A/N: Yet another author's note cuz I know you love them. Okay, so as promised, this update is longer, but I have two VERY IMPORTANT things to mention. Numero uno, changing the time frame to fit the story. I know at this point in the show, or where it would be should these events take place, that basketball season is over, but I need the season cuz I need the cheerleaders (not for anything dirty, you pervy pervy people!). So if you notice the change while reading, it's not a mistake, just an adjustment. Second, I'm going to be starting school again in like two weeks and I still haven't done ANY of my summer reading. Wondering why the hell you would care? Well, that means I won't be able to update as often, especially after school starts. But, knowing me I'll blow off my homework, as is my habit, and do the fics instead. So, yeah, pretty much it. Oh! Since you're finally getting some breyton, I hope for more reviews PLEASE.
Disclaimers: I own nothing you recognize. I'm sixteen I have no money, don't sue.
Additional author's note: Brooke and Peyton will be... how do I put this tactfully? They're gonna screw again. So, I'm wondering if you'd want a delicate and subtle allusion to passionate love making, or full-on, no holds barred, hot steamy sex. Let me know or I'l take the easy way out and leave it to your imagination.
Tangled up under the covers is where the next day finds us. Lying on my back, with you half on top of me, my arm has fallen asleep. I try to pry it out from under you, but you bolt awake almost as soon as I move. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you glance back down at me before smiling. Then you just lie down heavily on top of me.
"Ow... You're supposed to warn me before you do that."
"Sucks for you then," you mumble tiredly. "As my girlfriend, you're fully obligated to be my pillow when I sit fit. Those are just the rules."
"Your girlfriend, am I? Well then, as my girlfriend, you are fully obligated to get the hell off me when I have to pee." I swat your butt to get you moving. You just smirk and raise a questioning eyebrow, eyes still closed.
"Aw, come on now, P. Sawyer, you should know that that just turns me on..." I groan and push you off me. Climbing out of your bed, I drag myself to your bathroom, muttering nympho and perv on the way.
"Hey Brooke?" I call from the sink.
"Hay is for horses, Blondie!" Stepping out of my clothes, I ask if you mind my taking a quick shower.
"That depends, can I watch?" you call back from the bedroom. I tell you maybe later, as I step under the spray. I bathe quickly, going over last night in my head again and again, smiling the whole time. You're gone from the room when I'm finished, so I borrow a t-shirt and put my jeans and sneakers back on, and make my way down stairs.
I find you cleaning up the mess in the dining room and remember what else happened last night. From my position in the doorway, I can see your face and the welt under your eye as well as bruises on your neck that weren't there yesterday. God, Brooke, what the hell happened last night? You finally see me standing here, and you see me staring.
"It's not as bad as it looks." I walk over to you and reach a hand out to your face, but you pull away quickly. "Don't, it's still sore."
"Brooke, do you wanna tell me what happenend last night?"
"Not really," you sigh.
"Will you anyway?" You drop the trash bag you were holding on the floor and go to the living room. After a moment I follow, you look at me for a second when I join you on the sofa. You don't say anything for a minute. "Please, Brooke?"
"We were eating dinner, my mom, dad and me." You sigh again and shake your head before continuing. "So Mom decides that's the perfect opportunity to tell my dad about all the other men she'd been seeing the last couple years. They'd managed to go three days without fighting, as soon as we sat down, like a family, for once, she had to open her big mouth and ruin it." You look back up at me.
"I've never seen my dad so angry, Peyton." I know your dad is a man of few words. He'd sooner ignore or throw cash at a problem at home rather than take the time to solve it, so it's hard to get my head around your dad being anything but stoic. Especially when you say what you do next.
"He started yelling at her, like screaming. He was banging the table so hard, I thought he would break it. He called her a tramp and a whore and a slut and said it was no wonder I turned out the way I did." Your eyes start welling again. " He's never said anything like that to me before."
"He just kept getting madder and madder, going on about all he's done for us and how we just screwed him over. Then my mom starts yelling back, and pretty soon they're throwing things at each other, and I'm just trying to stay out of the way. She got in his face, I mean she was yelling right at him, and he just smacked her out of nowhere. Really hard. He just kept hitting her, Peyton. And then the next thing I know, I'm in between them trying to keep them from killing each other."
I take your hands in mine to try and stop them from shaking. Your crying again, and I have half the mind to stop you here so you can calm down. But you're not even talking to me, you're just talking.
"He grabbed my throat and just threw me out of the way. My head hit the corner of the cabinet and then the floor, I think I must have blacked out because I woke up and it was dark and they were both gone. I don't even know what happened after, but I think they just left. Both their cars are gone. Most of their stuff is gone. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know who else to call..."
"Oh my god, Brooke. Come here." I pull you into my lap again and let you cry until there are no more tears left. Stroking your hair, I hush you and tell you it'll all be okay and how sorry I am. I try not to let myself get mad, but I'm fuming, unbelievably angry at your parents for just leaving you like that. You could've had a concussion, you could've died. Maybe.
After you quiteted, you sit up quickly and make a move for the liquor caddy, anouncing that you need a drink.
"Brooke, it's ten o'clock in the morning."
"I don't care..." you say. You uncork the scotch and bring the whole decanter to your lips, swallowing quickly.
"Brooke!" I jump up quickly to grab the bottle, but you turn and finish it all before I can. Sputtering and coughing, you set the empty thing down before reaching for another. I step between you and the trolly and take a hold of both your wrists. "What the hell are you doing!"
You pull your hands from mine and tell me to stop. I tell you to stop, and pull you away from the alcohol. With a firm grasp on your hand, I pull you out of the house. An easy task considering how quickly you're becoming intoxicated. I put you in the passenger's seat of my car and walk around to the driver's side. When I try the door however, it's locked. I look through the window, wondering why and when I had put the top back up, and tell you to unlock the door. You slide over slowly towards me, but then look back to the floor on the passenger's side at something shiny.
My hand goes to my pocket as I watch you pick the car keys up from the floor. I tell you again, to open the door. You just shake your head and laugh. Frustrated and a little pissed off, I walk around the car to the passenger's side. When I get there, your hand is on top off the lock, pushing it a split second before a reach the handle. I bang on the window, tired of this and more than a little pissed off. You find this hilarious and have managed to produce a flask from nowhere, so you're laughing hysterically and trying to drink at the same time.
"Dammit, Brooke, open this door right now, or I'm gonna kisk your ass!" Then I hit the window so hard it cracks. This just spurs you on and you laugh even harder if it's possible. I try to calm down, hoping you respond that way. "Brooke, please, please open the door?"
"Say pretty please!" you demand through the glass.
"Pretty please..."
"Pretty please with whip cream--" you hiccup a couple of times before continuing. "With whip cream and cherries and really hot sex on top?"
I roll my eyes, "Brooke--"
"Say it!"
"Prettypleasewithwhippedcreamandcherriesandreallyhotsexontop," I say as fast as I can. "Okay? Now open the door."
You reach over and pull up the lock. I open the door quickly before you change your mind. I have to reach over you to open the driver's side, but not without you reminding me that you like it better when you're on top. I get in the car and bring you back to my house and you sing all the way there. You're passed out not five seconds in to the living room. You wake up two Law and Order's and four Friends' later.
"Ok, ow..." you say after trying to sit up. You bring a hand to your temple too quickly and hit the bandage on your forehead. "Ow!"
"Careful, now." I hand you the glass of water and aspirin I've had waiting. "Here."
You take them gratefully and mumble that I'm good to you. This is true. I get up and go to the kitchen and start pulling stuff out of the fridge. You drag yourself in after me, slowly. I ask what you want.
"Ew, none of that. No offense, but some of this looks older than me." I look at what I've set out, and you're right. I pick up the waste bucket and sweep it all into the trash. I look back up at you for a suggestion.
"Karen's?"
"Yeah, just lemme change." You hop of the counter where you were sitting and follow me upstairs.
"You got anything remotely hot can borrow, cuz I look gross?" I tell you yes, even though I think you'd look hot in a paper bag.
It's rather warm, so we put the top back down. On our way over, you prop your feet on the dashboard and sing along to the radio. I look over at you, belting The Sundays at the top of your lungs and think that no one has even been more beautiful.
Childhood living is easy to do
The things you wanted I bought them for you
Graceless lady, you know who I am,
You know I can't let you slide through my hands
Wild Horses,
Couldn't drag me away,
Wild, wild horses,
Couldn't drag me away...
I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines,
Can make me feel bitter or treat you unkind
Wild Horses,
Couldn't drag me away,Wild, wild horses,
Couldn't drag me away...
I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie,
I have my freedom but I don't have much time
Faith has been broken tears must be cried,
Let's do some living after we die
Wild Horses,
Couldn't drag me away,
Wild, wild horses,
We'll ride them someday
Wild Horses,
Couldn't drag me away,
Wild, wild horses,
We'll ride them someday
We bring our food back to my house and eat in the kitchen, Karen was asking to many questions about the bandage on your forhead. We're side by side at the table, with you playing footsies with my bare feet. You're laughing about nothing, which is fine by me. Anything to make you happy after last night. I'm rather content with my burger, when something hot and kind of sharp hits me square in the jaw. I look down at the offending object. And then back at you.
"You did not just throw a french fry at me." You laugh and point at my cheek. I wipe away at my cheek. "Ew, Brooke, it had ketchup on it!"
You lean over, close, so you're only centimeters from my face. And it suddenly occurs to me that we haven't kissed yet, without being drunk or spurred on by a dare anyway. You're so close I can feel you breathing. But you don't kiss me. Instead, your tongue slips out for a split second and laps at my jaw. Then you just slide out of your chair, throw out your trash, and make your way to the living room. God, I had no idea ketchup could be so erotic.
You've made yourself at home on the couch, clicking through the TV channels. "Aren't there any good movies on on Sunday afternoon?"
"Nope." I pick up my sketchbook from the coffee table and open it to an empty page and find a pen. I settle against the back of the couch and you immediately spread out and lay your legs across my lap, sighing dramatically. "Comfortable?"
"Very,"you say smiling. I can't help but smile too. After two minutes you sigh again. "Peyton, I'm bored."
"Well, I'm sorry for you," I stay focused on my drawing.
"Come on, Goldielocks, entertain me!"
I roll my eyes and snatch the remote. I open the Pay-Per-View menu. I tell you to pick a movie and go back to my drawing.
"What ever I want?"
"Sure, babe." I miss the devious smirk as I'm engrossed in my sketch. I quickly regret my words when I hear a cocophony of moaning. "No porn!"
"You said whatever I wanted!"
"What am I supposed to tell my dad when he sees I've ordered 'Driving Ms. Daisy Crazy'!"
"Fine, fine, I'll Netflix it later... Oh! 'Cinderella Story' is on Starz!"
"No! I hate Chad Micheal Murray."
"You won't let me watch the other movie--"
"It was a porno, Brooke!"
"And now I can't even watch the chick flick? Please, Peyton, please?" You make the pouty face and I'm powerless to resist. I just make a crack about your crushing on Hilary Duff. "Well, I guess I just have a thing for blondes."
I'm out halfway through, bored to sleep by The Chad. When you wake me, it's almost half past nine. We go to upstairs to sleep. Before cuddling up under the covers, I remind you that we have school tomorrow. And you're hugging me out of nowhere, and I could get used to this. We haven't actually talked about it, but I know without asking. So, of course I ask anyway.
"Brooke?" I say into your hair.
"Huh?"
"I know we haven't talked about it, but I figured you'd wanna stay pretty under wraps about us, and--"
"Peyton, I just can't. I'm not ready for all that."
"No, I know, and I get it, it's fine. I was just...double-checking." I move to wrap my arms tighter around your waist, and you draw yours around my neck, pressing your forehead to mine.
"Are you sure? Cuz I really just can't handle all that lesbian drama right now, or ever..."
"Is that what you want?" You nod, if not solemnly. "Then I'm sure." You meet my eyes with a look I've never seen before. You press your lips to mine and I swear I see fireworks. This kiss is soft and slow and Christmas all rolled into one. You pull me into bed and we're cuddling under the covers, you really like that. Settling into your arms, I'm still amazed at how perfectly your body fits against mine. I'm inches from sleep when I hear my name.
And you whisper the words carefully, quietly, and slowly, like you're scared they'll break. "I love you, too." When I fall asleep, I'm smiling
We're up and ready for school without a moment to spare, considering we're about twenty minutes late. We don't have any classes this quarter, which I'm still getting used to since the term ended only last week. It's no fun sitting through a lecture on the mating cycles of anthropods if I don't have you giggle with. So, doodling. You text me in third period, saying you have a English quiz to make up so you'l have to skip lunch, but you'll see me at practice. And I must be having a bad hair day, because I've been getting weird looks since the day started. I just kick back in the library to finish my strip.
Lucas finds me with a couple minutes left in the period. He sits down across from me.
"Peyton, I've been looking for you."
"What's up, Luke?" He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, like he does when he's confused or skeptical or both.
"Uh, I figured you might wanna talk, since I haven't seen you around after..."
"After? After what?"
"You really don't know?"
"Know what, Lucas?" I'm getting impatient.
"You and Brooke. Kissing?" Oh, my god. "It was on your web cam. People are talking..."
"I'm sorry, I have to go." But the bell rings before I'm out of the library, and your next class is on the other side of the school. I go to math as quickly as possible. Was Mr. Lombardo staring at me? Those freshmen were totally just pointing at me. Tim just winked at me! Did everyone know! Oh, god, do you know? You're not answering your phone. The one time you turn it off...
It's two and a half hours before the day ends and I can go to the gym to find you. I can't imagine what you must be thinking. You're probably mad and hurt and embarassed and mad again. You wouldn't skip school without telling me, right? The locker room is empty when I get there, and I really don't feel like going to practice. I wait by your locker until you get there.
"Okay, so how useless is English class? I mean, I already speak English, I don't need to learn the finer points and details, cuz hello? So, do not care that much."
"Brooke?"
"And Mrs. Alexander totally has it in for me--"
"Brooke."
"I mean, she made up a separate quiz and everything so I couldn't even use the stuff I knew before."
"Brooke!" But you're changed and off towards the door in less than sixty seconds, still talking a mile a minute.
We get to the gym and you're still talking. The rest of the squad is standing in a circle looking a little too conspiring for my taste. They all turn to face us as we enter, as well as the basketball team, and even Whitey.
"This doesn't look like stretching, ladies." You really have no idea.
Theresa and Bevin share a look before detaching from the rest and approaching us, pom-poms in hand. You raise an eyebrow, because you're thinking the same thing I am. This is not good.
Theresa does the talking and Bevin smirks accordingly.
"We've been talking, Brooke, and we feel that it'd be best if you just stepped down."
"And who's we? You and Bevin here, or you and that pimple the size of Jupiter?" I see Theresa make a visible effort not to cover the zit on her chin, but she retorts anyway.
"Me and the whole squad. We've reached a consensus and you need to resign."
"Watch the big words, Theresa, wouldn't want to choke on one," I say, shooting her a glare to rival her own.
"The only one who can resign my post is me, and since I'm not going anywhere--"
"We're fully prepared to impeach you, and as reigning co-captain I would of course take over in your absence."
"Funny how that works, huh?" I mutter. Theresa ignores me.
"Consider yourself fired, Brooke." And she crosses her arms because she knows she's won.
"What the hell for!" Theresa smiles, all too happy.
"Didn't Peyton tell you?"
"Tell me what?" And now you're nervous because you know where this is going.
"Caught your little show last night. That's, what, twice now Peyton's webcam has screwed you over?" You look at me and you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, so to speak.
"I didnt know." Too little too late. "I was trying to tell you..." I can hear Theresa, and she's shaking pom-poms, too close to your face.
"D-Y-K-E, what's that spell?" But all I see are the tears in your eyes when you run out of the gym. Theresa is actually laughing and I don't remember even thinking it, but my fist is arcing through the air, and connecting with her jaw. It hurts, pretty bad, but it's worth it when she actually falls to the floor.
"You unimaginable bitch." I glance at Bevin, who quickly throws her hands up in surrender, and at the rest of the squad. At least they have the decency to be ashamed of themselves and look away. I get to the parking lot and you're nowhere to be found. I don't need to call your cell phone to know you won't answer it. But I do anyway.
Ok...cliffhanger, I know, but I keeps you guessing. Remember, let me know about the sex thing. Major drama ahead, and I'm going to be wrapping it up pretty soon to get going on other fics, so yeah, REVIEW!