Fans of the Animorphs

Title: Yellow
Characters: David, Marco, Rachel
Rating: Mature for implied actions between a threesome of minors
Beta: Quick Pitch-hit from rattyjol
Summary: Um, I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU GUYS. rattyjol, with_rainfall and I somehow ended up on the topic of whether or not David/Marco/Rachel could work as a OT3 here on comment_fic. This happened. As the prompt had to be filled in a 'three sentence long fic' format beware of abused, over-stuffed run-on sentences, and every grammatical trick I could whip out of my sleeves because these are a LONG assortment of nine sentences. Haven't actually written anything in forever (let alone David!) and is this too weird, or is this a way that this OT3 might actually work/happen? (As this is a fledgling pairing, any and all comments and ideas are especially appreciated!)
Notes: Please pretend that David possibly wasn't just a three four book character, and that Rachel/Tobias is more of an emotional possibility than a confirmed canon at this point. What actually happened entirely up to everyone's own dirty mind, but I would love to know what your think. ;) (Additionally we're going with stereotypically yellow pencils here so the prompt can actually APPLY to the first one.)

Crossposted here, here, and here at my journal.


Her hand grips steadily tighter around the pencil she's supposed to be using to bubble in the answers on the scan-tron test, and she feels the wood creak just barely perceptively between her fingers; it's close to breaking, but not quite there, which is remarkably close to how she feels at the moment - squeezed, bending away from how (who) she's supposed to be, unable to fulfill or focus on her proper function in school, the war, or her own life.

They're both in the same class with her now; one two rows ahead of her to the left and the other directly behind her and to the right, and she can practically feel the latter one breathing even though he's not technically close enough for the warmed air coming from his wicked, sarcastic mouth to actually be touching her, and there's no literal way the air from his lungs is carving a glistening ruby red A in the back of her head where everyone can see and know-
( He may have been ten paces more cautious than her and two strides less publicly selfish than David, but he was no yellow-blooded, lily-liveried coward, either. )