Sometimes the Ramone brothers wish they smoked.

So, whenever something obnoxious was happening, like Dorothy Ann and Emily dragging them from whatever they were doing, (Actually, it was D.A. and Emily who came to their house to watch a movie on their home stereo system, who then dragged down Carlos, who decided he wasn't going to suffer alone and brought Mikey with him,) to watch a gay cowboy movie.

Oh, I need a cigarette. I'll be back in a second, D.A.

Right. I need one too, all of a sudden. Back in a moment, ladies.

And then they would bolt. They weren't sure where they would bolt, but it would be far away.

It would involve the car.

And they would smoke.

But the brothers Ramone were raised too good for that.

So they sat and watched the movie about gay cowboys. Blokeback Fountain, or whatnot. They weren't watching it, instead, they were groveling into their popcorn, muttering and swearing. Carlos was swearing, at least. Mikey was just being sullen and wishing he could go back to his room and Carlos... well. He wasn't doing anything earlier. But he couldn't stand this movie.

They sat stiffly, Carlos on the couch by DA, and Mikey in his wheelchair, behind Emily who was sitting crosslegged on the floor with a pillow in her lap.

Carlos angrily shoved his hand in the popcorn bowl.

Mikey contemplated allowing his wheelchair brake to 'accidentally' slip and roll backwards into the kitchen.

D.A. and Emily were enjoying this movie, so they didn't notice what was happening to the boys.

--------

Finally, the movie was winding down. They had survived naked cliff jumping and a reach around. They could live through the next 10 minutes.

Oh, god. They wish they smoked. Or had better social lives.

They still sat stiffly.

Emily yawned and leaned back against Mikey's legs, the crook of her neck against his knees and her ponytail fanned out on his legs. She yawned again, stretching her neck back and looking almost straight up at the ceiling, the back of her head resting on his legs.

D.A. layed her head on Carlos' shoulder, stretching out, then transferred her head to his lap and stared up at the ceiling as the credits rolled, smiling.

And despite the gay cowboys and the general... grossness of it all, the brothers were glad they weren't, in fact, smokers.

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an: Yeah. A little more substance to this than my last fic.

Uhm. More slight Emily/Mikey. Can't get enough of it.

and no dialogue, again. Sheesh.

And-- help me, people. Anyone know where I can get a buttonup tshirt dress?

The internet is failing me.