questions, sipping his afternoon coffee. 

“Oh! Definitely,” Donna makes her presence known at the entrance of the kitchen, with Kelly not too far behind and… suddenly you feel the urge to leave. Immediately. “The other guy’s a nobody too. No offense.” 

 “I’ve never been friends with a candidate before!” Kelly smiles, rounding the table to go over to Brandon, while you’re off by the kitchen counter with the other twin. 

“Friends with a candidate’s sister,” Brenda corrects. 

“Uh, right,” She nods,  “I’ve never even voted.” She sets her hand on him, her fingertips gently grazing his shoulder. 

Brandon clears his throat, shrugging her hand off of him and moving over to the counter, “Well, you gotta get involved, Kel. It’s important to try to change things.” 

“Oh, I plan to.” 

“Kelly!” Brenda urges. Once she realizes everyone’s eyes are on her, she readjusts herself. “Uh, didn’t you want to um, borrow one of my jackets? Because I have it upstairs if you want to come get it.” Huh. That was… weird. 

-

It’s the next morning, and you’re sitting there at the kitchen table with the Walshes, making button after button after button. It honestly felt like your hands were gonna fall off at this point. The things you do for that boy. 

“So there I was, listening to Donna being heckled and instantly I knew what to do!” Brenda grins, reminiscing about the previous night at The Fall Out. 

“That’s great, honey,” Jim smiles absentmindedly, “Would you pass me that glue, please?” 

“Bren, that’s incredible! You’ll have to drag me along next time, I so want to see that in action.” You’re the only one to actually acknowledge her as you help Cindy glue down something onto one of one thousand campaign buttons. Ugh, you could feel the blisters forming. 

“Definitely! Performance-oriented coffee houses are really happening, I mean, I really felt like a part of it!” 

“Right… Is this button crooked?” Cindy asks, holding it up to her chest to get a second opinion. 

“It’s fine, mom.” Brenda sighs, scooting her chair out from under her. She stands up with a silent huff and stomps to the foyer to greet whoever came to the door a few minutes prior. You know what you’re doing is for Brandon, but you can’t help but think about how Brenda’s holding up throughout all of this. I mean, her parents barely even acknowledge her existence at this point. 

“Well, I was up all night from that toxic cappuccino, thinking about what you said about getting involved…” Kelly’s purring at Brandon in the foyer while Donna stands idly by. “Brandon, I can help you win. I know everyone.” 

“Or how to glom onto everyone,” Donna mutters. 

“And that’s exactly what you need.” Kelly bargains. 

Brenda stalks over to the group, eyeing the persistent girl suspiciously. 

“Kelly, whenever political stuff comes on you switch to MTV,” She raises her eyebrows in disbelief as she objects. She isn’t gonna let Kelly sink her claws into her brother. Not on her watch.

“Look, help from anyone would be appreciated,” Brandon smiles politely, stepping back into the doorway as Kelly tries to bound closer. 

“Help doing what?” Andrea swoops in from behind Brandon and waltzes in through the open door, arms full of rolled up campaign posters. 

“I’m going to run Brandon’s campaign!” Kelly grins. 

“Kelly, he already has someone running his campaign,” Andrea reminds her.

“Yeah, I think Y/N already has it covered,” Brenda jumps in, nodding eagerly. 

“Well, isn’t there enough room for the both of us?” Kelly asks, hitching an eyebrow up. She folds her arms over her chest and starts at the candidate. 

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea, Kel,” Brandon agrees. 

“Oh, come on! You can never have too much help. It’ll be fun.”

-

“Here, I got some cute politician photos,” Kelly offers. Oh yeah. Kelly being here was a real help. “Try to model yourself after these guys, okay?”

“Well, I can see you’ve been busy,” You comment, peering over her shoulder to look at the pictures she prepared. “Gary Hart never even made it to the nominations, Kelly. Besides, what we need to be focusing on are the actual issues. Not if Brandon looks cute enough.” You go and sit back down at Brandon’s desk. 

“Yeah!” Brandon agrees enthusiastically, “See, I had this idea that we could feed the homeless people with all the surplus food they throw out of the cafeteria.” 

“That’s perfect!” You smile approvingly, tapping your fingers against the wooden desk. “And that’s why you’re going to win— you actually use your brain instead of just your face.” 

“Wait!” Kelly cautions, “We have to hit people with what they want for themselves.” 

“Hey,” you hear Brenda’s voice come from the conjoined bathroom, “Big news— I’ve got my own campaign going— to leave school.” 

“Brenda, that is a great idea!” Kelly exclaims, “Yeah, we’ll tell them they can leave school for lunch!” Oh dear.

Brenda stomps back into her room without hesitation and slams the door behind her. You sigh, lifting yourself from the seat. 

“Be right back, B,” you trail after your best friend into her bedroom, sitting beside her on her bed. “You’re serious about quitting school?”

“Yeah, I am serious, actually.” 

“Hey, y’know, in some cases, getting your equivalency could actually be more beneficial. Just because it’s not right for other people doesn’t mean it can’t be right for you.” Well… you didn’t think it was a great idea, but you weren’t about to tell her that. The last thing she needs right now is for another person to dismiss her. And hey, if anyone can pull it off, it’s probably her. 

“Tell my parents that,” she snickers, eyes rolling.

-

You can’t believe you’re even thinking this… but you are so sick of Brandon’s face. You can’t turn down a hall without seeing his picture, seeing his face staring right at you. “Brandon Walsh for CLASS PRESIDENT.”  It was mocking you at this point. And you know, you know, it was partly your idea. But it was mostly Andrea’s. And the idea was to work on the campaign with him as a team. A small two-person team. Maybe even three with Andrea. But not Kelly. Anyone but Kelly. 

You’re sitting with Brenda at  Fall Out and it feels good— getting out of school, out of your house, out of Casa Walsh. Not to mention the great coffee. 

“Rumor has it that some things you learn with Jack you never wanna unlearn,” Sky, the spunky redheaded barista whispers. 

“Are you two…” Brenda trails off, both hands wrapped around her warm coffee mug. 

“No way,” she giggles, “Even good sex ruins a good friendship.” The guy you had met earlier, Jack, treads over, plopping himself down on the empty seat at the table. “Listen, Jack, I really hate to ask you this, believe me… but it’s family crisis time again, I’ve gotta go up to Modesto.” 

“Forget it,” he scoffs,  “every time I house-sit for you we wind up in a fight. It’s always ‘you didn’t water the plants’ or  ‘you forgot to feed the guppy.’”

“Hey, you know, if you need a house sitter I might have a candidate,” Brenda smirks.

-

You watch, horrified as Brandon’s campaign video plays across the Walshes tv screen. It’s self-indulgent superficial nothingness as clip after clip of Brandon being cute and literally nothing else is displayed. This had to be the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen. No selling points, no talk about anything he’s looking to improve, not even a lousy bribe. Wonderful. Very smart move letting Kelly put this together. And it’s only getting better as it freeze frames, with David’s voice-over pulling through. 

“Bran the man! And he can deliver.”  You had to fight off every urge you had to laugh out loud. I mean… come on. Come. On! Bran the man? Way to go, Kel. 

“Bran the man?” Brandon’s just as confused as you are, mouth agape. You have to take a deep breath to suffocate the laugh that’s trying to claw its way up before you speak. And behind that laughter, there was just a little bit of anger. Juuust a little bit.

“Now, okay. As incredible as that was, Kelly, and I mean incredible— you told us… nothing.” 

“That’s the beauty of it! He doesn’t have to say anything.” 

“That’s not a good thing! He could be trying to reinstate nazis or the KKK into West Beverly and we’d have no idea. Brandon, you can’t possibly think this is a good idea!” You protest, eyes wide. 

“Hey, we all want to win, Y/N/N.” Okay. Make that a lot of anger. He was actually going to let that flaming piece of self-indulgent garbage be his campaign video? 

“Well, if this is your way of winning… I think there’s a part of me that actually wants you to lose. I’m out.“ You shove on your jacket, jumping up from your seat and start to foot it out the door.

“Hey, where are you going?”

You shrug carelessly, “I don’t know. Might grab some pie, might rent a movie, maybe a pizza. We’ll see.” You make it out before he can get another word in, the slamming of the door the only sound in the house now. Hah. Bran the Man. Unbelievable. 

“I can’t believe it,” Brandon mumbles, “she totally just deserted me.” 

“Well…” Kelly begins, “I’m still here, Brandon.” He lets out a gravelly sigh, shaking his head as he paces over to the bookshelves. 

“I don’t know. I think she’s right. The whole thing might be a little vain.” 

“Listen, Brandon,” she stalks over to him, voice lowering, “If you really want something… you have to go after it. Hard. Any means necessary.” 

That’s when it clicks for him. Had Kelly had been coming onto him this entire time? He looks down at his feet, chuckling sheepishly, a hint of bitterness peaking through. 

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

 Kelly shakes her head, approaching closer and letting her arms snake around his neck. 

“I wouldn’t say so.” 

“Kelly,” he grabs her wrists and removes them from around him, setting them back at her sides.

“C’mon, no one has to find out,” she purrs, attempting to return to the previous position. 

This time, he’s not so gentle, practically flinging her arms off of him. “What’s your problem? She’s technically not even your girlfriend!" 

“But she’s not not my girlfriend. Just because we haven’t sat and talked and said ‘we’re dating’ doesn’t mean it changes our relationship. I love her, Kelly. And there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about that." 

“But—“ 

 “Let me rephrase this so you understand,” he continues, only speaking fractionally slower. Taunting her. “I’m not going to do this to Y/N. And I’m not gonna self-sabotage after one argument. I don’t know if I’ve been sending off the wrong signals or something— but I have no interest in you romantically. I agreed to let you help so I could get extra help on the campaign. Not so I could see your clumsy, evil attempt at trying to seduce me out of the relationship with the girl I love.” He clears his throat, “Now… Are we clear?”

Kelly exhales in defeat, eyes lightly lined with tears of embarrassment. “Crystal.” 

-

“This place is so cool!” You cheer as you enter through the front door of Sky’s apartment, cheese pizza in hand. 

“I know, right?!” Brenda beams, “I can’t believe I actually convinced my parents to let me stay here for a few days. Then again, maybe they’ve been so focused on Brandon that it slipped right by them.” 

“No way! Parents worship the ground their children walk on, they just never admit it,” you convince, throwing your jacket on the couch.

“That’s probably true,” Brenda laughs, “how’d you convince your parents?”

“I didn’t, Eric did. I swear that kid could talk his way out of a paper bag,” You set the pizza down on the coffee table, kicking your feet up. “So, our first order of business. What are we watching? Dirty Dancing or Risky Business?”

-

You sigh as you and Brenda watch her brother chat up a random jock. Tom or Todd or Mark or something. 

“Brandon hates that jerk,” She notices. Andrea joins you at your other side, scoffing.

“Yeah, well, jerks are voters too,” she adds. 

“I just can’t believe he let himself get manipulated this way!” Brenda might not be able to, but you sure can. 

“Major integrity loss,” Andrea laments. 

“And here comes Svengali,” you fawn sarcastically as Kelly struts her way over, nose wrinkled in disgust. 

“Brenda, how can you wear that costume?”

“Well, Kelly, you put one arm through one sleeve and one through the other,” Brenda taunts back. You’d think with the number of costumes Kelly wears that she’d be a pro by now. 

“First of all, Hippie Witch is out,” She hisses.

“It’s not hippie witch. It’s twin peaks and it’s very in, but that doesn’t matter.”

“What does matter is that it’ll hurt Brandon,” Kelly barks back. Yeah. Like she’s ever cared about Brandon.

“Just till elections, kay, Bren?” You don’t even notice Brandon until he’s there, directly in front of you. He’s like a pop-up book from hell, “so, are you guys coming to the campaign party at Donna’s?”

“As much as we’d love to, we have to stay and house sit for Sky,” you shrug.

“Sounds thrilling,” Kelly comments. 

“Well, Kelly, one day when you’re finally grown up enough to be on your own, maybe you’ll understand having responsibilities beyond finding the best shoes to match your outfit,” you snap. 

-

“Can’t you at least leave the chair?!” You call after the man that’s been carrying out Sky’s possessions for the last twenty minutes, but your voice is raw and it’s all in vain as he carries out the last of it. “There’s nothing left!” 

“Uh, you’re something,” Oh. Jack. Or was it Mark?

“They took everything,”  You bellow, “I mean, I could’ve tried to fight them to the death for it but I’m not sure that would have done any good. The repo man knows no bounds, apparently.” 

“I know, I saw ‘em cruise by. It’s pretty awful. But hey, at least it’s only things. We’ve got what’s important. You… me, Shakespeare the fish, and some Franco-American spaghetti.” He strides into the apartment and over to the oven, to which you follow. He holds his lighter up to it, but to no avail. You jump as there’s a knock at the door. You bounce over, figuring it’s Brenda. And… well, it is. And then some. 

“What’s going on?” You ask, Jack not far behind you. 

“Y/N/N, I’m sorry, I tried to get them to go somewhere else but they wouldn’t listen,” Brenda apologizes genuinely as the group of people push their way in, “Hey, Jack.”

“So this is the fish you’re feeding while the cat’s away, huh? Classy,” Kelly smirks. Crowd after crowd file their way into the apartment every time you believe they’re about to stop. “Where’s the food?”

“Well, I’m sorry, Kelly, but if I knew you were coming I would’ve stocked the place for you!” You retort, eyes narrowing. 

“I tried calling but the phone was disconnected,” she responds and sashays over to the fridge. 

“I’m here at the Walsh campaign party,” oh god. You’d know that voice anywhere. The joyous David Silver. “It’s sort of a standup event, everyone seems to be having a great time!” David speaks professionally to the camera as he walks through the front door and into the bare living room. You give a quick wave to Scott, who’s holding the camera as David continues to lay it on thick. “And here’s the candidate’s sister! The hostess with the mostest!” Brenda storms right up to David, ripping the microphone from his hand. 

“Get out!” The room goes silent as all heads are turned to her as Jack calmly grabs the mic. 

“Uh, friends. Yeomen. Country club men. Lend me those pierced ears. Listen up, how many of you really know what this candidate stands for?” Brenda slowly approaches Brandon, who was in the middle of chatting up potential voters. 

“Do you even know anymore, Brandon? I mean, you’ve sorta turned into this processed candidate, haven’t you? Leaving any real help, any honest shot of winning behind.” 

“David!” Kelly practically catapults herself across the room, grabbing David by the arm, “Why don’t we turn on the video, okay?” Damage control, you presumed. David moves to plug the tv in, but as soon as it goes into the outlet— darkness. And not the metaphorical deep kind of darkness, but literal darkness. The power goes out. 

-

“No manager is listed! What do I do, ring all the bells?” You lament as you turn around to go back into the apartment, met by Steve at the doorway. 

He mumbles as he breezes past you, “Low-rent city, Y/N/N.”

“You’re welcome, Steve!”

“Hey, where’s the fuse box?” Oh joy, the candidate himself. 

“No clue.” 

“No offense, but you really have the apartment from hell!” Kelly snickers. And that’s your finishing touch, tonight. Between the power going out, everything getting repossessed, and Brandon and Kelly the power couple from hell, you can’t take it anymore. 

“You know, you guys just showed up!” You start, arms folded, “You just burst in, not even thinking that Brenda and I might have a life, just assuming that it would be fine to invite yourself to someone else’s apartment!” 

“Y’know, you could’ve been a little more supportive and offered the apartment,” Brandon jeers. 

“Supportive?! Give me a break! What about you, Brandon?! You’ve been so vain and self-absorbed these past two weeks that I’m not even sure you’re the same guy anymore!” You snarl out, and you can almost guarantee that all the neighbors are now privy to the drama, but at the moment you really don’t care. You try to stop the words but the more they flow out the harder they are to stop. You can feel the burning in your eyes as they well up, “and you, Kelly!” You can hear the disgust rolling off your tongue as you say her name, “You just hate when anyone besides yourself gets attention, so you decide to console yourself on Brandon! Why can’t you go for any of the millions of guys in Beverly Hills, why do you have to always go straight for your friend’s boyfriends?!” 

You pause for a moment and inhale deeply, “Look. You guys have had no problem passing me right by, so why don’t you both just keep on going and leave me the hell alone?” 

“C’mon, Y/N. Don’t do this now!” He whips you back around, his grasp firm but gentle enough that if you wanted to keep walking, you could. You look him dead in the eye as your voice softens.

“I’m sorry, it bad timing for your campaign?” 

Brandon sighs, and when the light catches his eye you can see he’s just as thrilled with this fight as you are, tears delicately rimming the edges. He releases his grip on your arm. Taking your hand in his instead, apologetically, he drops his voice down to match yours. 

“I gotta go now. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I don’t even think I want to vote. But hey, you know what, Brandon? Congratulations. You might really have what it takes to be a politician.”

-

“Mr. Walsh, your proposals please.” 

“Uh, my first order of business will be to get rock bands every Friday at lunch.” The room breaks out in an erupting cheer as you and Brenda watch amusedly off to the side. You look down at the “Walsh for Class President” button in your hand, fidgeting with the metal clasp between your fingers as a brief chant of “Walsh! Walsh! Walsh!” starts. God, he had them eating out of his fingers at this point. 

His opponent, Michael Miller, leans into the mic. His voice rings throughout the room skeptically as the cheers settle, “How do you plan to implement this?”

“Well, Uh…” He swallows, “Contact the bands.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that. There are releases and— and permits and insurance. When I was assistant activities committee chairman—“that doesn’t sound like a real title but whatever“—I brought in bands for the prom. Are you aware of all the red tape involved?” 

“Uh…” Come on, Brandon. Say something. “No.” Uh-oh. “But you are. And that’s just one of about fifty reasons why you’re more qualified to be president than I am.” 

Your hear Kelly’s enraged whispers from behind you, “What the hell is he doing?” As you smile down at your hands you know exactly what he was doing. He was being Brandon. 

“And you certainly run a more honorable campaign. During the two weeks of total campaign madness, I set out to be an honest reputable candidate. I ended up with a vague campaign and I seriously hurt the people I love along the way. Not only that, but I’m nowhere near as experienced you as you are. And that’s the reason why I’m throwing my support to you… Mr. President.” Unanimous frustration spreads across the room, groans and everyone else’s aggravated yells sounding out. But you? You’re trying to keep your grin down. 

-

"Hey, B.” You approach him in the hallway as he skids to a stop, letting Steve wander off with Donna and Kelly.

“Oh, hey. You want to talk?" 

"I think we better,” you pause, “I can’t believe you dropped out… I mean, Steve was gonna stuff the ballot box for you and everything. He’s a real friend, that Steve.”

"I’m sorry." 

"Wait– why?" 

"You were right. I was self-absorbed. I got so wrapped up in trying to win any way that I could that in the long run all it did was push you away. I’m sorry."

"I’m sorry too,” you sigh, “as soon as things didn’t go as I planned I ran off. I think it’s safe to say we both did our share of messing up this week." 

"Me a little more so than you, but yeah. I’d say so,"  he nods in agreement. As you peer to the nearest wall, you’re met with yet another Brandon Walsh poster. You smile deviously, yanking a sharpie out of your purse. You raise the marker to the poster and begin to sketch a goatee onto his black and white face with the real one off to your side, chuckling at your immaturity. You hand the sharpie off to him so he can continue to defile his own face. "Remind me to thank Andrea for this experience, will you?" 

-

-

-

-

-

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life @keepcalm-and-beyou​ @palefiregiver​  @rosy-pugs @bitch-imma-head-out-deactivated

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x06: Higher Education

Read the previous chapter here!

Rewrite Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The Danzel curve brings out the worst in everyone.

Warnings: Swearing, Y/N and Brandon’s first fight, make out session, cheating on schoolwork, bad hairdos.

My work is not to be reposted or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Word count: 3,600

A/N: This was a fun one! And to all my Dylan fans. don’t worry, something’s… coming.

Feedback is appreciated!

-

“I grade on a curve. 10% A, 10% F. The remaining 80 get C’s. C for average, C for mediocrity. C for just getting by,” Mr. Danzel slowly trots around the room, handing out a bundle of C’s to his disgruntled students.

“God, who dresses him?” Donna giggles, leaning halfway on Steve’s desk, halfway on hers. You weren’t one to bash the way someone dressed, but Donna had a point. His suits were never… stylish, to say the least.

“There’ll be another quiz next Friday, and every Friday,”

“Love the tie, yeah,” She mumbles sarcastically, giving him the “ok” gesture when his back is to her. Mr. Danzel hands you your paper, a bright red “A” sketched across the top. You smile proudly to yourself. Brandon’s hand shoots up, brows furrowed.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Some of the people who made C’s only missed three or four questions,” Brandon airs his concerns, but all you can think about is how good he looked in that brown vest. Wow.

“Those who get A’s only missed one or two, that’s the difference between the pursuit of excellence and the morass of mediocrity,” he states back. Wasn’t that a little… harsh?

-

You walk out with Brandon and Steve at the end of the period, sighing at Brandon’s defensive mood. It had been a week since the kiss, and neither of you had brought it up. You’ve tried, sure, but everytime you had gotten interrupted. By Steve, or his mom, or Brenda, or Eric. So you decided to drop it. It would come up when it would come up. No big deal.

“History used to be my favorite subject,” He complains, voice whiney yet low.

“Yeah, the guy gives new meaning to the word hemorrhoid,” Steve agrees. Donna walks out behind him, denim clad.

“What did you get, Steve?” She asks, running her hands through her teased hair.

“What do you think?” He smirks.

“Oh, I hate you!” She pushes him playfully making Steve laugh.

“You got an A?” Brandon pipes in. Oh, here we go again.

“Yeah,” He brags, casually pushing his way past his friend and into the halls.

Steve got an A and Brandon didn’t? That’s… suspicious.

“Steve is such a brain when it comes to history! And a total sub-mental when it comes to everything else,” She teases. You giggle at each other before she leaves as well.

“Hey, you didn’t by any chance get a C, did you?” You raise an eyebrow at his steamed composure.

“Look, what are grades anyway? I mean, they’re just some weird arbitrary reference points that can’t measure what a person really knows!” He bellowed on an on, voice taught, trying to reason away his bad grade. You felt a little bad for him. If he was anyone else you’d be up the wall, but with him you were patient because… it was Brandon. You grab his hand gently as he looks into your eyes, trying to mellow down. “I’ve never gotten a C before in my life. Especially in history.”

“We could study for the next quiz together? I mean, if you want,” You offer, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I suppose you got an A?”

“Hey, what are grades anyway?” You rub his hand with your thumb before Brenda grabs you abruptly to walk with her and Kelly, her arm linked with yours.

“What I would do to go out with Dylan McKay!” Kelly sighs, holding her tote at her front.

“I don’t know, everyone says he’s trouble,” Brenda disagrees.

“He’s a good guy, he’s definitely got a little bit of a wild streak though,” you smirk, “Besides, he’s not as much trouble as he is majorly sexy.” All three of you giggle as Kelly brings you both over to Dylan’s locker.

“Hey Dylan,”

“Hey Kelly, Y/N,” He leans against his locker, tan jacket loose on his shoulders.

“We were just talking, what do you think guys like best on girls? Long or short hair?”

“Hmm, that’s a deep question,” he pretends to ponder, “Personally, I prefer blondes.” You bite down your smirk, knowing that he was just messing with her, toying. He also didn’t even answer the question he was asked, but whatever. He doesn’t necessarily have a preference, but you weren’t willing to explain how you knew that, nor get in the middle of this. Kelly lights up with a smug, flustered smile on her face.

“Really?”

“Really. Truly,” He shifts his attention onto Brenda. “So, you’re Brandon’s sister, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m Brandon’s sister,” she concurs. Their eye contact is intense. The energy to the air felt like it physically changed, something both you and Kelly picked up on immediately. Oh, this was so cute. They liked each other!

“Yeah, she’s Brandon’s sister,” she sighs. Kelly didn’t seem as fond of this as you did.

-

You walk around Brandon’s room, looking at his walls, his brown dresser covered with knick knacks and pictures, snooping around to keep yourself from getting bored while Brandon was in the bathroom. A swimsuit model calendar, some sport themed pictures you didn’t exactly understand, a few family portraits. When you hear the door open you hop back onto his bed, urgently, bouncing lightly.

“So, where were we?” He asks, taking his spot next to you. You could smell the sweet cologne he had put on while he was in there, and boy, did it smell good.

“The Cherokee nation,”

“Right, okay, uh.. who instigated the indian removal act and what year was it put in service?” Right. History. Think. Think about history. But it’s hard to think about history when he’s so close to you and smells so good. He looks gorgeous up close like this. But yeah, history. Okay.

“Andrew Jackson… 1828?”

“Wrong,” He states, eyebrows raised.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean wrong. The Georgia legislature confiscated the Cherokee land when they found the gold!”

“Jackson was president! He was the one who pushed the bill through Congress, so wouldn’t he be the one responsible for it?” You bicker back and forward. You’re both painfully close right now, due to his bed being on the smaller size. Your heart quickened everytime he accidentally touched you, everytime he looked at you, and you wanted nothing more than to just… pounce. But, you’re there to study, teenage hormones be damned. So, you restrained.

“Oh..” he sighs, “This is impossible, there’s too much to cover,” He looks down at his notes and breaks the eye contact.

“Look, just… memorize when the great migration took place and you’re good to go,”

“How?” His volume slightly raises.

“Just… do it!”

“Why do you say it like that, like it’s so easy?!” He argues back to you, but behind the tense walls of his voice is a playful tone.

“Because it is!” You bring your voice to match his, and from there it spawns a bickering war that I’m sure no one in the house wants to hear.

“No it’s not!”

“Yeah, it is!”

“No, it’s not!”

“Yes–”

You’re cut off abruptly with a kiss, his right hand behind your neck, bringing you closer. At first the kiss was moderately chaste, but as you kissed back, it grew hungrier, more passionate. He had tasted like the coffee he drank earlier and his hands were soft, slowly and gently moving you onto his lap. You heard Brenda rustling around in her room and footsteps outside the door, but you thought nothing of it. You felt his warm hands on your hips, heard the soft moans coming from both of you. You couldn’t get enough of him, and from the way he was touching you, you had a feeling he felt the same.

It all felt so good, so right, so exciting. One of your hands rested on his chest while the other resided on his neck. You weren’t sure how long this had been going on, but it stopped when you heard his bedroom door open. Instinctively, you basically flung yourself off of him, almost tumbling onto the hardwood floor. Thankfully, you’re able to steady yourself before that happens, as Mr. Walsh peeks his head in.

“Hi there,”

“Hi, Mr. Walsh,” you smile, trying to catch your breath as silently as you can. You hear Brandon panting lightly as well. Jim eyes up his son, noticing the lipstick on the corners of his mouth.

“Try to keep the door open, okay guys? Nice to see you, Y/N,”

You could feel your cheeks redden as he walked out. “Nice to see you too!” Both you and him breathed audible sighs of relief. “I should get going, Bran,” he gives you one last kiss, his hand on your jaw.

“See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

-

“Where we goin’?” Steve calls out, catching up to Brandon as they walk out of second period.

“Down the tubes,” he grumbles, stopping through the halls.

“Another victims of the Danzel curve, huh?”

“You get another A?” Steve nods at him as they wiggle through the crowds.

“Steve, my dad’s gonna kill me!” He sighs, shaking his head.

“Tell him Danzel gets his kicks out of ruining people’s GPA,”

“Doesn’t work with him– he graduated Phi Beta Kappa Summa Cum something, he never let’s anyone forget it!” Brandon’s seething as he rants, throwing his arm in the air.

“Maybe I could help you out, we’ll form a study group. You, me, Y/N, it’ll be fun,” he wiggles his eyebrows, pats him on the back, and walks off as Brandon ponders it.

-

You’re sitting on the side of Steve’s pool, your feet sticking in the water with a notebook on your lap. Brandon’s sitting cross legged to your right and Steve’s lounging in a pool float to your left. The radio’s blaring an alternative song you couldn’t bother identifying.

“For some reason this doesn’t feel like studying,” Brandon concluded.

“It’s all the same to me, Brandon,” Steve’s head is back and his eyes are closed, blissfully.

“Hey, nice house,” You compliment.

“This is nothing, you should have seen where I lived before my parents got divorced!” Steve boasts.

“When was that?” You question.

“Which time?”

“They’ve divorced each other multiple times?”

“Amongst other things. There have been other marriages mixed in. Other kids, other houses, you know,” he brushes it off like it’s nothing.

“No… I… really don’t,”

“What? Your parents are still together?” He says it like it was something to be ashamed of, something uncommon, unheard of. You nod, wordlessly. “Look, it’s not your fault, you’ve got to stop blaming yourself,” He jests, causing you to splash him with pool water, all three of you laughing.

“Alright, anyway… what method did the government use to undermine the tribal structure?” Brandon quizzed, tapping his textbook.

“He’s not gonna ask that,” Steve shakes his head dismissively.

“Land allotment, the government detribalized everything by giving every indian a little piece of land,” You answer.

“Hey, Brandon, you wanna go to the laker/piston game next week?”

“You can get tickets?” He skeptically raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, my father gave me season tickets for my birthday!” What didn’t Steve have?

“All I got was a steak dinner and a couple of striped shirts,” Brandon laughs.

“I get great presents ever since my dad moved out,” He’s gloating, sure, but there’s a sad truth behind everything he says, that you pick up on. “You know, if I can keep my average where it is now, I’ll be a trojan. My father’s on the board at SC,”

“Hey, with your grades you shouldn’t have much trouble getting in,” You respond, kicking your feet lightly under the water.

“You’re a good person, Y/N/N, you know that? You too, Brandon. I don’t say that to many people… In fact, I don’t say that to anybody,” he laughs heartily by the end of his sentence. Ahh. Vulnerability covered up with humor, that’s our Steve.

“Well, you’re a good guy too, Steve,” Brandon smiles.

“Okay– name the five tribes that made up the confederacy whose primary aim was perpetual peace,” he

“The confederacy?” Brandon tilts his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think we covered that in class,”

“Memorize it, trust me. It’s the exact kind of question the hemorrhoid likes to ask,”

-

You began your american history test, writing your name in the upper left corner.

Name the five tribes that made up the confederacy whose primary aim was universal, perpetual peace?

You looked up from your test, and your eyes are met with Brandon’s, who’s looking just as uneasy as you are. What did Steve do?

-

“Amazing how we studied for every single question on the test!” Brandon scolds.

“Isn’t that the point?” Steve shrugs nonchalantly.

“Steve, did you steal the test?” You lectured, crossing your arms.

“I happen to be smart, guys,”

“I know, but you couldn’t possibly–”

“Look,” he began, “Relax! It’s supposed to feel good to ace a test!” He trots off, away from the lecture you both were giving him.

“Can you believe him?” You sigh, Brandon giving you a kiss to the forehead.

-

“Brenda, I’m sorry, but that’s not a hairdo, that’s a hair don’t,” Kelly criticizes as Brenda tries to fix her hair in the mirror.

“Stop it, Kelly, you’re making her hairaphobic!” Donna jokes.

“Oh, come on it’s not that bad,” You try to level out the conversation. Brenda sighs, defeatedly.

“No, she’s right, I hate it. The color, the cut, the everything!”

“So change it,” Kelly urges, “it’s not like there’s a law that says you have to keep something you don’t like.”

“Oh, Brenda, my mom goes to this dope guy. He barely speaks english, has a ponytail, and he does Madonna,” You offer.

“Get real, Y/N, you’ll never get her in there! Go to Troy Russo on Rodeo, he’ll do anybody!” Kelly adds. You play with your hair in the mirror. Hmm. Should you go bleach blonde?

“How much does he cost?”

“Uh, color and cut– $300?”

“I can’t afford that,” She dismisses. Donna’s eyes go wide as she approaches the mirror, shock written all over her face.

“Oh, how embarrassing! I’m wearing both contacts on the same eye!”

“And you thought you had problems,” Kelly stifles her laugh, and you and Brenda do the same. Bless Donna Martin.

-

“Those of you who find the Danzel curve unfair may be encouraged by the resurrection of Brandon Walsh. Not only did he get an A, he’s the only one of you philistines who didn’t miss a single question. Kudos are in order,” Mr. Danzel passes out his weekly test once again, stopping at Brandon’s desk as the class gives him a round of applause. After, you stop him by the soda machine in one of the main halls.

“Congrats, egghead!” You smile.

“Hey, I aced one test, it’s no big deal,”

“It is a big deal, you totally messed up the curve,”

“Why, what’d you get?” He looks at you, a glint of concern in his eye.

“A C,” you sigh, “But hey, what are grades, right? Goodbye Stanford, hello San Quentin,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N,” he takes your hand delicately.

“Don’t be, Bran, you earned it,” you give him a quick kiss and a smile before going off into your next class.

-

Another Friday, another test.

And some more questions he never went over.

You glance at Brandon after the teacher checks on him, and you spit him pulling out a note card from his backpack and sliding it under his paper. That bastard.

-

“Come on, Y/N, will you let me explain?!”

“Explain what?! How you went along with Steve’s stupid plan? How you screwed everyone else over? How you were totally out of line and dishonest?!” You bark, eyes narrowed as he chases you down the schoolyard and into the journalism room.

“Y/N/N, come on! It’s not like I do it all the time!” He pleads.

“Right,” you bite back sourly, rolling your eyes.

“I’m not letting Danzel ruin my GPA!”

“But you sure will screw over everyone else’s and let him give you a standing ovation when you don’t deserve it!” You fumed, fists clenching ever so slightly, “Look, I just don’t want to talk to you, alright?” Your volume lowers as you stomp over to your spot. You let out a laugh, sarcastically. “You know, if you were anyone else I would’ve turned you in already.”

-

“Oh, there she is!” You walk up to Brenda with Kelly and Donna at either side of you, bright and early in the morning.

“Brenda, we’ve been looking all over for you!” Kelly calls out, “cute hat.”

“I was in a hat mood,” Brenda defends.

“Show us your hair, silly,” Kelly smiles, yanking the yellow woven hat off of her head. You gasp, sharply. Brenda’s hair was poofy, red, with white stripes down the middle. One more color and she could qualify to be an American flag.

“Brenda…” you trail off, “it’s…”

“Great!” Kelly continues.

“Really? You don’t think it’s too–”

“No! I… love it!” Donna half smiles.

As you three begin to walk off, you mutter “Kelly, what did you do??”

-

It’s Saturday morning, and you’re at the Beverly Hills public library, studying for your history midterm. You were determined to get an A whether Brandon got one or not.

And speak of the devil, he comes over and slides into the seat next to yours, no warning, books in hand. “What are you doing?” You ask, eyes buried in the books.

“You’ve never cheated on anything, huh?”

“I’m trying to study,” you pause. Brandon rests his head in his hand, and he looks so damn pretty but you’re so damn mad and it him and– “No, no I haven’t.”

“But you’ve wanted to,”

“Of course I have, Brandon,” Your eyes are still focused in on your paper, refusing to look over to your gorgeous friend. “But I didn’t. You did!”

“And you’re never gonna let me forget it, are you?” You roll your eyes at that, and set down your pencil. “You know, sometimes you act like you have a personal stake in everything I do, like we’re a couple or something!” You’re fully turned to him now, and he is to you. You scoff as he continues. “This isn’t a black and white issue, Y/N/N! It was a gray area!”

“I know, Brandon! Just… leave it, okay?”

“Fine,” He shuffles to get his things, and walks over to the other area of the library. You knew you and Brandon would fight eventually, it’s was friends do. And you had known each other for months now, so you guess it was a given but.. it was making you both feel a lot more miserable than you expected.

-

You spot Brandon in the halls and run up to him. He’s in a mustard colored tshirt and of course, denim jeans. He has no right looking that good and yet… he does. “Hey, B,” you say.

“Hi,” you both pause in the hall for a moment.

“Y/N,” “Brandon,” You both simultaneously start to speak.

“Sorry if I haven’t been in the best mood, I was up till late last night studying,” you begin.

“I was too,”

“What, making cheat sheets?” You were only half joking.

“It… crossed my mind. But if I cheated, I might end up screwing over this girl I like, who I care about and respect… way more than she could ever know,” you smile at your shoes, “even if she can be a little bit of a pain sometimes.”

“I know a guy who’s one of those,” you nod as he smiles back at you.

“Well, maybe we should introduce them, they’d probably get along just great,” his voice is soft today, gentle, playful.

“Oh, actually… I think she’d hate him,” you could practically hear the grin in your voice.

“That’s a real shame,” He says, him pulling you up, and you pulling him down, to have a soft, passionate kiss.

-

“So, you, Minnesota, what’s going on?”

You sit down on the couch of the hotel room, curling up.

“Not much, we’re friends, why?”

“Everyone saw you guys going at it in the hallway,” he teases, handing you 2 scoops of cookies and cream ice cream in a clear crystal bowl.

You laugh lightly, “We weren’t ‘going at it’ in the hallway, it was one kiss.” You take a bite, “We went at it in his bedroom. Very different,” you joke. Dylan chuckles as he loads on the sundae toppings. “How are things with Brenda?” You wiggle your eyebrows, smirking.

“She seems cool, that’s about it.”

“She is cool,” you nod, adding more whipped cream to your bowl. You eat in silence for a moment before Dylan speaks.

“So, does Brandon know about–”

“No.”

“Does Brenda know about–”

“No.” He mimics, “And I don’t think we should tell them.” You stare down at your bowl, and sigh. You set it down, and lift up the two VHS tapes on the coffee table.

“So, Back to the Future 3 or GoodFellas?”

-

-

-

Tag list: @be-patient-be-good @blueoz @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @lilo-1988

[icelovesfire]

WHAT IF.

[icelovesfire]

IT WAS MAGIC, even if it ended tragic[ally.] ♡

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x15: Palm Springs (AKA A Fling in Palm Springs)

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: The gang heads to Palm Springs for President’s day weekend.

Warnings: swearing probably, lots of fluffy feelings, mentions of sex. 

Words: 2,900

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!!)

Feedback is incredibly appreciated!

A/N: Hope everyone enjoys this week’s episode! We are going to be skipping the next one but Laverne the gum-chomping waitress WILL make an appearance at some point in the series, so don’t worry. Next week the reader moves out with Brenda and deals with Class President election!

-

“You’re really gonna stay and work all weekend?” You launch yourself backwards onto the kitchen counter, the cold marble against your legs, “Kelly says anybody who’s anybody goes to Palm Springs.”

“You’re talking to Kelly again?” Your brother cocks an eyebrow at you as he cuts himself a brownie, stuffing half of it into his mouth. 

“Well, no… Kelly told Brenda who told me— but what does it matter?” You steal the brownie pan from his other hand, and place it out of his reach, “Just because it’s from a secondary source doesn’t mean it’s not true. It’s a ritual. Like the geese flying south or something.” 

“How do you expect to get there? It’s not like you have a car, or a bike, or can afford a plane ticket.” You stay silent for a moment, then give him a pleading, rosy smile. “Oh, no. No! You’re not taking Duke to Palm Springs.” Duke was Eric’s beloved cherry red ‘48 Ferrari. It was given to him on his eighteenth birthday, previously loved and adored by your father, and his father before that and blah blah blah. 

“Please? I always take good care of it!” You beg, “I’ll even fill up the tank when I get back! What is it, a dollar per gallon?”

“Sorry. No way. You’ll have to ask Brenda,” he shrugs stubbornly, reaching around you and swiping the pan while you're preoccupied with the argument. 

“I can’t! She’s riding with Kelly!”

“Then ask Brandon— look, this isn’t my problem, Y/N/N. Either find another ride or don’t go.”

-

“It has the original interior, the original grille work. It’s gorgeous,” Brandon enthuses, slipping his hand under your shirt and to your sides as you both lie in the backseat of Mondale, mid make-out session. Well, you were making out. Until he decided to stop it to talk about that car he wanted. Like guys often do.  “and it’s only twenty-five thousand dollars.” 

“Twenty-five thousand? Brandon! No wonder your dad won’t buy you that thing. Dads are cheapskates, It’s just a fact of life.” 

“Dylan‘s dad bought him a Porsche.”

“Babe, Dylan’s dad is facing a grand jury indictment,” you stifle a giggle as you pop a button off of his shirt. 

“But my dad knows how hard I work,” Brandon grumbles, “And to top it all off, last night Nat told me that I can’t go to Palm Springs this weekend with you, and all of my friends because his sister is sick and now I have to work all weekend. But hey, you don’t hear me complaining, do ya?”

“Yes. Yes I do.” 

-

“Hey there!” You’re greeted  almost immediately by Brandon upon entering the Peach Pit, who’s over at the far end of the counter with a little blond boy. “What a nice surprise. I thought you’d be in packing mode for your trip… but knowing you, you packed early, didn’t you?”

“Always do,” you nod, taking the seat in front of him. You hand Brandon a modest wad of cash and kiss his cheek, making him smile. He mumbles a thanks as he stuffs it into his pocket and hands you a menu. 

“Hey… do you ever get the feeling that the entire world is flying in first class, and you’re stuck with a folding chair in the baggage compartment?” He takes your hand in his, leaning over the counter. 

“Never,” you deadpan. He studies your face, causing you to giggle into his shoulder. 

“Liar!” He laughs genuinely, his eyes crinkling at the edges,“you total liar!”  He straightens himself out, “This is Curtis.” He gestures to the adorable little boy beside you, “the hangout king of Beverly Hills.”

“It’s a free country, I can hang out if I want!” The little boy whines. 

“Hey, hey, relax, sport. No one said you couldn’t… but does your mom know how much time you spend here?”

“She’s the one that brung me! I told her the food’s not that good," Curtis criticizes, mowing down a plate of greasy french fries. 

“See what I have to put up with to make a buck?” Brandon teases, grabbing a plate of food from the kitchen and dashing off to deliver it to a table. Once he’s gone, Curtis turns his stool to you. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Oh! Well, uh… no. But he’s… not not my boyfriend,” you waffle. Curtis narrows his eyes, confused. “Look, it’s complicated, kid."

“You give him that friendship bracelet he’s wearing?” 

“Yeah, actually… he told you about that?” 

The kid dodges your question, chewing on the straw of his drink, “Why aren’t you wearing one?”

“It's a long story, Curtis. Certainly one you don't have time for, okay?" 

"I got plenty of time." 

-

You couldn’t ride with your brother, you couldn’t ride with Brandon, there’s no way in hell you’re riding with Steve… that left one option. Brenda, Kelly, and Donna. 

“Donna,” Kelly giggles, “we’re not going to Europe. You don’t need three bags!”

“Kelly, I have to dress according to the guys we meet. I mean— high school guys, college guys, grad school guys, dropout guys— you cannot dress the same for all guys. No,” Donna shakes her head disapprovingly, like she just dropped a fashion truth-bomb on all three of you. To be honest, though, she kind of did. 

“I guess she has a point,” you laugh, propping yourself up against a locker, “Bring everything.” 

Then Steve saunters over, in his usual confusingly patterned button-down, an agitated look spread across his face. He nods down to the innumerable bags on the floor. 

“What, are we going to France?” He scoffs, only taking a moment before continuing, “Will you guys come on? There’s gonna be a lot of traffic on the roads." Gee, wonder what’s making him so delightful this afternoon.

“Hey gang!” Oh no. David Silver? What was he doing here? “Are we going to have a blast or what? Huh?” We? 

The rest of the group is just as lost as you are, exchanging silent looks of terror to the person next to them. Steve takes note of this and clears his throat.

“There’s been a uh, slight change in plans.”

-

“It’s weird, I mean I want to be with Dylan and everything, but part of me just wants to get it over with. Like I’m the last person that hasn’t done it yet." Brenda confides uneasily as you all stand against Kelly’s convertible, waiting as the tank fills up.

“Brenda… you are,” Kelly replies. 

“No you’re not!" You assure her,  "Look, Bren, you’re really gonna like it… I think." Ha. Like you know any more than she does. Donna nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, totally… probably. Maybe? I—“ 

Kelly cuts Donna off, “Listen, who would you rather be with? Dylan McKay or David Silver?” 

“Bren, Dylan’s a wonderful guy. You’re gonna have a great time! And you brought protection, so there’s nothing to be worried about!” You place a soothing hand on her arm. 

“Right!” Brenda smiles, “I mean, I care about him, he cares about me, it’s gonna be great, right?”

-

“My grandparents collect anything they can get their hands on,” David guides the four of you, sans Brenda plus Steve, as you wander his grandparents' house. It’s definitely nice, definitely big… kinda smells like patchouli and sunscreen in the best way. “When I was younger I used to travel with them but my dad’s mad at them about something so I don’t see ‘em much anymore.” 

“What’s he mad about?” Donna asks. 

“Well, my grandparents like my mom and think it’s, y’know, bad he wants to divorce her... Come on,” he waves you all over to him as he escapes through the back door, “I saved the best for last.” You reluctantly follow behind him, your shoes clacking down the concrete steps and into the depths of his backyard. It was gorgeous— a huge pool, palm trees, brick-lined lounging areas. You could get used to this. 

“Dude, we are definitely styling out here in this little desert oasis,” Steve grins, “David, I always knew you had potential.” No you didn’t. 

“Thanks, Steve,” David begins to venture further back, “but you ain’t seen nothin’ yet! Look, if anyone gets in the mood, you climb up this little terrace here to this hidden nook and nobody will bother you.” You step up another flight of brick-lined concrete stairs and through a small patch of greenery, to be met with a cute little private hot tub… with people in it. 

“David?” The old woman gasps, clutching her small champagne flute.

“Grandma?” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” The senior man, presumably (and hopefully) his grandfather groans.

-

“It was an amaaaazing trip!” David’s grandmother raves, pouring pretzels into a glass bowl as the group is gathered around the kitchen island. 

“It was indescribable,” his grandfather agrees excitedly, “we would dance every night under the stars.” He pulls Kelly from her stool, picking her up and spinning her around as if they were about to tango. 

“Ooh! Can somebody pull the ice cream?” His grandma asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Donna smiles.

“Triple. Chocolate. Chip. I mean, If we’re gonna do it, we should do it right.” Steve chuckles politely at the woman, though he looks like he wants to put a gun to his head. 

“Well, I’ve never seen so many old fogies on one boat in my whole life. I mean, a floating rest home is what it was!” His grandpa laughs heartily, getting ice cream bowls from the cupboard, 

“Oh, Henry, that’s not so. But hey, one day we woke up on the boat and we both said ‘Let’s go home!’” Funny. That’s exactly what you were thinking. “I mean, we missed our little house in the desert.” 

“We sure did,” Henry smiles happily, grabbing his wife’s jaw gently and planting a big smooch on her. “And lucky for us, we would have missed you if we didn’t cut our trip short!” 

“Uh, well you guys must be really tired. Huh?” David chuckles awkwardly. 

“Oh, we’re exhausted!” The woman nods, “but hey, who cares? I am so excited to see you! And to finally meet some of your friends! Hey! Why don’t we all stay up late, chow down on the snacks, and get to know each other?” Oh, joy. 

-

“This way ladies,” David’s grandma guides the three of you upstairs, her hand on your shoulder. “You’re gonna go up these stairs, down the hall, first door on your right, and you are gonna love it.” You hop up the steps with Kelly and Donna, bags in hand. 

“Did you guys hear her?” Kelly starts, opening the door to the room and throwing her bags on an empty bed. Hey, she acknowledged you. That’s a start. “She said she was gonna invite all the cute guys from the neighborhood over to the pool tomorrow!”

“Steve is not gonna like that,” Donna 

“Oh, who cares?” Kelly snickers, “I wonder how Brenda’s doing.” 

“‘Oh! Dylan, what beautiful eyes you have!’” You joke, throwing your hand to your forehead and bowing backwards. 

“‘Oh, Brenda, you are so exquisite!’” Donna joins in, giggling. 

“Barf.”

-

You splash your feet in the Silver's pool, crowds of people surrounding it. Overwhelmed by the vast amount of new people, you're off by yourself, kicking the water around, staring at your feet. 

"You know, there's room on this raft for two." You look up to Steve, lying back on a giant inflatable alligator. Ugh, if only it was a real one. 

"Why don't you ask your new girlfriends?" You point behind you to the two girls, who you could only think to describe as biker babes, lounging together. Porcelain white skin, spiked black bikinis, way more makeup than you need for a pool party. "They look pretty interested."

"Can you imagine what it would be like if you were interested? You know, me instead of Brandon?" You feign a gag, shaking your head. 

"I don't really want to, Steve," you cringe dramatically as he chuckles, "but thanks for getting that thought haunting my dreams forever. Really appreciate it."

"Remember—" He wags his pointer finger at your face, eyes narrowing lightheartedly, "I saw you first." He puts his foot flat against the concrete wall of the pool, kicking off, but as soon as he's far enough— he guffaws. Of course he laughs at his own jokes. 

-

"Dylan, hi!" You practically leap over to him in the foyer, your damp feet leaving faint footprints on the cold floor.  "So?" 

He shakes his head, brows furrowed ever so slightly, "So?" 

"How'd it go?" You raise your eyebrows excitedly. 

"How'd what go?" 

"With Brenda!" He groans at that. 

"Don't ask."

"Well, it's too late, I already did." 

"What's with you girls?" Oh, this should be good. "You see a guy with another girl and you immediately think they're sleeping with her?! What is that?! I mean, every time a female customer goes into the Pit-- do you lose it at Brandon?" 

"Can't say I do. They usually want him. But thankfully it's not the other way around… look, if this is about the other Walsh-- and McKay, it better be, or else I have questions-- just talk to her about it. Have an adult conversation." 

"Easy for you to say, you're dating the king of good family values. The kid's a Hartley House episode." 

-

You open the fridge in the kitchen, helping David’s grandparents scoop out ice cream. You fidget with the scoop in your hands before setting it down. After a devastating loss of Charades, you had to comfort your friends with ice cream. It was the only option, really. 

“How do you guys do it?” They both look up from the bowls to stare at you. “The whole long-term relationship thing,” you clarify. “It’s just so… scary.”

“You’re right,” Henry nods, “It’s very scary. Trusting someone, with your heart, your intimate feelings. I mean, before we got married, Adele broke up with me seven different times. Running for the hills was our solution to every problem. Giving yourself to that person— trusting that they’re going to cherish you, to value you and every intimate part of yourself— that is the hardest thing.”

Adele jumps in, “And you have to accept each other for who you are. For every flaw and every perfection, you have to let the other person be who they are. But when you do find the person you can really be yourself with, who you can have fun with, and fully trust… it is the greatest feeling in the world.” She takes the scoop from in front of you and begins scooping. “Who is he? It’s not David, is it?”

You giggle, “No. No, it’s not David. His name’s Brandon, he’s—“ you can’t stop a grin from slowly breaking out on your face, “He’s great. He’s kind, and considerate, and totally crazy about me... but it’s still scary, y’know? My last relationship didn’t exactly end on great terms. And if I barely even liked the other guy but I was still totally obliterated by it ending… I can’t imagine how I’d feel with Brandon. I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life. I guess you can imagine how much of a major scare that is, huh?”

“Seven break-ups, sweetheart. I can imagine.”

-

"He even set up a meal plan for the kid! I can show you the security cameras if you want to see them," Nat indulges. You never thought you’d say this, but you were thrilled to be back in Beverly Hills. You missed your own bed, the Peach Pit… the cute waiter at the Peach Pit. And you’re thrilled to be eating something that isn’t ice cream. 

"Oh, don't you dare! I cannot handle any more of that guy being good with kids or else he's gonna get me to procreate with him-- and nobody wants a bunch of  little Walshes running around here," you snort, stirring your water mindlessly with the straw. Nat shrugs as he picks up an order.

“I could use the extra help!” As per usual, he booms out in laughter, walking away with the plate of food. 

“What’s he so happy about?” You twist your head to the kitchen and you’re faced with your overtly-paternal and charitable lover. 

 “Oh, it’s nothing. Just you fathering a sweet little homeless boy for the weekend,” you have to halt yourself from fawning over him. He’s probably the only teenage boy that would tolerate a little kid, let alone help them out like he did. 

“He told you about that?”

“You mean how you not only befriended the little boy, but fed him for free, and made sure that his whole family would stay fed until they got back on their feet? Yeah, he might’ve. I mean I laughed, I cried— it was the feel-good story of the year, B.” He smiles at his feet as he ties his apron around his waist. 

“I really missed you this weekend, Y/N/N.” 

“Well, I’m here to stay now,” you smile as he kisses the top of your head. 

“I’m a real lucky guy, you know that?”

“That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing.” 

-

-

-

-

-

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good​ @mpmarypoppins​ @bevelyhills90210​ @blueoz​ @harleylilo88​ @princess-ghost-alien​ @hueycat2004​ @l4life​ @keepcalm-and-beyou​ @palefiregiver​ @bitch-imma-head-out​

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x14: East Side Story

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: A new arrival at West Beverly has the reader a little on edge.

Warnings: swearing, jealousy, partially unedited writing. 

Words: 2,900

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!!)

Feedback is incredibly appreciated!

A/N: Hope everyone enjoys it! I feel like this is definitely more of a filler chapter, but it's fun nonetheless! Next week…Palm Springs Weekend ;)

-

“M.C. Hammer’s office.”

“Hi, how are you? Is he in for David Silver?” David’s voice sounds out through the school as he speaks on the phone and into the radio system.

“For who?”

“David Silver broadcasting live and direct from the tree-lined campus of West Beverly High!”

“West Beverly High?” The woman sighs, frustrated, “Does Mr. Hammer know who you are?”

“Not yet! But he will once you put the call through… Hello? Hello?”

“Man, David Silver has totally lost it,” you giggle as Brandon greets you in the hallway with a kiss.

“He’s not that bad,” he shrugs. He intertwines his fingers with yours as you trot to first period together.

“I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t be the least bit concerned with my well-being if I started calling up Madonna?” You raise an eyebrow inquisitively, “It’s not that he’s a bad kid… he’s just a little bit of a pest sometimes, y'know?” Brandon smiles as you continue, stopping at his locker and twisting the combination.

“Moving on from the thrilling life of David Silver,” he swings it open, piling book after book in his hands. “How are you and Kelly?” You sigh dramatically. “Still not good, huh?”

“She’s still not talking to me and I’m still not talking to her… I just don’t get it. Brenda forgave me, Brenda forgave her, we traded apologies, we had a group hug, everything was fine… if not a little weird,” you huff, leaning against the cold metal lockers. “She thinks Brenda wasn’t harsh enough with me for the whole Dylan fiasco.”

“And what do you think?”

“Well, for one, I think it’s ridiculous. If Brenda’s not mad, why should anyone else be? And what she did was way worse than what I did! But it’s fine. She’ll talk to me when she’s ready to talk to me. I’m just… a little aggravated.”

“Well, then I’m just gonna have to put in a little extra effort to relax you,” he propositions.

“I’d like to see you try, Walsh.”

-

“Do not tell me the printer broke again,” Andrea organizes the papers at her desk, sighing. Man, was negativity in the air today or what? You stand at the front of her desk, Brandon standing patiently behind you.

“Okay, I won’t,” you agree, “it’s the fax machine.”

“This school is falling apart right before my very eyes!” She criticizes melodramatically. “Can I help you?” She peers past your shoulder to the person behind you.

“This isn’t the new building, is it?” You turn back to face the girl, and what you aren’t expecting is… someone that pretty. Long gorgeous brunette curls fell down her shoulders. She smiles nervously, which draws attention to the dark cherry lipstick on her lips. Beverly Hills never falls short on pretty girls, does it?

“No. You have to go back out through the quad and past the science labs,” you tell her.

“Which way is that?”

“It’s through the double doors,” Brandon is standing with his back to her, studying the revised paper in his hand, “I’m going that way. I’ll show you.”

“And stick Andrea and I with your typos?” You tease, looking up at him as you sit down on the edge of the wooden desk.

“What typos?”

“You forgot an A in recreational and you failed to capitalize Sacramento,” Andrea indulges.

“And you have the guts to call yourself Sports editor?” You denounce him facetiously.

“Maybe Sacramento doesn’t deserve a capital,” he retorts.

“Hey, cheap shot! I was born in Sacramento,” the mystery girl pipes in.

“We’ll try not to hold it against you,” you joke. You hold out your hand for her to shake, “I’m Y/N, one of the reporters for the school newspaper. I do Lifestyle, Opinions, Entertainment. That sort of thing.” She shakes your hand and you notice how freshly painted and perfect her nails are.

“I’m Carla Montez–”

“Carla?” Brandon jumps in. Wait. This was Anna’s Carla? He had mentioned her earlier today but… this had to be her? “I’m Brandon Walsh. Y'know… Jim and Cindy Walsh?”

“Hello, Brandon.” Well, this was going to be fun.

-

And boy was it. As the day went on, you not only discovered she could speak in flawless french and could debate an English novel like no one’s business, but she actually knew something about computers and robotics. This totally blew. You don’t know why exactly, but it did. You were sure of it. And not only was she gorgeous, smart, and good with computers, but Brandon was at her side all day, showing her the ropes. Although you had a hunch she would’ve been just fine without him.

You walk through the Peach Pit doors with a relieved sigh as you’re met with your friends’ faces. “Hi, Brenda, Hi, Donna, Hi…” your words trail off as you get to Kelly, who’s actively avoiding your gaze. Without another word, you sit down at the counter next to Brenda and as far from your aggravating blonde friend as possible. Hey, at least Carla wasn’t here.

“Hey, Carla’s here!” Steve shouts out, standing behind you with a hand on your shoulder. Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.

Brandon’s head pops out from the depths of the kitchen to check on the tables, but as soon as he lays eyes on you he lights up.

“Hey! I didn’t think you were coming along,” he greets you, bending over the counter to give you a quick peck. “Hold on a second, hey everyone. I’d like you to meet Carla. And Carla, this is Kelly, that’s Donna, the guy back there is Steve, this is my sister, Brenda, and Y/N, who you met earlier today.” Brandon goes down the line of his friends sitting at the counter, “and this handsome devil is Nat, Mr. Beverly Hills Chi-Chi himself.”

“He might be ugly, but he serves great pie,” Steve cracks.

“It’s an old family recipe. Right out of the box!” Nat guffaws, disappearing into the depths of the kitchen. You look over to Donna and right past Kelly, who’s flipping through a Chick Schneider catalog.

“Brenda, are you sure we can have anything we want?” You ask as Donna passes her extra magazine down to you. You start to go through it, the shiny pages adorned with tons of cute, fashionable, and unreasonably expensive clothes.

“Yeah! Just tell me the color, the size, and it’s yours.”

“God, these baggies are so trendoid,” Kelly giggles.

“Hey Bren, do you think Carla could place an order too?” Brandon shouts, a little further down at the counter with Steve.

“Sure, if she likes Chick Schneider’s stuff!”

“I love Chick Schneider… who’s Chick Schneider?” Carla jokes.

-

“Thanks for the ride home, Steve,” you unbuckle your seatbelt as he pulls into your driveway

He nods nonchalantly.

“Anytime,” he offers, “you alright? You seemed pretty rattled today.”

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “Hey, it didn’t rain, no electronics were destroyed, the interior of your car is still in good shape– I’d call this a good day.”

“Don’t change the subject, Y/N/N. Is this about Kelly?”

“This has nothing to do with Kelly! I couldn’t care less about the Kelly thing right now.”

“So it’s Brandon? I thought you two were in chastity belt heaven right now.”

“It’s not him it’s–” you stop yourself short, “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“This is because of that Carla chick, isn’t it?” It isn’t until you shoot Steve a death glare that he knows he hit the nail on the head. “I knew it!”

“No, you didn’t–”

“You don’t have anything to worry about. You’re way hotter than that valley girl and if Brandon has any sense, he knows that too.”

-

“M.C. Hammer’s office.”

“Hi, M.C. Hammer please.” Another day, another desperate reach for M.C. Hammer.

“Who is this?”

“Well, if I tell you, do you promise not to hang up? Hello?”

“Hey, Scott!” You call out to him, waving him over to your locker.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

“What’s going on with D.J. David and M.C. Hammer?” You inquire playfully.

“David wants him to play at the prom,” he snorts.

“There’s no way M.C. Hammer would ever play at a school dance.”

“You know that and I know that. And M.C. Hammer knows that. But unfortunately, I think somebody forgot to tell David.”

-

You lean against your table in the Blaze’s workshop as Brandon struts in.

“Oh, hey, I need to ask you something!”

“Shoot,” he prompts you, slipping his hands from your waist to your lower back, pulling you close.

“What’s going on with Carla?”

“Y/N.” He removes his hands from you and begins to pull away.

“Not like that, okay? I know there’s nothing going on there. I-I jut5 happened to be in the Register’s Office dropping something off and Carla’s file just happened to be on the counter with her address showing.”

“Y/N,” he stresses.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m a little nosy, okay? And– and you know what? I’ve already forgotten what I saw. I know nothing. Who’s Carla?” He chuckles lightly at your joke.

“I’m glad,” he nods. You tap your fingers against the desk for a moment, pondering.

“Is she living at your house?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you need to be careful, Brandon! One person getting caught could spiral a major chain reaction. First Carla, then Andrea, then you and I have to duke it out to see who becomes editor-in-chief and I’m sorry but I just don’t think our relationship is strong enough to withstand a battle to the death for that editing position!” His demeanor changes as you finish your facetious rant and he laughs softly into your fist as he raises it up to his lips, kissing it.

“We’ll all be careful, Y/N/N.”

“That’s all I ask, Walsh.”

-

You nurse on your chocolate milkshake as Brandon walks up to your spot, smiling at you with the sweetest look he can muster.

“Have I mentioned how absolutely radiant you are today? And every day?” You roll your eyes at his saccharine grin.

“You want some of my milkshake, don’t you?” He nods. “I cannot believe you!” you laugh, “You get a discount, I have to pay for mine.”

“Nat puts extra chocolate syrup in yours,” he reasons. You roll your eyes for the second time and lift your cup up to him.

“One sip,” you giggle. He raises the straw up to his lips but stops just shy of them.

“Actually…” In one swift motion, he leans down and brings your lips to his in a soft yet deep kiss. You moan softly as his tongue gently pushes into your mouth, and just as soon he’s pushing away. “I was right. It tastes better that way.”

“Guys, please. I just want to eat my eggs.” 

Steve’s voice cuts you both out of your trance, a disgusted, slightly amused look on his face. You have to fight to hold back your laugh as Dylan enters.

“Well, if it isn’t Dylan, the wild surfman!” Brandon greets cheerfully. Dylan’s hair is soaked, but the rest of him is dry as he parks himself next to you.

“Don’t tell me it wasn’t cold out there this morning,” Steve inquires.

“Oh, no, man. It was happening, waves were breaking,” Dylan responds, then he looks pointedly at you, “they missed you.”

“The waves have been totally needy recently, I told them to back off but they just keep calling me,” you do your best valley girl accent as a rebuttal.

“Ha ha ha,” Dylan deadpans a fake laugh, but interrupts with a smile he tries to fight off.

“Hey, that’s the same shirt I ordered from Brenda’s catalog!” Steve notices. Dylan messes with the neckline of his shirt delicately.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to get some baggies tonight. The party’s still on, right?”

“You mean the social event of the season?” Brandon raises an eyebrow, taunting the nature of the event.

“Hey, any event where I can get free designer clothes is an event worth rooting for,” you point a finger at your very accommodating waiter. He kisses your head before picking up your empty plate and moving onto a different group of guests.

-

“What do you mean I can’t go?!” You shout at your father, who’s sitting on the living room couch with a Reader’s Digest in his hand.

“I mean Jim Walsh is a crude and unfair individual. I will not have you fraternizing with that family!”

“I don’t even know the Walshes! I probably won’t even see them, let alone fraternize with them.” You tap your foot impatiently, “Besides, Steve Sanders invited me. I’ll be hanging out with him all night anyway.” Your father perks up at his name.

“Well…” he flips the tiny page in his book, pondering. “You can go. For an hour. Stay close to Steve… avoid that bastard accountant.” You don’t know what’s worse– your dad trusting Steve or the fact that you could now only refer to Jim Walsh as the “Bastard Accountant.”

-

You slump against the wall, a fruity mocktail in your hand. You’re watching Brandon talk to Carla in the living room as she flips her hair and gives him a smile. She has a great smile. That makes you sick. You take a swig of your brightly colored drink, trying to let the sweetness of the beverage soothe the built-up frustration in your stomach.

“Y/N and Brandon have been on top of each other non-stop lately. You know, for a couple of virgins, they’re the biggest horn dogs I’ve ever met,” Steve bites half-bitterly, half-jokingly.

“He’s really flipped for her in a major way, huh?” Dylan leans against the fireplace, setting down his soda with a metallic clank. He glances over to you, watching you nurse on your drink as you watch someone else. Every cheesy laugh she gives Brandon makes you just a little bit more nauseous every single time. No one was that funny.

“Definitely.”

Carla gives Brandon one last cheeky smile and it’s your breaking point. You practically slam your martini glass onto the nearest table, turn on your heel, and stomp your way upstairs. Dylan jumps forward, about to follow you up there, but Steve stops him with the back of his hand as he sees Brandon zoom past him.

“He’s got it covered.”

You can hear the rapidly approaching footsteps as you lie on Brandon’s bed, watching the fan swirl around and around and around. You hear the footsteps skid to a stop as he reaches for the door, takes a moment to compose himself, and swings it open.

“What’s goin’ on, Y/N/N?” He sets himself next to you as you sit up, brushing your hand through your hair. As you sit in your total mental breakdown, you can’t help but think how good he looked in that white sweater, how good he always looked. You stare at your feet, and while they looked good, they hurt like a bitch. Time to make the switch to flats. “C'mon, Y/N/N. Talk to me.” You groan.

“Carla follows you around like a puppy and I want to scratch her eyes out.” You indulge bluntly.

“So that’s what this is about? You’re jealous of Carla?”

“You say that like I’m being ridiculous, Brandon, she follows you like a puppy and she’s insanely gorgeous and so smart and y'know, it’s not like I have anything to be jealous of! We never agreed on being exclusive so–”

“Y/N.”

“As far as I’m concerned you’re fair game and–”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“You want to know why I think you being jealous of Carla is so ridiculous? Because she’s never going to be you, Y/N/N. When I said I wanted to be with you I meant it. I don’t want Carla, or Kelly, or Farrah Fawcett, or anyone else for that matter. I just want you.” Well, if you weren’t in love with him yet, you were now. 

-

“I wish it could be like this with everyone,” Brandon smiles as you walk into the newsroom, hand in hand.

“Like what?” You ask.

“You know, how we are with each other. Easy, comfortable. Effortless.”

“You’re making our relationship sound like a car rental service,” you tease, “besides, being with you?” You turn your head and give him a chaste kiss, “such a chore.”

“Okay, don’t hang up, just don’t hang up! Now, this is David Silver, the voice of West Beverly High and I really don’t care that he doesn’t want to come to our homecoming dance. Or that he’s one of the top recording and video artists in the world. But at least you could put my call through one time without hanging up! So… having said all that could I please talk to M.C. Hammer?”

“M.C. Hammer? Sorry. Think you have the wrong number.”

You stifle a laugh as to not disrupt the rest of the room, “Anyway… where’s Carla?”

“She went back home, I guess whatever issues she was having were cleared up.”

“Oh,” you feign sadness quite awfully, “That’s… that’s too bad… do you want to go to the movies tonight?”

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Taglist: @be-patient-be-good​ @mpmarypoppins​ @bevelyhills90210​ @blueoz​ @harleylilo88​ @princess-ghost-alien​ @hueycat2004​ @l4life​ @keepcalm-and-beyou​

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. Bonus #2: The E! True HollyWood Story

Rewrite Masterlist

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Chapter Summary: E! News has made a documentary on you, following Shannen's. Although it may seem like the full story, remember-- media is still media and there's still things that need to be uncovered. Italics are the narration.

Warnings: mentions of drugs, addiction, sex, adultery, divorce, rumors, tabloids.

Word count: 2,500

A/N: Like the other bonus chapter, this isn't necessary for the rewrite itself, but will supply background knowledge for the reboot! Hope you guys enjoy :)

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July 19th, 2008. E! True Hollywood Stories.

America's sweetheart. The girl who played with fire. An old interview of yours pops up on screen, from when you were promoting season 4 on 90210.

"Shannen's a lot more... headstrong than I am, for sure. She gets me in trouble from time to time," you laugh. Y/N Perry. She blew audiences away with her portrayal of Y/N Y/L/N on Beverly Hills, 90210. But she wasn't always the wholesome 90's starlet.

Jason Priestley, "Y/N was one of my best friends. I've never met anyone with a bigger heart." Her romantic and musical exploits made her a tabloid heavyweight. But her friendship with notorious bad girl Shannen Doherty was what made her a target. This is the story of Y/N Perry. The E! True Hollywood Story.

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Y/N wasn't always the romantic we knew her to be, but that charming sparkle in her eye quickly became a trademark for her.

June 20th, 1972, Y/N was welcomed to James and Carol Clark's upper-class home.

A man, Kevin McLaren comes on screen with the title "Entertainment Journalist." He speaks, "Y/N was born into a catholic family in Columbus, Ohio, and they had her working in commercials by the time she was eight." Her family then located to Encino, California. From there she joined a Children's drama group where a talent agent immediately took notice. Not long after, she was introduced to TV star, Tom Selleck.

Mary Murphy, senior editor of TV guide, "Selleck sort of... discovered her. Her teacher at the theater group introduced them and he seemed to see something in her. He was her mentor, she really looked up to him. He even got her her first major acting job." She had a 3 year stint on Magnum P.I. as Carol Baldwin's spunky and outspoken niece. She later won the role of Diane Court in the 1989 classic Say Anything, opposite John Cusack which was what began her lift to stardom. The buzz from the romantic comedy hit veteran TV producer Aaron Spelling, who was currently auditioning actors for a new series.

Aaron Spelling, 1993, "We went through hell with casting. It took weeks to pick everyone out. Then, Tori came to me one night talking to me about the lead girl in Say Anything, Y/N Clark. She was telling me "She's perfect, you have to hire her." and I told her uh, we'll see." That show was Beverly Hills, 90210. And in February of 1990, Y/N landed the part of Y/N Y/L/N. But she had originally gone for a different part.

You, an Arsenio interview in 1995, "I was called in to read for Brenda at the beginning, Y/N Y/L/N didn't exist. I didn't get the part obviously, and I was totally crushed. But then a few weeka later my agent called me to let me know that they had written a new character, and they wanted me to play the part. This was after they had filmed the two part pilot, which was why I'm in the second episode." The cast included several unknown actors, including Spelling's daughter Tori, Jennie Garth, Ian Ziering, Luke Perry, Jason Priestley, and established actress and Y/N's soon-to-be best friend, Shannen Doherty. The cast bonded immediately. And while Y/N would continue to become closer with the entire cast, she was instant best friends with Doherty, both of them bonding over their similar family lives and careers.

On October 4th, 1990, Beverly Hills 90210 premiered on the fledgling Fox network. The series clicked immediately with teen audiences, and so did the hot young cast. 17 year old Y/N Clark was center stage. She was a magnet for paparazzi, but she didn't understand how wanted she truly was until leaving a night club with Tori Spelling and Shannen Doherty one night, when they were immediately surrounded. The night was heavily publicized-- magazine covers and gossip columns.

You, 1992 at the red carpet with Tori and Shannen for the MTV Video Music Awards, "Just don't believe everything you read, tabloids are nasty and they only want to twist the truth and bring out the worst in people. They'll dig anywhere they can to get something that shows in the worst light possible." 90210 was becoming the most famous zip code in the country. You, 1992, sitting down for a casual interview on Howard Stern, "I don't think anyone expected the show to take off like it did. No one is quite used to it yet, at least I'm definitely not. On one hand, the attention is flattering and I'm grateful for all the love, but on the other... it's definitely a little scary." 90210 originally centered around the Walsh Family as they tackled their new surroundings. But as the show carried on, it turned into an ensemble show.

Mary Murphy, "They all had different opinions about the switch. Shannen was definitely happier when every episode was going to be about Brandon, Brenda, and Y/N. She didn't like the shift in attention at all, and she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. Y/N, though, wanted to keep to herself and was willing to go where the show took her, wherever that was." During the very beginning of the first season, Clark would become infatuated with castmate Luke Perry, but he immediately rejected her, due to her being barely 18 at the time. Things heated up later for her though, when she and Jason Priestley began dating near the end of filming the first season.

-

Tori Spelling, for the documentary, "Y/N and Jason were so crazy about each other. It was so sweet. If you ever look at behind the scenes stuff from the show, they're all over each other. I think their chemistry really translates on screen, and that's what made Y/N and Brandon so great."

You, the Today Show, "Our relationship was so wholesome. I was so in love with him. I had been eighteen for a while and he'd just turned 20 or 21, we were total babies back then!"

Jason, "I remember the night we got together. She'd been flirting with uh, Brian-- Brian Austin Green the entire night, it was a cast Christmas party and I was grumpy, unbelievably grumpy. And I couldn't figure out why. Ian Ziering had to pretty much spell it out for me because everyone else knew why and they were pretty fed up. I was head over heels for her from the start."

They would continue to date for almost five years. But romancing Priestley and befriending Doherty would prove to be an unlucky combination for her.

Joe E. Tata, 2001, "When the tabloids got ahold of her and Jason, they had a field day. They followed them on dates, to clubs. Everywhere." Shannen and Y/N continued to fuel the fire with non-stop partying and clubbing.

Kevin McLaren, entertainment journalist, "After working non-stop since she was a child and being 21 and newly exposed to things like drugs, alcohol, sexual freedom, she certainly fell prey to it all." 1993 was just on the horizon. But little did she know it would become her most dramatic year yet.

Charles Rosin, producer of 90210, "We do know, during 90210, when there was a lot of coverage on the tabloids that we had people in our own crew spreading stories and feeding them information."

Jason Priestley, 2001, "It was horrible. We felt so violated. I remember Y/N/N being absolutely destroyed. And that made me feel awful, because there was nothing I could do, nothing she could do. We had to sit there and take it all."

Clark would continue to be slammed with press, her partying habits only elevating as the tabloids became more and more vicious. Rumors of her being pregnant with other castmates babies, cheating on Jason Priestley, sex tapes, and an oxycodone addiction.

You, filming an MTV interview, 1998, "Media loves to make you and break you. They build you up, and they tear you down twice as hard. It's... ridiculous. But it comes with the job description, I guess. For a while I just felt like I couldn't do anything right." Her frequent club nights came to a crashing halt, as Jason Priestley became fed up with it, and managers and agents became worried of her further tarnishing of her good girl image.

Jennie Garth, "Her and Jason were a real fireball together. Jason adored her, so when he saw her start to spin out of control he gave her an ultimatum. Either she settles down and stays away from the party scene, or he leaves. She was crazy in love with him, so she had no other choice." But her image and her drama didn't stop her from bonding closely with yet another co-worker. Luke Perry. Despite being rejected early on, Y/N maintained a friendly close relationship with Luke and as those two became closer, so did their characters.

Heidi Parker, Playboy, "Y/N, Jason, and Luke were very close. Although Y/N got along with everyone, those boys loved her, and she loved them. It was a really strong, intimate friendship. Despite Jason and Y/N being in love, that didn't stop people from insisting Luke and Y/N were seeing each other. I mean, when you saw them on screen, it was completely electric and everyone caught wind of that. It spawned some awful rumors. This girl hadn't done a thing to anyone, but her mere association with Doherty was what dragged her in to begin with. Y/N was known for being a total sweetheart on set, yet she was still getting pummeled. It got out of control. Everyone who knew her loved her and everyone who read about her hated her."

-

At the end of 1996, Jason and Y/N parted ways. After almost 5 years of dating, Y/N moved out of their shared condo and into a Beverly Hills apartment with Tori Spelling.

Jill Ishkanian, US Weekly, "Everyone was surprised when they split. They had talked marriage, they had talked kids. But she left him after they had gotten in a fight about Shannen. Jason did not want Shannen around as often as she was and Y/N wasn't willing to let Shannen go that easily. She was Shannen's main support system, especially with all of her relationship struggles. Two failed marriages, a handful of abusive relationships. Y/N was the only stable thing she had. So, she dumped him, packed her things and left." Y/N went on a few dates with Ian Ziering a few months after, but they quickly decided they were better as friends and they kept it professional from there on out.

You, late night with David Letterman, 2000, "Oh, everyone hooked up with everyone. I definitely wasn't one to stray from that. We were so young, everyone was so attractive on that show, I mean it was kind of inevitable."

Clark and Spelling would live together for two years, with Spelling being a shoulder to lean on during the fallout.

You, 1996, "Look, it's not a pretty scene for anyone and I really just need... privacy right now. It would be great if people could stop asking me about it." As the couple fought in real life, so did their characters.

Jennie Garth, "When Jason and Y/N broke up it was chaos. There was a good period where they didn't even want to be near each other, let alone make out all day at work, y'know? They weren't exactly fighting, but they wanted nothing to do with the other, they were miserable. Luke had been gone at that point and the producers were freaking out because they had planned out this whole thing with Brandon and Y/N and they had to scrap it, because with them butting heads it just wouldn't work. So they switched gears and had their characters fight too. I think it was just cathartic enough to get them close again." They repaired their damaged relationship slowly but surely, just in time for things to heat up with Clark and ANOTHER 90210 alumni.

-

In the winter of 1997, Y/N and Luke Perry embarked down a romantic path, sharing their first kiss at Tori Spelling's casual New Years Eve party with their friends and families.

Tori Spelling, "When they started dating it was like everything fell into place. It dawned on everyone how perfect they were for each other, I know Jason wasn't thrilled about it, but we were all genuinely happy for them."

Jennie Garth comes onto the screen. "Luke and Y/N/N have always made sense to me. They're both very humble, well rounded people. And they always had this really flirty element to them from the start, I'm surprised it took that long," she laughs. A year and a half later, they tied the knot with a small private ceremony at their shared home in Beverly Hills, California. Costing only $20,000, it was the cheapest wedding of all of the 90210 clan's. And in June of 1999 they welcomed their first child, a baby girl, Sophie. Selling their 3 million dollar home, they moved into a 6 million dollar house outside of Hollywood, accidentally moving in next to none other than Jason Priestley.

Thankfully that caused no serious drama between the two families. But the finale of Beverly Hills, 90210 caused a stir that no one could have expected. Priestley made a surprise guest appearance that reportedly caused more drama off screen than on.

Jennie Garth, MTV, 2000, "It's so ridiculous. Everything was just weirdly timed. Jason being on the show had nothing to do with his divorce and it has nothing to do with Y/N's pregnancy, either. People love to make stuff up and cause drama that wasn't there to begin with and it's probably so exhausting for her."

Shortly after appearing on 90210, Priestley filed for divorce, ending his 8 month long marriage. Around the same time, the Perrys announced their second pregnancy. Tabloids began to say that Y/N had caused the divorce and that she was secretly pregnant with Priestley's baby.

Tori Spelling, "Those were so awful and so fake. Her son is a carbon copy of Luke, I'd be floored if Jason was the father..." "I think that part of Jason will always be in love with her... and that shined through in the finale a little bit and that's what people are picking up on. But her and Luke are soulmates. She has a good head on her shoulders, a lot of integrity."

Shannen Doherty, the Rosie O'Donnel Show, 1997, "Y/N's my best friend in the entire world, we went to Ireland together last summer and everything. Yeah, her and I have always been close."

Jennie Garth, "She's incredibly intelligent, super funny. Easily one of the strongest women I know."

Join us tomorrow when we air Tori Spelling: The E! True Hollywood Story. Only on E!

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Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life

[winchester90210]

BH 90210, The Rewrite: Masterlist

What’s a rewrite? A rewrite is taking the show already written and inserting your new character (you!) and your own storylines into it. It gives you a chance to get involved and it takes already known and loved (or hated) characters and gives you a chance to see how they react in situations they never would have faced otherwise. Navigate the twists and turns of growing up in Beverly Hills alongside Brenda, Brandon, Kelly, Donna, David, Steve, Andrea, and Dylan.

(Updated 4/4/20)

Baby’s First Pilot, Part 1

Pilot Part 2, West Beverly Blaze Out

Season 1

Bonus Chapters

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite - Pilot, part 2: West Beverly Blaze Out

Read Part One here!

Chapter Summary: Y/N tackles her first assignment on the WBB until some rain leads her plans south.

Pairing: No one yet. But it’s coming, I swear. It’s a slow burn. Just enjoy the journey there, folks.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, Steve being Steve, Reader has a momentary breakdown.

Word Count:

Disclaimer: My work is not to be reposted in anyway without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging Is fine and encouraged!)

A/N: Last part of the pilot! There’s quite a bit of Steve this chapter but next we’re tackling our first episode which will include a lot more Brandon. Tags are at the bottom! Please message me if you would like to be added :)

Feedback is SO important!! Please leave your comments or questions in my ask box, in the replies, or message them! Even the simplest comment can make a writer’s day.

Italic sentences are the reader’s thoughts.

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“So, shall we?”

“Let’s do it.”

The walk to the journalism room was quiet. You both were completely silent, the only sounds were the tapping of his shoes, and the squeaking of yours. That’s what you get for wearing new shoes to school, I guess. Your thoughts quickly drift, from the seemingly large size of the school, to Brandon, to the school’s journalism program, to that Steve guy. You haven’t even been there a day and you felt like you had so much to take in. Brenda seems nice, so you were glad to just maybe have a friend, and Brandon was probably the most attractive guy you’ve ever seen. At least, that’s what your hormones were telling you. But he’s also your prospective friend’s brother, which unfortunately trumps everything else. At least for now.

And boy, Steve was…interesting. You didn’t know what to think of him. One on hand you were totally appalled and on the other, you were almost intrigued. Not attracted, but definitely intrigued. No one had ever been so direct with you like that. A little too direct, sure, but there was still something different about it. Or maybe different about him. Either way it was something you didn’t have time to worry about, so you decided to push those thoughts away. Brandon puts a light hand on your back, guiding you inside the paper-cluttered classroom. His hand ghosting over your back is enough to send shivers down your spine as you walk inside.

“Andrea! There’s someone I want you to meet,” he calls out. A girl, or maybe it was a woman, stands up from her desk and comes to greet you and your tantalizing tour guide. Her hair is in brown curls, framing her face along with her round glasses. She carries herself with confidence, and not the faux confidence that too many people at that school seem to possess, but real confidence.

“You must be Y/N,” She shakes your hand, “Mr. Clayton told me you were coming, you have quite the transcript. Co-editor of your middle school’s newspaper, Editor of your last school’s paper by the end of Freshman year, until you moved. Very impressive!” She commends. You honestly couldn’t tell if she was a teacher or a student. She talked like a teacher, dressed like a teacher…but Brandon referred to her by her first name. Probably should’ve done your research before coming. “We’ve got two open stories right now, an interview with our custodial engineer, or you can do our ‘Star Athelete of the month’ piece with Richard Moore, point guard of the basketball team.” At the word “athelete” Brandon perked up. He was in charge of the sports articles here. What was she doing??

“Uh, Andrea-”

“Not right now, Brandon. Let her pick.” Andrea quickly dismisses him, staring daggers at him as she finishes her sentence.

“Oh, uh… I’ll take the interview with the Janitor,” You answer, looking to Andrea. Suddenly, a smile creeps onto Andrea’s face.

There’s a beat before she says, “Congratulations, welcome to the West Beverly Blaze.” Then, Brandon realizes what she was doing. Testing you, of course. “Do you want to cover the story on rising temperatures and the effect of global warming on Beverly Hills? Assigned immediately.”

“I’d love to.” You smile, approvingly, but also nervously. It sounded like a bigger story, and while intimidated, you were up for the challenge.

“Fantastic. Brandon, show her to her spot and help her get started. I have to check over the final draft for this week. This is the number one school paper in the country and I intend to keep it that way.” Andrea murmurs, flipping through the pages in her hand. He guides you to the empty spot, and pulls out your chair for you.

“So, do you just have a knack for writing about janitors?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice. You give him a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah, they’re just so fascinating,” You joke, watching as he sits down in the chair next to you. “I kind of knew she was testing me, they did the same thing at my old school. She seems to run a pretty tight ship here.”

“Yeah, she does… hey, if you need some help on anything with your article, I’d be glad to lend a hand. Ya know, since she’s strict with everything here and all.” Brandon proposes, turned to you, his arm resting on the back of his chair. In all honesty, he wasn’t any more experienced than you were. He had been at West Beverly for a few days, but hey, you didn’t know that. Something about you drew him in, and he wanted an excuse to see you again.

“I’d like that, Brandon.” You smile shyly at him, setting up your things to get to work. He does as well, accidentally bumping hands with you as he takes out his notepad. “So, do you play any sports or anything?” You ask, glancing at him as you log into your computer, hearing the clicking of the keyboard as you type. Wow, great small talk, Y/N. That will definitely make him fall in love with you.

“No, not yet, at least. I just write about them.” He chuckles. He takes a breath, “Hey, I’m sorry about Steve earlier. He doesn’t exactly understand basic human manners.”

“It’s cool, I know he didn’t really mean anything by it. I’m the new kid, I practically have a giant target on my head,” You shake your head submissively, not breaking your eyes away from the computer, trying to get as much done in the 40 minute class period as you could.

“It’s not, though. You should be able to exist at this school without Steve throwing himself at you everyday,” he insists, stopping his work to look at you. You can sense a dash of frustration when he talks. Your typing halts.

“It’s only been one day. It’s okay, really. If it gets to the point where I have to stop him, I will. Trust me…I know you just met me but…trust me. Alright?”

“Alright.”

At the end of the class you were pleased by the amount of work you got done. A surprising amount, considering you and Brandon talked mindlessly throughout the entire period, stealing glances at each other every once in a while. The conversation flowed so easily, the nerves you had meeting him were quickly replaced by a level of comfort you hadn’t expected. You were dismissed with the ringing of the bell, and were left with a sparkling smile and a “See you later?” From Brandon.

“Absolutely,” You grinned back, worrying that the heat you felt in your cheeks was visible. Ugh. You were fine a second ago, get it together, Y/N.

-

The rest of the day went off without a hitch, then lunch time came. The anxiety ate at your appetite all day, so you weren’t really hungry. You grabbed some fruit from the cafeteria and walked out to the quad, the grass crunching under your feet. Oh god, you think. Where were you going to sit? You could sit by yourself, which was a surefire way to get yourself branded a loser on your first day. You could join a random table, but you worried that would make you seem like a total weirdo.

“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” You look to the left, and see Brenda, with a petite blonde at her side. You quickly jog over, apple in hand.

“Brenda, you’re my savior. I hope you know that,” You joke, slightly out of breath from your little run, earning a laugh from her.

“Y/N, this is my friend Kelly. Kelly, this is Y/N, the new girl I’m showing around today,” She introduced, looking between you two, a cheery smile on her face. You both mumble “hi"s to each other.

“Oh, you should come sit with us! Where you sit during lunch can make or break you. Sit alone once, like that guy, and you’re like, socially exiled forever.” She warns, gesturing towards an otherwise empty table except for a blonde boy, working on a sandwich. Oh my god. Brandon? You follow Kelly and Brenda over to an empty table, quickly setting your stuff down with a thud.

“I’ll be right back!” You exclaim, before speed walking over to the denim-clad boy.

“What is she doing?” Kelly asks, dread coating her voice as she watches you trot over to him.

“Kelly, relax. He’s my brother, not a freshman,” Brenda objects, both pairs of eyes watching every move you made.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he mumbles, taking a long gulp out of his water bottle. You place both your hands on the stone picnic table in front of you, leaning forward. You wait a moment before speaking.

“Come sit with us,” You tell him, gazing to your table and back to him. There’s no way you’re letting him rot in high school hell because he was alone. No way.

“I don’t know,” He protests, the wind blowing strands of hair into his face.

“Yes, you do. Come on.” You argue, a pleading look in your eye but your voice barely stern. All it takes is a moment for him to look into your eyes before he falters.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” He says, fake annoyance in his voice. You grin, and his annoyed face quickly turns into a smile. You march back to the table with your new lunchtime recruit at your heels, the sun in your eyes.

“Hey, you guys know Brandon right?” You ask, a cheeky smile on your face. You sit down on the bench, feeling the stone under your legs. You sit next to Kelly, while Brandon sits next to Brenda, across from you.

“I don’t believe we’ve met!” Brandon quips, shaking his sister’s hand.

-

You don’t realize how long you’ve been working in the journalism room until the sunset beams into your eyes. Satisfied with the work you got done, you decide to loan the school’s laptop and take it home to edit your article. That way, you’d have a shiny finished product in the morning. Yawning, you pack up your things and begin to head out. Cons of working your ass off until sundown? You don’t have a way to get home, so that means walking the 5 miles back to your house. Lovely.

Striding home, a car horn begins to trumpet. It’s loud enough for you to involuntarily cringe, then you realize it’s getting closer. What the hell?

You hesitantly look back, only to see a jet black Corvette, adorned with a custom license plate reading “I8A4RE.”

“Hop in.”

You let out a laugh in disbelief, stopping dead in your tracks. “What are you doing here?”

He slows his car down to stop where you are, “Hop in. I can take you home.” You hear the rumble of the engine, and his hand tapping the side of his car.

“You avoided my question,” You protested before opening the passenger door and sliding in.

“And you still got in anyway,” He quips, waiting for you to buckle in your seatbelt before he drives. “You seem pretty smart, I’m surprised you were dumb enough to get in with me,” Sarcasm envelopes his voice. “I could be a serial killer.”

“I’d rather be dumb and dead than have to walk,” You joke, “Besides, you seem like a tool rather than a murderer.” He lets out a fake gasp.

“Wow! I invite you to take a ride in my prestigious, luxurious car and you spit in my face.” Fake offence is written all over him.

“I8A4RE? Very prestigious. My mistake.” You giggle. There’s a long pause while Steve drives away from the school, then he speaks up again.

“So, where do you live, anyway?” He asks, raising his eyebrows and locking eyes with you for a moment.

“Uh, I live on Alta Drive. It’s in The Flats. Do you know where that is…?”

“Hah, yeah, I know where that is.” You note the tone in Steve’s voice but decide not to press. It’s probably better if you don’t know. Getting into a car with a guy you barely knew was not your smartest decision but hey, he’s a jerk, not dangerous. You embrace the feeling of the wind in your hair and on your skin as he speeds up. You admire the colors of the sunset, the oranges and the purples and the pinks. Looking upwards at the sky, something falls directly into your eyeball. You moan out in surprise, rubbing your eye immediately. And before you can say anything else, it starts to trickle down onto you. And Steve. And Steve’s poor convertible with it’s top down.

“Do you want to put the top up?” You ask, wiping your forehead free of the rain.

“Yeah…about that... It doesn’t have one.” And as if on cue, the rain speeds up.

“…..What?” You question him, your hair quickly becoming soaked.

“I had to take it off, it was broken.”

“You didn’t think of…uh, I don’t know…maybe needing one? For the rain??” The rain and the wind are an evil pair, leaving you cold and drenched while you try to figure out why the HELL Steve wouldn’t put a replacement on.

“We’re going through a drought! I figured it would be fine!” You look at Steve in disbelief. Okay, maybe something inconvenient can come of getting into a car with a jackass. “This is going to ruin my interior,” he grumbles. You close your eyes and try to calm yourself down, resting your head on the back of the seat. You’re cold. You’re wet. But it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s…not fine. Your eyes shoot open.

“Oh my god. The laptop!” You yell, causing Steve to jump. Quickly, you move your backpack under your seat. Your heart sinks. Groaning, you put your head in your hands. “I’m dead!”

“It’s just a laptop. You can buy a new one. But I don’t think I can buy new eardrums.”

“It’s not my laptop to break. I could get suspended.”

“So, just buy a replacement. They’ll never know it was gone,” he scoffs.

“How rich do you think I am? I dont have fifteen hundred dollars to get a new one!” You’re not sure what’s worse, the feeling of doom from breaking something from school on the first day, or Steve…just talking.

“You have a house in the flats. I don’t think you’re as broke as you say you are.” He protests, tone sharp. “Man, for a hot chick, you’re really annoying.” Wow. He did not. You sharply inhale.

“Pull over, I can walk,” You snap, “While I appreciate the gesture, I’ve got over a thousand dollars to scrounge up by tomorrow morning.” You’re not sure what it is, but something about him gets under your skin. Could it be his arrogance? How shallow he is? It could be something entirely different. But you didn’t feel like staying to find out. So, you wait till he gets to a stop sign, and hop out.

“Hey!! What are you doing?!” He yells, his voice cutting through the thunder and the rain.

“Going home!” Ok.. were you being stubborn? Yes. Were you being a little dramatic? Yes. But you had gone through too much change and commotion these past few days so one breakdown is totally permitted. You were drenched and chafing anyway, so why not walk at this point, right? You were sure you looked like a total manic- hair in your face, saturated clothes, frustrated demeanor.

“You can’t walk home in this!!”

“Watch me!!” You practically mad dash down the street, sloshing as you jog. You hear the Corvette drive behind you, slowly.

“Get in!” He calls out.

“No!”

“Get in.”

“No!”

“Get in!” Is he really going to keep doing this??

“No!”

“Get in!!”

“Fine!” You huff, sliding in the car. He resumes driving, and you sigh. “Thanks for driving me home.”

And before you know it, you’re turning onto your street. Oh. You totally could’ve walked that. You spot your house beyond a set of gates and fix your hair, “Here’s my stop.” 720 North Alta Drive. It’s your house, but it doesn’t quite feel like a home yet.

“See ya.”

You walk into your house and sneak up to your room, leaving a trail of water on the marble floor, following you up the stairs. Changing your clothes, you grab your phone book. You look through it, searching for a specific last name. Victoria… Wade… Wagner… Wahlberg… Walsh.

Ugh. Do you call? It might be too soon. But what if it’s not? …But what if it IS? You sit at your landline, tapping your foot. You sit like this for a good (and by good, I mean way too long) amount of time, but a knock at the front door takes you out of your state. You look through the peephole and see none other than Steve Sanders. The Corvette driver himself.

You open the door with a loud squeak.

“What are you doing here?”

Steve takes a small black book out of his pocket, scribbles something down, and hands it to you. Oh my God. It’s a check. For $1,500.

“Steve…I can’t take this.” You object, handing him back the check just as soon as you got it.

“Yes you can.”

“No, I can’t. This wasn’t your fault. I just…took it out on you like it was. I’m so sorry. These past few days have been rough and-” You stop, watching as he ducks the rain dripping from the front porch. “Here, come in and dry off.” You move out of the doorway to let him in. “Just until the rain stops.” You see him hesitate but walk in anyway, taking his shoes off at the door.

“Oh, hello.” A deep monotone voice practically booms from behind you, causing you to jump.

“Oh, hi dad!” You laugh nervously, “This is my frien- this is my- this is Steve…Sanders. Steve Sanders. From uh… school.” You babble, putting Steve’s coat on the rack. Your father gives him a firm, almost painful, handshake.

“Uh, nice to meet you, Sir.” He awkwardly chuckles, glancing from you to him.

“I thought you were having a meeting at the beach club tonight?” You ask, twiddling your thumbs.

“It was cancelled because of the storm.” He deadpans, crossing his arms over his argyle sweater. You swallow. No, he was supposed to be gone!

“What about the country club?”

“Rats.” You’ve gotta be kidding me.

“O-kayy.” All three of you stand in the foyer, dead silent.

Then, your mother walks in- bright eyed and happy.

“Oh, hello!” She takes off her flour covered apron, and sets it aside. “Is he a new friend from school?”

“Uh…Something like that, yeah.” You respond, trying to strategize the quickest way to escape this. Or the most efficient way to knock down the chandelier so it can fall on top of you and kill you. Whatever’s fastest.

“You should stay for dinner!” Your mom beams, yooper accent strong and prominent. “I’m making spaghetti.”

“I would actually love to stay, Mrs. Y/L/N-” Steve begins, only to be cut off by you.

“He would LOVE to stay but you see his uncle…who’s a…a priest…just…died,” you stumble. Steve shoots you a look.

“Yes, and while Uncle Rodger’s passing has shaken us all, he wouldn’t want me to grieve. He’d want me sit down and enjoy a nice dinner with my new friend from school and her lovely family.” Steve says, putting his hand over his heart and pretending to get choked up. He gives your mom the best sad look he can muster, while you give him a classic “eat shit.” look. Meanwhile, your dad has done nothing but stare daggers at him this entire time.

“Oh, sweetheart stay as long as you’d like! I made plenty of food.”

-

So, Steve stays. And there you both are, awkwardly sitting on identical white couches adjacent to each other. You inhale, hoping to somehow release the anxious energy you’re harboring. He takes the tv remote and flips it on, the Hartley House theme ringing through the surround sound.

“Hartley House fan?” He asks, letting the theme play through.

“Never seen it,” you confess, setting your feet on the marble and glass coffee table in front of you.

“It’s good…” he trails off, “My mom’s in it.” He didn’t normally like to reveal that information to anyone, he’d typically try to hide it if he could. But with you, he felt okay telling it. Despite being loaded and somewhat emotional, he didn’t think you were the type to go fawn over his mother. He at least trusted you with that.

“Oh, cool,” You say, eyes on the screen. Not dismissively, but not overtly excited either. You both quietly watch the T.V. for a moment, and you couldn’t help but think that Steve looks nothing like his mother. He probably just looks like his father.

“He didn’t stop talking about you today,” He mutters, “it was gross.”

“Who?”

“You know who.” No way. No way. No. Way. Maybe you should’ve called him.

You gasp dramatically, hand lightly over your mouth. “Patrick Swayze is finally answering my calls?? Cause he was just so dreamy in Ghost!”“ He chuckles and roll his eyes. You give him a bashful smile, "So, he really talked about me?”

“Nonstop. It was annoying.” He confirms, putting his feet up on the couch with a light thud. You can’t help the grin that forms on your face or the butterflies in your stomach.

“What did he say??” You pry, taking your attention away from the tv.

“What did who say?” Your mother pokes her head in through the doorway, “Dinner’s ready!”

-

Dinner was fairly uneventful. Painfully awkward, but uneventful. It would have been fine had it not been for your father looking like he wanted to strangle Steve 90% of the time. And your poor mother, trying to defuse the tension with small talk about anything she could think of. She was particularly thrilled about Beverly Hills’ produce tonight. Hey, all things considered, it could have been much worse. Steve behaved himself… For the most part, and the storm fizzled out, so you kicked him out the second the skies were clear.

You make your way back up to your bedroom and stare at the open phonebook. You pump yourself up, and actually dial his number this time. The ringing of the phone begins and you consider backing out and hanging up. There was an awful twist in your stomach. What were you even going to talk about? What would you- someone picks up. You hear a woman’s voice through the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh, is Brandon there?” Please be the right Walsh family…

“He is. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Uh, Y/N. From School.” There’s rustling and clanking, then rapid footsteps. A different voice comes through.

“Hello?” The butterflies came back, but with a vengeance.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You could hear his smile through the phone and he could hear yours. You had the most ridiculous grin on your face, you’d die if he saw you right now. You both laugh nervously as you twirl the red phone cord in your fingers. Huh. Maybe you'll like Beverly Hills.

-

-

-

-

Tag list: @be-patient-be-good @fangirl-imagines @bevelyhills90210 @lilo-1988

[winchester90210]

Rewrite Bonus Chapters Masterlist

Series bonus scenes:

(Coming soon)

Reboot real-life:

Behind The Scenes #1

Behind The Scenes #2: The E! True Hollywood Story

Regular real life:

(Coming soon wink wink)

[winchester90210]

If you don't think I'm going to include BH90210 into my rewrite with offscreen Y/N having a long term whirlwind romance with Luke Perry you're very wrong

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x03: Every Dream Has It’s Price Tag

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Y/N pays a visit to Brandon at his new job.

Pairing: Patience is a virtue, guys.

Warning: Swearing, feelings, minimal editing

Disclaimer: My work is not to be reposted or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

A/N: Third episode is up! It’s a little short this time, but I enjoyed getting into romance novel territory with the descriptions this time. Next episode is a doozy, it’s one of my favorites. The First Time– Brandon’s old girlfriend from Minneapolis pays a visit.

The bell rings as Ms. Rye finishes her lecture,

“Okay, papers due on Monday. Remember, I want you to explore how…one decision, one event can change one’s whole life.”

You and Brenda both shuffle to get your things in order before standing up. She turns to Tiff as she and Kelly walk out of the room.

“Hey, Tiff, that was really funny what you said,”

“Who was trying to be funny?” She responds, mocking tone in her voice. You weren’t sure who Tiff was, exactly. Rumors say she was best friends with Kelly until they had a blowout over some guy and it didn’t end well. You didn’t have the best feeling about her, whoever she is.

-

“Male, female, root for your school, West Beverly’s team on against Beverly High, no fail! And don’t get lured by that sweet sweet nitro sale s-s-sale sale sale!” Once again, the D.J’s voice calls out, which marks the end of another glamorous day at West Beverly.

You spot Brandon, taking down names and numbers off the corkboard, hair blowing lightly in the breeze.

“You job hunting?” You ask, looking up at the different flyers and ads sprawled out amongst the board.

“Yeah, I’m just doing my bit for car insurance, you know,” He studies the board, writing things down as he goes.

“Anything looking good yet?”

“Well, I got uh, “Garden Graphics, Veggie Heaven Produce, This Town Restaurant.” I think we’re talking slam dunk here, Y/N/N,“ He jokes, tapping his pencil on his notepad.

You laugh, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Hey, if your mom is anything like mine, she’d kill for a discount at Veggie Heaven,” you jest,“I gotta run, I promised Brenda I’d go shopping with her and Kelly. Good luck!” You tap your hand on his arm before walking off.

“Thank, Y/N/N.”

-

“‘Inverted Nipple Trouble?’ Pass. ‘Are you always attracted to losers? Here’s how to break the cycle,’” Tiff laughs at the magazine in her hand while Kelly searches through the tracks.

“Ugh, here is the cycle,” Kelly groans as she walks past Steve, with David Silver at his side.

“Trust me, dude. They’ll drool over this stuff,” Steve convinces, spraying a little black bottle of cologne on the collar of the much younger boy.

“Aw, finally found someone your own maturity level to play with, Steve?” You tease, joining Brenda at the other set of racks. Steve rolls his eyes and turns away from you.

“Oh, hey Tiff. How is that waterbed?” He smirks, turning back to the gold cologne wall.

“Kelly and Tiffany got nuclear over Steve,” Kelly’s friend gossips. Wow. Steve was the guy that tore them apart? Who would fight over him? Doesn’t exactly sound worth it.

“Details, please!” Brenda leans into her, interest piqued.

“But It was intense fallout. They just started speaking this semester in English class.”

You all grab the things you want to try on, and all five of you scurry into the freshly painted dressing rooms. You find a blue floral mini dress with cropped sleeves. It was so cute. And so two hundred dollars. Bummer.

“Do you really think one event can change your whole life?” Brenda asks, muffled by the white doors of the dressing rooms.

“Sure, like in pretty woman? Sorry Julia Roberts, but I’d wear this on the plane with Richard Gere.” Kelly responds. Such a deep thinker, that girl.

“No, I mean like what Ms. Rye was talking about– one thing you do ruining your entire life… I dont know, forget it.” Brenda continues.

“I don’t know, maybe,” You ponder. Your mind runs through the events of that night at the Bel Age. What would have happened if you stayed? Just being there for 30 more minutes probably would’ve caused you to bang Dylan’s brains out. That couldn’t be a good thing. You barely knew him, for one. You had to handle one confusing crush at a time. I mean, not that your thing with Brandon was really a crush, more of an appreciation… for a friend… that happens to be attractive. You didn’t like him like him.

“Maybe it wasn’t ruined,” Tiff calls out, “Maybe he wanted it that way.”

You change back into your normal clothes, fighting with yourself over the dress. Your parents would kill you if you spent all of your money on one dress. It was a totally cute, show-stopping dress, though. Go for it.

You walk over to the check-out counter with Kelly. You may be smart, but at this very moment you’re feeling weak.

-

The next morning you trot into english class, setting your bag down with a thud.

“Do you remember, Jake kissed like a wall?” Kelly giggles, practically linked at the hip with Tiff.

“OMG yeah, but he was better than the Lizard remember?” She sticks out her tongue, making a gross slurping noise while she walks to her desk.

You sit at yours, next to Brenda.

Tiff turns to both of you, “Hey!”

“Hey,” You give her a half smile, taking your book out from your bag.

“Hey, cool dress!” Brenda smiles, a nervous tick in her voice.

“Yeah, it’s a kick for sure!” Tiff spins around, posing before sliding into her seat. You notice Kelly roll her eyes in annoyance before sitting down.

“How nice of you to model for us,” Ms. Rye jokes.

“Ms. Rye?” Brenda asks, sneaking over to the teacher, “Um, I was just wondering, who’s more guilty– someone like in Les Mis who didn’t want to steal but had to, or someone who wanted to but didn’t?”

“That’s an interesting moral twister, um, and we’ll get to that,” She’s cut off by the bell, “now.”

-

You’re lying on your bed, eyes closed, finally getting some wel deserved peace and quiet. Away from all the gossipy peers, drama, and Tiffany. She exhausted you. You feel yourself drifting off to sleep, but the deafening ring of the phone jolts you up. Who could be calling this late? Why?

You sit up and grab your phone, answering it with a groggy “Hello?”

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I can call someone-” You can’t help but smile sleepily at the sound of his voice.

“Brandon?”

“Yeah…listen, can you pick me up? I took the bus to work today and they don’t run this late at night,”

“So… You need a ride? I can do that. This Town?”

“Yeah,”

“See you in 10,” You hang up, frantically fix your hair, and throw on that $200 dress. You tiptoe down the stairs and out the door, not wanting to wake up your parents. Hopping in your brother’s 1990 Red Mustang Covertible, you slowly back out of the driveway and over to the bistro.

You pull into the parking lot, and see Brandon anxiously pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. You step out of the car, the cool nighttime air almost cold enough to leave you shivering.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Brandon Walsh, Beverly Hills’ own Working Girl,” you tease, a smile on your face. He smiles back, pushing the long blue sleeves of his sweater up his arms. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,”

Your tired eyes meet his own. You get lost in the blue of them, admiring the way the moonlight looks on his face… Until the clearing of a throat shakes you out of your trance. You both silently get in the car, and you pull out of the parking lot.

“How was it?”

“I’m beat, the job’s a total bitch,” He confides.

“Really? It at least pays well, though. Right?”

“You know, that’s what I thought walking in there…but I make next to nothing, and these guys I work with, these– Vietnamese, Portuguese, Israelites, they’re coming here with no money and they’re getting completely exploited. They’re working for pine nuts,” He explains, a frustrated tone in his voice. He’s always looking to make things better for other people, it’s something you picked up on quickly since moving to Beverly Hls. It’s one of the things you quickly grew to love about him… Something that shines brightly in times like these.

“Wow…is there anything you can do?”

He sighs, resting his head against the seat. “I don’t know,”

The streets are totally dead, totally quiet. Peaceful. Only the occasional car comes around every so often. The crickets are loud tonight, though. Filling up the empty space. You see something as you stop at a red light.

“Hey, Bran? What’s that?” You smirk.

You point over to it, a large automobile, stopped at a red light with “Beverly Hills Transit” painted on the side. He looks over, and a smile– a goofy, nervous one, spreads across his face.

He stays quiet for a moment, the smile sticking to his face, shaking his head slightly. “It’s a bus.” You both look at each other and then back at the bus, slowly. You start breaking into a fit of tired giggles. You slowly get Brandon, who’s majorly exhausted from work, going too. So now you’re both sitting at a red light, giggling ike idiots. At a bus. A bus that wasn’t supposed to be there, according to Brandon.

Instead of overthinking the situation, you just drive him home, both of you giddy from exhaustion. You pull into his driveway, putting the car in neutral. This has been a weird night. Fun, but weird.

“Thanks for driving me home,” he says, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. You give him a soft “mhmm,” in return. And, like earlier, you’re staring into his eyes again, and he’s staring into yours. You’re drifting closer and closer…

And then his mom comes out. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nod in response, leaning back to your normal sitting position.

“Goodnight, Brandon,” You sigh. Happily, sleepily, defeated.

“Goodnight, Y/N,”

-

Sunday night came, and you were getting ready to go out to This Town with Dylan for dinner, to go pay Brandon a visit. You had told your parents you were going to study at the library with a friend, which…okay, this time it was a total lie, but you weren’t doing anything illegal. So it’s okay. You apply your red lipstick before heading out the door. You see Dylan in his black Porsche Speedster ,parked down the street. Just far enough to avoid creating suspicion from your parents. Perfect.

-

“So, was this place any good when you went?” You ask, perusing the menu.

“It was alright. Small portions, fancy plates. Good cumin,”

“Brandon’s been running the entire time we’ve been here, I don’t think I’ve even seen him take a breath,” You chuckle, watching him make his rounds. He was nothing if not a hard worker.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Dylan inquires, watching you watch Brandon.

“Come on, we’ve been over this. Brandon’s one of my best friends,” you insist, setting down your menu. You pause. “Okay. maybe I…I do like him. But I wouldn’t ever act on it. He’s kind of attractive, so what? He’s still my friend.” Brandon makes his way closer to your table.

“Yo, boy!” Dylan gets Brandon’s attention, who’s getting swamped with dishes from other employees.

“Hey!” He calls back, turning around. You admire him in his all-white uniform. It shouldn’t look so good on him, yet you’re breathless.

“'This Town,’” Dylan begins, reading the restaurant’s menu, “'This Town is an eating experience for the morning moments, a medley of sages, cumin bouquets, fragrant vegetable jewels,’” he drops the menu onto the table, then proceeds to drop his head, fake snoring. You and Brandon laugh at his antics, but Brandon’s interrupted by his boss not long after.

“Many people would love your job,” She states, black curls hair-sprayed into place as she moves along.

“Yeah, love that minimum wage,” He remarks, sarcasm rolling off his tongue. An asian man steps beside him, helping him with his work.

“You get minimum wage? Congratulations,”

“Yeah, right, same to you,” Brandon responds, raising his eyebrows.

“None of us do,” The man replies. Brandon cocks his head at that, turning to the man.

“That’s illegal!”

“So? Who’s going to do anything?” His coworker walks back into the kitchen. You see the look on Brandon’s face and you can tell…shit’s about to hit the fan. He stomps over to his boss at the counter.

“Listen–”

“I loathe apologies, make it up to me, Brendon, the cumins need filling,” his boss nags, putting on makeup in a compact mirror.

“It’s Brandon! Brandon Walsh! I’m an investigative reporter for the West Beverly newspaper–”

You watch Brandon rant and rave from your table, not able to quite make out what he’s saying because of the loud music. He starts unbuttoning his white coat while he vents.

“Uh oh…uh oh…Dylan, why is he stripping?” You tap him on the arm frantically to get his attention.

“What, I thought you’d like that,” Dylan jokes, playful grin on his lips.

“Oh, shut up!” You laugh, taking the little ball of paper from your straw and throwing it at his face. “I hate you.” You manage to catch the last bit of the conversation.

“…How you scam your help for under minimum wage! So you can take your cumin, and you can shove it,” Brandon slams his white coat down on the counter, walking back to you guys. Wow. You don’t know whether to be amused, proud, or incredibly turned on. All three?

“Take a load off, Minnesota. ‘Dinner Delectable’ is on me,” Dylan encourages, pulling out a seat for Brandon. You can almost see the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Whew, free at last, free at last. Thank god almighty–” he stops the waitress, “Excuse me, can I get a round cup and a round saucer? And I’d like it before the second coming please,” Dylan shakes his head and silently laughs, while your jaw is slightly slack, loving whatever mood Brandon’s in right now. “Come on, let’s get out of here. ”

“Done deal, I know just the place,” all three of you catwalk out.

-

The Peach Pit

Brandon takes a spoonful of apple pie, “The job wasn’t just to support my car insurance habit,” he tells you. “My dad’s always worked.”

The owner of the diner leans in, both hands on the counter, “He sounds as bonkers as me.” You take a bite of your own pie as he continues, “I was 10 when I worked my first big character part in an old bogie film. There was a real pro with a sweet tooth,”

“Now I know why you dragged me all the way out here,” Brandon turns to Dylan, who’s on the other side of you.

“Best pie in L.A., food for real people,”

“Here’s to real cups and real saucers,” you quip, and all three of you raise your glasses. You look around the diner, pictures upon pictures on the walls, pink wallpaper, and rock and roll music.

“Take it or leave it,” The owner, Nat smiles.

“What I like, is you get a real cross-section of people, you know?” Dylan comments, bringing his tea to his lips.

“This really is a nice place you’ve got here,” You smile fondly.

“Listen, uh, Dylan here has been bugging me about hiring someone to help me out, I figure who would be nuts enough to want this bit? Take you, you look nuts enough,” He faces Brandon, raising his eyebrows.

“Take me!” Brandon exclaims. Oh, those were words you dreamt of hearing come out of this mouth. “I’m nuts enough!” Dammit. He’s so cute.

“I’ll vouch for that,” you giggle.

“Me too, I’ll even waive my commission,” Dylan says.

“So, when do I start?”

“How about right now?” All three of you exchange cheeky smiles.

The night ends after a few slices of pie, some milkshakes, and a curfew that’s about to break.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Y/N/N,” Dylan thanks as you slide into the passengers seat. You smile at him as he pulls out of the diner’s parking lot, and turns down the street, his engine humming and the crickets chirping. You look at him for a moment, lost in your thoughts. You admire him, the night sky, and the fresh, cool, nighttime air. You speak up.

“I don’t want to go home yet,”

Tags: @be-patient-be-good @fangirl-imagines @lilo-1988 @bevelyhills90210