Disclaimer: I don't own shit.
AN: Yep. I'm back. It's taken forever, I know. I found a story I started and deleted (Ain't No Rest For The Wicked), and decided to give it a reboot. I don't even really know what this is yet. I've been listening to a lot of Fall Out Boy and reading some of my old stuff. Call me nostalgic, but I miss the good ol' days when the gang were teenagers. (Fuck, maybe I miss when I was a teenager.)
Also, credit and shout out to theloganecholls on tumblr who's made some awesome edits for this fic and for RoA. Much love, dude.
The Kids Aren't Alright
Departure of Summer
Blessed be the boys time can't capture
On film or between the sheets
I always fall from your window to the pitch black streets
-Fall Out Boy, "The Kids Aren't Alright"
It's 5 a.m. on a warm summer morning when Nathan Scott jumps out of the second floor window and onto a large tree.
He scales down and lands on the dewy grass in under fifteen seconds flat; a feat made even more impressive by the fact that he's only wearing a pair of CK boxer briefs. His shorts, hoody and Jordans drop out of the window just as his feet hit the ground. He slides the garments on as he moves away from the house and jogs down to the curb.
It's not the first time he's had to flee Brooke Davis' bedroom in a hurry.
The beat-up Dodge Ram pick-up pulls up by the curb and he jumps in without exchanging a word.
"I'm hungry." Nathan declares, propping his feet up on the dashboard. "Let's go hit the 7-Eleven or something."
Clay Evans scoffs, "The fuck were you doin' outside Brooke Davis' house at 5 in the morning, Scott?" He laughs, clearly amused by the situation. "Oh, man, you're in such deep shit right now, and you don't even know it."
Nathan keeps his eyes on the road. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it, Evs."
"Oh, I'm not worried." Clay laughs again, pulling into the 7-Eleven parking lot. "But I wanna know the story. C'mon - you're dumb, but you ain't stupid. You had to know I was gonna ask."
The mini-mart is deserted at this hour and the clerk is too stoned to pay attention to them. They walk through the familiar aisles at a brisk pace and grab their breakfasts in comfortable silence. Their usual morning combo - breakfast burritos, liters of chocolate milk and a few doughnuts - and they're good to go.
"It's nothin'," Nathan mutters between bites of his burrito.
They're sitting in the bed of the truck, eating as the sun comes out. This is their routine every morning before school, but it's the last day of summer break and they're up early anyways so fuck it.
"How long have we been best friends," Clay says, amused by the whole situation.
Clay and Nathan have been next door neighbors for as long as they can remember. No matter what trouble Nathan got into, Clay was always right by his side. And every time Clay cooked up another cockamamie scheme, Nathan was right there with him.
For better or worse, the pair of best friends know each other way too well.
"Sad as it is, I know what your 'I-just-got-laid' hair looks like. And I recognize a Walk of Shame anywhere. You slept with Brooke Davis?" He shakes his head, "Pey's gonna kill you."
Nathan huffs, "Please. Peyton's not coming back to town 'til tonight. 'Sides, we're on a break."
"Okay, Ross. Whatever you say." Clay's tone is laced with sarcasm, "How long has this been going on? Just tonight?"
The way Nathan not-so-subtly averts his gaze answers the question for Clay.
Another smirk tugs on the lips of the chestnut-haired football player. "Told ya: you are in deep shit."
-xx-
Rachel Gatina parks her Denali in front of the house and leans her chair back. She turns up the volume of the radio and closes her eyes, letting the music drown out her thoughts.
It is way too fucking early to be out and about.
Five minutes later, Brooke Davis walks out of her house with a gym bag hanging off her shoulder. She jumps into the front seat of the car and buckles up. "Drive." she says quietly, propping her flip-flops on the dashboard.
Rachel pulls out and they drive in silence for a few blocks. "Well..." she demands impatiently. "I'm hoping you have a damn good reason for pulling me out of bed at 6 a.m. on the last Sunday of summer."
When Brooke says nothing, she adds, "I passed up on some morning sex for this."
The brunette smiles. "O. finally back from Illinois?"
Owen Morello is the QB 1 for the Duke Blue Devils and Rachel's (kind of) boyfriend. The redhead's "never been into labels", as she so quaintly put it on the rare occasions Owen bothered to bring the subject up. He'd gone back home to Chicago for the last few weeks of the summer to check in with his mother and siblings. Rachel had been...surly since his departure.
Rachel tries (and fails) to suppress a smile at the mention of the quarterback. "Don't change the subject, slut. Spill it."
Brooke sighs, "My parents showed up at the ass-crack of dawn. Vicky's on the warpath again, I don't want to get caught in the crossfire. It seems Dad got...extracurricular with the new secretary." She waves a hand dismissively, as if to say 'business as usual'. "Long story short, Nathan came over last night and I guess we fell asleep, so he had to shag-ass outta there."
The redhead raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow, "What ever happened to 'I'm done screwing Nathan'?"
"I shouldn't have had that tequila last night. Killed whatever little judgment I had left in me."
"Right." Rachel rolls her eyes, knowing full-well that two shots and a few beer chasers did virtually nothing to Brooke. She wouldn't have left her at the party otherwise. "How long is this gonna go on for? I mean, it was all fun and games when Peyt-whore was gone. You know the cat's away, and the mice will fuck - whatever. But she's coming back. Tonight, right?"
Brooke rolls her eyes, "Probably." She says, "Don't talk about her like that. She's my best friend."
"No, I'm your best friend." The redhead corrects her, "She's just known you longer than I have. That's all."
The brunette smiles, dimples full-blown. "Just drive. I can crash downstairs while you and O. do your thing."
"You're always welcome, whore, you know that," she says. "So. Last night of summer. We hitting the beach party tonight?"
Brooke shrugs, "Where else would we be?"
"You know it's at Nathan's house, right?"
The silence answers the question and the redhead just laughs. She knows better than to push B. to talk about this.
-xx-
The dock in front of the Scott beach house is lined with wasted teenagers. The new Kanye song is blasting from the speakers inside the house and reverberating into the night.
Brooke and Rachel arrive in Owen's pimped out Escalade. Thanks to the Blue Devils' alumni players with car dealerships, the star QB always had killer wheels available to him. "Pretty hot for a high school party," Owen throws an arm around the redhead's shoulders and looks around. "Where's the keg at?"
"Let's go find out, babes," Rachel cuts her eyes towards the brunette. "You good, B.?"
Brooke nods, "Yeah. Just hit me up when it's time to bail, okay? I can't get stranded here tonight."
"Why not?" The redhead calls out over her shoulder, "I'm sure Nathan has a bed for you."
Brooke rolls her eyes and flips her off. "Such a cunt sometimes." She mutters to herself.
-xx-
The guys from the team are all crowded in the den. Nathan and Clay are hustling everyone at the pool table.
Clay groans, pumping a fist in the air triumphantly. "Yeah! Sunk it, baby!" He grins as he bumps shoulders with Nathan. "Pay up, bitches!" Vegas and Fede pull out their wallets and surrender a couple of twenties each.
Brooke kinks her eyebrows as she watches them brag all around. It takes her a few minutes to notice Peyton standing in the background. The curly-haired blonde stands behind Nathan, holding his beer while the fingers of her free hand slide around one of his belt loops. Something about the image makes Brooke uneasy. A lump forms in the back of her throat and she struggles to swallow it down. She needs a drink. Now.
The trip with her dad must've been really good if Peyton is actually playing girlfriend tonight - normally she'd be speeding off in her Comet after throwing a fit by now.
"P. Sawyer!" The brunette greets her friend with an obligatory hug and dimpled smile. "I thought you were gonna call me when you got in."
Peyton shrugs, "Got busy." She says dismissively, shaking the brunette off.
Nathan pops up next to her then. "Thanks for the beer, babe." He says, dropping an kiss on her cheek. "'Sup," he greets the brunette with a jut of his chin.
Brooke narrows her eyes at him for a second before focusing on Peyton once more. "How long have you guys been here?"
Before either of them can answer, Clay drapes an arm across Nathan's chest and howls, "We are fuckin' killin' 'em tonight, bro!" He's slurring a bit, already drunk. He grins when he spots the brunette, "Brookie. You've graced us with your presence!"
"Evans." Brooke scrunches up her nose, eyeing him with curiosity. "You guys are cleaning up tonight, huh?"
"It's what we do." Clay raises an eyebrow, "You know, boys and their toys."
"Yeah? How about you rack 'em up," Brooke smirks mockingly, "And I'll show you what girls do."
Tim oohs and aahs like a giddy idiot. "What's the bet, Brooke?"
"Oh, I like it all in," the brunette says suggestively.
Nathan smirks, "You wanna play us for everything we've made tonight?"
"What's the matter," a devilish smile brings out her dimples, "You afraid, Scott?"
The way she's licking her lips is driving Nathan nuts, and he wants to grab a handful of those chocolate locks and have his way with her right there, right now. He glares, the little bitch is taunting him. "Bring it, Davis. Who're you playing with?"
"Oh, I can take you both on by myself. I'll even let you break."
Clay snorts, "It's so fuckin' on right now."
The game is pretty close right up to the last shots. Despite being wasted, their game is most definitely not all talk. Still, Brooke holds her own against them easily enough.
Nathan smirks, "Yeah, you're done, sweetheart." He walks around the table and lines up. "Corner pocket. Easy shot."
The basketball team lets out a collective groan of disappointment when Nathan scratches.
"Fuck, Nate," Clay groans in frustration. "You had that!"
Brooke moves around him and leans right in front him for her final shot. Her ass rubs against his crotch and that's enough to get him hard. "Fuck," he mutters through clenched teeth.
She sinks last three balls in one impressive shot. "Looks like you bitches are the ones that got owned now." She says coolly.
Clay slaps the roll of twenties on the pool table and Brooke tucks it neatly into her cleavage. "Thanks for the game, boys."
Bevin and a few girls from the squad clap for their captain's victory. They're passing around bottles when Kira accidentally spills some on Peyton.
"Watch it!" The blonde snaps, "God, you are all so fricking stupid when you're drinkin'!"
No one says anything. It wouldn't be a Ravens' party without a BF from the always melodramatic Peyton Sawyer.
"Well..." Peyton crosses her arms over her chest. "I think you owe me an apology."
"Actually, Peyton, I think you're the one who owes Kira an apology." Brooke remarks calmly. "You were kinda harsh. I mean, it's just vodka. It won't even stain."
"Yeah, it was just an accident. No harm, no foul." Pipes in Theresa.
The curly-haired blonde looks around for any kind of back-up, but appears to find none. Finally she looks at Nathan expectantly.
Nathan steps in with a snort, "You were being pretty bitchy, Peyt." He says matter-of-fact before sipping his Solo cup.
"Ugh," the curly-haired blonde jumps to her feet, "Forget you, Nathan!" She shoves past him and heads outside in a huff.
Someone turns the music up and the crowd spreads out, leaving Brooke alone with Nathan and Clay.
Clay throws his head back laughing, "That's a new record. Usually she doesn't stick around that long. Looks like you're a free agent tonight, Nate," he cuts his eyes towards Brooke. "Have fu-u-un." He jogs outta the room to catch up with Vegas and the guys.
Brooke steps up to Nathan, "Are you shitting me right now?" She hisses, the anger in her voice palpable. "Your stupid little sidekick knows about this?"
"Relax, will you," Nathan's strong hands move up to grips her waist and pull her in closer. "Clay is cool, okay. He's my boy, he's got my back."
The brunette's hazel eyes are throwing daggers at him. "Our little arrangement isn't locker room fodder for you and your boys, Nathan. I thought you were smarter than that."
"You kicked me out the window at 5 frickin' a.m., Brooke. I needed a ride. Chill, okay. Clay won't say anything." His hands slide down to her ass, pulling her tight against him, "But he did make a good point. I'm flying solo tonight. Wanna head upstairs?"
His wet mouth is pressed against her neck, nibbling at her pulse point and sending shivers down her spine. He's grinding up against her and she can feel his hard-on through his jeans. It would be so easy to slip into an empty bedroom and let him work his magic. A few orgasms from Nathan Scott would be an ideal way to start the school year. She pushes him back, her eyes burrowing into his.
Rachel arrives at the door, arms crossed over her chest. "B., I'm bored and Owen has to drive back tonight. You coming or staying?"
Brooke shoves the raven-haired Scott off. "I'm coming." She walks off with the redhead without a glance back.
Nathan scowls and punches a wall.
The fuck just happened...
-xx-
AN: So. This is it. Short and sweet intro. Not sure if I should continue it. Anyone interested? Tell me whatcha think, dudes...