If you couldn't tell I've been really Rypay inspired lately-- and given that today is my parents' 22nd Wedding Anniversary, I found no better way for me to celebrate it than write something that I would probably never let them read in my entire life, but the though it still there.

Warnings-- nothing here aside from just more Rypayness-- so this means twincest, a little less squinty than my other stories, but well... just read it

I once again own nothing-- aside from more HSM memorabilia than any legally recognized adult male should-- but we all have things to come to terms with in this life. I own basic plot-- or at least co-own because once again, I've made some links to the ever whored out RP I'm on... so you should go check it out... and now... go now to my profile... clicky the link and... well there you go...

Dedication: As always to every the Pervy Family-- who will probably laugh at me promoting the website-- which you should check out-- after you read this... mhmmm... and also I have to dedicate it to my girlfriend... in part for inadvertently for helping me with an intro... so I have to thank you again for being my constant inspiring force... even when you don't know it :-P

And then the last dedication is to my mom and dad-- who are unknowingly paying for the laptop and the internet connection that helps me write and publish all the Rypay in my head-- and also because my parents have celebrated their 22nd wedding anniversary today (the 23rd of August), love you guys-- and I promise to keep my headphones on all night... just in case :- hahaha

The title of the story comes from one of my favorite Plain White T's songs "Happy Someday" and has nothing directly to do with the story other than I borrowed it from the summary, but if you're a fan of the PWT's it is a must-have track-- and if someone would make a Rypay vid for it... I would probably platonically love them a whole bunch :-P

"Who is that fair to?" I can hear his voice peeking out from just behind the menu he's propped up in front of his face, speaking in the same hushed tone he seems to use when he's trying to hide something.

She answers with the same beaming giggle I'm so used to hearing through closed doors and wafting through the air ducts that lead to the dance studio. "Me." It's always a simple response, but I've learned better by now that there's nothing simple about their communication, they've just had practice by now in this. I have half a mind to stop listening now, it seems only logical, but it's like watching a car crash or a scary movie, the feeling of horror is near exhilarating. "Well, that's fair to you to, you'd enjoy it." Her own slow hushed tone creeps out in a whisper as I can tell she has that face on, the face that is so borderline inappropriate, and yet that hasn't stopped her.

I snap back to attention as I notice their voices raises slightly, snapping me out of my voyeuristic stupor as I notice the looks on their faces, of course they're smirking, they're always smirking, whether they really know it or not. "That's not the point." He answers hiding his own smiles with a clear of his throat, his fist covering his mouth, thinking he's once again gotten away with something. Too bad he hasn't, and probably never will.

My parents are so gross.

I know, I know-- my age, or gender for that matter, probably doesn't permit using the word gross anymore, but then again: their age probably doesn't permit them to flirt like a bunch of teenagers.

That's never stopped them before, and probably never will—despite the fact they have two teenage children and several other things that should be populating their brains like mortgages, employees, and—well whatever adults spend their time thinking about.

My father is the only man I know who calls in sick to work just to spend the day in bed doing-- nevermind—and he's the CEO-- real responsible, dad.

Watching them again it's obvious that nothing is going to snap them out of their reverie tonight, but that might have something to do with the large amount of alcohol mom has been slinging back, just for once dad has decided to join her. Even now they're already back at their shameless flirting, and I'm sure that this time I heard several words come out of my mother's mouth that I'm choosing to ignore as I look at the large plated glass windows of the resort lounge, the only thing saving me is the sound of the piano carrying over the soft noises of the guests-- hoping to god that this awkward encounter can be over soon.

I'd give anything not to be like my parents on my 25th wedding anniversary-- which is what they are trying to celebrate as unassumingly as possible, and looking at this man and woman opposite me, I can bitterly think that we have nothing in common, oh if only they knew how much so.

On paper they sound like the cutest couple:

They met as kids-- my "uncle" even told me once at a party, while slightly intoxicated, that they used to be close enough to be like brother and sister. My "aunt" has told me repeatedly of how they started dating when they were 17, and I'd admit not sound gay that it sounds just frighteningly enough like all those romantic movies that my sister gushes over during our movie nights. There's enough pictures of them through the years to help document the past, present and future. They are so disgustingly perfect, I can almost feel the same feeling of jealousy creep up in my throat.

I can feel her hand lace in mine before I even reach out to grab it, which I guess in our own way makes us just as perfect-- a far cry from our parents, but given our amended status, I'll take what I can get in the manner of romantic happiness. We've accepted we can never have what they have, I can't even see how it would be possible now-- no not in our family.

Clearing my own throat I give my parents a critical look, they both look smashed enough that we could probably get away with anything by now-- not that I feel like pushing my luck, no the last thing is to show people that there is dysfunction in the Evans family, not when everyone assumes we're perfect. Pulling my own menu in front of my face, one of the only tips I've learned from my father over the years, I can't help but hide my soft laugh as I catch her sidelong wink.

Oh how proud our parents would be, just more things to add to their resume of impressive activities:

Successfully wealthy power couple, several successful businesses, lifelong fixtures on several alumni boards and local committees, and through it all they're still maintain a normal family atmosphere, or at least as normal as we can be-- have I forgotten to mention their incestuous pair of twins?

I can feel the frown creeping up slowly on my face as I slowly let my eyes linger back to them, this is definitely one of those things that parents disown their children for-- if they ever found out about this-- I can already see the look on dad's face while he pointlessly screams in a language that I can assume is Spanish, it took crashing the Mustang into the mailbox to learn that little fact about my father. Shaking my head slightly I let out a slight hiss of a breath before finally exchanging a glance with my sister-- which still elicits a small chuckle when I try and count how many times I've had to stop myself from using the word girlfriend when I speak about her. It's at least one of the things I can be glad about now-- my parents are oblivious, and I wouldn't have it any other way by now, it makes it so much easier to get away with things-- then again being twins doesn't hurt either.

I think the proper word for it is telepathy, either way I could care less-- anything to keep them out.

"Damnit!" His voice echoes out slightly, the irony not lost on me that now my father has been the one to interrupt my same, slightly more corrupted reverie. I snap the menu back down to the table and drop her hand, wiping the sweat off quickly on my dress pants before turning back to my dad. "Sorry," He says with a faint red color reaching his ears, one of the very few traits we have in common. "Cut my hand-- knife" He offers in a slightly gruff tone and he points his now napkin wrapped hand to the abandoned knife in front of him. "I'll just go--" His sentence interrupted with my mom standing quickly hiding a sudden fit of giggles. "I'll help you, dear." She responds out faster than usual-- a clear cut sign this is just some type of rouse to leave the table, as usual.

I can't even make a comment about it before she's already dragged him from the table, staff moving in her wake as if she's parted the red sea-- it's in these moments I swear I can almost see the same couple they were in their Prom photos-- if I weren't their son I'd probably be more touched.

"Well-- that was," I can't help but laugh now, as if in some way I'd gotten my wish granted, it was easy to pretend there was no one else in the world when they were gone like that.

"I'm glad they finally decided to leave," Her voice comes from beside me, taking my hand in hers, and stealing the hat atop my head with her other hand. "Now we can finally have some alone time" The look on her face enough to bring the twitchy smile back to my face-- as always.

"I hope we're never like that." My voice feeling a slight trepidation, knowing that deep down, the likelihood of us becoming our parents has always seemed impossible-- but everything about us has seemed impossible.

"Oh no, we'll never be as embarrassing as them, they definitely have us beat there, but that's not really their fault." She offers with a laugh as she leans over closer to me nodding her head slightly to the banner linked across the doorway, knowing full well that guests won't even give us a second thought with our parents having left-- we're just the spoiled club kids without them around.

Following her gaze, I can't help but laugh, knowing full well what she was talking to "Well, mom didn't pick her name--" my voice petering out softly as I read the tarpaulin banner that was made for this exact occasion.

"Happy 25th Wedding Anniversary to Mr. and Mrs. Ryan and Sharpay Evans"

Yes, I can rest easy knowing that we are nothing like our parents.

So a bit of a twist... if you didn't get it... it's a Rypay future-fic... I should have been a bit obvious.. but I know some people are slower... sooo haha... and also in some ways mirrors one of the RP threads on the site, it just involves Ryan and Sharpay commenting towards Vance and Katherine... and speaking of the site... you ou should go check that out now, go to my pro and click the link... as for anything else... I believe at the moment their children are named Cassandra and Vincent-- only because I am trying to follow some type of story arc that coincides with the RP... so yeah hahaha... if you have any questions, comments, or general hate mail-- please leave it in a review, PM, or come bash me on the site... ;-)

-Pax