A/N: rewritten 17 January 2014, by Priscilla Silver. The original author was Priscilla Silver.
[The Kabras: Chapter One]
"Ian!" Natalie called, trying to hide the dismay in her voice. She bit down her lip just as she remembered it would ruin the lipgloss she'd so meticulously applied earlier, then decided to throw that priority out that window. This was more important.
Ian raced into the room, half-expecting a Vesper to be trying to ruin her makeup. Of course, you could hardly call it racing, as he didn't have a single hair disturbed by the time he'd swept into her room, not even breathing hard. All he saw was Natalie's perfect face, contorted into a grimace, and her open laptop.
"What?" he demanded expectantly, already checking the gold watch on his wrist. He had to leave in fifteen minutes for a polo practice session!
Natalie pointed to the screen. "Those coarse peasants think they can write some silly story based off those books about us! Whatever happened to copyright and plagiarizing? They write about us, Ian!"
"Ah, but dear sister," Ian said, relaxing, "don't you think we deserve things to be written about us?"
Natalie nodded emphatically in agreement. "But they make up things about us on this site called fanfiction dot net! How can they be fans if they write such—such blasphemous, fictional things?"
"Don't listen to those commoners," Ian said soothingly, resisting the urge to flick his eyes toward his watch again. This might really be something worth investigating. "They think they can do their own things. But they can't."
"Yes, I suppose so," Natalie said, calming down somewhat. Her breathing slowed as she started to type something else into the address bar, ready to click away to the new blog she'd recently set up.
Ian glanced at the screen curiously. "Wait…does that say Ian In Love as a title?"
Natalie examined the screen, her fingers still pressed against the keys. Her expression was unreadable as the large, bold title blazed up at her. It might as well have been in glowing neon when the expression morphed into a huge grin, and she hit the hyperlinked text before her brother could do anything.
"What in the world is Amian, Sinian...?" Ian read aloud, frowning. He leaned closer to the screen, and his sister pushed him back, not wanting his breath to fog up the screen.
Natalie's face blanked into that unreadable expression again, which had to surely indicate something bad was going to happen. Right on cue, she started laughing again, her hand pressed to her mouth. "A mix-up of names," she explained.
"Ian…" The puzzle pieces began to click into place. "So the A-M comes from…that's—how dare they—no—"
Natalie pulled her hand away from her lipglossed mouth, a few giggles of aftershock escaping. "Amian appears to be the top hit in your love stories, Ian," she said triumphantly, clicking on a story that had ten chapters. Before Ian could react, she pushed him onto her frilly bed and started reading aloud.
"Amy Cahill was walking to school when a masked person in black clothes leapt out from behind a trash can, pointing a gun at her. She screamed when the person pulled the trigger, only for the person to realize the gun was empty.
Ian walked by and thought it was a mysterious, notorious man. He tackled him and knocked him unconscious with a stolen tranquilizer dart from Natalie's dart gun, and Amy's face was grateful. 'Oh, Ian!' she cried, rushed to him, and kissed him."
"What?" spluttered Ian.
"Seven years later, they got married and lived happily ever after."
Ian made a strangled choking sound, his face turning blue so emphatically that it would have caused his childhood etiquette teacher to fail him for all of eternity. He pushed her hand aside and started typing into the search bar before she could comprehend what he was doing, and—
Smirking triumphantly, he read aloud, "Dan had never been so in love. He pinned Natalie down, her face in shock and horror, about to complain about her wrinkled dress. Then he kissed her. She was so shocked she fainted, and he carried her to her limousine, and the driver drove them off to the sunset. But as Natalie was recovering in Dan's lap, they both knew it was not the end. But when Natalie revived, they kissed again—"
Natalie shrieked in rage, hitting him on the head with an empty tube of cherry lip gloss before slamming the laptop shut on his fingers. There was a noticeable yowl of pain from him as she tried to shove him out the door, nearly ramming his head into the frame, and—
He was going to be late for polo. Oops.
As he was stumbling out, the door slamming loudly behind him, his younger sister returned to her laptop and opened up the Amian archive again. Tearing a fresh sticky note off a pad, she started writing titles as she waited for him to return.