Blaze pushed her blonde hair away from her neck, and pulled herself out of bed. There was screaming again. It was too damn early in the morning. How dare they wake her up! She got no respect around this house. All were thoughts she mutinously tossed around her head, as she stumbled into the shower.
Ten minutes later, after she washed, lathered and repeated, she headed down the stairs, her mind now appalled that Bumlets had slept through the screaming and she hadn't managed to. What the hell did they have to scream about at, Blaze blinked at her watch, 11:43 in the morning?
Stopping at the door of the kitchen, Blaze took in Filly eating toast, listening to KISS, her head buried in an old guitar magazine, with a great Bon Jovi interview with Richie Sambora. Across the table, staring blankly into a bowl of Fruit Loops, was Skittery's new groupie, watching the cereal as if she expected it to ravage her.
"Morning..?" Blaze called, her voice thick with early morning croak. "So... screaming... good job..." Blaze said sarcastically, stumbling over to the fridge to pull out the orange juice.
Whiskey and Filly both looked up blankly at Blaze and said together, "Huh?"
Blaze looked between the two girls. Originally she had thought it had been them going at it - would go some way to explaining why Filly had acted like she had last night. Obviously it wasn't them... well, not both of them. Blaze was kinda thankful - it made the 'Mr. Happy' remark less worrying.
Blaze lent against the sink drinking her glass - she wasn't as cave-like as the guys, she knew the meaning of glasses of orange juice. Filly ducked her head back behind her magazine, nibbling on her toast, with a disgusting black substance on it. Vegemite, Filly called it, she loved it. But the smell was enough to send even Spot scuttling, while Whiskey went back to her cereal.
Thumping down the stairs Skittery too stopped a second at the kitchen doorway, scanning, and expertly avoiding Filly's vague direction. Walking slowly towards Whiskey, Mr.-Cool-I-Got-Laid-And-I-Know-You-All-Know, as he wrapped his arms around Whiskey's waist and bent to nibble on her neck. "I finally found you then..." Skittery said pointedly.
Filly slammed her magazine on the table, scowled furiously in the vague direction of Skittery, avoiding eye contact, and stormed through the kitchen and straight into Autumn's room, while Blaze watched the entire scene mildly curious.
"Auty... get up... get up, come for a jog with me... move over Jack. Ohh save it, I've seen it before... no need to get all macho... in fact I say much the same thing... OMPH..." Filly's loud speech was cut off with what the occupants of the kitchen could only assume was, Autumn's pillow, or her fist, hitting Filly's face.
A few seconds later, Filly said loudly, in clipped dignity, "All you had to say..." a door was slammed shut, resoundingly, "was... not now!" Filly trailed off. Blaze, Whiskey, and Skittery all watched as Filly walked airily through the kitchen, no visible bruises, leading them to think it was just a pillow, and announced, "I'm going for a jog..." and then she headed out the back door.
"As fun as it has been, I think I'm going to go upstairs, and practise..." Blaze said less than discreetly. Obviously, the lead guitarist, and the bass guitarist had, had the argument.
Blaze headed up the stairs to her room, careless to the fact that Bumlets would probably still be snoring away. As she entered her room Blaze pondered, "I wonder what the 'Mr Happy' remark was about."
Bumlets was lying face down, one arm flung off the bed, and his nose scrunched into the pillow. Blaze always wondered how he could sleep through even an earthquake, while she was up at the first sounds of noise. As it was after twelve, Blaze decided that it was time for Bumlets to get up, plus she could get in some practicing as well.
Whipping the sheet off the bed, Blaze snickered at the sight before her and grabbed her drumsticks. She still wanted to practice, and she still wanted him to get up, so there was only one way to go about that. Straddling his legs, Blaze began to tap out the distinct drum line to Always on his rear. A few bars into the song, Bumlets' head popped up and he belted out "This Romeo is bleedin', but you can't see his blood…"
"Morning," Blaze grinned.
Bumlets flipped around, causing Blaze to flop down beside him. "What… where… why does my ass hurt?"
Throwing the drumsticks off the bed, Blaze shrugged. "You must have a sensitive ass," she reasoned.
"That or someone just decided to use it as a practice pad," he grumbled. "Why are you waking me up so early?" He squinted and looked at the clock. "It's only noon…"
"Because… because…" Blaze stumbled. Because you slept through the racket this morning and that ain't fair! she wanted to scream.
"What? Is it my handsome face that you just could not live without? My voice that drives you insane with lust? What!" he demanded with a smirk.
Blaze rolled her eyes. "If you even hint at an ego like Spot's I'm throwing you out of here faster than you can say 'Bon Jovi is the greatest band ever'."
Grinning devilishly, Bumlets slipped his hands behind his head and stretched out on the bed. "Someone is a little overdressed for the current situation."
Blaze poked his side. "No, someone is a little underdressed for the time of day. Get up and practice with me. Now."
"I don't want to," Bumlets grumbled. "It's Saturday and we just practiced last night. I claim this to be a no practice holiday."
Blaze scoffed, but then turned on the charm. "But Bums, if you practice with me, there are benefits," she whispered in his ear.
"Benefits?"
Blaze nodded. "Yep, you know… bed benefits…" she casually stated.
"Can't the benefits come first?" he whined.
"No."
Rolling out of bed, Bumlets proceeded to get dressed. "Okay, practice now, benefits as soon as we get done," he stated.
That was too easy… Nodding, Blaze grabbed her drumsticks. "Deal."
