Disclaimer: You should know this stuff by now.
A/N: Much love to reviewers of the last chapter, thank you very much.
It was my birthday a few weeks ago, and I asked Sean Smith from The Blackout to marry me – he said yes. ;DD If you search up any vids of them signing at a Pulp store, and see him wearing a gummy ring – that's mine. :') I'm ridiculously proud to be recognised as an idiot. Yeah, I met all of them at a signing, they're all lovely [no matter what you might've heard – they were genuinely really nice people, and the same can be said for Architects, who I met last week], and the gig was one of the very best I've ever been to. It was one of those birthdays that you know you'll still remember in twenty years time. (:
Here you go. (:
As everyone knows, I'm not really a morning person. At all. Not in the slightest.
So when I got on the plane at eight am, turned to Fangenstein, and asked him to sit next to me, I really wasn't expecting anything other than a yes.
"Nope," he replied, popping the 'p'.
"'Kay..." Wait, what just happened? "What?"
He rolled his eyes. It was depressing how awake he was. "No, Max, I won't sit with you."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because," he said, catching my chin with his index finger, and pulling my face right up to his, "that's what a boyfriend would do." He smiled, quite possibly at the fact that I'd forgotten to breathe, before stepping away to slide into a seat between Iggy and Nudge. The latter was fast asleep, and immediately leant her head on Fangenstein's shoulder. I sincerely hoped she'd drool.
Scowling, I shoved past Sara roughly so I was in the middle of her and Ella.
"Ditched," Ella grinned at me, and I resisted the overwhelming urge to slap her. Instead, I settled for peering over her shoulder at her phone. "Hey, piss off!" She held it up to her chest, effectively blocking my view, blushing.
Hm? Secrets? Kept by my little sister? Not on this watch.
"You," I grabbed her head, "will," pulled her into a headlock, "tell," twisted, "me," and back, "right," I let go of her. "Now."
"Um, ow?" Ella rubbed her neck, glaring.
Looking on, Sara laughed. "Someone woke up."
"And had an extra serving of bitchflakes!" Ella finished. Her phone buzzed just then, and she jumped, scrambling to grab it. She viewed the text, smiling like an idiot, then leaned over to show Sara, who rolled her eyes.
"You're an idiot," she said, sighing as Ella just shook her head happily and replied to the text. "Max. Tell her she's an idiot."
"She doesn't need to be told," I shrugged. "It's a given. She's Ella."
Ella was so engrossed in texting, she didn't even slap me. Okay, what the hell was wrong with the world? Fang was refusing to sit by me, and my little sister didn't even hit when I insulted her.
What is this, be nice to Max day? Unless you're Fang, in which case, be a prick as per usual.
"It's a boy, right?" I guessed. Sara nodded. "Thank God. I have nothing against lesbians, but really, Ella, I just don't think you have the figure for it."
She gasped. "What's the meant to mean?"
"...That I don't think you have the figure to be a lesbian?" I mean, duh.
She started to go into some rant about lesbian and gay rights (remind me to dare her to recite to Jane at some point), until her phone buzzed, and she went to read the text instantaneously. Dear God, she had it bad. I hardly ever texted – the freaking Queen could give me her number, and she'd still be the one texting first.
However, instead of reading it, and then sending one back, Ella typed her text back out, but didn't send it. I looked at her weirdly: "What on earth are you doing?"
"Tell her, Ella," Nudge had woken up, and was now laughing at Ella. "Go on. Tell her how stupid you are."
Ella shot her a glare sharp as daggers, before turning to me, and saying, very quietly and quickly, "Well he usually leaves it two minutes so I don't want to seem too keen because I think he's pretty amazing and I really can't wait to see him again."
I disregarded the pretty amazing comment, and just looked at her. "So... you sit there, and wait two minutes, every time, before texting this guy back, just because he does too?"
"Three, if she can stop herself," Sara amended, giggling.
"Four, if she's really trying," Nudge chimed in. "He's called Gerard, he's like fifteen, and is spending Christmas in England with relatives."
"Nudge!" Ella swatted at her while Sara laughed.
"He's also gorgeous," Sara grinned. "According to Ella, anyway."
I learned one thing from that: "You can't have him."
"What? Why the hell not?" Ella was straight-away on my case. Damn, she'd fallen fast and hard.
"Because he is called Gerard, and my future husband is also called Gerard."
Ella raised her eyebrows. "I thought your future husband was called Fang, Kobrakid."
...Well.
Max Martinez just got owned by her little sister.
And Ig had it on camera, judging by the commentary from the seats behind.
...Well.
"Kobrakid's not an insult," I replied snootily, trying to regain some dignity... that vanished as the male flight attendant tripped, and landed in my lap. He blushed and started stuttering apologies – as opposed to getting the hell off me. Naturally, no one thought to help; they just cracked up laughing. In the end, I just shoved him on the floor, not noticing the trolley behind, carrying food and drink, which then fell on it's side.
And all that food and drink?
You guessed it: directly on top of all of us. There was a chorus of 'Thanks, Max,' sarcastically, as Ella checked her phone desperately for damage, the attendants started firing apologies at us, half of the other first-class fliers turned their noses up at us, the other half laughed, and one or two offered us help.
To my surprise, it was Sir Talks-A-Lot who took control over the situation. He told the flight attendants it was fine, we just now needed access to the toilet one after the other to clean up – they nodded eagerly, and finally cleared off. He then stood up, and announced the following to everyone trying to help us: "It's fine. Thank you for the offer, but it's nothing unexpected, since we're travelling with Max Martinez."
Charming. He's so nice to me.
An hour or so later, when everything was under control and we were all dry and seated, I finally took in Ella and Sara's t-shirts.
"Hey," I pointed at them both. "When did you guys go see The Maine?"
Sara shrugged. "Two weeks ago, I think. It was amazing. Nudge couldn't come, though."
Both of them turned to glare at the girl in question, who raised her palms in surrender. "I was with the boyfriend!"
"NO ONE IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN JOHN O'CALLAGHAN," Ella yelled, entirely too loud for this plane.
"Shut up," I elbowed her. "You're an embarrassment."
"Let's ask the trolley lady who's more embarrassing," she suggested. "Or that attendant, Josh."
"...Never mind." She grinned in victory. "Whatever. I still don't remember you going to that gig."
She shrugged, and Sara said, "You were probably off flirting with Fang."
I just glared at her, letting the subject go, until a minute later, my phone buzzed.
Fang
Tell Sara I resent the implication that I'd flirt with you.
I turned, incredulously, to Fanglette, who was sat directly behind me. "Are you seriously texting me this?" He completely ignored me. "We could always talk like normal people."
"You're not normal," Sara pointed out, and I was somewhat inclined to agree. Fair enough. I had, after all, managed to tip a airline trolley over, and be molested by an attendant in the first twenty minutes of the flight. Well done Max.
So I gave in.
Someone's been listening in English.
Fang
Someone's just naturally more intelligent than you.
Someone is most definitely 100% dead when a certain someone else rules the world.
Fang
Someone is going to have murdered Gerard Way by then, sending a certain someone else into a deep, inescapable depression.
Gerard Way's awesome acts as a shield, making him invincible.
Fang
Not to my assassins.
Your assassins are dead. Legolas caught them trying to cross the Me'ear Stream this morning.
Fang
...Excuse me. I must go investigate this claim.
It's true. HA.
Fang
It just got personal.
It wasn't already?
Fang
Shut up. I always wanted to say that.
Congratulations, you're a tit.
Fang
(:
Oh my God, even your smilies are retarded. Yours should look like this: (:\). Otherwise it's Mary-ist.
Fang
I hate you.
Nah. You don't.
Fang
/: Unfortunately true.
So come sit with me.
Fang
Nope.
You're so freaking frustrating.
Fang
(: That's the aim.
I hereby end this conversation.
Fang
Fine.
Annoyed, I shove my phone in my pocket, and start taking out my anger on Ella, with relentless questioning.
"Where did you meet him?"
"At the The Maine gig."
"Is he tall?"
"Taller than me."
"Is he nice?"
"He's lovely."
"What does he do?"
"What do you think he does, you tit? He goes to school."
"Where does he live?"
"Forty minutes on the bus."
"Yeah, but where?"
"Well I don't know! I'd look like an absolute stalker."
"Does he know your sister is going to rule the world, and therefore can destroy him with a single look?"
"Um, no."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because he'd think I'm absolutely insane?"
"And why does he not know that already?"
"Oh, he does."
"...Why does he still want to know you then?"
"Oh my God, Max," Ella finally gave in. "Leave me alone!"
"Oh, so now you're getting defensive."
"You're acting absolutely ridiculous. Go flirt with Fang."
I gasped. "Me and Fang do not flirt. We have intellectual conversations."
"About?"
"World leadership!"
"Okay then," she shrugged. "Go have an intellectual conversation about world leadership with Fang."
I considered it... for a millisecond. "No, that requires effort."
"Go snog him then."
"Grow up."
"Growing up won't bring me down."
"You just quoted Iggy."
"...I'm washing my mouth out with acid."
And that, right there, is the main reason why I don't disown my little sister. She might do the stupidest things ever half the time, but she does come out with some sense to redeem herself. Every now and again. Once every few months, maybe. Every year. Every other five years – that sounds about right.
[ x x x ]
When we finally stumbled out of the plane, it was already eight pm in England. And, naturally, raining. All snowy and rainy and icy and... English. I was half-expecting someone to run up to us and offer us all a cup of tea in a crisp British accent.
Unfortunately, they didn't, but Iggy did say hello and goodbye to absolutely every person we passed. Whilst filming, naturally. So, of course, I shoved him onto the baggage carousel, which was going around at approximately three miles per hour. Being Ig, however, he couldn't get off, and we had to run to grab him and yank him off, before he got stuck (which he totally deserved).
It only got worse from then on – turned out Mum was stuck in London traffic, and wasn't going to be there for at least another hour, and we were just stuck in the Gatwick airport. With Iggy. Which would've been bad enough, except he was calling us all his slaves and trying to order us to carry him around to make up for his 'traumatic experience', very, very, loudly.
"Slave McEmo Pants, go buy me a palm tree. Slave MassiveMouth, go get me a small ginger. Slave Text-A-Lot, get me some brown hair dye. Slave Blondie, shampoo and conditioner. Slave Mrs McEmo Bossy Pants, I feel like some coffee, go get me a grande cappuccino from Starbucks." We all just looked at him, eyebrows raised and arms folded, as he stared at us expectantly.
You see what we have to deal with?
"It's like a crime not to get tea in this country," I said with a shrug, going to sit on the plush seat.
Ella was, stupidly, curious. "Why a ginger kid and hair stuff?"
"Community service," he replied with a grin. He's such a ginger-ist. I do apologise – I think gingers are awesome, and so have frequently tried to dye Ella's hair strawberry-blonde. She protested. There was violence.
Rolling their eyes, Ella, Nudge and Sara all came to join me, and Iggy turned to Fangenstein hopefully.
"No." And so Fangspeare strikes again. We all just sat there, staring at him staring at us.
Then, horrifically, he started to dance.
There aren't words. There are not words. Not even in the Maxtionary (now $49.99 in your non-local retailer, if you were wondering).
People began to stare, and I made to get up, but Fanglette stopped me. "No one should have to get closer than necessary to that." Then, with a sigh, he heaved himself up, and strode over to Ig, who had his arms out, head down, and was stomping repeatedly. Poor thing. I mean, what had the floor ever done to deserve that?
"What the hell are you doing?"
Ig looked up at him with big, blue eyes. "...Expressing my emotions in expressive dance."
[ x x x ]
Two and a half hours later, we were all trudging up the hotel stairs – I never stairs could be posh until then. They had this really pretty pattern running up alongside them, on the wall, and the carpeting was- okay. Just stop there, Max, and you see that gun? Pick it up, and please, for the love of God, shoot yourself.
Ella, Nudge and Sara all went running to secure the best room for us, while me, Mum, Fang and Iggy followed at a more respectable pace. The respect we might've gained through that, however, was ruined by Iggy singing 'Just The Way You Are'... to the receptionist... before stopping, looking closer at her, and saying, 'Sorry to mention it... but how many times do you think about dying your hair on a daily basis?' Ginger-ist prat.
Of course, while Mum was all for the 'drown-in-apologies' approach, I slapped him around the face: "We all hate you. Go upstairs and drown yourself. Preferably in your own tears." And, although I got a reproving look from mother dear, the receptionist laughed her little ginger head off, and told me I was the highlight of her day...
...Leading me to ruin it by turning to Ella, and saying, "If this doesn't make me the favoured child, I don't know what will."
Needless to say, Mum all but shoved us up the stairs. Domestic violence, I'm sure of it.
"Max!" Ella poked her head out of one of the doors at the top of the staircase, and motioned wildly for me to come in. I obliged, noting Ig's slightly stormy expression, and making a mental note to text him about it in a moment. What? Talking would require effort. Ew, effort.
Inside, there were three double beds, and a single one that flipped down from the wall – but, most interestingly to me, there was also a massive mini-fridge. Coincidentally, I had a massive stomach, that, also coincidentally, needed filling. So while Sara and Nudge grabbed a double bed each, started jumping on them and throwing pillows at one another, I gorged myself on cheese and onion crips and Diet Coke.
Don't worry – I'd already thrown my suitcase on the remaining double bed. Gotta show some authority over the little sister.
"This place is amazing," Nudge enthused, squealing as she dodged a craftily-thrown pillow from Ella.
"Yeah," Sara agreed, with an enthusiastic nod, "your mum's so nice. Can I has her?"
Me and Ella exchanged a look, before replying simultaneously: "Sure."
"Speak for yourselves," Nudge said, flopping down lazily on the bed. "I'll fight you for her, Sart!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ella pull her phone out of her pocket – reminding me that I needed to text Ig.
So I did. As you do.
Oy, what's up with you?
He replied straight away, proving that he really did have no life:
Iggy
Go away, my cheek hurts.
Wow, you really are gay.
Iggy
Mind OUT of the gutter, Maxie.
Can't help it, you are the master at that, after all.
Iggy
I know, right? ;D What did you mean before, though?
You just didn't seem like you. I was expecting you to try to slide up the bannister, or something equally twat-ish.
Iggy
DAMN WHY DID I NOT THINK OF THAT?
Um, exactly. What's up?
Iggy
Vamp problems.
You mean girl troubles?
Iggy
No, I mean I think Edward's on his time of the month.
...You think the girl you like is on her period? Dear God, that's seriously creepy. Even for you. This is a whole new level of creepiness.
Iggy
No, like, in New Moon, Edward went off to flirt with other fit tramp vamps, right?
Tramp vamps. Well done, did it take you long to come up with that one? And no, but go on.
Iggy
Been saving it for this occasion, actually. And, well there you go then. I think it's a New Moon tonight, and Edward's picked up on that, if you know what I mean.
Does anyone ever?
Iggy
#:O) We're gonna knock for you tramp vamps in a sec, we're gonna go down for tea, or dinner as those posh Brits call it. Prepare yourself for an invasion of manliness.
Unless you've miraculously transformed into Orlando Bloom and Jared Leto, there's no preparation needed.
Iggy
Love you too.
Oh, I know.
A/N: Dunno what I thought about that, bit in the middle. Meh. I hope YOU liked it though, 'cos your opinion matters more to me than my own. 'Cos I love youuuuu guyssssss. 'Kay, Disney moment disregarded, your thoughts are always appreciated, bad or good.
Question: what's your Summer song? I'm talking upbeat, happy. Mine's either La La Love by Taylor Thrash, Can't Stand It by NeverShoutNever!, or What You Do To Me by We The Kings.
'Kay, thanks for reading, lessthanthree you guys! [Montana - (;] Revieweth?
