Author's note: So I started writing this, then got distracted when I began to reminisce about a skydancer toy I used to have as a kid...wondered off on the internet for awhile...and finally remembered I still had a story to work on. Is this important information? No. Not really. Enjoy the chapter.
Lucy glanced up at her rear-view mirror to watch the Frog brothers shift uncomfortably in the backseat. It was her day off, and she felt they could all use a nice day of shopping together. Lord knew her youngest, and now...only child...though she hated to think of it like that...Sam loved to shop for new clothes. She never truly felt the lack of a daughter, for that one bonding experience she could share with him. Looking back ahead towards the road in front of her, she reached over to run her nails through Sam's hair and smooth his blonde curls.
"Mom...you don't have to do that, I brushed my hair already..." Sam pulled his head away and smirked at her. He wasn't really protesting, so much as embarrassed to have her preening over him in front of his friends.
"So, have you boys bought any clothes for school yet?" Lucy asked, smiling over her shoulder and quickly glancing back to the road when another car swerved a little too close for comfort.
"We don't see the need to stock up on 'civilian wardrobe'," Edgar replied, crossing his arms.
"Makes much more sense to be prepared for the enemy when you don't have to break in your clothes," Alan added, nodding in agreement.
"Ah...I see..." Lucy cleared her throat, a little concerned. She was really beginning to worry about these boys, now that she was beginning to get to know a little bit more about them.
"I'm sure your mother makes sure you have new shirts every summer, though, yes?" She asked hopefully. There wasn't a lot of money in her checking account at the moment, though things weren't as tight as they used to be...but if she had to, she'd make sure the Frog brothers went home in something other than camouflage or muscle shirts.
"We look after ourselves..." Alan shifted in his seat now, equally as uncomfortable-looking as Lucy felt. But Edgar's determined scowl did not change.
"The folks don't like to baby us, and we don't like to be babied. We're soldiers, Ms. Emerson." Edgar insisted.
Oh my goodness, it's worse than I thought...now Lucy felt alarm bells going off in her head. If the rehab news wasn't bad enough...the fact that these boys apparently raised themselves? She couldn't even begin to imagine what on earth was wrong with their family.
"Mom, I need a new belt, y'know?" Sam interrupted, anxious to steer the conversation towards something that didn't border on therapy material.
"Why didn't you tell me before, sweety? I've got three belts I don't even use." Lucy sighed, pulling up beside the storefront of a small...but reasonably priced clothing boutique for men.
"Mom, I don't want a chick's belt!" Sam protested, pushing open the door once the engine was shut off. Edgar and Alan were quickly piled on top of each other in the struggle to climb out and stand behind him.
"Sam, belts are unisex." Lucy affirmed, shaking her head as she locked the car door behind her.
"You got it where girls shop, though!" Sam insisted, crossing his arms.
"Samuel Emerson, you are almost fifteen years old now, do not make this into another tap shoes tantrum," Lucy sighed, running her fingers through her short hair as they all headed towards the entrance to the boutique.
"Tap shoes?" Edgar whispered into Alan's ear.
"...I used to wear them every day in second grade..." Sam quickly mumbled, quickly dismissing the topic and rushing through the door after Lucy pulled it open. He was headed straight for the new arrivals section.
Typical of any 'trendy' shop, for 'trendy' people, with 'trendy' things, and 'trendy' style...there were neon and pastel lights and zig-zag patterns spackled across all of the walls. Mannequins in tennis shorts with pink sweaters tied around their shoulders, posters advertising swatch watches and acid-washed denim jackets, and enough Hawaiian shirts to fill a gag-worthy tropical resort...they could almost smell the piña coladas. It was the stuff of the Frog brothers' fevered nightmares.
"What is this place?" Alan whispered, a little scared...but also a little intrigued by the acid-washed jackets. Not that he'd wear them, of course, but there was nothing with scientific curiosity. In the name of...something. He couldn't think of a good excuse.
"The church of the depraved, Alan. Sick individuals with nothing better to do than waste their money on clothes, instead of the important stuff. Like carving knives. And comic books..." Edgar growled, eyes widening slightly when he noted a guy walk by in a leather jacket with pierced ears. But the leather was brown, so he was likely human...wait...
"Alan, do you think all vampires wear leather?" He turned to his brother, a stoic look plastered on his face.
"Whaddya mean? They wear capes, too...I don't think those are leather...so, I guess they wear silk too. And denim...that shorty we nailed with the stake was wearing denim, I think..." Alan trailed off.
"Boys, what sizes do you wear?" Lucy approached the Frog brothers, interrupting their philosophical discussion on the textile preferences of the living dead.
"...Why do you ask?" Edgar frowned, stepping away from her nervously.
"Because, sillies, I'm trying to find something for you both to try on. Come on, it will be fun!" Lucy beamed, placing a hand on Alan's shoulder. Unfortunately, as hardcore and well-seasoned hunters as they liked to believe they were...there was no fighting with Lucy Emerson. Even Edgar had to admit he liked the short woman with her sweet smile. He could see why the four-eyed bloodsucker had wanted her for his own.
Sam snuck up behind his mother with several shirts and pairs of pants piled into his arms, smiling at her hopefully, his tongue tucked behind his front teeth.
"Hey, mom...my birthday is coming up pretty soon...soooo...I was thinking..."
Alan shook his head grimly. Sam would never be a proper hunter like them if he didn't learn to curb his civilian shopping habits. He smirked and crossed his arms, musing on the fact that he and his brother were much more self-controlled, seasoned, tough-
"Hey, Alan, do you think this would look good on me?"
Alan spun about to find Edgar pressing an aviator jacket to his front and examining the sleeve lengths. There were no words to describe his utter shock and disgust at his brother's behavior.
"I think that would look very nice on you, Edgar, but why don't you try on one of these pink pullovers I found? It gets so chilly on the boardwalk, and I think this would really bring out your eyes... and I think it would be very nice for us all to go to a concert tonight, provided I can make sure both of you boys are properly dressed..." Lucy held up the sweater in question, and Edgar looked...almost interested. Momentarily, Alan wondered if a mind-altering slug had taken over his brother's body.
"How long does that make it?" Marko stood over the bed in the lobby, nudging at the unconscious body wrapped snugly beneath the moth-eaten blankets like he was cocooning himself.
"We woke up three hours ago. He should be up by now," David paced the lobby, restless.
"Get a little too feisty last night, Davey?" Paul crowed, walking about the edge of the fountain with his arms out to balance himself. Thorn snapped at his heels, causing him to tumble to the ground and scrape his back on the awkward metal chandelier in the center of the fountain in the process.
"Fuck!" He shouted, sitting up and rubbing where his jacket had been torn, and little beads of blood were forming along his spine. David grinned and winked at the hellhound.
"Nice one, Thorn," he rasped. A mentally-linked devil dog came in handy sometimes.
"Ease up, David, I just came back from the dead!" Paul stood up and pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket, lighting it up. Marko shoved into him and stole the cigarette before he could even put it to his lips.
Running about the lobby, puffing out breaths of smoke, Marko cackled while Paul followed close on his heels.
Dwayne stretched on the couch and set his book aside, laying one arm over the side and watching Michael lie motionless on the bed behind the veil of the shredded canopy. "You took too much blood, David," he spoke up for the first time that night.
"Yeah, I know. But fuck, he pissed me off," David shrugged, sitting down and pushing the canopy aside so he could watch Michael sleep. He was much less of a pain in the ass when he wasn't throwing tantrums and arguing. But he was also less fun.
Dwayne eyed the pack leader with an unreadable expression on his face. He hadn't talked to Marko about David's weird behavior yet, but he kind of didn't know if he really needed to. When Star was around, David had been a little possessive. A little controlling of her too...but nowhere near as quick to anger as he was now. Max hadn't been quick to anger when he was around, though...so it couldn't be the master vampire thing getting to him.
"Stop staring at me, Dwayne," David growled, though he didn't remove his eyes from Michael's face. If he didn't know better, he'd think his childe was dead, as still and pale as he looked. But they were all pretty much like that when they slept. Still...after their romp in the cave the night before, Michael had all but passed out. True to David's suspicions, he hadn't even been able to get him to sleep on their perch. So they'd slept nestled together on the lobby bed. But by all rights, he should have woken up by now.
Dwayne raised his eyebrows and shrugged, turning around so he could watch Marko and Paul. By now they'd tripped each other, and were wrestling on the cave floor. He smirked at the scene.
Paul hissed, suddenly growing irritated. "Give it back, Marko! That was my last cig!" He griped, reaching to yank the cigarette from his friend's mouth, only to have Marko somehow chomp down on his hand whilst still keeping it tucked firmly at the corner of his lips, smirking madly as the smoke rose into the air above them.
"Mayfk Mrh," Marko mumbled garbled words around Paul's flesh. For Paul's part, he howled and yanked his hand away, licking at the bleeding fang marks and pinning Marko to the ground with his other hand.
"Girls, girls...you're both pretty," David drawled, glancing back at the two who looked like they were either about to get into a real fight or quite the opposite.
"I'm hungry," Paul moaned, snatching his cigarette (at long last) from Marko's mouth and rolling off of him. The smaller vampire huffed, disappointed that their wrestling match had been cut short so quickly.
"Then let's get a bite to eat," David finally stood up from the bed. "If Michael wants to stay home and play sleeping beauty, we'll be just fine without him. Dwayne, you can take care of the doggy bag," he pointed at Thorn. As capable as the hellhound was at hunting on his own, they were a little too distant from the boardwalk for the beast to get a proper meal before he'd have to get back to the cave and guard them while they slept. They were better safe than sorry, given what had happened to Marko...and all of them, frankly, thanks to Michael's brother and his shitty little friends.
"Hm..." Dwayne replied, noncommittally. He was fairly agreeable when David gave orders. They all were. Even Marko, if he tended to bitch a little while he did it. Paul tried, but he was fairly incapable of carrying out tasks when they involved more than three steps. The only member of their group who ever seemed to put up a fight or argue was Michael. Maybe that was one of the reasons David was so obsessed with him.
Shrugging the thought away, David headed over to his throne-wheelchair and snatched up his coat to shrug it on.
"Well, let's go, boys," he grinned. Tonight, the Lost Boys would be together again on the boardwalk. The news would spread pretty soon. Hey, if Michael missed the 'celebration', it was his loss. And if he wasn't able to protect Sam, should the little twerp happen to run into the others without him present...David didn't much care. Hell, he'd only left the family alone for the last year because Paul and Dwayne would probably have a shit load more frustration to take out on them than he or Marko ever could.
"You should see Michael's little brother, now. He's grown up quite a lot in the past year...I'm sure he's delicious, too. Dwayne, didn't he impale your ass on a stereo?" David raised his volume a bit louder at his last statement, strolling towards the entrance of the sunken hotel. He didn't even have to turn around to sense Michael's sudden movement on the bed. Smirking, David departed. He fucking knew that would work...
"Thanks for looking after Priscilla for me. She's a feisty little bitch. Needs all the attention she can get, dontcha babe?" Paul cooed as he stroked his bike before hopping into the seat. They were all gathered together on their motorcycles now, a pack united. Michael, for his part, was having trouble sitting up straight. He was like a toddler on Christmas eve, and looked just about as grumpy as one too.
"Lighten up, Mikey, aren't you the one who's always begging if you can go see your little baby bro?" Marko teased, revving up his engine.
For Michael's part, he was still having trouble shaking the feeling that someone was watching him, and didn't really have much to say. Not even a snappy retort. His silence unnerved both Marko and David more than any outburst might have.