A/N: Everybody in the fandom say, "Hi, Keira!"

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THREE

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Woke up the next afternoon high and dry, caked with the smell of rank booze. Peachy.

I groaned and rolled over, cramming my head further into the pillow and feeling it throb in an instant, catty little reminder that no one alive should have chugged that much alcohol and expected to skip out of bed. Hallelujah enough that it was a dark afternoon, sure-- Mar's room was shuttered so tight you couldn't poke a hairpin between the shades, so I swilled the thought around my extremely hung-over head as to what woke me up, then saw the big guy himself bent over a dresser, scrounging out a shirt. I struggled up from the covers and lazily perused his tightly-wrapped legs-- something I could do from bed and still feel accomplished—'cos hell if an errant twitch wasn't going to start a time-bomb in my skull.

"N'hey… gergus. 'Sup?" I yawned, clenching my eyes shut. Damn, there was the ache already.

He looked around and gave me a nod, hair all poked up funny, then went right back to clothes-scavenging. My mind pulled a blank at the lack of my good-morning smoochies, then remembered I wasn't exactly bunkin' with Prince Charming (more like one-minute Willie)- so shrugged and rolled over, stretching gingerly. Thinkin' everything was good, and wigglin' out that tingle in my ass that always told me it'd been a good night when my brain couldn't put it into so many words.

Then, somebody committed an act that was to determine that day a living hell. Somebody knocked: and you'da thought a bomb had just been called in.

Mar snapped to face the door, literally leapt across to the bed, yanked me out from the sheets with all the grace of a trash man, and shoved me under the bed. I mean, holy shit! My head was all stars for a second, hard and bright and singeing my eyeballs, and I bit back a betrayed wail as he must've fussed around on the bed, clearing his throat.

"Alright."

First words of the day, and they ain't even to the guy he pounded last night. Lovely. Remind me why I'm still here? Or came in the first place, for that matter?

The door creaked hesitantly and someone walked in. By that time I'd nudged myself far enough under the bed that I could see out the other side, nosing the bedskirt out of my squinting eyes-- and met with disgustingly cute bunny slippers. Who the hell was this? I was in too much pain and dumb shock to feel suspicious, so I just lay there in all my glory, probably drooling as the hangover started gnashing its teeth behind my eyes.

"Good morning, Mar," said the Obvious Girl.

Sweet voice, a little too perky for my liking. Thank the gods she was whispering. Maybe it was a learned act: I mean, how many times'd Mar woken up raging with a hangover headache? Just wonder how many cute little boys that came along with said hangover-package had actually been there whenever she made her morning inspections. With so much stuff that he hid under the bed, she probably thought he was as straight as a two-by-four.

"Hope I didn't wake you up?" She tried gently, little bunny slippers flapping as she crossed the room, laying something down. Nice legs. A little sister or a maid or somethin'? With as much as he likes to be served I wouldn't put it past him. Ass.

Mar gave a dismissing noise, juggling the bed a little. Maybe to remind me to stop breathing so loudly, or living so loudly. 'Cos y'know, I can do that. Right after he manually heaved me from the bed without a word of hello, tossed me under and into the most painful hangover of my life where I am now currently biting back howls and groans that a laboring mother would croak at… I can so totally do that.

Bastard. Ass. …. Ass-bastard. Something.

…'Scuze my pissy attitude, folks. Guess I'm not a morning-under-the-bed person. And I'd run far, far away from anyone who is, mind.

There was a dawdling moment of silence, like the girl was waiting for something: it was the audio equivalent of a tapping foot, but hesitant. Like everything else. Hey, I can understand Mar's the goliath of our age, but really? The wilting shyness was way out of bounds. I could almost hear her biting her lip.

But it was so practiced it was kinda creepy. Like… routine.

"Daddy… said he saw you with a little redhead last night," she breathed it, turning to look at him. (Alright, at least she knew of his preferences—or rather, hormonal spasms). "Is that the same one who's been hanging around the racing track lately? He's cute." She added warmly, but it was like an offer. A reason to talk, or something. Said lightly, like her opinion didn't matter.

And, of course, I was fully expecting something flattering. Only fitting of me! I perked up my ear for the ravishing gushings of my superiority, of my wit and grace and charm, of my prowess in bed! … Alright, maybe barring that, but if peeping toms are genetic, maybe she'd get a kick out of it. I don't even want to think of when 'Daddy' saw us, or what he saw. Ick.

I wiggled smugly, waiting for my extolling to begin, and met with the very thing Mar was. An understatement.

"He's gone," he rasped. "Left an hour ago."

Ohmygod. Hello cruelty. I got shafted! If my head didn't hurt so much, I'd bite his ankle. This is beyond betrayal. … He didn't even agree with her! I am cute, at the pathetically understated least! Precursors, I'm dealing with the scrooge of recognition here. And from all her former kowtowing, I thought she was just gonna go along with it: say, oh, no, not cute at all and Mar, you have no reason to let such an ugly boy stay over when you obviously aren't fit to shine his shoes.

But then, something new happened. Someone backed me. Someone I didn't even know.

"Oh. I get it."

Her sweet little voice hardened, razor edge hissing behind it. This was not a woman to screw with, and gods did the change come on fast. I could almost see her bunnies shaking in suppressed rage.

"It was a fling. Another hit and run. Sex, then the door."

I had no idea if this subject was a common one or not. All I know is that I am not tender at bawdy conversations, but this one was already curling my toes. Maybe a peeping Tom gene did run in the family? Or was this girl a past-squeeze of Mar's? Oy, this could get so awkward.

"How long are you going to keep him around for? A day—a week? Until he gets too used to the celebrity sheen of you, or sick of sneaking around?"

"None of your business," Mar bit right back, quiet and indecently scornful— just daring her to keep after it. Bet you his lip was curled flat to his teeth—but so was mine, in a kind of dirty resentment. I still hated hearing graphic details about the flock of one-nighters Mar had always taken in, call me silly and oversensitive. But he was daring her, and I expected her to hook into his hateful offer and start screaming at him, but she stopped.

"For Precursor's sake, Mar," she sighed, but it only drained half the ire out of her voice. She was still rigid as a pole, and pleading with him, but stabbing him all the same. "Why don't you actually find someone? You know… someone who's interested in a relationship, not just a one-night stand?"

"Keira," he said slowly, warning her.

Ah. His live-in sister. The grease-monkey. Nice. I'm nosing in on a family bickering. About sex.

…These people really are twisted, aren't they? I feel the need to go home and rearrange my sock-drawer.

She must've thrown something down, and her bunnies flapped around to face Mar again.

"Mar, I've lost count of the number of times you've brought home one of your drooling little lackies and screwed them senseless, ending it by practically kicking them out on the street," she hissed, fists clenching just below the bedskirt. "And truth, I'm sick of it!"

"Keira, this isn't--"

"No! What you're doing is cruel." She shut him up, quick and sharp, and got ready to chew him out like I only thought a momma could do. "Just because you have a little flare on the racetrack does not mean you have the right to play with peoples heads and bodies. Winning doesn't mean you're the exception to the rule! I didn't want to talk to Daddy about this because he hardly knows what you do anymore—"

"And you care?!" Mar forced in, but the little hellion sis nearly shrieked at him to shut the hell up, shut up now and listen to her!

Yeek. As if the decibels weren't enough… I ain't lyin': every time I hear a chick take that tone, I go defensively limp. My mom was one'a them she-animals: she could flay you alive with just her voice, then douse you with salt without blinking an eye. Keira was breathing heavy, and I could feel Mar rigid and hateful above me.

"Shut up. Shut-- Mar, we've had enough of this. Daddy and I both. We practically have to hold you at gunpoint to get you to talk to us, and if you're going to keep on this little 'casualty of love and fame' spree, you're going to have to do it somewhere else."

She stalked across the room, slamming the bunbuns into unconsciousness on the carpet, and paused. I could just see her angry green eyes, festering like the glowing poison apple in a kid's book.

"Rent a room, I don't care--I just can't stand to see another kid wake up alone in your filthy bed."

The door slammed. Loud.

I totally waited for Mar to hit something. He was trembling with anger, the air smelled like violence. He was sucking in breath like he'd gotten socked in the gut, and I nearly shivered, just listening to him rein himself in.

Then silence. But real, real uneasy silence. I knew he wasn't gonna tell me when I could come out, so I slowly crawled behind him, carefully cradling my aching head between my hands. He didn't turn around to look at me.

Didn't know whether I had permission to leave or not. Call it sick, but that was the fact of it. Didn't know what he'd do if I violated that law. I bit my lip.

"I… take it I wasn't s'posed to hear that," I said weakly, chuckle sputtering and dying quicker'n my second-hand excuse for a ride.

"If you want to go, do it," he growled instantly, taking a stab at me. "I don't care. I've already had my fun: thanks for the fuck."

I just looked at him.

"Bitch…" he muttered after a second, clasping his fingers around his nose, then rubbing his temples stiffly. Searching different ways of making pain go away and working them all restlessly, with a solid wall of anger in his eyes.

I have no idea what I was thinking. I could've agreed with him, done my subservient 'pounded-senseless lackey' duty and been gone-gone-gone. Out the door and fifteen miles away, knowing that this guy was just a little too twisted for my plain vanilla schedule. Knowing there was no way in hell this could end well. Knowing he was gonna seriously hurt me one day, and there was nothing I could do about it if I stayed.

Knowing one of us was gonna be dead before anything good happened.

But somehow, someway, my shoulders shrugged and the bed rustled as I sat back on it. I didn't dare touch him, because the air still smelt like human gunpowder, and any touch could spark it off, but it was enough that our shoulders brushed. Then I grinned, lopsided and wrong.

"No, ah… no worries here. Nope. Water off a ducks back! The fam don't gotta love me, they just have to cough up a key, y'know? You've got one easy roller here, babe. Easiest you'll get."

And he just looked at me.

Looked, got up, and finished getting dressed. Ten minutes later I was outside with a long walk ahead of me.

Real Prince Charming, right there.