Games
Disclaimer: The writer does not own the Jonas Brothers, Demi Lovato, Selena Gomez and the characters they portray.
"You're asking me, to deal with your over-exaggerated depression, be a good best friend, but not get paid." Mitchie Torres looked up as her best friend swung her bare feet over their couch.
"Exactly." Mitchie was scrunched up into a ball on the couch, a tub of Macadamia Nut ice-cream resting on her lap. "Alexandra Russo, I totally bailed you out when you and Nate had the big fight over the guitar pick. And, I bailed you out when the cops were chasing you down the street for nicking something from Urban Outfitters. And…"
"All right, you don't need to go on!" Alex slid into the seat next to Mitchie. "And the Urban Outfitters thing was totally an accident. I won't go into clothing stores without my credit card again, I promise."
Mitchie rolled her eyes at the black-haired beauty and took another bite of her ice cream. "I mean, it's not like I don't appreciate him!" She started, sniffling. "He totally dumped me just because he wanted some stupid girl who would screw him on occasion. He was my first love, Lex. And he just ripped my heart out and stomped on it. Stomped, I tell you!"
"You don't have to be so dramatic about this, Mitch." Alex reached for the small wooden spoon and shoved a scoopful of ice-cream into her mouth. "People get dumped every day. And yes, I am aware Seth was your first love or whatever, but Dean was mine! And I'm over him! And engaged to another man!"
"Oh please," Mitchie snapped, pulling the tub away from Alex. "You didn't love Dean. It also happens that you and Nate have practically been engaged since you were sixteen, which, by the way, was not legal."
"Well it's legal now!"
"Oh come on, you cannot possibly think that just because you're of age now, it made you sleeping with him at sixteen legal."
"Well excuse me, Miss I-Fucked-My-Boyfriend-At-Fifteen!"
And that was what really set her off. Mitchie slapped the tub of desert on their glass coffee table, and sprung, catching Alex by surprise. As they had a minor – it happened almost everyday- wrestle on the couch, the door to the shared apartment swung open with a loud bang and outside stood a very surprised pair of brothers. One, Nate, and the other, Shane.
"Nate!" Alex sprung off the couch and ran to her boyfriend. "I missed you so much! You haven't been in town for ages!"
He grabbed her in his arms, and kissing her lightly, tugged at her shorts. "So, are we going out?"
"Yes!" Alex exclaimed, and casting a cursory glance at Mitchie, grinned. "You and Shane can entertain one another, Mitch. Have fun, Shane!" And with that they left.
"Hey Mitch." Shane slid onto the couch. "How are you?" He wrapped his arms around his best friend. "Dealing with the break-up okay?
"Whaddya think?" She flailed a sheet of tissues in his face. "Do I look okay?" She collapsed onto his lap, sniffing violently. It was her custom – a custom that had sprung up ever since she was a young child to voice her problems. A custom, which had apparently carried on to her teens.
Now if there was anything that Shane didn't like, it was crying girls. Especially curly-haired, red-headed, best-friend girls.
"Hey, umm..." He pulled her up. "Let's play a game. Let's play… Queen of Sheba!" He grinned, happy to have remembered the name of their childhood game.
"Shane…" she whined, stopping to lie back down on his lap again. Shane grimaced. If she was going to lie in that position any longer, she would find something else propping her up.
"C'mon, Mitch. It's fun!" He yanked her up violently, and leaned his face close in to hers. "You do this, and I will leave you alone for the day!" He sang, and smiled when she finally did. "What do you want, o' great queen?"
"A can of coke?" She joked, and then sat back down. "This isn't fun, Shane. We need more people to play this game."
"But with other people out of the picture, I can win." Shane placed a can of coke on her lap. "That's one point to me."
"Yeah, since you were the quickest, as there are no other people playing this game." Mitchie rolled her eyes.
"Challenge me, Mitch." Shane started hopping up and down. "I can get you anything you want; this is your chance, me as your slave, willing to do anything to make me feel better." He counted off on his fingers, mouth serious, eyes however, laughing.
"Mean Girls?" Mitchie tried, and chuckled as Shane knelt to go through her stash of movies. "I don't have it, but you can buy it, can't you?"
"I thought somebody didn't want to play the game!" Shane teased, grabbing his jacket as he disappeared out the door.
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Two hours later, Shane and Mitchie found themselves lying on the couch with a bucket of popcorn (requested by Mitchie), some potato chips (also requested by Mitchie), and a thick white blanket (requested by Shane-it was cold). They had just endured Mean Girls, and apart from commenting how hot Rachel McAdams looked blonde, Shane had been quiet. Reason being, Mitchie now noticed, that he was asleep- and kind of crazy. He had managed to maneuver himself into the most awkward position, so that his arm was tightly wound around her waist, and his front right against her back. It looked terribly wrong, but to Mitchie, it also felt terribly right.
"Shane." She muttered, tapping his (extremely muscular) arm. "Wake up, Shane."
"Mitchcf." Shane muttered into her hair, obviously still asleep. "You are so pwetty. So very beautifull. I love you so much Mitchcf."
"What?" Mitchie sprang to life, but not able to push him off. (Boy, he was heavy!) "Shane? You're just dreaming. Wake up."
"I love youuu Mitchiee." He continued. "More than a friend. Mitchie, marry me. Missus Mitchie Gray." He started rambling, as Mitchie lay there in his arms.
And all of a sudden, he woke up, noticing how he was holding her, and jumping away awkwardly. "Sorry. Fell asleep. Chick flicks are not good for me." He combed his fingers through his messy curls, and cursed when a strand of hair came off into his palm. "Fucking split ends."
"Shane, let's continue to play." Mitchie smiled, and took his hands in hers, relieved when he didn't flinch.
"All right, what do you want, Mitchie?"
"You." And she pushed her lips against his as they fell back onto the couch, not resurfacing for another two hours.
A/N: Bad, bad, one shot.
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