I didn't write this, my friend did. She's uber un-confident in her writing (she calls this a "badfic" - you know, like fanfic but bad) so if she finds this on here I will probably have to delete it.
If you leave some nice comments maybe she will change her mind.
(oh hi, didn't see you there. I'm sorrrrrrry.. but I just wanted to prove to you that people WILL like it.)
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Vincent was sitting on the recliner, feet propped up, pink Nintendo DS Lite in hand.
"Roll over, Gilbert! Roll over! Come on, roll over! Yeah, good boy! Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy? You are! Yes, you are! Daddy loves you!" Vincent squealed with happiness as he watched Gilbert roll over before getting tackled and licked to death by Break.
"Break! Naughty, naughty Break! Get off Gilbert this instant! Do you hear me, Break! Down, boy! Down!"
Vincent took a sip of his Diet Dr. Pepper, sipping slowly, savoring the cool, refreshing flavor. Just then, he heard mumbled voices from outside the door; then, he heard the "click" as the door to the historic Brooklyn townhouse opened. Vincent jumped out of his seat, nearly knocking his can of Dr. Pepper out of his hand and onto the floor (but luckily he managed to catch it in time) as he saw Gilbert walk in with his fuckbuddy Oz—drunk like Oscar on a summer Saturday night (minus the makeup and bra on his head.)
"Hello, Gilbert!" said Vincent happily, setting his pink Nintendo DS Lite on the end table and running over to his brother as he stumbled in through the doorway. Oz was leaning on Gilbert's shoulder, giggling like a Japanese schoolgirl, Polaroid instant camera in hand. Gilbert ignored him; he was carrying an empty glass bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon, his hair a mess. Vincent's eyes traveled down Gilbert's body from his oversized Urkel glasses to his MGMT tee and down to his skinny jeans and Doc Martens. "How was the gay bar?" Gilbert continued to ignore him.
":D" replied Oz instead, still giggling. Vincent smiled. He saw the corners of some polaroids sticking out of the pocket of Oz's flannel shirt. He quickly grabbed them out of Oz's pocket as Gilbert took him to his bedroom, crashing into the coffee table in the process and falling on top of the table, scattering copies of Vogue over the floor. Vincent almost dropped his Diet Dr. Pepper again as he looked down at Oz's photographs of Gilbert, Gilbert in the meanwhile picking himself up off the table and carrying Oz to his bedroom, Oz now giggling so wildly he started choking and crying. Vincent thought he should be concerned, but he didn't really like Oz anyway.
Vincent tucked the photos away in his pants for later as Gilbert fumbled with the bedroom door. Oz fell out of Gilbert's arms and onto the floor, continuing to choke. Now Vincent really thought he should be concerned. But, eh, he couldn't be bothered.
"I'll start a warm shower for you!" Vincent shouted as Gilbert finally managed to open the door to his bedroom. Vincent watched as Gilbert walked into the room and shut the door behind him, forgetting Oz on the floor, who was now beginning to turn blue in the face. (But Vincent still couldn't be bothered.)
Vincent stared at Oz for a few seconds before Gilbert opened the door and quickly grabbed Oz, mumbling something incoherently under his breath and carrying Oz inside the room before just as quickly shutting the door behind him. Vincent noticed that Gilbert's shirt and shoes had been removed. He shivered excitedly and smiled as he recalled Gilbert's naked chest. He imagined himself running his fingers over his brother's jagged scar, trailing off down towards—oh, yes, the shower!
Vincent walked quickly to the bathroom, smacking his flushed cheeks. He turned the shower on and turned the heat up, opening the window for ventilation. He grabbed a towel and washcloth from the linen closet before heading back to Gilbert's room. Knocking on the door, he sweetly called to his brother, "Gilbert, your shower's ready! 3"
Vincent paused. He waited. Gilbert didn't come to the door. He didn't hear a sound. Vincent brought his ear to the door and rapped his fingers across it twice. "Gilbert? Your shower's ready! Gilbert?" Still, nothing.
Vincent wondered what they could be doing. He imagined Oz lying on the bed, arms chained to the headboard with pink fuzzy handcuffs, Gilbert standing at the foot of the bed in a slutty police girl's outfit, whip in hand, licking his lips. Vincent violently shook his head and smacked his face again. He didn't want to think of Oz in such a state. He wondered if Oz had stopped choking. But, he didn't think about it for long, because he honestly didn't care—and at that moment Gilbert whipped open the door, smacking Vincent so hard he fell backwards, almost spilling his Diet Dr. Pepper—but he managed to position his arm just so, preventing disaster from striking. Because lord knows you do not want to see Vincent without his precious Diet Dr. Pepper. Ever since arriving in Brooklyn, Vincent had become addicted to the drink. He was never seen without his beloved beverage. It was his life, his drug. The only thing more precious to him than his Diet Dr. Pepper was his brother, Gilbert.
Gilbert walked out of the doorway. He didn't seem to notice Vincent lying on the floor, and so he tripped over his brother, falling on top of him.
"Ermm, sorry," Gilbert muttered as he picked himself up. Vincent blinked. Gilbert walked towards the bathroom, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. His shirt was still nowhere to be found.
Vincent blinked again. Suddenly, as he heard Gilbert close the shower door, he was struck with inspiration. But first, he picked himself up and peeked into Gilbert's room. Oz was sound asleep on the bed, snoring, but no longer blue in the face. Or choking. Vincent didn't know whether he should be relieved or depressed. So he settled with indifferent for now as he quietly went to the end table next to the bed, grabbing the Polaroid instant camera and putting the strap around his head so the camera hanged against his chest. He needed one of his hands free, after all.
Oz rolled over in his sleep, facing Vincent. "Mm, Gilbert?" Oz said quietly, still asleep. Vincent furrowed his brow. He never did approve of his brother's relationship with Oz.
"I'm just going to shower," Vincent said. "I'll be back. Just wait for me and sleep, okay?"
"Okay." Oz rolled over and let out a loud snore.
Vincent shook his head as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He tiptoed down to the bathroom next. He heard Gilbert singing in the shower. And through these hard times
Forced to count the hours
Since two towers
Fell to fiction
Those higher powers
Putting gods to war
Who keeps score?
Ignorance is still adored
We'll work harder, harder
Give me hard times,
I'll work harder, harder
For revolution
Hard time for some resolution
Time for some revolution
This battle will be won!
It was terribly off-key, but Vincent didn't mind. He giggled, putting the fingers of the hand that was not holding the Diet Dr. Pepper over his lips to stifle them and hide his smile. He put his hand on the doorknob and rested it there, leaning in close to the door. If they only see you with their fear
Harder, harder, harder, now!
And they only hear you with their pride
And they only see you with their fear
And they only hear you with their pride
And we'll work harder, harder, harder, harder,
Harder, harder, harder, harder,
Hard times!
Vincent slowly opened the door. He stopped abruptly when it creaked. He paused, silent, on edge: Gilbert kept on singing. He breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door the remainder of the way, quietly making his way through the doorway and to the glass shower. He could see the water cascading down his brother's body, steam rising up to the ceiling. Vincent felt that even if he had not turned the water up as high as he did, the room would still feel like a sauna, the mirror would still be fogged up. Vincent's hand shook as he took a sip of his Diet Dr. Pepper before quietly setting it down on the counter atop an unused washcloth. Gilbert was still singing; he didn't seem to notice Vincent. Vincent grabbed the Polaroid camera and quickly snapped a few pictures, hoping that Gilbert would remain oblivious—and that he would keep singing; Vincent always liked Patrick Wolf ("always" being defined as when he took a trip to the record store the day of his arrival in Brooklyn), especially when Gilbert sang it.
After snapping a few final pictures, Vincent grabbed his Diet Dr. Pepper off of the counter and quickly left the room, the white end of the polaroids in his mouth; he needed a free hand to shut the door, after all. He walked to his bedroom, which was opposite from Gilbert's, and set his soda on the bedside table beside The Bachelor, under a plethora of Patrick Wolf posters. He took the polaroids out of his mouth and sat on his bed as he waited for them to finish developing. He smiled and laid his head back on the bed.
He just wished Gilbert had remembered to take his pants off.