Disclaimer: I do not own inFAMOUS: Second Son

Rating: K (T for a few choice words)

Words: 3248

Warning: mild language

Summary: Even though the brothers loved each other, like all siblings, growing up with one another was...trying, to say the least. Especially when the bathroom came into play.

Growing Up With Siblings

Reggie knew he shouldn't have drank all that water and Gatorade after baseball practice. Yeah, it made him feel more hydrated and everything, but for the love of God did he have to use the bathroom! The twelve year-old bounced his uniform clad-legs and stared intently outside the window of the moving car in order to keep his mind off his current predicament. I regret this sooo much, he lamented internally.

Reggie and Delsin's father noticed his restlessness from the rearview mirror and chuckled. "Something wrong, son?" His short brown hair whipped due to the breeze coming from his open window.

"Bad," he grimaced (1), "please, please stop me if you ever see me drinking four bottles of Gatorade and a bottle of water again. Please!" The baseball player never remembered sounding so desperate in all his life

Another chuckle came from him before he went back to driving. Not even a second later, he heard his mother's sleepy giggle. She usually was the one to drive instead of his father, but she was really tired from staying up the night before to work on one of her super cool art projects. She had managed to stay awake for the game, though, which Reggie had greatly appreciated. "No problem, dear," she smiled as she lifted her head from its resting spot on the window, "but you look like you're about to burst like a balloon, same with your brother. We could pull over so you two could go in the forest." Her mirthful tone was lost on Reggie at the current moment.

" Sk'wuy, that's so gross!" (2) came Delsin's exclamation beside him. In all of Reggie's preoccupation, he had failed to notice Delsin's own predicament. The older sibling remembered Delsin trying to copy him in drinking a bunch of refreshments. He may not have drank as much as Reggie, but three bottles of lemon green tea in a row were a lot for a little six year-old. The kid was squirming and bouncing in his seat, obviously trying to hold it in until they reached the house.

He nudged his little brother. "I call the bathroom, Del. You have to wait."

Delsin whipped his head in vehement denial. "Nuh-uh, Reg! I really gotta go, so I need it first!" You gotta wait!"

"One of you can use the hallway bathroom while the other uses the one by the living room," their mother interrupted their arguing, adjusting one of her large plate-earrings that had plastered to the side of her cheek when she had been resting. "You two don't have to fight over using one. We have two."

"Plus, we just pulled in the house!" Their dad added, putting the car in Park.

Reggie was fast to whip off his seat belt and throw the door open, quickly closing it and running to the front door. He hear their father's quick chide of "Don't hurt yourself!" but paid it little mind. He had more important things to be concerned about right now. The familiar gait of a six year-old sounded behind him, making the baseball runner push his sore muscles to reach the front door even faster.

"I need it first, Reggie!"

"I called it, Delsin!" He reached the door, but slammed right into it when he tried to open it, bruising his nose. He cursed himself because he forget the darn thing was locked. His parents had the key! He was just about to call one of them when Delsin barreled right into him, knocking out his breath. A wheeze clawed out of his chest as he tried to pry his little bird brother off of him. "Get off, Del!"

"Reggie, open the door!"

He rolled his eyes, "I can't, you dork. Sk'wuy and Bad have the keys."

A hand on his shoulder gently pushed him to the side, and he smelled his mother's cocoa butter lotion. "You two are going to land yourselves in the hospital at this rate," she snorted as she pulled out her keys from her purse. "A twelve year-old with a broken nose, and a six-year old with a sprained ankle or something. They'll ask your father and I, 'What on earth happened to these kids?' and we'll have to say you two nearly killed yourselves trying to get to the bathroom."

"What a tale," their father input, cooler and Reggie's baseball bag in hand.

Reggie was going to say something, but the click of an unlocked door made him push forward into the house. Even though he was in a rush, he was quick to remember to chuck off his cleats by the door because his mother would be furious with him if he tracked mud and clay in the house. He nearly sailed via socks over a hardwood floor, and just like before, he heard Delsin behind him. The older brother turned the corner of the hallway, quick reflexes allowing him to jump over Delsin's large stuffed crow that was lying on the floor. Delsin must have remembered where it was because he was able to hop over it as well, despite his clumsy kid-reflexes.

Reggie turned his head to shout over his shoulder. "I'm gonna get it, Del!"

"No, you're not!" came the immediate reply.

Unfortunately for Reggie, looking over his shoulder took his gaze away from the hallway, making him miss the string of laundry that was hung between the his room and the linen closet. This meant that he got a face full of shirts and sheets just as he was about to make it to the bathroom. He spluttered, momentum from running with socks on the hardwood made him slip and fall flat on his back, knocking the breath from him once again. Even in his jarred state, the giggling of a young child sounded right next to him as his younger brother slid right past him, gliding like a black bird over the hardwood. Being six years old had its advantages, like being short enough not to be bothered by the string on laundry.

The slam of a door and the click of a lock. "Sorry, Reg!" The twerp didn't sound the least sorry. "Told you I was gonna get the bathroom!"

Reggie groaned.

The deep voice of his father drifted throughout the hallway. "Looks like you're going to have to use the one by the living room, son. Just make sure you don't fall again, please."

"And don't forget to wash all those grass stains off your hands, young man," his mother said as she set her purse and keys on the kitchen table. "I'm not feeding a dusty garden gnome."

He nearly swore out loud. Nearly. He knew better than to say that kind of stuff out loud unless he wanted to taste soap for the rest of the week. A sigh mixed with a groan did emerge from him. His slower walk could have been likened to a march of shame.

I hate that bathroom so much, though, he cursed to himself. He always ended up bumping his knees on the door whenever he sat on the toilet, the room was so tiny.

Dammit.

That incident had been infamous in the Rowe family from then on as the 'Epic Bathroom Battle of 1998.'

The Sheriff of Salmon Bay thought this was completely unfair. He did not deserve this after a long day of work. He didn't drink a lot of water, and he held himself back with the coffee given the situation at the station. But fate had other plans for him today. All three male restrooms in the station had broken down—which was completely improbable!—and the unisex one had been closed for repairs. The female ones had been out of order as well. That meant he had to hold it in for a solid eight hours plus the twenty minute drive from the station to his house.

To say that he was overjoyed to see his house when he pulled up was an understatement.

He was quick to walk to the front door, open it, lock it, hang up his jacket, and toe off his shoes. Even though he had to make a trip to the bathroom, he knew that he needed to sit down for at least a minute or two before doing so. His feet ached and his shoulder was bothering him—his old pitching arm, too. He huffed out an exhausted sigh when he plopped on the couch, resting his head on the back of it and closing his eyes. I am so glad tomorrow is my day off, he thought. At least I can sleep in tomorrow. Maybe I'll ask Del if he wants to do anything. He's been looking bored the past few days. At least his younger brother hadn't done anything illegal in the past week. He had Eugene to thank for that more than Fetch. The pink-haired woman promoted his illegal tagging a little too much for Reggie's liking.

Just as he was about to sit up and head to the restroom he heard the door open. He opened his eyes to see Delsin walking in the house grinning at Reggie. "Hey, Reg, how was your shift?" The younger man kicked off his sneakers and leaned against the wall. "Anything interesting?

"Ugh, nothing unless you count every single restroom at the station not useable." He sat up and stretched his shoulder.

Delsin hissed through his teeth and winced sympathetically. "Damn, that sucks." He picked himself off the wall and started stepping closer to the hallway. "Speaking of bathrooms...I really gotta shower, so bathroom's gonna be occupied for a bit."

Reggie whipped his head around and glared. "No way! I have to go first. I've been literally holding it in all day, Delsin." They locked gazes and the tension in the room was familiar, like all those years ago.

He was not going to lose.

The cop moved first, proud that he was still limber enough today to hop over the couch and bolt towards the bathroom. His sudden movement prompted Delsin to turn on his heel and race towards the bathroom as well. Within a moment, they had reached about three feet away from the bathroom, and just as the older Rowe was about to tug on Delsin's hoodie, the Conduit dissolved into a cloud of smoke, escaping through his fingers. Reggie coughed and waved a hand in front of his face.

The smoke circled around him for a few loops and he heard Delsin's voice—sounding odd in smoke form, like an a rough double-voice that echoed—laugh, "Sorry, bro. Conduits first today." The cloud of thick smoke and embers that was his brother dashed to the bathroom and in between the ajar door. He heard him reform and slam the door shut. The sound of the shower was the background noise to Delsin's next statement. "Looks like you got to use the tiny bathroom, Reg."

"Dammit, Delsin!"

"I hate sewer water," Delsin complained as he stepped into the house.

"I know," Reggie said as he stepped—more like sloshed—behind him and locked the door. "I do, too."

The brothers had been tracking a rogue Conduit who had been causing mischief in Seattle for the past week. Fetch and Eugene had been out of town, so it had been up to the two Rowes to taken care of things. Reggie hadn't wanted to involve the rest of the station, and Delsin had rather take care of things with just himself and Reggie. The Conduit had been a seventeen year-old kid with water manipulation abilities. It took them several hours but they had finally convinced the kid to stop what he was doing and turn himself in. No major damage had been done to the city—just s few broken windows and dented car hoods, so Reggie let him off with a warning and a fine. Thankfully there were no D.U.P. stragglers to be concerned about. Every day, there were less and less to deal with.

What was less fortunate was that water manipulation meant all forms of water. Including nasty, thick sewer water. Reggie considered himself fortunate that he had not gotten the brunt of it. Delsin had been the one to be practically bathed in the nasty liquid. Still, the Sheriff got his fair share.

"At least you weren't the one to have to reform after getting drenched in the stuff," Delsin grumbled in frustration as he kicked off his now ruined shoes and took off his beanie. He put the red accessory on the coat rack—he knew his younger brother would keep that thing and wear it to hell and back—and ran a hand through his long hair. Reggie grimaced when he saw some sludge fall onto the younger's shoulder. Delsin gagged, "I think, ugh, I have some rotten sewer crap in between my tendons, Reggie. I can feel it."

As he rolled off his own soiled jacket off his shoulders and put it on the rack, he winced at Delsin. "Does that usually happen?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Or is that more you-specific?"

Delsin reached over to flick off a piece of McDonald's wrapper mush that was on Reggie's back. "Uh, kinda. Depends. For me, it hard to reform if I'm drenched in something while I'm in smoke form; it's like mixing water and dirt or something, makes mud. I've never had a problem with video or neon, and neither have Eugene or Fetch. I think it's because smoke has more stuff to it, I guess. More physical stuff to get other gunk on, ya know?"

The older man shrugged. "I guess?" Video was just light, and neon was just gas. From what Reggie could tell, smoke had more substance to it.

"Like, there was this one time where one of my Orbital Drops missed the target, and I ended up sending myself careening right into the bay. I didn't have a chance to reform before I hit the water, and from what Fetch told me, I looked like tar gunk floating on top of the water. It took me like fifteen minutes to put myself back together, and all I could taste was fish and salt the whole rest of the damn day. And it turned out I had a piece of seaweed fused to a clump of my hair and scalp—ha! Didn't find that until I washed my hair the next morning."

Reggie couldn't help the snort that escaped him. "Guess you were part of the sea, huh, Del?" As he walked away from the foyer and more towards the hallway, he grimaced at the thought of having to clean up all this disgusting water.

His little brother rolled his eyes. "Don't even start, Reggie." His nonchalant tone took on a curious one. "Uh, where are you going?" The frown that was aimed at him made him pause.

"To the bathroom?" He raised his eyebrow. "I need the shower. Where else did you think I was going?"

Delsin sucked his teeth. "Hell to the no, Reggie. I need the shower like I've never needed anything before. Not even that drawing tablet that I bought five years ago that set me back over two-hundred dollars." He took a step forward. "You're not the one who has to get rid of the sewer sludge and gunk inside his body! I told you, I can feel it between my tendons!"

Reggie rolled his eyes. "Jesus, fine, Delsin." He tossed his hands in the air as if he were giving up, and he walked into the kitchen to the sink, back facing his brother. "If you're so grossed out, you can have the damn shower first. Happy?" He turned on the sink to at least wash his hands.

He heard Delsin falter in his steps. "Wait, seriously? I can have it first? Well, that's nice of you, Reg. Thanks!"

"Oh no problem, Del," his voice was as sweet as honey as he turned to face his brother, sink hose at the ready. "But what I meant was the first person after me."

Delsin's eyes widened at the sight of the sink hose. "No, no, no, Reggie. I know what you're thinking," he said as he took a step back and held up a finger. "Don't do it, man."

Reggie hummed in fake contemplation. "Let's see. I've always wondered what was faster. Your smoke dash ability or my skill with a weapon." The growing smile on the Sheriff's face was nothing but mischief. "You already know the answer, little bro. You've seen my skills on the shooting range." The two waterlogged, smelly men were at a standstill, the same brown eyes locked in an annoyed, tense gaze. Each brother could read the other's 'bring it on' in his face.

"Fuck this shit!" Delsin was the first to move, dissolving into a cloud of shifting smoke that ducked to the right towards the hallway.

The Sheriff was so happy that the sink hose had a long reach, because the surprisingly powerful water stream shot smoke-Delsin right in the middle. Reggie kept the stream up for about ten seconds before shutting off the sink, leaving a thick, clumpy soup of black slicked on the floor and part of the wall.

He went to his room to grab a towel and change of clothes, and merrily walked in the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower. Ten minutes later, he emerged in a cloud of steam, rubbing his hair dry with a fluffy blue towel. A strange noise, like a wet clump of paper towels being smushed and smacked on hardwood, made him turn his head. He saw the tar-like substance in the hallway shift and squelch before taking on more of a solid form. The pile of black guck rose two feet, then condensed into a human figure hunching over the floor. Delsin's head became apparent, as did his torso and thighs, but, his lower arms and legs were still reforming. The Conduit raised his head to glare at Reggie before gagging and coughing, spitting up a thick wad of green...something that had pieces of trash mixed with it.

That is the most disgusting substance I've ever seen. It's like everything from the sewer got sick and decided to throw itself up.

"You're—hack—you're an ass, Reggie. You know that?" Delsin spat out another glob of guck. "You are so lucky that I was able to channel all that sewer stuff in my body to my lungs so I could spit it all out when I reformed. Do you know how tedious that is? Huh, do you? It sucks, let me tell you!" His legs and arms finally regained physical form, allowing him to squat then stand up straight. "Sucks big time."

Reggie rolled his eyes. Even though he felt a little bad for turning Delsin into sludge, it was long since coming. "All's fair in bathroom war, little brother. You should know that by now." And plus, it was minor revenge for Delsin shooting at him during the Video Angel incident.

"All's fair in bathroom war," he repeated as he shot a smirk at Delsin.

The bird that Delsin raised at him made him laugh.

The 'Bathroom Battle of 2016' spread like wildfire across the reserve. The others made it sound more epic than it really was, but that provided Reggie with more and more amusement every time he heard it.

Published: 10/3/15

Hope you guys liked this silly little one-shot between the Rowe brothers. :)

(1) "Bad" means "father" in Lushootseed, which is what I use as the Akomish language. Source: ( www. native-languages lushootseed _ words . htm)

(2) ) "Sk'wuy" means "mother" in Lushootseed. Source: ( www. native-languages lushootseed _ words . htm)