[Better Run Away]
A/N: Lilly and Jackson, just two victims of my waking up on the funny side of the bed and deciding I'm gonna write a story today. Yay, spontaneity! Each "chapter" will be able to stand alone as a one-shot tying into the previous one but making no promise of another because I just don't know what side of the bed I'm gonna wake up on tomorrow. If you'd like me to continue don't be silent about it, yo! Tell me what you think.
Being best friends with Miley for so many years it wasn't all the surprising that when you added up all the slumber parties and study sessions that she spent a whole lot of her time at la Casa de Stewart. So much time in fact, that sometimes, Lilly got a little too comfortable and forgot that she didn't actually live there. Not that this usually presented a problem. Robbie-Ray had adapted a very easy going open door policy in regards to her comings and goings. With the condition that she do her best to refrain from leaving anymore skate tracks in their nice hardwood floors he just finished waxing. And her own mother suffered no separation anxiety during her lengthy stays away. As long as she called often and showed up in person at least once in a while so that she could show off her pretty-baby-girl to the new boyfriend so that he could rave about how she couldn't possibly be old enough to have a daughter her age.
But sometimes, like right now, the issue came up. More often than not in the most random of fashions.
"Miley!"
And by and large, Jackson could be expected to in some way, shape, or form be involved. This time was no expectation.
Both girls looked up from their respective girly-mags with twin expressions of resignation at the thumping of footsteps that grew progressively louder until the bedroom-door was thrown open flamboyantly. Neither was particularly surprised to see Miley's, chronologically if not mentally, older brother standing in its wake. Jackson wasn't actually illiterate, as so many teachers would claim, so it was by choice he ignored the knock-before-entering-that-means-you-Jackson sign put up for his benefit. Apparently it wasn't any better at deterring his barging ins then it had been when they put it up months before. Bummer.
What did surprise, or horrify as in Lilly's case, was his chosen attire. More directly the blue trim black and white polka dot bra he had strapped on, on-top of a t-shirt thank god for small favors!
"Miley," he repeated in an effeminate tenor while pointing at his chest with a limp wrist. "Because we share a bathroom please remember to take anything else you don't want to share with you when you leave."
On the Jackson's shenanigans Richter scale this probably wouldn't even register a Robbie-Ray shake of the head or a 'where did I go wrong?' But Lilly felt her jaw unhinge and her eyebrows recede to her hairline. Miley also seemed to have lost her voice, the only sound that escaped her lips was reminiscent of the days right before her tonsillectomy but she seemed to regain her wits first. "Jackson," she said very carefully, getting up off her bed she approached him as one would an animal that if startled might bolt. "Take it off."
That last part, ground out through clenched teeth blighted her calm exterior. Sensing her intention Jackson laughed as he dodged her hand before she could wrap it around one of the straps on his shoulders. The evasive maneuver landed him technically cornered in her room with Miley bodily blocking his only means of escape but he wasn't worried. He slipped his thumbs beneath the straps and let them go with a taunting snap. "I dunno Miles I think it accentuates my girlish figure."
He dodged again and they circled each other like seasoned cage fighters.
In retrospect it was a little sad that he had nothing better to do with his Friday then rile up his baby sister and her little friend. But he was just having a bit of a dry spell, that's all, and there was nothing wrong with spending a night in. Alone. It wasn't like he had been looking for an excuse, any at all really, to break into the giggle fest that was going on across the hall so don't even suggest it! And he hadn't walked into the still steamy bathroom with its fogged over mirrors and lingering vanilla scent and seen the lone forgotten bra as a godsend.
Certainly not.
He palmed the cups and jutted his chest out, it worked better then a Matador's cape to a bull, and Miley charged. She managed to grab one strap at last and pulled while he put all his weight into going the opposite direction.
At this point Lilly jumped up and yelled indignantly for them to; "Stop!"
Jackson just laughed and zigzagged pulling Miley after him like a dog on a leash. He expected Lilly to join forces with his sister but she just stood there turning weird shades of red.
"You're gonna rip my favorite bra!" she shrieked. She being Lilly not Miley.
He froze and Miley slammed into his back knocking them both to the ground. Horror kept him down for the count; somewhere at his side Miley groaned and standing over him now Lilly glowered. Her hands crossed discretely over her chest. Not that he was looking!
Oh god, he was looking!!
Sitting bolt upright he tried to quickly and cleanly disentangle himself from the garment as if it had somehow transformed into a giant blood sucking leech under her glare, simultaneously he apologized at roughly a hundred words a minute. But the blasted clasp wouldn't come undone! It was like his first experience with a bra all over again. He fumbled and he stuttered until the girl took pity and helped him; only infinitely worse then that because this time the girl in question was Lilly and it was a point of interest that she wasn't wearing a bra at all at this moment.
As soon as he was free to do so Jackson jumped away, cringing in anticipation of the volley of punches that were sure to descend upon him any second now.
Any second now.
Any second.
He dared a peak over the hands he'd raised to protect his face and saw Lilly to be far more interested in inspecting her property for any damages he might have inflicted then in the cause of the said damage. That being himself it was just fine with him!
Not that he was afraid of a girl or anything. But this was Lilly! They watched hockey together on the couch downstairs and had burping contests and she beat him at arm-wrestling every time. She'd practically grown up alongside him like a sister, as far as he was concerned that should render her as genderless as … as Miley! Should.
Should but didn't. The realization shot through him like an electric current. He didn't know this girl.
After one last apology he fled the room for the sanctity of his own. Suddenly spending the night alone didn't seem so bad. Not bad at all. Maybe he'd never leave again.
------
"Yeah, he better run," Miley muttered and pushed herself up into a seated position. Her forehead throbbed from either it's recent forceful encounter with Jackson's back or with the first pangs of a migraine, which was the usual result of prolonged exposure to her brother dearest. Lilly was still quite, her head hung and seemingly engrossed in counting every last stitch on her violated bra. Miley got up and made her way over to her side. "He didn't rip it did he?"
"No," Lilly admitted after a grudging pause, then she plopped down on the bed causing their previous reading material to flop onto the floor. Miley ignored that and sat down on the edge next to her, putting an arm around her slouched shoulders.
"Then what is it."
"I'm not sure," she deposited the bra on her lap in favor of pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. "Jackson just waltzed in here and did a little jig in my bra. I'm not sure how I feel about that. This is probably the most humiliating moment in my life."
"Oh come on, Lil," Miley rocked where she sat, taking Lilly along with her. "This is Jackson we're talking about. The boy cross-dressed on Halloween. He said it was to win a pot of chili in a bet but you have to wonder. It was only a matter of time before his very personal interest in women's lingerie made itself known."
"I know but I can't get my cheeks to stop burning. I keep telling myself it's just Jackson, your personal-boundary-challenged brother, but to me he's still a, you know, guy."
Miley pulled back and looked at her best friend like she's suddenly declared a secret ambition to go off and raise pigs. "I know we've had this conversation before. I'm not having that realistic nightmare again, am I?" She pinched herself and winced before continuing. "When I say Jackson and Lilly sitting in a tree you say—"
Lilly made a half-hearted gagging sound before laughing at Miley's over-exaggerated show of relief. "I'm not saying I like him. It would just- be nice if he recognized me as a boob carrying member of the female society."
"Oh, I think he does," it was Miley's turn to laugh. "Did you see his face when you told him it was your bra he was vogueing in? If it was possible to die of shock you'd be on trial for murder!"
"…That part was pretty funny."
"Pretty funny? Pretty funny?! I'd have invited the Hannah paparazzi into my bedroom personally if it had meant I could have captured his expression on film! Lilly, that was Jackson learning his lesson. That's not likely to ever happen again in our combined lifetimes."
Lilly looked up for the first time and smiled. "Well in that case, I'm not really sure he's learned his lesson. Yet."
"I like where this is going."
With that the two giggled and plotted revenge as they gave each other mani-pedi's. As the night wore on Miley watched her friend carefully for a silent confirmation of what her gut was telling her: that just because Lilly wasn't saying it, didn't make it any less true.
Dagnamit! She hated when her dreams were correct.
The next morning Jason stayed in bed as long as feasibly possible. In the end it was his bladder that forced him out of his self-induced seclusion sometime before noon. He might have lasted longer if there had been just one lucky empty water bottles in his room…
He approached the bathroom with all the caution of entering enemy territory, wary of an ambush. He fancied himself a variable James Bond only blonder- and shorter. But no such ambush happened as he carried out his "morning business." On his way out he was even confident enough to have left the toilet seat up in open defiance.
It had been quite. Too quite. Not even a golden blond hair in the shower drain. Dare he hope she was gone, never to invade his sanctum-sanctorum again? He made it down the stairs and into the kitchen, which still smelled faintly of French toast slightly burned, before that hope was stomped out.
She was sitting there, at the island chatting gaily with Miley and their father over breakfast, sipping OJ and looking every bit like she belonged to be there. The sunlight streaming in from their kitchen window catching in her hair in ways that made it clear she was a natural blond. As if sensing his attentive stare she flipped a bouncy lock over her shoulder and looked at him, her piercing gaze measuring. It was that look that made him doubt the seating arrangement was at all random. She was in his seat. Not that they had assigned seats for breakfast, but if they did that one would be his. Should he call her on it? Her lips twisted into a half smile egging him on.
He tightened his robe and took a step forward. He was not embarrassed about making an ass off himself in front of a pretty girl. Why he did it every day. Hell, sometimes twice. He wouldn't let her see how uneven she now made him feel.
Lilly's gaze darted to Robbie-Ray, when she saw he was sufficiently distracted by an anecdote from Miley her eyes returned to Jackson and she gave him the full force of her smile. It momentarily stunned him.
A single index finger with cherry red lacquer disappeared under the shoulder of her sleeveless-tee, dragging an all too familiar blue strap into view when it reappeared. She let it fall with disregard before turning away and proceeding to completely ignore him from that point on.
"Son? Jackson?"
It took a few more prompts to get his attention.
"What was that dad?"
"I asked if you're just gonna stand there gawking or come and join us. Lilly made French toasts like your wouldn't believe."
"Oh, I'd believe anything right about now," he muttered never tearing his eyes from the tantalizing blue strip as he sauntered over to the island. When he got there he placed his hand on Lilly's upper arm covering the offensive thing, his efforts were rewarded when he felt her stiffen at his touch but she made no other outward appearance of noticing his presence at all. Well if that's how she wanted to play it! He reached around her with his other hand, encircling her in a half embrace, and reached to grab a slice from the plate in the center of the table meant to be a free for all.
Slowly, almost unconsciously he dragged his hand up to her shoulder before slipping it under the material there. When he pulled his hand away everything was as it should be. he took a congratulatory bite of his French toast. Mmm, he'd be loath to admit it but it was really good. "Totally worth getting out of bed for."
A/N: Random fluff I just needed to get out of my system after watching: "He Ain't a Hottie; He's My Brother." How dare they do that?! How dare they? I was so excited when I read the premise of the episode and they just had to go and – it's unthinkable! I thought the writers' strike was over, so can someone please tell me what that gόu shί was?