In The Ditch of Affection

By Fantasy-Flyer

Disclaimer: Again, like I said, NOT MINE! Oh, and the plot is Fantasy-Flyer's.

A/N: Hi people. Just so you know, this isn't Flyer. It's Haloless here. Yeah, you want Batman but all you can get is Robin. Whatever. Well, you see, Flyer's out of ideas for this, so I'm finishing this story for her. So this would be a good time to stop reading because I'm not funny (or at least I don't think I'm funny). So sorry about that. Well, if you wish to continue- chapter five of In the Ditch of Affection!

Chapter 5: Sibling Rivalry, Siblingly Love

You want to know something funny? I'm a full five minutes younger, but it seems like I'm Mac's babysitter. I'm more responsible, I'm more mature, etc. Just take for example what happened when we got back to our room.

I got to the TV first, thank God. I always get to the TV first, because unlike my twin, I do not have to take a fifteen minute shower every time I walk into my room. The guy's obsessed, I tell you; he probably spends more time in the shower than he does sleeping.

So I was watching the discovery channel, and it was in the middle of a very interesting three hour special on sea urchins, when Mac finally came out of the bathroom and sat down beside me.

"Sea urchins?" he asked disbelievingly. He thinks I have bad taste.

I stuck out my tongue at him. "Maybe if you weren't so paranoid about getting dirty, you'd actually get to choose what we watch on TV once in a while!"

"Whatever," he muttered, slouching, "Just be a good little brother and get me a beer, okay?"

"No!" I exclaimed. I, of course, am against alcohol consumption.

But Mac does this thing where he raises an eyebrow and then squints with the other eye… and, well, it kind of creeps me out, so I know he means business and can and will kill me. You can understand that it was necessary at this point to go against my own principals and hurry to the kitchen to get my brother a bottle of Kokanee or whatever brand he'd bought this time.

And then when I got back, the opening credits of Amityville Horror are on the TV screen.

"I was here first!" I exclaimed in outrage, placing his beer down on the table (on a coaster, as my mother always taught me).

"Shut up, Marty, we both know I could beat you to a pulp. If you want to watch your sea urchins so much, why don't you go to Mom's penthouse suite and watch the stupid show there?"

You see, my father's family owned the whole resort, and then Mom got the mountain village and Peak 1 in the divorce. Dad still owns Peaks 2 and 3, and both of them are here, except neither of us visit Dad much because of George. I wish I could say that George was a big pit bull, or a python, or a scary parrot (what, talking birds are CREEPY!), but he's not. You see, my dad's kind of… how to put this… gay. George is his lover. So I live with Mom year round. Mac and Moby have a bachelor pad somewhere, because Mac isn't on great terms with either of our parents. While we were growing up, because I was the diligent, helpful one, Mom sort of favored me a little… alright, a lot. Okay, she accidentally ran Mac over with a snowmobile once (I have to marvel how tough my brother is, despite numerous past medical problems; I would have been dead). Well, Mac was Dad's favorite, because he was talented and "the handsome one" (even though we both look alike), but Mac kind of lost interest in being Dad's favorite after catching him with the chairlift operator. So yeah. That's one story of our lives. Now back to this one.

"Alright, I will," I retorted, heading out the door, "But you're a big meanie!" Mac always gets his way… his way with the TV, his way with the ladies, his way with the circuit… NOT FAIR!

Mac laughed at my pathetic insult (I've always been bad at them). "Well at least I'm not the one still living with my mother!"

"Our mother," I corrected. After eighteen years of having to put up with me, Mac kind of developed a way to trick himself into thinking he's an only child, and sometimes it works pretty well.

"Whatever."

I opened the door, then turned around. "Oh, and Mac, remember, change your nicotine patch, keep your sweater on, and take messages if anyone calls for me."

"Yes Mom," he replied sarcastically, taking a sip of beer.

Shaking my head, I left. I knew I'd probably come back to Mac wearing a t-shirt and smoking a cigarette with the light on the answering machine blinking like heck. But whatever. I had some sea urchins to watch.

But I do have a little problem. Sometimes, when I really want to watch a documentary or something, I kind of tend to not think about anything else. So instead of taking the elevator to Mom's penthouse, I ended up on the roof, and… alright, I admit, I didn't notice. So sue me, sometimes I'm stupid.

So mistaking it for Mom's front door, I ended up going through the door that lead to the roof, and instead of the smell of freshly baked cookies and potpourri, I heard… screaming. My first thought: Oh no, Mom has the same taste in movies as Mac! But the real thing was worse than that, as bad as that is.

So there was Mac's buddy Psymon Stark holding that new kid Griff Simmons under one arm and heading to the edge of the roof, with Zoë Payne and Allegra Sauvegess trying in vain to hold him back.

"Psymon, stop…" Zoë sighed, "You don't know what you're doing…"

Allegra was a bit feistier. "Let go of my brother, you creep!" she yelled, "Let go, let go, LET GO!"

Brother? How did that work? They have different last names.

Now, I'm not tough, but I do know when to take a stand… just not with Mac. But it wasn't Mac, it was Psymon, so… I did the stupid thing.

"DIE!" I called, lunging, then slipping on the ice and hitting Psymon in the knees. Now, anyone who's been around the circuit long enough knows that Psymon had to have knee surgery during his rookie year, and since then, that's always been his weak spot. Of course, I really was aiming for his head, but don't tell Zoë that.

"FRASER!" hollered Psymon, slipping on the ice, causing Griff to fall out of his arms and Psymon himself to topple off the roof.

"MMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

The hideous sound of a grown man screaming for his mother was stopped when his jacket got caught on the fire escape, and there he was, dangling like a worm on a fish hook. My dad used to take me fishing (Mac doesn't like fishing), but I stopped when he started bringing George along.

Anyway…

Griff stood there, shaking. "S-Sis?" he asked, his voice wavering.

Allegra smiled. "Come here, you."

It was a beautiful sight, seeing Griff all happy and running into Allegra's open arms. She then tried to swing him around, like they do in movies, but she sort of slipped on the ice and they both fell. Don't tell Allegra I told you and don't let Mac find out about that, okay?

Zoë then turned to me. "Wow, Marty… you're a hero."

"Thank you so much, Marty," Allegra mumbled, still hugging Griff and still on the ground… er, roof… roof floor? Oh well.

It was weird how they both knew I was me and not Mac. Most people only know Mac, because he's the big famous snowboard hero and I suck. So it was a surprise to not have to correct them for once. But then again, Zoë had always been able to tell us apart. She must have told Allegra how to too. To too… hahaha, tutu… BALLET! …Get it? You don't, do you?…Yeah, I'm not funny. But that's not the point.

The next thing I knew, Zoë's lips were on my cheek and I was on the ground, or roof, or roof floor, probably with some dumb expression on my face. Then, I remembered what I had been wondering…

"How are you two siblings?"

Allegra got up, brushing off her clothes. "Oh… well, my parents got divorced, like, nine years ago."

"Really?" I exclaimed, perking up, "Mine got divorced nine years ago too! My dad was cheating."

"Yeah, my mom was cheating… so Dad took me and Mom took Griff, and then she changed his last name to her maiden name since he was only a little kid at the time."

Me and Zoë… oops, Zoë and I nodded simultaneously.

"Hey, someone, GET ME DOWN!" yelled Psymon from the fire escape.

This was followed by the sound of ripping fabric, a freakishly high-pitched scream, the sound of something heavy hitting metal, and then a low grumble of, "Ow…"

"Well, I'd better get going," I muttered glancing at my watch, "I'll see you three tomorrow."

So I headed back to my room. Just as I had suspected, Mac was lying on the couch, asleep, sweaterless and shivering, five or six empty beer bottles littering the floor and cigarette smoke all over. The TV was still on, showing some guy walking through a dark hallway with creepy score music playing in the background… or was it silent? I can't remember, I turned off the TV just in case a ghost was about to appear.

I tried cleaning up the area as best I could, then threw a few quilts over Mac and headed to my bedroom to get some shut-eye myself. Being a hero can be very tiring.

Next chapter: Marty finds out something HUGE about Mac's high school fling with Marisol.

A/N: Well, you know what they say… REVIEW!