Dedicated to Rosage, because reasons.

Hey, look. I write humor sometimes.

To Paint the Town Red

-x-x-x-

A note with regarding this piece: even though it is, first and foremost, intended to be a humorous piece that I wrote spur-of-the-moment (and therefore really is rather lackluster in quality), please assume that all characters referenced engaging in various activities are of legal age for the activity mentioned.

This piece is rated for references and mentions of sex and substances.

Thanks.

—Xirysa

-x-x-x-

"This is stupid." Kyle crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "I can't do this. You know that."

Forde made a face. "What do you mean?" he asked. "It's really not that hard at all. Just watch me." Without warning, he leaned backwards and flung his arms behind him, flailing his body in a way that rather reminded Kyle of a sad, pathetic sort of noodle.

"No," said Kyle. "I can't. You know that."

"Stop talking like that." Forde stopped flailing and straightened up. "You'll never get anywhere with that attitude."

Kyle shook his head. "I'm being pragmatic," he said.

"You're just being difficult." Forde frowned. "Say, where did Franz get to?"

"I don't know," Kyle replied as he tugged his sleeves down, hoping he didn't seem nervous as he did so. In fact, Kyle had a very good idea of where Franz was: anywhere but the cluttered living room of the small house the two brothers called home. The poor boy had been absolutely mortified when Forde had, earlier that day, declared that he would be teaching Kyle and Franz to, as he put it, "get freaky" on the dance floor before the Eirika and Ephraim's birthday celebration at the club later that evening.

"No brother of mine is going to walk into a club and not know how to dance," Forde had said. "It's your first time clubbing. No friend of mine either, for that matter, even if it's not your first time going. But you've still got to do it right."

Hence, the current situation.

Thankfully, Forde didn't seem to notice. Instead, he glanced at the open window for a moment—Kyle swallowed nervously and rather hoped that Franz wasn't hiding out in the bushes or something—before turning back to Kyle with a shrug. "Oh, well. I'll have to work with him later, I suppose. At least he's got the rhythm in his genes." Forde grinned proudly.

"Of course."

"Can't say the same for you, though, I'm afraid." This time, Kyle thought, the smile on Forde's face looked decidedly sadistic as he turned to the coffee table (it was really just an old, refurbished pool table) and pressed a button on his laptop; the living room was filled with pounding bass and unintelligible garbled language (though Kyle distinctly heard words not fit for polite company quite a few times) and Forde looked back over his shoulder at Kyle. "Let's try this again. Now, follow me."

He straightened up and did something with his hips, and Kyle was suddenly very, very afraid.

-x-x-x-

Franz owed Kyle, he knew that. The man had managed to distract Forde long enough to allow the boy to dash away, and Franz had taken the opportunity to hide away in his room, locking the door securely behind him before collapsing at his desk with a relieved sigh.

His phone vibrated, and the little light began to flash; a text message. He reached across the desk, picked up the phone, and read the message.

R u going 2 the party 2nite?

It was from Amelia. Franz felt his face grow warm as he quickly tapped out a response.

Yeah i am forde's making me go. C u there?

Almost ten minutes went by before Franz finally got a response; he jumped at the sound of his phone vibrating, bashing his knee against the underside of his desk, and he bit back a rather bad word he had learned from Forde a few years ago as he read the message.

Despite the pain, he allowed himself a small smile, and with a sigh looked back at the door. It was for a good cause, Franz told himself as he got up with a groan. Hopefully, a very good cause.

Nevertheless, when he opened the door and headed back downstairs, it was very much with the air of one preparing to meet their ultimate doom.

-x-x-x-

Forde was a very good dancer. Kyle knew this, and so did Franz. That was why Franz was barely surprised when he came downstairs to find his brother gyrating his pelvis in the most provocative way to the music blasting from his laptop.

He was, however, very shocked to find Kyle doing the same thing—and actually doing a very good job of it, too. "Surprised" didn't even begin to describe how Franz felt at the sight of this display.

Forde, however, didn't seem to be at all phased by this. Rather, he was encouraging it quite enthusiastically.

"Now let me see those hips swing!" Forde called over the music before he spotted Franz standing awkwardly by the wall. "Hey, where did you go?"

Franz shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Uh. Bathroom?" he said hesitantly, fervently hoping that Forde would believe him.

The answer seemed to be enough for his brother. "Alright. Now get over there next to Kyle. We've got a lot to do before we leave."

-x-x-x-

"You know, you're a really good dancer. I didn't expect that."

"When you've been friends with your brother for as long as I have, you learn to pick up things like that."

"You'd think it would go both ways, though."

"But it does."

"Really? What do you mean?"

"…I'll tell you when you're older."

-x-x-x-

I think kyle was a huge partier when he was in college

Wut makes u think tht?

He just said something that made me wonerd
*wonder

Wut did he say?

Idk but now i dont think i want to hear any more of their college stories its too weird

Good idea :/

-x-x-x-

Forde didn't keep them long after all; he claimed he didn't want them to be too tired before they had to leave for the night. Instead, after demanding that Franz take a good, long nap (which was met with quite the protest from Franz—it had taken quite a bit of yelling and a not-quite-accidental knock to Forde's head to convince him otherwise) Forde had demanded to see the contents of Kyle and Franz's closets in order to make sure they were properly attired for the evening.

Kyle got off surprisingly easily, claiming that he had to see a man about a singing purple wallaby and leaving rather hurriedly thereafter, but after telling Forde that that he had clothes that were nice enough for the club (and then being told repeatedly that old jeans and relatively decent dress shirts were decidedly not appropriate club wear) Franz was forced to show his brother his wardrobe.

To put it simply, Forde was not impressed. "We're going shopping," he said as he grabbed his car keys off the kitchen table. "Grab your jacket."

Franz was not in the mood to comply. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned instead. "Why can't I borrow something of yours, then?" he asked. "I'm almost as tall as you, now. I can fit in your clothes."

"Nothing doing," Forde replied. "There's a difference in the clothes meant for men and for men who have just become men. You follow?"

Franz cocked an eyebrow. "And this is coming from the man who just taught his little brother how to dance dirty?"

"Club dancing is a right of passage," Forde replied matter-of-factly. "It's nothing like those dumb dances you went to in high school; you just finished your first year of university and you've still never gone to a frat house or a club or anything." He shrugged. "Besides, it'll help you out, I promise." He gave Franz a knowing look. "I bet Amelia is going tonight, right?"

"Wha—wait, what?" Franz spluttered. "How did—I mean, why…?"

Forde actually seemed surprised by Franz's reaction. "I was right? Wow." He grinned. "Anyway, we're going to have to show her what a manly man you really are."

"No, Forde, really. It's fine we don't have to—"

"Great!" Forde grabbed Franz's arm and pulled him through the door leading to the garage. "Let's go."

-x-x-x-

If i murder my brother will you bail me out of jail

…wut happened this time?

Long story will you bail me out

Sure i guess

K thanks

-x-x-x-

Two hours later, Franz and Forde were once again in the kitchen, except this time Franz was sitting sullenly at the table in what Forde deemed "proper going-out garments". He fiddled idly with his phone, gaze flickering between his phone (he wasn't nervously waiting for a text message, no, certainly not) and Forde, who was warming up yesterday's takeout for them to eat for dinner.

Aside from the gentle hum of the microwave and occasional opening and closing of drawers, everything was silent—after arriving at the mall and shoving Franz to the closest store selling men's clothing, Forde had bustled around Franz like a mother hen.

The situation had been maddening, to say the least, with quite a few instances wherein Franz had been more than tempted to resort to a more violent behavior in response to Forde's approach to fashion, and after they had finished purchasing a few dress shirts and slacks, Franz was certain that the shopkeeper—and those in the surrounding stores—had been glad to see them go. And the drive back home had been silent and tense; Forde finally seemed to realize that he had done something wrong, and didn't say a word until they had pulled into the driveway. Franz hadn't been inclined to say anything to prove him otherwise.

Franz, therefore, couldn't help but jump a bit in his seat when a large, strong hand ruffled his hair as a plate of day-old Chinese food and a pair of chopsticks appeared before him on the table. He looked up to find Forde smiling sheepishly down at him.

"Sorry," he said.

"You really are an idiot, you know that?" Franz told him as he reached for the chopsticks with one hand and pulled the plate closer to himself with the other. "I'm not a kid anymore."

Forde shrugged. "I know," he said. "It's weird." He fell silent and looked thoughtfully at Franz for a moment before pulling out the chair beside him and taking a seat. His expression was serious. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

Franz was mid-chew; he swallowed quickly and looked at Forde curiously. "About what?"

"Tonight." Forde crossed one leg over the other and leaned toward Franz. "The party's going to be fun, yeah, but that doesn't mean you should do anything stupid. If anyone tries to make you do something you don't want to do, or you feel uncomfortable, or anything at all, let me or Kyle know right away." He glanced down at Franz's phone, where it sat on the table beside the plate of takeout. "Is your phone fully charged?"

"Yemmf," Franz said, through a mouthful of food.

"Good. Call me if you need anything while we're there, okay?" Franz nodded, and Forde smiled. "Alright. Also, while we're there, you might see people acting… not quite like themselves."

Franz frowned. "What do you mean? I know people are going to be drinking. I know what happens at clubs and parties."

Forde seemed to hesitate a moment, then leaned forward and cupped his hand around Franz's ear. "Let's just say," he whispered, "that Lyon is incredibly affectionate when he's got enough tequila in him. Especially when he's around Ephraim."

After the statement had sunk in, Franz blinked and looked down at his plate in embarrassment. He could feel the back of his neck already heating up. "Oh," he said.

"Yeah." Forde nodded. "Exactly."

-x-x-x-

I think forde just gave me THE talk.

Omg did he rly?

Yeah it was kind of weird

I kno wut u mean mom and duessel gave me the talk + a can of mace

o_o wow

I know

-x-x-x-

They picked up Kyle on the way to the club; the man had nodded at Franz and mumbled a quick apology for his hasty departure earlier in the afternoon before they drove off.

"He's… difficult at times," Kyle had said. "I'm sorry."

Franz had shook his head and gone back to playing with his phone. "It's fine. Don't worry about it," he muttered in turn.

Thankfully, Forde hadn't seemed to notice their exchange. Instead, he opened the window and rested his arm on the sill. "Do you have your wallet, Franz?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah." Franz felt in his pockets until his fingers brushed against the smooth leather of his wallet. "Right here."

"Got your license?"

Franz opened the wallet. "Yeah."

"Phone?"

"Right here." Franz held it up. "We've been over this. I'll be fine."

Forde shrugged. "I know," he said. "But I'll still worry."

Franz nodded and looked down at his phone as he tapped away at it fervently, but he couldn't help but smile as he did so. "It's fine," he replied. "I get it."

-x-x-x-

I take that back I might not kill him after all

Wut happend?

Just stuff you still going?

Ya we just left b ther soon u?

Same here

K c u soon :)

-x-x-x-

"Who are you texting? You've been at it the entire ride."

"Uh—er. It's no one."

"Relax, Kyle. Ickle Franzy has a girl. Turns out irresistibility runs in the family."

"Amelia's not my girlfriend, Forde! Shut up!"

"Amelia? She's Duessel's daughter, right?"

"Stepdaughter, but yeah, that's her."

"She's a good kid. Take care of her."

"Oh, he'll take care of her. But not yet, they're both much too young."

"Forde!"

"…we're here."

-x-x-x-

Franz hadn't been sure what to expect upon arriving at the club. It was dark, and the music was even louder than the volume Forde normally played his at. There were people everywhere, too—barely identifiable silhouettes gyrating on each other to the pulsating bass, relatively stationary figures at the bars, and dark masses otherwise engaged with in other activities.

He didn't recognize most of them; most of the people who had come were people Franz didn't know, friends of Eirika and Ephraim who had gone to school and worked with them, the sons and daughters the upper circle of society, but among them Franz was somewhat relieved to see faces he recognized. Even if their owners were engaging in activities he had never before fathomed.

L'Arachel, for example, was very enthusiastically dancing with what appeared to be an equally enthusiastic Rennac, in a manner that surely would have made her poor uncle faint at the sight of them. Tana was in the middle of the dance floor with the motorcycle guy Franz knew Innes didn't care much for, and Ephraim…

Ephraim was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Lyon, for that matter. Franz tried not thinking about why that was.

Fortunately, he didn't have to try for long; Eirika came and greeted them, then, and Franz found that he had to think about things of an entirely different nature; the short, tight dress she was wearing certainly left very little to the imagination, and Franz found that the peeling toes of his Converse were suddenly very fascinating (he was thankful that Forde had allowed him to wear them at all, what with his insistence on proper attire and the like).

"Kyle!" Eirika said very loudly. "Forde!" She gave each of them a one-armed hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

Forde shrugged in good-natured way. "Not like we had a choice," he said. "Your dad asked us to watch you kids for the evening."

Kyle nodded. "Seth, too."

Eirika's expression fell at the mention of Seth's name. "I wish he could've come," she said. "It's so much more fun here than in an icky hospital."

"That's true," Forde said, "but I think I'd like him walking around alive and healthy rather than with a bullet still stuck inside of him."

Eirika nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I guess you're right…"

"Hey! What do you think you're doing, making the birthday girl cry?" Tana asked as she danced up to them, on perfectly manicured hand clutching the tanned and well-muscled forearm of her biker friend, the other holding a frighteningly pink drink. She pouted. "That's not nice."

Forde grinned at her. "My apologies, princess," he said. "We'll make sure to rectify that problem immediately."

Her man friend glowered at Forde. "Tana," he said, making a move to pull away from them; her grip on his arm tightened visible. "We should go back—Amelia's still waiting."

Franz immediately straightened up at the mention of Amelia, and just as quickly regretted it; he felt Forde clap him soundly on the shoulder, and Kyle smirked in a knowing sort of way. "Well then, Franz?" Forde said rather loudly.

Both Eirika and Tana looked at him, then, evidently surprised by his presence. "Franz?" said Eirika. "I didn't know you were coming!" She gave him a quick hug.

"To be honest, neither did I." Franz pulled his phone from his pocket and began to fiddle with it. "Happy birthday, by the way."

Eirika smiled at him. "Thanks," she said. "If I knew where he was, I'd tell Ephraim to come say hi, too, but if I know him, he's probably already had more to drink than he can handle and is passed out in the bathroom."

"Lyon," Tana told her. "Ephraim's with Lyon."

"Oh. Then scratch that: Ephraim's probably already had more to drink than he can handle and is in a bathroom somewhere with his tongue down Lyon's throat."

Franz was very grateful for the dim lighting; he was beginning to lose track of the number of times he had blushed since arriving at the club—and it hadn't been even a half an hour since then.

-x-x-x-

Amelia was sitting on one of the couches in a corner of the club when Franz finally found her. She smiled and shifted a bit on the couch to make more room when she saw him, and he smiled at her in return before taking the proffered seat beside her. The couch was small, though; Franz was sitting much closer to her than he had expected. He blushed.

"I, uh. Sorry it took me so long to get here," he said apologetically. "I tried texting you, but I don't have service here."

She shook her head. "It's okay," she told him. "I saw you when you walked in—Gerik marked you, didn't he?"

"Marked?"

"Your hands," Amelia explained. "You're underage. Gerik and Tethys are the ones checking all the I.D.s tonight."

"Oh. Yeah." Franz fought the urge to slap himself and fell silent. He wasn't entirely sure what to do in these kinds of situations; it was all very new and strange to him. For a moment, he wondered what is brother would do at a time like this. He quickly realized that he'd rather not know.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a small hand tapping his shoulder politely. "Hey, Franz," Amelia asked him, "do you want to dance?"

Franz almost fainted. He was sure of it. "Er, sure," he replied before standing up and offering Amelia his arm. "Shall we, milady?" he asked with his best Forde impersonation.

Amelia laughed and took his hand. "Of course, good sir!"

Together, they stepped onto the dance floor. Franz tried to ignore his brother watching them intently from the other side of the room; fortunately, dancing with Amelia made it quite simple.

In the end, it turned out to be a good night. A very good night indeed.

-x-x-x-

The biggest difference between the two brothers was that Forde, despite his tendency to nap at the oddest of hours, was very much a morning person; Franz, most decidedly, was not.

"So?" Forde asked from his perch on the kitchen counter. He stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth. "Then what happened? Go on, tell me!"

Franz leaned forward and pillowed his head in his arms. The smooth wood of the table was wonderfully cool against his cheek, hiding the flush he knew was starting to build. "I told you, nothing happened!"

Forde cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?" he said. "I was under the impression that something most certainly did occur; you looked decidedly mussed up when we left."

"Because I was dancing," Franz said. He stood up. "It happens."

"I'm sure it does." Forde said, and chuckled quietly to himself. His cell phone rang, then, and Forde looked at the caller I.D. with a strange expression on his face before answering. Franz watched him.

Franz didn't hear much; the conversation was over very quickly, and Forde tossed his plate into the sink before he grabbed his car keys off the counter. "Sorry, but do you mind doing the dishes today? I know it's my turn."

Franz shrugged and watched as Forde darted into the laundry room and grabbed a pair of jeans from the dryer. "Not really," he said. "What happened?"

"Just the usual," Forde said. "That was Tana, of all people. Apparently, Ephraim and Lyon are in her bathroom, passed out in the bath tub. Cormag found them there this morning. And she's all out of her special strawberry body lotion. Tana's in hysterics."

Franz just looked at him for a moment, wide-eyed and unsure of what to say. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "So, er. What are you going to do?"

"Probably take them home," Forde replied. "I'm not jealous of their hangovers by any means."

"Alright," Franz said. "Good luck."

Forde grinned. "Well, Kyle's coming, too—he just texted me—so it shouldn't be too bad." He opened the door to the garage. "I'll see you later, then."

"See you," Franz replied.

"Before I forget," Forde said as he pressed the button to open the garage door, "remind me to tell you how to get rid of hickies when I get back. It's the best thing to learn after dancing since dancing leads to action." He gave Franz a knowing look before setting his hand on the door knob. "You clearly got some."

The door closed. It took a moment for Franz to get his mouth to work properly again.

"Forde!"

Clearly, I spent too much time this weekend at the club. But it was St. Patrick's Day. But, in general, this fic was two parts personal experience, with the remaining one part being a combination of sleep deprivation and no motivation to do coursework whatsoever. Don't judge.

For the record, this is also my longest oneshot to date. Go, me.

Either way, don't read into it too much. But, if you do happen to be in such a mood, feedback and critique is great.