"Why must you poop all over my party?" I whined.

After my horrible sing-a-long to Ghostbusters, Punk had turned off the radio.

"Hey, can you look to see if my ears are still bleeding?" he smirked, still looking at the road.

"You like that song..." I reminded him.

"Yes, and I like you. But that doesn't mean I like you both together."

We'd finally parked outside of a cute little blue house with a white front porch.

"Ok, seriously, I need answers." I said motioning to the house we sat in front of.

"It's my parents house." he admitted sheepishly, gauging my reaction.

"Ok, I would have loved to know that earlier so I could wear something a little less street bum, and a little more 'hey I'm your son's girlfriend'!" I muttered sarcastically.

Punk laughed.

"You look fine. They're not going to care. My sister wears the same stuff."

He said motioning to my fur boots, ripped jeans and blank t-shirt under my leather jacket.

"Come on, it's getting cold out here."

He opened his door and a waft of winter air smacked me in the face.

I took a deep breath, and opened my own door.

Instantly, I shoved my freezing fingers into my pockets.

Punk just slung his arm over my shoulders.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked as we walked up the snowy stone walkway.

Punk sighed, knowing what I meant.

He didn't have exactly the greatest relationship with his parents, or the rest of his family for that matter.

The only person he actually spoke to on a regular basis, and got along with, was his sister, Shalene.

"I promised Shalene that I'd stop by with you for a little bit." he paused.

"Plus, now you get to see how I grew up."

He smiled and kissed the top of my head as we took the three steps onto the porch.

After a few moments, his sister, Shalene, came to the door.

"Hey! You finally made it!" she squeaked, extending her arms.

I looked at the petite young lady, who was almost the same age as me.

She was wearing a very pretty floral skirt, and a matching plain colored shirt.

Same thing my ass.

Once she let Punk go, she turned to me.

"You must be Eli! Come on in!" she ushered us inside.

Once the door was closed I dared to pull my fingers from my jeans pockets.

"Hey, are these still cold?" I asked Punk lifting up his t-shirt, and pressing my freezing digits to his stomach.

He squealed like a piglet and jumped away from me.

"Fuck yeah they're still cold!" he yelled.

I smirked and stepped towards him.

"No! Get away from me! Stop it!" he continued to yell, earning us the attention of his sister who had left us to tell his parents we were here.

She just stood there, in the door way that went to the kitchen, with furrowed brows and a curious look on her face.

"What the hell are yo- actually."

She put her hand up, then continued.

"You know what? Never mind. I don't want to know."

I laughed out loud and she just walked back into the kitchen.

–

The rest of the visit went just as easily.

Despite how ridiculously difficult Punk's father was.

And no.

I don't mean dad.

I mean father.

Like, I'll-Beat-You-With-My-Belt-For-Stepping-Out-of-Line kind of father.

And the worst part; he didn't even acknowledge his own son.

After that hilariously awkward moment with Shalene, Punk and I had followed her into the kitchen.

Their mother was there, making some warm chicken soup for lunch, and playing the whole doting, stay at home mom very well.

Almost as good as my mom.

She sat us all down, and served us the soup, it being rather delicious.

I mean, how can she make such great food, and her son can barely make Mac n' Cheese?

It didn't make any since.

But in all seriousness.

I was expecting our quiet little lunch to be a little more lively.

Practically no one spoke.

And it was horrendous.

The only time anyone spoke was when Punk's mother asked us the basic, and hilariously embarrassing, relationship stories.

But like in press interviews, I kept them short and sweet.

Ok.

So maybe the awkward lunch wasn't completely just their faults.

After the pleasant lunch, Punk and I ended up in his childhood bedroom.

Which, unsurprisingly, exactly how I imagined it.

For starters, it was the attic.

Which immediately made me jealous.

"Psh. Lucky bastard." I muttered.

Punk cocked a brow at me.

"I've always wanted an attic bedroom."

He just laughed at me, and extended his arm through the small hole in the ceiling.

I climbed the dinky steps with ease, his hand helped pull me the rest of the way through.

I planted both feet firmly on what felt like rickety old floor boards, and took a good solid look around me.

Then giggled.

"What's so funny?"

But I couldn't stop the giggle fit.

I mean seriously.

This room looked like it was stuck in the 1980's.

And stuck bad.

"Hey Punk, the 80's called. They want their shit back!" I cracked, and exploded in full blown laughter.

"Hey! I didn't make fun of your room!" he tried, and failed, to defend his childhood.

I just smirked and jumped up to sit on the wooden desk that was stuffed away in a corner.

I doubt he even used it, especially for school.

"That's because you actually liked my room. No matter what you say."

"Oh yeah, because I totally enjoyed the purple wall paint and the Backstreet Boys posters." I nodded.

"I know you did."

He just laughed and walked towards me.

Both his hands rested on either side of me, his arms entrapping me between himself and the desk.

"I feel like this was your plan all along." I muttered against his lips.

"Oh really? Please, tell me what it could be?" he muttered back, taunting my lips with his.

"Isn't it obvious? You lured me up to your old bedroom, expecting me to make fun of it."

I paused, Punk just smiled, nodding all the while.

"Then, when I was trapped, you planned to have your way with me."

He smiled wider.

"Damn. You caught me." his lips lightly touched mine.

My fingers were lightly tickling their way up Punk's sleeved arms, and gripped his shirt gently, keeping his lips within my reach.

I was about to say something else, when a voice sounded from below deck.

"Hey, Punk. I'm leaving. Come say goodbye."

It was Shalene.

Instantly Punk's face went sour.

Apparently, he hadn't planned on being here without his sister.

"No your not!" he yelled, leaving me at the desk to go complain to her.

I smiled.

The whole thing reminding me of my childhood.

"You are not leaving me here alone with them!" he whispered through the thresh hold in the floor.

The two spent the next two or three minutes bickering, before I said something.

"It's ok, we can stay longer."

Punk flashed me a face that seemed to think I was crazy.

I'd walked the few feet towards the floor door, and put my hand around his waist.

I flashed a big smile, then said.

"You should spend time with your parents, you never know when you'll see them again."

Instantly, Punk realized I'd just won that fight.

I repressed laughter.

Because of his face, not because of the thought of him not seeing his parents again.

"Come on." I prompted him down the ladder to the main house.

I followed, and accepted Punk's gracious help along the way.