Just a short one-shot that popped into my head during The Ice Man Job.
* * * * *
"Sisters are a pain."
"Sisters? Huh." Ricky gave up trying to pry a board lose and scrambled up onto the railing beside him. "You're lucky—you should try a little brother."
"Oh, yeah? I bet your little brother doesn't start squealing just because of a few snakes you put in his closet and then everybody goes and takes his side about it." He shook his head at the injustice. "It was the only place I could keep them!"
"No, but that's only because he would have followed me into the closet, just like he follows me everywhere else. It's annoying."
"Sisters are still worse."
Ricky shoved him, forcing him to let go of the railing and leap to the ground. "No way. Little brothers are worse."
He returned the shove, and this time it was Ricky's turn to leap to the ground. "Are not. Sisters are."
"Little brothers." Shove.
"Sisters." Punch.
"Brothers!" Tackle.
Ricky was bigger than he was, but as a few of the bigger boys in his class had already learned—much to their displeasure—being small didn't mean that he was a wimp. Ricky lurched, trying to throw him off, and he took the opportunity to rub dirt in the taller boy's face. "Take it back! Sisters are worse!"
"No! Brothers!"
A flying fist caught him in the eye, but it wasn't more than a glancing blow and he used his knees to pin Ricky's legs. "Say sisters are more trouble!"
"No!"
Punch in the nose. "Say it!"
"Ow! Fine, 'ou win! Sisters are more trouble! Sisters are more—"
"What are you boys up to?" He looked back as Mr. Renolds from the farm up the road lifted him off Ricky. "Fighting, right out here in the middle of the road? And in your school clothes too, by the look of things." Mr. Renolds set him on the ground with a little shake. "I think you boys had best just get yourselves on home—bet neither of your parents are going to be too thrilled at the sight of you."
"Yes, sir," he muttered, glaring at Ricky as the other boy picked himself up off the ground. He probably was going to be in trouble, for ripping the knee of his good pants if nothing else.
"Yes, sir," Ricky agreed, glaring right back.
Mr. Renolds gave them both another glare, and he sighed and turned to trudge off down the road towards home. At least he'd won—little brothers couldn't possibly be as much of a hassle as sisters.
* * * * *
Travis, that had been Ricky's last name, Eliot remembered with a quick nod. "Got to call him."
"Call who?" Nate asked, appearing beside him with his phone held loosely in his hand.
"No one important. Kid I knew growing up. 'Scuse me."
He could feel Nate's eyes on his back as he headed out the door, although a glance back confirmed that Parker and Hardison were still arguing about the con. They probably hadn't even seen him get up and leave.
He shook his head as he headed into the parking lot. Ricky Travis. He was pretty sure that he was good enough with a computer now to find the guy on his own. And between missing out on courtside seats—courtside seats, he was damn well going to make Hardison get him courtside seats for the rest of the season for making him miss that game—and being forced to play frickin' mute, and oh, yeah, just to top it all off 'hug it out', he really did have the urge to find Ricky and apologize.
Little brothers were way worse than sisters.