The sun started to disappear on the busy town, as cars whizzed by Alfred and Matthew, causing the wind to swirl around them like a gentle wave of mist spraying over them on a tropical beach. They walked down the street in silence, letting the whooshing and rumble of the car's tires pressing down on the charcoal pavement. The dark orange and sapphire-tinged sky enveloped the world below, watching the two cross an intersection and walk past the convenience store with the flickering neon sign begging them to walk in for no reason. After passing it, they finally came across the humble two-story brownstone. They climbed up the steps, and Alfred yanked the thin door open.

"Harder, Kyon. Harder!"

Alfred and Matthew shared worried glances as they tip-toed over the tile floor, their penny loafers making a clacking noise that reverberated around them. They rounded the corner, hearing glass clattering as a table was repeatedly moved. They poked their heads out. Haruhi Suzimiya was sitting on a stool with her legs crossed, and she was looking down at a stoic man with a deep frown encrusted on his face. He had his hands on a red plush sofa, and was sliding it's wooden pegs across the floor, leaving small white skid marks in his wake.

"Baka! You hit the table. Penalty."

Kyon wiped his brow and pointed at Haruhi angrily. He closed in on her and growled in frustration. "I don't have money for five people at the steakhouse, Haruhi."

"But you promised. And you could just take me. I am the only one here."

"That's it. I'm leaving. Enjoy your couch." Kyon turned aroound and bumped shoulders with Alfred. He trounced down the hallway with his fists clenched before opening the door, allowing the quiet sound of the street to waft into the house briefly. The door slammed and made the glass mirror on the wall vibrate and clank onto the wall. Haruhi groaned and leaped off of the couch, facing the twins.

"Sorry about that. He's not very good with humans. So, how many new members did you get?"

Alfred and Matthew grimaced at Haruhi. Alfred scratched his neck and plastered on a quick smile. "What are you saying?" He asked.

Haruhi facepalmed and whipped her head up towards the tall men. "The SOS Brigade, idiots. How many did you get."

Matthew put down his Canadian Red and White bag with a picture of a maple leaf sewn on it, and sat on the plush couch. "Seven."

Haruhi's face grew a smile wider than the Amazon River. Her ascent to power was well on the rise like baking bread. Her quest for the strange and mysterious was well on its way. She twiddled her fingers while grinning like an insane cannibal. "Well, of course you got seven. Who are they?"

Alfred played along. "A set of twins, some French guy, a cross-dresser, some little kid, and two other black-haired tall guys."

Haruhi hopped in her spot like a rabbit who had just found the last carrot before winter set in. "Another set of twins? And a foreigner? Something big is happening around here. Can you sneak me into Ouran tomorrow?"

Matthew's flace bloomed into one of worry and surprise, and he leapt up and gestured at Alfred to do something. Alfred waved his hands on the air, and smiled nervously at Haruhi. "We are new, so trespassing is not smart right now. Besides, we have to gain the school's trust before we do anything. The club just got started."

The brown-haired girl with ponytails clutched her head and her face lit up in revelation. "of course! We have to gain trust before we infiltrate. I slay myself sometimes. Keep up the good work gentleman. I have a date at a steakhouse I have to go to, so have fun." The girl in a dark red sun dress and jeans skipped down the hall and escaped out of the brownstone house into the quiet cobblestone street. Matthew and Alfred simultaneously breathed out a sigh of relief.

"So, what type do you plan on being, shy one." Alfred said with a thumbs-up and a wink.

Matthew rolled his cerulean eyes and sprawled himself out on the couch again. "I don't wanna be the shy type."

"Would you rather the the mysterious type? We can't be copies of those other twins. You heard what he said."

"How about I'll be the Canadian type, and you'll be the American type. We can just be normally stereotypical."

ALfred looked up at the ceiling. He walked towards the yellow refridgerator in the corner and opened the cool door. He reached his arm in before whipping out a cold leftover burger. He took the burger and muched on it, making an audible cruch that made Matthew gag. Suddenly, Alfred's eyes shot open wider than dinner plates as he grinned at Matthew.

"I know what we can be." Alfred said as projectiles of beef rocketd from his mouth onto the floor.

"Jesus, Al. Swallow."

Alfred swallowed the cold burger. "I know what we should be."

"Spit it out, Alfred."

"The stripper types."

Matthew put his face down on the couch. He took a yellow pillow on the couch and covered his head with it, trying to avoid the missles of sound coming from Alfred's mouth. "Don't tell me you mean that."

"We look great. We could make big-time money." Alfred said with a thumbs-up.

"Al, this is high school. They're not gonna let us strip."

"You could be the shy stripper, and I could be all flashy and stuff."

"We'll strip our way to jail, and out of Japan. Kiku wouldn't even want to look at us again."

Alfred frowned and sauntered to the record player. He knelt down to the wooden cabinet underneath the sound maker, and he opened it. A yellow record sleeve was pulled out, and a record clattered onto the top surface of the player. Alfred turned it on, and pulled the needle down like a hangman's noose. Matthew cringed as a giant trumpet riff from "Move On Up" exploded in the house, making Alfred move his hips back and forth. Matthew gaped at his twin as Alfred motioned for him to come forward. Matthew shook his head as Alfred started to unbutton his blazer. Matthew broke out of his frozen state, and leapt up towards Alfred. Alfred tore off his tie, and started to head for the belt on his black, soft dress pants. Matthew reached him, throwing him into a bear hug, smothering Alfred's arms to his side.

"Let me go, Mattie. I'm practicing." Alfred shouted.

Matthew tackled Alfred to the ground as they both gasped for air from the hard plummet to the hard floor. They both looked at each other as they tried to regain their breath. Matthew looked up at the record player, the thin saucer on it spinning quickly to the rhythm of the loud song. "I'll admit. I've never seen anyone try to strip to Curtis Mayfield."

Alfred crawled back from Matthew and leaned on the coconut-brown wall. Matthew sat up, rubbing his left his as he grimaced in slight pain that echoed through his body like the funk music emanating from the record player. They stared at each other, and Matthew scooted forward towards him. Alfred ruffled his hair, and then he knocked on the wall next to him.

"Knock on wood. So, shy type for you, and playful type for me. Unless you object." Alfred said with a soft smile.

Matthew sighed and rested his eyes from the sight of a partially undressed and disheveled Alfred. "I don't have any better ideas."


Another quick scene to advance the plot. The fun stuff is coming up, though. Please review and leave any suggestions for the future of this story. Thank you!