After such a smutty chapter, I'm afraid we're going to have to get back to the, ugh, story. This one's going to take place entirely in modern day, dealing with the fallout of Lincoln's confessions to Ronnie Anne. And at the bottom are a few important Author's Notes about what this fic is going to be moving forward.

Special thanks to the pillow for reading over this and correcting my poor language.

It was inside a taxi that Lincoln realized he could have handled that much better.

He sighed, pulling down the mirror to get a good look at his face. His face practically told a story by itself; one of his eyes was swollen and dark, his bottom lip was slightly cut, and the rest of his face was bruised and colored.

Don't feel bad for me. You should've seen what I did to the other guy, was something he wished he could say.

Observing his bruises did force him to think back to everything that had happened with Ronnie Anne in the diner. The retelling of his incestuous encounter with Lynn (did I really have to get that detailed? Lincoln asked himself) was followed by Ronnie Anne, at first shocked and bewildered, slowly growing more angry and aggressive by the second, until she did what she always used to do to Lincoln;

She punched him. Hard.

As the white haired man fell to the ground, he barely put up a fight at all as Ronnie began to whale on him, punching and kicking and scratching and yelling. He simply laid there, allowing her to beat him further and further into the ground. All the while, the Hispanic girl screamed every nasty and malicious insult she could think of, in both Spanish and English. Lincoln knew he should have been more offended and angry, but one thing stopped him from that; her eyes.

She had tears in her eyes throughout the entire exchange.

Eventually, the old woman behind the counter intervened, threatening to call the police if they didn't stop or leave. The tomboyish young woman stood up, gritting her teeth, little pools of water still in her eyes as she walked over to the exit. And when she grabbed the handle of the door, she gave one last look at Lincoln. Her eyes were still a little misty, but the emotion behind them had changed. It started out as a mix of sadness, shock, bitterness and anger. But all of those feelings dissolved in the salty water, leaving one powerful emotion to sit in her pupils.

Hate.

Pure hatred.

And it was that hatred in her eyes that stopped Lincoln from feeling sorry for himself, or feeling any anger towards her. Instead, all he felt was regret, self-loathing and a deep, deep sorrow…

"You okay there?"

Lincoln looked over to the cab driver besides him; an aged man with white hair all over his face and a deep voice, kind of reminding Lincoln of one of those wise mentor figures in movies. The older man stared at him with a bit of concern, tapping his finger on the steering wheel as he waited for Lincoln to respond.

The nineteen year old Loud boy grew a weak smile and put his finger to his injured eye. "Don't worry about this. I just got hit in the eye with a baseball."

The driver smirked slightly. "I wasn't talking about that," he drawled in his Southern accent, "You looked a little bummed is all."

Lincoln chuckled sadly. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Lady problems?"

Lincoln nodded. "I met up with a childhood friend… maybe childhood girlfriend, we didn't exactly make it clear… for the first time in years… and she asks me how things have been, and I spill that I was with another woman," he ended, conveniently leaving out the part about that other woman was his older sister.

The cab driver raised an eyebrow. "You know… just because she asked for everything doesn't mean you should tell. A man needs his secrets."

"I know that now," he said with another faint smile, "I just… well, throughout my life, I've tried keeping secrets. Then usually the secret gets out and I get in a lot of trouble for it. Plus, in my family, keeping a secret is pretty hard," Lincoln said before turning to the reader, "I mean, you guys have seen the show. How well does keeping secrets work for me?"

He sighed before he glanced away from the fourth wall and back at the taxi driver, who gained a slightly confused look from Lincoln's fourth wall breaking. "So I just figured… maybe it would be best to be honest and up front… before she finds out some other way…"

The cab driver hummed for a second, turning his eyes back to the road, checking if the light was still red. He nodded to himself when he confirmed it was, and looked back to his passenger. "From the way you describe it… sounds like you're sweet on her…"

Lincoln nodded, a bit awkwardly. "I really like her. Ever since we were in elementary school together. Because she's so… playful and funny and compassionate. She's rough and tough, but she's soft on the inside. We like a lot of the same things and… and she's beautiful…" he muttered, his cheeks reddening as an image of the Latina appeared in his mind's eye; her long black hair swishing in the imagined wind, her soft cheeks with all their freckles, her smooth lips that he remembered tasting a thousand years ago…

He felt his heart throb painfully. He missed those simpler days.

"I just thought that… maybe we could be together," Lincoln whispered in a sad and somber note.

The traffic light finally turned green, forcing the cab driver to focus his eyes back on the road as he slowly moved the yellow vehicle forward. The older man exhaled heavily through his nostrils, trying to think of something reassuring to say to the young man.

"Do you think… now… after what you told her… that you two can still be together?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Well, I will say… a girl that gives you a beat down like that isn't exactly uninterested…"

Lincoln gave the driver a questioning look, and the older man grinned. "Did you really think you could pretend it was a baseball?" he said with a hearty chuckle. "Sorry if you wanted to keep it under wraps."

"No problem," Lincoln muttered. He didn't mean it, but the cab driver was nice enough to try with him, so he did his best.

"All I can say is… if you're meant to be, then you will be. I can tell you love this girl, and you just wanted things to work. You've obviously made a few mistakes… some big mistakes, by the look of that color on your temple," he said, tapping his own to indicate the place, "But maybe you can try. You can try and try… and maybe it'll work between you two…"

Lincoln was well aware of the driver's kindly intentions, but he still scoffed. "It's not ever going to work between us. Not after everything I told her… not after everything I could have told her…"

"I'm just trying to help. And… maybe this is my religious side talking, but I personally think it's best to look on the positive side. Things could always be worse," the driver said with a kindly and compassionate look at his passenger.

Things could always be worse…

Lincoln grit his teeth when he heard those words. Things could be worse? Things already were in the worst state. He grew up in a home that practically reeked of incest. At least one of his sisters was completely and dangerously insane, with a few others not being at their best. Then there was Lisa with her… whatever it was. And now, after all that, the one girl he wanted to see more than anything had been scared off by… by…

By the truth about him.

But the twinkle in the cab driver's eye forced Lincoln to choke down those words, and instead give a deadpan "I guess they could be."

The rest of the drive was spent in silence. The driver focused all his attention on the road ahead of him, cursing under his breath every time he came across another reckless driver. As for Lincoln, he lay back in his seat with a slight groan, and turned his head towards the window to gaze at the world outside his cab.

The sky was filled with dark clouds and gray vapors, creating a darkened tint outside of Lincoln's window. It felt as gloomy, though Lincoln suspected that had less to do with the weather and more to do with him. Occasionally, small beams of sunlight made their way through the heavy climate, falling gently onto the sidewalks and streets. Lincoln smiled in spite of his current state; he had never been the outdoorsy type, but he felt that a few bright spots in a sea of darkness was just the sight he needed…

Finally, after a few minutes, the yellow taxi began to slow down, eventually stopping in a small suburban neighborhood. Lincoln was pulled out of his daze when he realized that they had arrived. He pointed to a house on the left side with a quick "Over there." The driver nodded and stopped the taxi, putting the car into park.

Lincoln nodded appreciatively, and reached into his wallet, absent-mindedly reaching for any two bills and handing them to the driver, before leaping out of the vehicle. "Keep the change," he told the driver.

The older man's eyes widened at the amount he was handed. "40 dollars? That's quite the tip."

Shit. I meant to only give him 20.

"Uh… you keep it," Lincoln said, a weak and awkward grin emerging onto his face, "Because… um… good conversation is hard to come by?"

The driver's seemed a little suspicious, especially because of his weird smile, but he was never one to turn down a little extra cash. He stuffed the two 20 dollar bills into his pocket, before giving the middle Loud child a curt wave as he drove off.

"Christ. I was going to get a couple of pizzas with that money," Lincoln said with disappointment, before shrugging it off, "Oh well. My sisters won't miss what they didn't know they were having. Still, I guess I should call them and tell them to make dinner," he said, reaching into his pocket and sending a quick Lily, you might want to tell one of our sisters to put something on the stove

A few seconds later, Lily responded with I thought u said u where going to get something for ud

*us

Lincoln: I was, but I ended up droping by the church and giving all my money to the poor because I'm that great a guy :P

Lily: I think u just lost ur money in thr taxi ;P

Lincoln: Well… that's not entir ely wrong…

Lily: Ok. Ill find someone 2 make ffood.

r u at RA's house yet

?

Lincoln swallowed, and he looked up from his phone, back to the house in front of him. It wasn't the best house there was, but it wasn't that bad either. It looked like a two story home, painted red with a dark rooftop, with only a few large cracks on one of the front windows being the only noticeable flaw. The lawn, on the other hand, was something else. The yard was littered with dug up holes, and mounds of dirt and mud besides them. And where there were no holes, there were ornaments. Garden gnomes, a little fountain… what looked like a crystal ball on a pedestal. Lincoln grimaced uncomfortably before texting back to his youngest sister.

Lincoln: Yeah. I'm at Ronnie Anne's. Well, I think it's her uncle's house or something.

Lily: Great! I hope things work out between you both :D

Lincoln read that with a smile, thankful that Lily's unawareness and optimism was there to brighten his day, before walking towards the house. When he approached the front door, he made a fist to knock, but hesitated. What if she didn't want him there? What if she just wanted him to leave her alone forever? Maybe he could just leave without her noticing…

Then he opened up his phone and looked at the last message she sent him.

Ronnie Anne: Come to this address. It's a house that one of my mom's relatives owns. We need to talk.

Followed by a small map leading him to here.

He firmed his resolve as he read her message. She's the one that texted me. If she didn't want me to be here…

He knocked on the door, his knuckles striking the wood, and waited patiently as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Within a few seconds, the door swung open and Ronnie Anne Santiago stood before him, wearing a purple colored hoodie like she used to.

The woman didn't look like she was at her best, though. She had bags under her eyes, even darker than Lincoln's, and strands of stray hairs drooped in front of her face. She noticed him staring at them, and brushed them away.

"Well that was quick," Lincoln said with a slight grin, "What, were you waiting for me?"

Despite her efforts, the Hispanic girl started blushing. "N-no. Why would I wait around for a…" she bit her tongue before she could repeat one of the words she shared with him a few nights ago.

"Just… just come inside, Lame-O," she said finally, allowing the young man to pass…

"So, Ronnie… do you own this place or something?" Lincoln asked, less interested in the subject and more trying to make small talk to dispel the awkward atmosphere.

"It belonged to my uncle," she said as she led him towards the kitchen, "If you couldn't tell from the front yard, he was a bit of a nut. I swear, the toilet has a 'No Soliciting' sign on top of it."

Lincoln grinned slightly. "Seriously?"

Ronnie bit her lip to keep from smiling, but she did anyways. "Yeah. Him and my mom… never got along. She didn't hate him. She was just… uncomfortable around him. She always told us to stay away from him. But one day I find out he exists, we start talking, I mention I'm coming back to Royal Woods and he lets me stay here while he's in Mexico."

"What for?"

"Business trip, he said."

"Ah," Lincoln said stupidly. Ronnie Anne led him into the kitchen, and Lincoln was impressed by how… small it was. And that was from a guy whose room was a converted closet.

It was a rather dark room as well, the lights flickering. In the brief few seconds they were on, though, the room lit up like a powerful white flare. Ronnie flicked the light switch off, instead opting to open a small window in the room, grabbing the drab curtains and pulling them to either side and allowing the natural light of the sun to brighten the room. Other than that, there was a refrigerator, an oven, a minuscule counter covered in bottles and utensils, and two wooden chairs besides the window. Ronnie gestured towards one of them. "Sit," she simply said.

As Lincoln relaxed into the chair, it creaked uncomfortably, bothering Lincoln as he felt his skin crawl. Ronnie faintly grinned at Lincoln's discomfort, before turning away and heading to the counter. Lincoln stared as she looked around on the surface, before her eyes landed on a certain item. His eyes widened as her hand hovered over a knife…

"J-just so you know, Ronnie, I've been working out. So if you come at me with a knife… I'm going to run away so fast…"

Ronnie grabbed a small, greenish bottle off the counter before looking back to the young man. "What did you say?"

His ears went red with embarrassment. "Never mind."

Why do you always assume the worst about her?

Ronnie slumped before him, dumping some of the lime colored liquid from the bottle onto her hands. She rubbed them together, allowing the fluids to seep and cover her fingers. She then took a deep breath and…

… started rubbing Lincoln's face.

"What the- Ronnie?" he complained, jumping back slightly as the young woman's face started to flush red.

"It's for your injuries, Lame-O. My grandma gave to me whenever I got cuts or bruises skateboarding" she said angrily, before glancing to the side, "I-I felt a little bad for roughing you up," she muttered, still in an angry tone, but a lot softer than before.

"O-Oh," he said. He extended his face towards her and allowed Ronnie Anne to continue smearing the ointment over his scratches. They both blushed as her oily fingers danced across his face, covering everything from his forehead to his cheeks. She felt the heat on his cheeks as she caressed them, causing her own temperature to rise. Lincoln turned his head slightly, which caused the two of them to glance into each other's sights.

"Still the same old Lame-O," she muttered grumpily.

She slowly pulled her digits back, and jammed them into her jacket's pockets. "Feel a little better?"

"Kind of. Thanks Ronnie."

She shrugged in response, causing Lincoln to sigh.

"So… I can guess why you called me over here…"

"It ain't for Fletnix and chill," she sighed, "Look, Lincoln… after all that stuff you told me about you and… Lynn," she said with a queasy tone, "I-you know, snapped and… made a scene…"

"I deserved it," Lincoln muttered, "I should've tried to spare your feelings at least."

"You didn't deserve to get pummeled for just telling the truth. I mean… at least one thing I can admire about you is that you were honest," she said with a weak smile, patting him gently on the shoulder, "So… as much as it disgusts me… you know, what you did… when I got to thinking, after the anger and hate went away and I was done punching my pillow like crazy…"

"Pillow punching is a good way to deal with stuff," Lincoln said with an approving nod, "I think everyone should punch pillows. It's good for the soul."

"I realized that… maybe I shouldn't have been angry with you. Because… well, look at this," she said, before pulling her hand out of her pocket, a smart phone in her clasped palm. She typed in her password and swiped a couple of times, giving the phone to Lincoln.

The boy squinted at what appeared to be… a digital textbook on the screen.

A digital psychology textbook.

"Ronnie…" he sighed as he realized what she was implying.

"I realized that if you and your sister were behaving like that… maybe you guys were sick. Up here," she said, tapping the side of her head.

"Ronnie, I can assure you I wasn't sick. I really d-"

"It's okay, Lincoln," she said with a kindly smile, reaching over to pat his knee, "I'm your friend, and I'm here for you."

She's not going to let this up, is she? Lincoln thought.

Probably not. But hey, at least she's being nice to you.

Yeah. I guess it's better than her not speaking to me ever again.

"Well… I'm just glad you don't hate me," Lincoln said with a relieved smile.

"Oh, Lincoln," she said, shaking her head, "I still feel some hate. But it's mixed with other stuff, so... look, I hate getting mushy, but I really do want the best for you. And... I can just feel that you... never mind..."

She swallowed, before she continued, "I'm here for you, Lame-O. Because we're friends."

Lincoln put his hand on top of hers, squeezing it tightly. After so long, after so much struggle and argument and fighting and... everything... the white haired youth just wanted to hold onto her hand for comfort. Ronnie didn't resist, even when it started hurting, both out of a sense of not revealing pain, and because she knew that he needed her right now.

"So... should I pick up where I last left off?" Lincoln asked.

"Oh yeah. About that. Can you stand up for a second?" Ronnie asked. Lincoln nodded and stood, and she did the same.

She nodded... before growing a malicious grin on her face as she pulled Lincoln's pants forward and poured the remains of the lime colored bottle down his pants.

"RONNIE ANNE!" he cried in shock, and the Latina just laughed.

"Old habits die hard, Loud," she snickered, wiping a small amused tear from her eye...

Looks like we're getting back to story time with Lincoln Loud...

Now I hate to have long-winded Author's Notes (unlike some pillowy hacks) but I feel this is necessary. I'll try to keep these extended Notes as a one time thing.

So the way I've decided to format this story is in the form of small 'arcs' made of a few chapters, each revolving around a certain theme. For example, the theme of 'More Than Brother and Sister' was Lynncoln, and establishing their relationship. I did this first because it was the initial incident and the best starting point (and not because I wanted to do a Lynncoln lemon as soon as possible :P).

As for upcoming chapters; some will focus on Loudcest pairings (Lynncoln will be the most focused on, but I'll give good screen-time to the others *winky face*) and other chapters will focus on plot points that have nothing to do with 'cest. I even humored the idea of including supernatural elements. We'll see, though. My plans tend to change a lot...

Alright, I'm done blathering. Go awa- *cough* I mean, thank you for reading.