A/N - Right, so here's my fourth one-shot for this fandom. I keep sprouting these out way more regularly than chapter stories but, oh well, it must be a hint.
- About this story. It's inspired by the episode when Juliet becomes a mummy slave... :P. The writing style is a bit abstract. And because it's so long, it's a two-shot ;P
I do not own WOWP. Enjoy!
She remembers the first time it happened. It was her mother who told her. The conversation might have started with 'you should come home', 'how are the lectures going?', 'any new cute boys I should know about?' and abruptly ended with... 'please check on Justin, he's your brother.'
She had sighed at that time. Her brother was half an hour away for heaven-sakes. In freakin' New York traffic, that's like... a lifetime.
But then her mother has this thing over her. Where she had apparently gone into labour for a few hours, and given birth to her in a taxi, and so Alex figures, yeah, she kind of owes her for the unsanitary memory.
It couldn't hurt to just check on him, right?
She finds him in the most pathetic state imaginable. Maybe the fact that the roommate answered the door, and she seemed to have walked into a salvage yard should have been a hint. But it was seeing her older brother snivelling like a girl, curled up like a ball on the couch watching the 'Notebook' that shook her. He was just...so...lame.
She had sighed. He ignored her. She cleared her throat. He sniffled at the heartbreaking scene. She coughed.
He finally looks up at her. His eyes widens a second before he seems to give up and buries himself further into the couch. She sighs again because really, she's not his freakin' mother.
It takes her three full 'you can do it' speeches, followed by a mini 'get out off this couch before I kick your ass' yeller-a-thon before he complies grudgingly. It takes her another half an hour to get him to shed the blanket. It takes her an extra hour with the help of his roommate (Trent from Hollywood who hit on her thrice) to get him to take a shower. And a simple threat to burn his apartment down with the lighter she conveniently had in her pocket for him to join her for lunch. (She came to get him for breakfast, but.. whatever)
At lunch, his eyes are sullen. His gaze doesn't rise up from the floor. His back is slouched. And she pretends it doesn't bother her. She keeps talking. One gift she always had was the ability to talk, and talk, and talk, and...
"Tell me about her." She mumbles softly as she steals a fry from his plate.
His eyes light up a second before they go dead again. "What do you want to know?"
She shrugs. "Why did she leave you?"
He looks away before he shrugs. "I'd rather not talk about it."
She doesn't like this. Seeing him broken, and lost and not at all like Justin. It was wrong. "Tell me." She coaxes gently.
His eyes meet hers for a minute, and maybe he notices her sincerity or something because he opens his mouth and... well what do you know. He can form sentences without the words 'kill myself' thrown in the middle.
It's a marvel to think that sometimes she can be the useful one. Maybe it was the maturity thing. Who knows? Maybe growing up a few years, with the combination of living at one's own apartment, and a new college thrown in might explain her medium to solve his problem. Because, seriously, she has never been less messed up than him.
"Right... so... this one?"
He looks at her for a second before his eyes fall on the red sweater she held in her hands. "Hers." He mumbles before turning his attention back to the tv for the billionth time.
"O-kay." She tosses it into the cardboard box next to her. She picks up a pink bunny. "This too?"
He glances up briefly. "Mine."
She snorts. "You're kidding, right?"
"She gave that to me for last Valentines day." He deadpans.
Her face scrunches up before she tosses it into the box. "Yeah... well.. not anymore."
He continues to stare at the moving pictures and she thinks that maybe he didn't notice her tossing his precious bunny. "Anything else we should get rid of?"
He shrugs. And she stifles a scream. He has been like this for far too long. Striding purposefully over to his closet she throws open the doors and pulls out the first dress shirt she sees. She tosses it at him and grins at her aim when it lands satisfactorily on his head. "Wear that. We're going out."
He stares at the blue material in his hands. "I don't feel like it."
She crosses her arms, prepared for a battle. "Well boo hoo. We're going out, and we're going to have fun. Now wear it before I curse you into oblivion. And you know I can do that."
His eyes blaze for a moment before he stands up and throws his t-shirt over his head, begrudgingly shrugging on the dress shirt.
She doesn't analyze why she has to look away.
"I don't get it."
She rolls her eyes and gestures heavenward. "What's there to get?"
He looks at her for the first time in over an hour, and she realizes how much she missed him looking at her like that. All confusion. Like she was a puzzle to figure out. "This is your idea of fun?"
Grinning, she grabs his arms and pulls him towards the stone steps. "No. But you teaching me things is your idea of fun, and ignoring you is my idea of fun." He stops and she pulls him forward. "Fun, fun, fun."
He stares at her. It doesn't unnerve her or anything.
She sighs. "Justi-"
"Thank you." He blurts it out, and it's not like she grins in a silly way at him or anything.
"You're welcome."
He smiles for the first time in four days, and her heart beats just a few extra beats, and she feels a little numb around her legs. "You're welcome." She repeats, more softly this time. And she fights the urge to move her arms around him and lean in.
His eyes hold a new spark as they go up the museum steps. Hand in hand.
She's tired and cranky and lugging what feels like a thousand books on her shoulder as she trudges up the stairs to her flat. She stops when she sees him on the floor, leaning against her neighbours' door. His head in his hands. His elbows resting on his bent legs. And she thinks that maybe this has something to do with how politically incorrect their country is.
She stops in front of him, and looks at him expectantly.
He raises his head slowly, his eyes weary. "She wants me back."
She stares for a second. She forgets about the books. About the cranky professor. About the fact that her legs are about to give way. "Coffee?"
He nods as she turns her back on him and opens her door.
He spends the rest of the evening talking about her. When he leaves, she seriously considers the law regarding open windows and gravity.
The next time she sees him, he's across the quad. Her project was just used as an example of 'pure geniusness' to the rest of the class. She stepped out of the arts building when she pauses just as she sees him.
He was smiling. Laughing. Everything but dancing and singing 'walking on sunshine.' She sees her next to him. The girl. Her hand on his arm. Her face inches from his.
The feeling she gets is normal. She's just jealous of what they have. The love. The adoration. It's simple jealousy for that feeling. Which was why she ignored the tight tug in her chest, and the feeling of nausea that engulfed her. She would get over it.
Still... she doesn't answer his calls all the same.
The second time it happens, she finds out by accident. It's like one of those cliché gossip stories where Mary told Sandra, who told Tony, who told Jefferey, who told... whoever.
She doesn't think twice before she slings on her book bag and takes the thirty-five minute drive to his apartment. This time, there's no blanket, or tissues or sappy movies. He takes one look at her and grabs his jacket. "Movie?" She nods, not surprised by his lack of surprise.
They spend the rest of the day watching comedies and laughing until popcorn gets caught in her throat. He takes her to the arcade and later to a one-day-only carnival.
She doesn't think twice when he takes hold of her hand, or when she squeezes him in reassurance.
When they say goodbye, he does something he has never done before.
He kisses her cheek.
He comes over as much as she goes over. They order take out, fight over the remote and sometimes, he might help her with her not quite artistic assignments.
Every night, he says goodbye and kisses her cheek.
And nearly every night after, he doesn't tell her that he got back together with her.
"Hey."
She jumps. "What's wrong with you? You scared me." She hits him lightly on the arm. "Are you nuts? Sneaking up on a girl like that?"
"Yeah. Sorry." He smiles sheepishly. "Look. I want you to meet her. You're free on Friday right? Thought maybe we could double date or something?"
"Yeah... Friday..." She curses that he knows her schedule. "I have something."
"What?" He looks genuinely curious.
She shrugs. "Just something."
"Don't you want to meet her?"
"The girl who keeps breaking up with you, just to get back with you? Sure!"
He narrows his eyes at her sarcasm. "I thought you would want to meet her. You know, as my sister?"
She winces. "Lets not advertise that fact."
"Oh yeah. Stupid me. And here I thought that family was important." She stares at him, wondering what made him so angry. "You know what?" He continues, his tone getting louder. "I knew you wouldn't like her. Forget the fact that she's so amazing, and loves me, and she's just like you. You don't like her."
"Justin." She hisses. People were staring. So not cool.
"I mean, is it too hard to just ask my little sister to meet my girlfriend? Apparently, it is!"
She glares at a nosey passer-by. "Justin."
"Just forget it, Alex. I don't need this." He snaps as he turns on his heel and marches off. She stares, dumbfounded. Which is saying something, since she is hardly ever dumbfounded.
She doesn't listen to his messages before she deletes them, anyways.
The third time it happens, he shows up at her apartment, drunk. She's just staring at him because, he's Justin. The guy who could probably be a priest. The walking after-school special. The good Samaritan, who has never touched a liquor bottle in his life. And he was standing outside her door, slurring his words, barely holding himself up against the doorway, and she can't help but think...pathetic.
He just looks at her like he being there should be enough of an explanation. She looks at him, and agrees.
He stays on her couch that night. His snores filling the apartment.
She? She doesn't sleep a wink.
He leaves before she wakes up.
The next night, he's at her door again. Drunk, again. Slurring his words, again. She thinks she hears the words 'can't anymore' and 'never again', but she's not sure. She gives him a blanket and offers her couch.
He leaves before she wakes up. Again.
The third night when he shows up, she's ready. She's armed with a pitcher of ice cold water, aspirin and dark coffee. He just wants the couch. She tries to distract him, but fails.
He thanks her and kisses her cheek, before he circles his arms around her and kisses her lightly on the neck. She shivers, and he takes notice. "What?"
She fights the lump in her throat. "Nothing." She tries to shrug off his arms, but his hold tightens around her.
"You know, the least you can do is just let me be. It's your fault I'm lacking a girlfriend."
Her hands pause on his arms. "What are you talking about?"
He shakes his head and lets her go, falling onto the couch in defeat. He buries his face in his hands, his breathing anything but calm. She watches him expectantly, swallowing the lump in her throat.
She's startled when he chuckles, the sound low and throaty. "God, I'm messed up."
"Justin, what-"
"Do you know why she dumped me?" He looks up at her, his expression almost comical. "She thinks that I was seeing someone. You! Can you believe that? She's actually jealous of you." He scoffs as he stands up to walk towards her. "I mean, come on. You're my sister. It's not like we would ever..." He stops, his eyes boring into hers.
She tries to swallow the lump again. "Justi-"
"I could never kiss you or touch you or..." His eyes fall from hers and she feels her skin burn as they travel down her neck to land on her chest. She fights the urge to cover herself. "I could never touch you like that..." He whispers more to himself, his gaze still on the skin her skinny barely covers.
She feels close to crying. Her body is tense and her breathing ragged as she watches him take slow, deliberate steps towards her. His gaze goes over her body hungrily, skillfully avoiding her eyes. When he stops in front of her, his chest lightly brushing hers, she could smell the influence on his breath. She says his name as a plea to understand this thing between them. His eyes meet hers, and she sees confusion before they dawn in understanding.
He panics and steps back. "I'm sorry. I..." He swallows audibly before his gaze falls on hers. She sees her fear reflected in them. Without another word, he turns, the door closing softly behind him.
Her friends find her behaviour weird. It's not like she lost her boyfriend or anything. No, she lost him. The one person she found difficult to call 'brother'. They consider her mopey, moody, lethargic and all round depressive.
She? She doesn't care.
At least not until he walks back into her apartment.
He's sitting on her bed, too close to her, hands in his lap. If this wasn't hurting her so much she would have found him very schoolboy-ish. They stay in silence for a while, his gaze studying the paintings around her wall, and hers on the ruffles of the pillow on her lap.
When he clears his throat, she nearly jumps in surprise. "She wants me back." He looks at her briefly. "She said she realizes how ridiculous she sounded, and she wants to give us another try."
She says nothing.
"Say something."
She shrugs, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the ruffles.
"About that night..." Her hand pauses. "I had a lot to drink. I didn't mean..." He clears his throat again. "It wasn't supposed to come out... that way."
She feels the familiar tug against her chest, and she knows it has nothing to do with the Indian food she had for lunch. "Kiss me." It's an almost whisper. She misses his expression, her gaze fixed solely on the ruffles.
"Alex-"
"Kiss me." She says it more forcefully, her eyes finally falling on his. He looks out of breath for a moment. Later, she knows she would take pleasure in this. But right now, she really can't.
After a moment of hesitation, he leans forward and lightly pecks her cheek. Her hand snakes up around his neck to hold him still as she shifts slightly, her lips brushing lightly against the corner of his mouth. She pulls back hesitantly to look into his darkened eyes. They stay like that for a while. She waiting for him to make the next move. He, probably doing the same.
Her lips quirk upward. "I got the spot." Her fingers untangle from his hair and make the slow descent to his shoulder.
He lets out a low breath. "Oh?"
"I leave in a few days. A semester in Italy. Every girl's dream." She shrugs lightly, her eyes far from casual.
He nods slowly, his hand reaching for hers, tugging it from the ruffles. "So then, this is kind of like goodbye. For now."
Her hand tightens on his shoulder, while his thumb lightly caresses her. "Yeah. Kind of like."
He leans forward, and her heart speeds up. His gaze holds hers as he shifts slightly so that all they have between them is air. Empty, electric, nervous, barely an inch thick of air. Her hand finds it's way back to the nape of his neck, her gaze falling on his lips. Because surely, they weren't going to do anything like that. He was close. True. His hand had made it's way to her thigh. True. He was so close that she could practically taste him. True. He was so close that she could... "Goodbye Alex." She's startled by his voice. So low and filled with pain. And something else she shouldn't analyze. Her eyes meet his for a second before he finally kisses her softly. It's an experiment. That's all it is. It starts like one. Her lips lightly pulling his. His mouth hesitantly moving against hers. This was just a kiss goodbye. It was going to end any minute now.
But it didn't.
His hands were tangled in her hair, his arms pinning her against him. Her hands fisted in his shirt, running up and down his arms, his chest, his back. Their movements seemed quick, frustration dictating their speed. It was an onslaught against her very being. She opened up to him, thoroughly and completely, kissing him with as much fervour as he kissed her. It was not a conscious effort to pull him onto the bed after her, or for her fingers to find the bare skin under his shirt. She didn't think twice about his hands caressing her legs or how he was between them. Nothing else registered but him. His bare hands on her equally bare skin. His lips trailing from her lips, to her jaw, to her cheek. His teeth, nibbling against the base of her neck while her fingers played with the the silky dark strands of his hair. It was too much. Her senses overwhelming her. Her mind, screaming for release. With all the effort she could muster, placing her hands against his chest, she pushes him away.
She can barely look at him as he hovers above her, his breathing as jerky as hers. It takes him a moment after he stares down at her, to slowly move off the bed, and off of her. He stands there for a minute, still too close, his hands running through his hair in frustration. "Sorry. I didn't..."
She gets it. What could they say to make this whole thing okay? "I know." She doesn't have the strength to get up.
"I didn't mean..."
"I know."
He leans against her dresser, and she's pretty sure she'll have to burn that thing. "Alex, I'm..."
She's tired, and hostile, and she wants to cry. But she sits up anyway. "I think.." She sighs. "It'll be good if we don't see each other anymore." She chances a glance at him, and wishes she didn't. He looks broken, and hurt, and oh crap! If she hadn't just made out with her brother, she's pretty sure that this would send her to hell.
He jerks his head away from her, and like a man on a mission, he walks out of her bedroom without a second glance towards her.
She doesn't see him for the next two days.
When she does see him, she's at the bookstore looking for a book on Italian translations, because seriously, why couldn't everyone just speak English? She sees him standing outside, his eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as he tells a person directions or something. That's so Justin, always the boy scout. He glances up briefly, their eyes meet, and before she knows it, he's gone.
She panics just a second before she runs after him. He had seen her. She was sure of it. Their eyes had met, and he'd scrambled faster than Speedy Gonzalos. She calls his name as many times as an olympic runner probably hears his name as he runs the 100 metres. In other words, she calls his name a lot. "Justin."
He turns so fast, she nearly bumps into him. "What, Alex?" And it's not like her eyes narrow at his snippish tone or anything.
"What? Is that all you have to say? What?"
"What else is there to say?" He huffs in frustration.
And the thing is, she huffs back with equal frustration. "Gee, I don't know. How about.. 'Sorry we made out, Alex. Don't worry. It won't happen again'?"
He looks like he would really love to curse her. "But that's the problem isn't it? That teensy little issue of us being brother and sister and all."
She scoffs. "Please. These things happen."
"Oh really?" He waits for her unsure nod. "Will you make out with Max?"
Her face scrunches up in disgust. "Max? Ew." And she really wants to wipe that smug look off his face just before he turns on his heel and storms off. Again! "Stop that!"
He keeps walking. "Stop what?"
"That! Walking away. We have to talk about this."
He pauses. "You want to talk about this?" He turns around, and his glare is deadly. "Fine. Lets talk about this."
This new personality switch was completely freaking her out, by the way. "Yeah. Okay." She's not nervous. "Um..." She doesn't know what to say, or how to say what she wants to say. That's all. "I just..."
He looks away from her. "I gotta go Alex, I'll talk to you later."
"I'm leaving tomorrow." She doesn't know why she says it. Maybe it's to keep him talking to her or something.
He nods, still not looking at her. "Have a safe trip." She watches him walk away again. Only this time, it kinda hurts.
TBC.
