Notes: Written for TheSecondBatgirl for Power Ranger Day 2013.
Being a teacher has taught Tommy some things about privacy. Mainly, he's learned to turn off his cell phone before he goes to bed every night, in case drunk students who have managed to get his number decide to call, or in case there is some kind of "emergency" at the school that isn't actually worth his getting out of bed for.
It's habit, and last night when he'd gotten home from a night out with some of his closest friends, he had shut it off before going to sleep like always.
But he is starting to wonder if that was a mistake as he stares in horror at the alert on his phone: 437 New Text Messages.
Tommy's eyes widen, and for a moment he panics- had something happened to Billy and Hayley after he'd left? Had they gotten into trouble and he hadn't answered?
But no, that doesn't make sense, he realizes. His communicators don't have an off switch, and if there were really trouble, Hayley and Billy of all people would have found a way to contact him.
So why does he have 437 Text Messages?
Billy isn't what he'd call a heavy drinker. In fact, he rarely indulges at all, but he thinks that a night out with Tommy and his new genius girlfriend warrants a little bit of celebrating.
Hayley is quick to correct Billy's assumptions as soon as Tommy goes to the bathroom. "I know what you're thinking," she says, eating the olive from her martini, "But we're not a couple. Tommy's just very loyal."
Billy smirks. "I know that. It seems like you know him just as well as I do."
"Better, probably," Hayley grins, like it's going to be a competition.
They don't get to finish that conversation, as Tommy returns, and the three of them spend the evening reminiscing fondly. By the time the conversation turns to quantum mechanics and the mechanisms by which inter-dimensional travel occurs, Tommy is slumped down in his chair.
Hayley is on her fourth martini, and if anything, she seems to be on a roll. "No, the biggest problem I had when we had the comic book fiasco was the equation conversion between worlds."
"That's actually a fairly simple problem to correct with a set of predetermined equations I'd be happy to show you," Billy says, and he's grabbing a napkin to begin writing them down when Tommy tosses a couple of bills down on the table.
"Okay, guys," Tommy says, grinning, "I'm in no position to argue dimension theories. I'm gonna go catch a cab. Don't get into any trouble!"
Billy smiles and hugs his friend, but Hayley just waves him off, looking at the napkin Billy has started working on.
"I don't remember him being such a lightweight," Billy says after Tommy has left.
"Yeah," Hayley laughs, "He had a bad night in college with some Jungle Juice, and his constitution hasn't been the same since. You don't really know someone until you've cut vomit out of their hair."
"I was wondering about the buzz cut," Billy laughs, finishing off his beer.
Hayley laughs, and gestures to his drink. "Another round?"
You remember that time I dissected that frog for you in high school? Billy's fifteenth text reads. I'm still mad about the fact that you took all the credit!
He dissected frogs you for, Tommy, Hayley's next text reads, You are a terrible friend.
Tommy's eyebrows rise slightly. Apparently, Billy and Hayley's conversation had turned to some of his less than pleasant exploits and their various rolls in them.
He wonders how much they'd had to drink by the time he gets to text message 48, which reads I proof read a gdammd dissertation about dinosaurs being reclassified based on color. THAT THING WAS 900 PAGES TOMMY WHY DON'T YOU APPRECIATE ME?
You, Billy's text follows, followed by three more with typo's. It looks like each time Billy had made a mistake he had accidentally pressed send and started over. You have a doctorate in paleontology. In Mrs. Applebee's class you couldn't even name the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN? WHAT DEMON OWNS YOUR SOUL?
WAS IT THE DEMON OF TERRIBLE HAIR CUTS? Hayley continues, and Tommy lets out a startled laugh.
He closes his phone, realizing that the texts are only going to get more belligerent as they go on.
He had thought about some of the things that could occur by his leaving his two smartest friends alone together. On the top of his list had been "Discover Cure for Cancer" and "Unlock Key to Warp Travel", but "Help Each Other Recount All the Times Tommy Pissed Them Off" hadn't even crossed his mind.
Neither of them answers their phones, so Tommy picks up coffee and goes by Billy's hotel. He uses the spare key Billy had left with him yesterday, and when he gets inside, he has to hold his breath while he snaps a quick picture.
Hayley is curled up on the double bed, her makeup askew, her shoes still on, and Billy is on the floor, wrapped around a pillow. Hayley is snoring like a dinosaur, and Billy is drooling all over his pillow.
He contemplates yanking open the curtains or clapping his hands, but he imagines they've had enough of him being a problem causer in their lives.
He jostles them awake, gives them coffee, and continues reading, aloud, the texts from last night.
"And then Billy goes on to say, 'You are the reason they put warning labels on things'-"
"Okay, alright," Hayley laughs, "So we got a little out of control. Skip to the last ones."
Tommy does as he is told as Billy says in confusion, "What are the last ones? The last one I remember sending was about that time with the scavenger hunt…"
Tommy grins and reads off the last text. "'You know what? We are all 100% terrible people and I am glad we're friends.' Awe," Tommy says, closing his phone, "That almost makes up for the other 436 messages of sheer and utter hatred."
"You deserved every one," Hayley says, amused, and Billy just closes his eyes with a grin.
"Hey now," Tommy warns, "Don't be knocking the guy who just booked his two best friends weekend trips at the spa to make up for all the times he's messed up."
"You booked a trip to the spa for the guy who lives on the planet made of water?" Billy wonders, cracking an eye open, and Tommy frowns.
"I didn't think about that," he admits, "I was just trying to do something nice."
Hayley laughs, reaches down and swats Billy on the shoulder, "No, it's good. Maybe we can get matching Mani-Pedi's!"
"Can they say offensive things about our best friend?" Billy wonders good-naturedly, "Because then I'm in."
"Why don't you just get matching tattoo's?" Tommy asks, annoyed, and Billy and Hayley snigger quietly. "You can start the 'Tommy Oliver's Abused and Underappreciated Best Friend's' Club."
"Who's to say we didn't get tattoos last night?" Hayley wonders, but Billy's eyes go comically wide, and Tommy cracks up.
"I'm never leaving the two of you alone together ever again," he warns, helping them both up.
"That's probably for the best," Billy agrees, "As we're likely to realize how much we could get done without having to pull you out of the fire every other day and run off together."
Tommy just grins, watching his hung-over best friends stumble out the door and wince in the sunlight. "I can hear the wedding bells now."