Disclaimer: Nothing that is copyrighted belongs to me. Only myself & my fan character(s). This goes for the whole fic. And if by some weird twist of fate, this fic breaks any of this site's childish and unfair rules, please do the courteous thing and tell me in a review what I did wrong! If it doesn't ruin the artistic quality of the fic, I'll fix it ASAP! I'm usually on all day. At least give me a chance to fix the problem before reporting me!
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Pre-story Conversation
The scene opened in the studio. Izzy, Iggy, and I were standing behind a table that had a huge birthday cake on it. Stuck on the cake were seventeen candles, all of which were lit. Behind us was a huge stack of presents. We were all wearing birthday hats. Izzy had his arms crossed and his usual irritated look while Iggy, smiling all the while, blew on his noisemaker. I had my host's face on, which wasn't really saying much. It was a mixture of excitement and slight insanity. Or maybe it's just one of them. Take your pick.
"Welcome to the show, folks!" I said, waving at the camera.
"Hmph! Hi." Izzy grunted.
"Hi everybody!" Iggy shouted, waving wildly before going back to blowing the noisemaker.
"Today, we're celebrating a good friend (or former; I'm not quite sure yet) of mine's seventeenth birthday!" I started. "Silent Whisper asked me to write this fic as a present for her."
"Hmmmmm…" Izzy held his chin. "Considering that she's a Twister/Reggie writer, I guess that means this won't be a lousy slash fic for once." He smiled.
"Actually…"
Izzy grabbed me by the shirt collar. "WHAT!.?.! Another one!.?.!"
"Don't look at me!" I defended, getting out of his grip. "She's the one who asked!"
"Ugh…" The boy slapped his head. "So what's the stinkin' pairing?"
I grinned. "Sam/Lars."
"Eeeeeeee!.!.!" Iggy cheered. "You're gonna pair those two up!.? Kawaii!.!.!"
"You're working on a pairing involving him!.?.!" The older brother demanded.
I shrugged. "Again, she asked." I turned to the camera as Izzy stomped around. "Anyway, as well as being my first full fledged Sam/Lars fic, this'll also be my first attempt at angsty stuff."
Izzy stopped and snickered. "Heh, does that mean a certain so-and-so is gonna jump off a bridge or something?"
I glared at him. "No! You know I hate suicide and death!" The one in the blue hat glared right back at me.
Iggy gasped. "Aw man… And here I was hoping to get some great scenes of them kissing…"
"Who said they're not gonna kiss?"
Instantly, the little boy's eyes brightened. "Ya mean it!.?.!"
"Well, I don't wanna give anything away…" I answered, winking. "Ya just gotta see what happens."
"Oh joy…" Izzy said sarcastically as he walked away. "If ya need me, I'll be in my trailer."
"Ok… But you'll miss out on a really great scene…" I tempted.
"What? Blondie and Lars doing the mattress mumbo? No, thanks."
"Well no. This is a T rated fic, after all."
"Aw man!" Iggy pouted.
Izzy blinked as he walked back to me. "Then what?"
I bent over and whispered something to him. When I finished, he glowered at me.
"You're lying." He simply said.
I blinked. "You know I wouldn't lie about something like that."
"You're lying." He repeated.
"But—"
"No, no, no! You're lying! It's as simple as that!"
"Hmph!" I crossed my arms. "And just what makes you so sure I'm lying?"
"Three words: April Fools Day."
"Aw come on!" I groaned. "You still don't trust me after that fic!.?.!"
"Of course not! Ya completely lost my trust after that little fiasco! Not that you had my trust before that one, but still…"
"Come on, big bro! You can trust Daddy!" Iggy said, looking up at me. "Right Dad?"
"Right!" I gave him a thumbs-up before turning to Izzy. "See? At least somebody trusts me."
"That's because he has respect for you." The elder fan character retorted. "I don't!"
"Look," I started, reaching into my pocket as I walked up to him. "If I'm lying, you can use this battlechip on me."
I handed the chip to him. Izzy took it and looked at it curiously.
"'Bamboo Lance?' You'd let me use this on ya?"
"Yep, but only if I'm lying, which I'm not."
"Ha!" He scoffed, putting the chip in his pocket. "Yeah right! I'm gonna make sure I keep this baby close to me."
"Fine whatever." I sighed, turning to the camera. "Anyway, it's time to start! Before I forget, I wanna thank mike2000 for helping out with this idea. So ya better thank him too, Silent Whisper! See ya later and enjoy the fic, birthday girl!"
Iggy and I waved at the camera while Izzy examined his mallet.
(A/N: To find out more about that battlechip stuff, read the pre and post-chapter conversations of chapters 19 and 20 of Rocket Heroes.)
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Feliz Cumpleaños
Chapter One
A Teary Beginning
Sam Dullard was an emotional wreck. His wracked sobs echoed throughout Ocean Shores as he trudged up the hill to his home. His tears cascaded onto the unforgiving concrete. His skateboard, which was cracked in two, was held under each arm. His yellow-orange shirt had a massive hole in the center, showing his broad lightly tanned chest.
Both the shirt and his pair of jean shorts were black in several places. Bruises covered his arms and legs as he stumbled onward. The fins on his shark helmet were bent beyond recognition. The five foot tall fifteen-year-old's sandy hair hung low covering his eyes. It was normally a bright, cheery yellow, but now, his bangs were a dirty, greenish color, having been the first thing his tears touched on their trip from his eyes down to the uncaring ground below. The rest of his hair had muddy brown spots, as did the helmet.
Soon, the ground leveled out, a clear signal that the depressed blond reached the cul-de-sac where he lived. Sniffling and rubbing his nose, he looked up. It was then that his hair moved, showing his black, square-lens glasses. Both lenses were cracked beyond repair. It was next to impossible to see. The fragments of glass only served to duplicate all he saw, which only confused him more.
So taking into account this fact and his current emotional state, would be it be any surprise that he wound up on the doorstep of seventy-nine Ozone Street? If you think about it, it's possible. He was crying so much that his vision was even more blurry and disoriented than it currently was. Many emotions swam through his mind as he walked up those steps (which he thought was odd, but paid no mind). Devastation, loneliness, fear, confusion, and slight rage served to distort his movements and numbed all that he knew. As far as he was concerned, his house was a sanctuary atop a larger than he remembered stoop.
When he reached the door, he turned the knob to find it unlocked and stepped inside. As soon as he closed the door, he dropped to the floor and let it all out in one high pitched wail. The pieces of his skateboard bounced a couple of feet away from him.
"What did I do wrong!.?.!" His voice was muffled as he cried into his arms. "How could everybody forget!.?.! Why did they do this to me!.?.!"
He banged the floor as a puddle slowly formed around him. His body shook as he took in air.
"This can't be happening! What'd I do to them!.?.!"
"Oh I don't know. How about crying like a freakin' baby and going into the wrong house!" A new voice shouted, causing the blond to cut his sobs short.
"Huh?.?.?" He looked up quizzically.
Standing in front of him was a purple blur. He blinked, trying to bring the person into focus, but his cracked glasses prevented the figure from being seen. It didn't matter anyway; he knew who was standing over him. Sixteen-year-old Lars Rodriguez was nearly a whole foot taller than Sam. He had a much darker tan, complimented by his brown hair and gray hat. The purple shirt and green shorts served to add to his status as a bully.
Sam blinked when he noticed two spots of dark brown cross in front of his chest. He sighed and gave up on trying to see him.
"What's the deal with you anyway? What are ya doing coming into my house and crying like a big baby?" The older boy asked.
"Your house…?.?.? Th-this isn't m-m-m-mine…?" Sam asked between choked sobs. Lars merely shook his head, but slapped it when he saw the shorter teen's waiting expression.
"Nope." He answered. "How did ya get our houses mixed up!.? Yours don't have stairs!"
Sam flinched at the shout. Seeing this, the taller boy sighed in exasperation.
"Ok… Never mind. Why are ya crying for?" He asked as calmly as possible. The blond only buried his face again. Lars groaned. "What!.? What'd I do!.?"
"N-n-nothing…" Sam sputtered. "I-it's just…"
Lars rubbed his temple as the blond tried to explain himself.
'Why do I have to be stuck with this geek? Couldn't he do this with Rocket Dork's sister or something?' He blinked when he recalled what Sam said earlier. 'It was their fault he's like this…' He growled inwardly as he shook his fists. 'Wait until I get my hands on them!' He sighed.'I guess I better get him home.'
"Come on kid, I'll take ya home to your mom." He said, helping him up.
"NO!.!.!" Sam yelped, clinging to the other boy. Lars' eyes widened as he blushed at the sudden action. "Don't take me home! Mom would kill me because of my glasses!"
That was when the one in the gray hat noticed the cracked lenses. It looked as if Sam had twelve eyes. The brunet suppressed the urge to laugh at the sight. After all, who knew what the blond would do in his distressed state? He pried himself out of Sam's surprisingly strong grip and cleared his throat in an effort to get rid of the blush.
"Fine, you can stay here, but I want to know everything that happened to ya. Got it?"
"G-g-g-got it…" The young one nodded shakily.
"Good. Now you better sit down."
With that, Lars took Sam's hand and guided him into the living room. Both boys blushed at the contact, Sam more so than Lars. It was no secret, at least to Reggie, that the blond was attracted to the bully. He always liked the evil, mischievous types. The kind of people that don't conform to the rules at all; those that would get detention and come up with dastardly schemes, not to mention lie, cheat, and steal. Despite the teasing Lars has done to him and his friends over the years, the bespectacled one has felt a strong desire within him; the desire to bring light into the older boy's dark heart. If he could accomplish that and be with him, he could do anything.
When they reached the only sofa in the room, Lars sat Sam down on the left side before sitting on the opposite end. The blond, having lost his blush, silently cried to himself. This went on for a few minutes with him mumbling to himself and covering his eyes. Rolling his own eyes, the brunet reached over, grabbed a box of tissues from the table and handed it to Sam.
"Quit your bellyaching and tell me what happened already!" He commanded. Flinching again, the younger boy took out a piece of tissue and blew his nose.
"O-o-ok…" He sniffled, taking another tissue and wiping his eyes. "It all started this morning…"
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°BUUUUUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZ!.!.!.!.!.!.!.!.!°
That was the sound of the alarm clock. That all too annoying sound was heard for close to thirty seconds before a hand reached over and switched it off. The hand then reached farther and grabbed a pair of glasses (which at the time had lenses without a scratch on them). The hand retracted towards the bed, where its owner was lying. It then placed the glasses over the boy's eyes.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh…" The blond yawned, having been tossed out of his dreams of grandeur, wealth, and the love of a certain brunet. He rubbed his eyes before turning to his left, where his calendar was. He looked at the square for today's date.
Saturday, June 18th
The square had a red circle drawn around it. In its center was a drawing of a birthday cake complete with five candles. Realizing what this meant, his eyes widened as a toothy grin overtook his tired expression.
"It's my birthday!.!.!" He whispered joyfully to himself, not wanting to wake up his mother. "It's finally here! I thought it'd never come!"
He tossed his blanket off himself, revealing a slim body dressed in only a pair of boxers, which was dotted with Sonic the Hedgehog's face. Over the years, Sam has developed a nice washboard stomach from all the skating, surfing, snowboarding, etc., etc. that he's done. His activities also allowed him to develop tight muscles. Sandy hair began to grow along his arms and body. He also let his hair grow out to a small bush which went down the sides of his head; a decision that his mother strongly disapproved of.
Sam gasped when a thought came to him.
"Today I turn sixteen…" His grin grew wider, if that was even possible. "That means that for five precious months, I'm the same exact age as Lars!" He sighed lovingly as his face went slightly pink. "How perfect would it be if we got together…?"
He stood there swooning for close to ten minutes when a voice was heard.
"Sam! Come and get breakfast!"
That was his mother, Paula. Getting out of his reverie, Sam shook his head and walked over to his dresser. After grabbing his trademark shirt along with a pair of blue jean shorts and socks, he got dressed, put on his shoes, and rushed out of the room.
He had a good reason to be in a hurry. Every year, his mother serves him a special breakfast in honor of his anniversary of coming into this world. Scrambled eggs, bacon, French toast strips, all kinds of fruit, and as much orange juice as he can drink. He would almost always be stuffed to the breaking point, but he wouldn't gain an ounce. That was the benefit of all that exercise: fast metabolism. Only a mere hour would pass and he'd have a hankering for a hula burger at the Shack. He'd have more than enough energy to attempt new tricks at Mad Town or while surfing. Of course, he'd mess up most of the time, but that never stops him! In fact, all that energy has given him plenty of stamina so that he can keep trying from sunrise to sunset if he wanted to.
He soon arrived at the kitchen, gave Paula a cheerful "Good morning," and sat at the table. He grabbed the nearby napkin and stuffed part of it down his shirt. He then picked up his fork and knife and sat patiently (or as patient as fidgeting in your seat like an eight-year-old hyped up on sugar can be considered). He looked at his mother with that bright-eyed, energetic look he's developed over the years as he watched her cook and move from the stove over to the sink then the fridge and back. He followed her every movement with increasing impatience and jubilation.
Soon, all that patience (or lack thereof) and happiness were for not when Paula placed a huge bowl in front of him. Sam blinked when he looked at the grayish slop occupying the bowl. He blinked again and again and again, but still didn't understand the presence of this foreign substance. He put down the fork and knife and picked up a spoon. He then dipped it into the strange concoction, brought it out and examined it.
Yep. Gray and lumpy.
The teen tilted his spoon, allowing the goop to fall back into the bowl. It made a sickening sploosh sound as the glob returned. He leaned over and sniffed. He immediately drew his head back and held his nose. It smelled disgusting! He looked up at his mother who sat down after placing a pitcher of orange juice between them.
"Uhhhh… Mom? What is this?" He asked, trying to understand what was going on, but failing miserably.
What is this stuff? Is it even edible? What happened to that lovely birthday breakfast he always had? What happened to the scrambled eggs, bacon, French toast strips, all kinds of fruit; and as much orange juice as he can drink? Why was it replaced by this weird and most likely horrible-tasting substitute?
"It's oatmeal, Sammy." Paula replied, digging into her own bowl.
Again, Sam blinked.
"…Oat…meal…?" He said slowly as he looked at the bowl, losing his appetite by the second. Oatmeal came in liquid form? He looked at his mother pleadingly. She wasn't expecting him to eat this, was she? Not on his birthday of all days! "B-b-but what about…?"
"Now Sam, we have to save money." She cut him off. "The bills have been getting higher and higher over the last couple of weeks. We'll have to cut back on our expenses."
Sam blinked. He wasn't aware that money was tight. Why, yesterday, Paula gave him twenty dollars to go to the amusement park with his friends. And the day before that, she allowed him to go to the movies to watch Star Wars: Episode III. He bowed his head in shame. If he knew that Paula was in such bad shape financially, he wouldn't have asked for all of that, as well as other things.
"Well, bottoms up then…" He sighed, dipping his spoon into the gray blob again. "At least I'll have something to look forward to later today, right?"
He inserted the utensil into his mouth and cringed at the awful taste.
"What do you mean?" Paula asked, raising a confused eyebrow.
°Clang!°
The spoon fell out of Sam's hand with a clatter, but he didn't bother to pick it up. He was too busy gaping at his mother with wide, fearful eyes. His face went pale as he tried to understand what she just said. It wasn't possible. It was inconceivable. It was beyond all logic!
'S-s-s-she forgot my birthday!'
"Y-y-y-y-you mean you don't know what today is…?" He asked once he found his voice. Paula waved a dismissive hand.
"Of course I know what today is!" She scoffed.
"Whew…" Sam sighed with relief.
"It's laundry day." Sam paled again. "Now finish your breakfast and go play. I have to clean the house."
"Y-y-yes ma'am…"
Trying to understand how his mother of all people can forget his birthday completely killed his appetite. But he had to do what she said. Slowly and with little emotion, he ate the horrid tasting food. Once he finished, he went to the bathroom where he flossed, brushed his teeth, put on deodorant, and washed his face. Once he was finished, he went into his room, where he put on his skating gear and grabbed his board. Holding back a tear, he left the house and entered the cul-de-sac.
"Hmmmm…" He held his chin as he looked around at the three other houses present. "Maybe Reggie and Otto remembered."
With that, he walked over to the Rocket residence. After crossing the front yard, he rang the doorbell. A minute or two passed before the door opened, revealing Noelani, the Rocket siblings' stepmother.
"Why hello Sammy. What can I do for you?" She greeted.
"Hey, Noelani. Is Reggie and Otto here?"
"No, I'm afraid you just missed them." She answered. "They went into town so you should be able to find them somewhere near the Shack."
"Oh…" Sam lowered his head. "Do you know if Twister was with them?"
"I didn't see him. Sorry." She started to retreat inside. "Now I have a lot of work to do. I need to set up the pu'iwa pa'ina. See you later."
"Ok… See ya…" He trailed off, turning towards the house next to his. "I can't believe she didn't remember either…" He started walking towards Twister's house. "I just hope somebody remembers…"
After ascending the stairs leading up to the front door, he rang the bell. A few moments passed before the door opened and he felt his heart go into his throat. Standing in the open doorway was his secret crush, Lars. The older boy was dressed in only a white tank top and a pair of blue boxers. Of course, he was wearing his trademark gray hat. Sam's eyes went wide as he looked him up and down.
'M-m-m-maybe he j-j-j-j-just g-g-g-got up…' He stuttered inwardly as his face went so red that it looked as if blood would gush out of his nose any second. Thankfully, this was prevented when the brunet cleared his throat with an impatient grunt.
"Whaddya want, dork?"
It took everything Sam had not to sigh longingly at that comment. Instead, he cleared his throat, causing his blush to subside somewhat.
"Umm… Erm…" He tried to find his voice, but only incoherent noises came out. He finally found his voice when he noticed Lars giving him a look of bitter irritation. "I-i-i-is T-T-T-Twister h-h-h-home…?"
"Hmph!" Lars glowered as he crossed his arms. "That little twerp left with Rocket Dork and his sister a little while ago. They're probably at the Shack like always."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "What time did they leave if you know?"
The taller boy's expression became even more irritated. "I heard my dorky brother making all kinds of noise at seven and it went on for close to an hour."
The blond felt tears stinging his eyes again. "B-b-b-but I didn't wake up until n-n-nine… Why didn't they c-c-come to get m-m-me…?"
"Awww what's the matter? Did poor widdle Squiddy get ditched?" Lars laughed teasingly. Sam lowered his head. The older one was about to close the door when the shorter one shot his head up.
"Wait!" Lars stopped and opened the door to look at him. "Do you know what today is?"
Lars raised an eyebrow. "Duh! Why wouldn't I know that!.?" Sam gasped happily. "It's Saturday! I gotta mow the lawn, like mom ever forgets to remind me. Ugh!"
With that, he slammed the door in Sam's face. Crestfallen, the bespectacled one descended the stairs, hopped on his board and rolled down the hill. But not before a couple of tears fell onto the ground.
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Lars paled as he gasped.
"T-t-today's your b-b-b-birthday…?" He asked with a dry throat. Sam choked back a sob as he nodded.
"Y-yeah…" And he glared at Lars. "And everybody forgot!"
For the first time since Sam entered the house, Lars flinched. His face grew worrisome as the blond let out the water works full blast. He tried to talk him out of it, but nothing seemed to work. Sam was crying so loud that the brunet couldn't even get through to him. The boy in the hat held his chin, trying to think of something to stop making it sound like he was killing the other teen. He snapped his fingers as he thought of something. He seemed to remember that when he and Twister were kids, his mother would hold them in her lap whenever they cried. They calmed down almost immediately. Lars gulped as he turned to the bawling blond.
'Well, I gotta do something to shut 'im up, right!.?' He gulped again. 'I swear, nobody better come in on us!'
With that, he reached over, grabbed Sam by the waist, and with one swift motion, placed him on his lap. The younger boy was still crying so, blushing all the while, Lars moved his legs up and down in order to rock and calm him. It seemed to be working as Sam, surprised at what was happening, slowly quieted down. He went from wailing to sniffling to breathing heavily. When he finally caught his breath, he turned to Lars and felt his face flare up.
'H-h-h-he's holding me?.?.?' He thought, feeling himself go numb. 'D-d-does that mean he…?'
"L-L-Lars… Wh-wh-what're you…? A-a-are you…?"
Lars cut him off with a sharp glower. "Shaddap and continue already! What happened next?"
Sam hung his head low and smirked. As he thought about what to say next, he moved around, trying to get comfortable in his crush's lap. He soon stopped when Lars, feeling something go stiff and hard, cleared his throat with a lighter than usual voice. Satisfied, the blond stopped and continued with his story.
"Well, I soon got to the Shack…"
