A Week in a Madhouse

By: The Author Formerly Known As Ayanagami (But it's still Ayanagami cause that whole name won't fit...)

Warnings: Shounen Ai, my oh-so-famous humor, cussing (EDIT: lots of cussing), and a gender challenged Seifer – except he's not confused about his gender.

Story: Squall grew up with Seifer. He hates him. Now he has to spend a week in the same house, with no one around, and a lifetime of bad memories. What kicks it? Seifer is convinced that Squall is a girl.

"I killed my goldfish, I can't handle a country." - Squall, The Seventh Month by faerie-of-fiction.

Day Three: Bucket head dog!

I woke up and the birds were chirping their fucking heads into oblivion. The pleasure of stabbing Seifer in the leg and tossing him down the stairs had worn off, like always, and I groaned as I rolled over to slap my hand down on the top of my alarm clock in an effort to shut it off. I winced as I heard it crash to the floor – I probably hit it too hard... oh well, that meant I needed to get a new clock.

I glared at the wall. Then, sighing, I sat up, turned on the CD player (my CD player, actually, I brought it with me for the week) and went to the dresser that temporarily held my clothes, fishing out something decent. I snatched up my towel and headed for the bathroom. I had learned the hard way that I needed to get dressed as fast as fucking possible after a shower around Seifer. He's a fucking nut ball pervert.

I knew for a fact that Seifer was still asleep – his alarm didn't go off for another five minutes. Yesterday I had checked the time and set my clock ten minutes before his. Heh heh heh.

I took my sweet time in the shower, with the door locked, of course, and got out, nice and clean, to get dressed.

I didn't know what was going on downstairs during my shower. All I knew was....

-/Seifer's POV/-

Holy shit. I'm fucked. Fucked over, fucked up, fucked with, fucked around, fucked three ways till noon. I. Am. Fucked. Squall's not the most forgiving person. Especially not with me. I mean that in the most emphasized way.

Swallowing, I thought myself out of this mess. I quickly realized there was no way out except suicide before she killed me, or lying my ass off and pretending nothing was wrong.

I decided that lying my ass off was the best bet. Let's just hope she gets so angry she has a seizure or something. Not that it was my fault...

-/Squall's POV/-

... that someone had FUCKED with my room. Now, I could think 'Oh my god! Burglar!' And get freaked out (or not so freaked out) or I could zero in on the culprit. Barefoot, I raced down the stairs, already screaming as water dripped off my hair like crazy.

"SEIFER!"

-/Seifer's POV/-

I heard the footsteps as she rushed down the stairs, and her dark voice as it growled out my name in a scream. Get your lying engines started...

And act innocent for God's sake!

-/Squall's POV/-

I found him in the kitchen, rinsing out a bowl. He twisted around to look at me, a 'what the hell are you screaming about now?' expression. I sneered, stalking right up to him to shout into his face.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM?!!!!"

He blinked. "Your room?"

"YES! My FUCKING ROOM!"

"I didn't do a thing."

"DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME!"

"I'm not! I didn't touch your room!"

"THEN I SUPPOSE THAT-"

"Stop yelling, damnit!"

I dropped my voice to a tolerable level, laced with barely contained hostility. I was too angry to even think straight on a course of violence.

"I suppose that your imaginary friend came in and knocked over the nightstand, somehow got water everywhere, threw my clothes around the room like some neurotic freak show on crack, and left pieces of food all over!!?" I forgot to keep my voice down, finally, screaming out, "Or perhaps that happened all by itself!!!????"

-/Seifer's POV/-

She's really scary when she's angry. Really hot, but very, very scary.

Fuck it! I can't pretend ignorance anymore!

I'm telling the truth!

-/Squall's POV/-

"Um... no... a dog did it."

I stared at him, aware only in the slightest that my jaw was hanging from my face as I tried processing this. I got pissed.

"YOU COULDN'T EVEN COME UP WITH A BETTER LIE THAN THAT!!!??" The insane urge to throttle him had set upon me.

"I'm not lying! A dog really did that!" This was pathetic.

"WHY THE FUCK WOULD A DOG COME IN MY ROOM AND DO ALL THAT SHIT!?"

He gave me a weird look. "Um... it... had a bucket on its head...."

I had had enough. Cocking my fist back, I landed a punch on his jaw, sending him tumbling back against the counter with the promise of a nice bruise developing where my blow landed. Sated only a bit, I turned on my heel, yelling over my shoulder, "Don't fucking touch my stuff again!"

I raced upstairs and surveyed the room dispassionately. This was going to be a bitch and a half to clean up.

-/Earlier, Seifer's POV/-

Sighing, I woke up, slapped my hand on my alarm to silence it, and fell out of bed with a grunt. I heard Squall in the shower already, and remembered that I had forgotten to take out the garbage last night – I was too busy tending to my wounds, both from English and from the fall down the stairs. Why I thought of it directly after I thought of Squall in the shower, I really can't say. Never try and understand the mind of a genius.

Tugging on a pair of jeans, I plodded down the stairs, entering the kitchen to get my burden, then trudging to the side door to deposit it.

That's when everything went wrong. A shout rose from the street, and I look up just in time to see the large black blur of fur as it barreled into me, causing me to drop the garbage. A brief, confusing moment went by, in which I was knocked over by said black furred thing. I heard a lot of noise, woofing, and was severely bruised a few times by a tail from hell. My mind came to one conclusion; a dog.

I got to my feet just in time to see it disappear into my house, a bucket of leftover Kentucky Fried Chicken over his head and an empty ice cream tub stuck on one of it's enormous paws. It was the biggest fucking dog I had ever seen. And it was in my house, doing God Knows What.

I tore after it, leaving the door open behind me, hoping to chase it back out the way it came in. First I had to find it.

The fucking dog lead me on a merry chase around the living room, somehow managing to avoid breaking and knocking over everything, and barking its head off like no tomorrow. Then it streaked up the stairs with me in hot pursuit – it yelped as it ran headlong into Squall's door, bucket still firmly in place, and flinging the door wide open from the impact. It was then that I knew I was screwed to high heaven.

I could only look on in horror as the brute managed to get into everything that belonged to the temperamental girl. Bits of chicken fell onto the carpet as it tumbled off her bed, bringing most of the covers with it and knocking into the dressers, causing a mirror to topple over and shatter and most of the doors to jerk open little by little, finally spilling the contents. Then I realized the thing was wet as it stood still for a moment, heaving and panting, then twisting this way and that to shake off the water droplets. I moaned in dismay, covering my face with my hands, unwilling to watch any more of this. It was terrible. It was horrible. I was slightly amused by the entire thing, but I beat that part down into submission so I could look properly afraid for my life.

Finally the monster of a dog decided it had done enough damage and came barreling at me at what seemed like light speed. I yelled and rushed down the stairs, the dog bounding happily behind me. Okay, what was up? I chased the dog up the stairs, then get chased back down? Not to mention the thing was wearing a KFC tub on its head like some kind of helmet and was barking like a broken record. I was being chased by a freak!

I almost fell the rest of the way down the steps in my haste, but I latched onto the railing for dear life – that would have been the third time I had learned to fly that week. I cheated fate! The dog, however, was not so lucky and scampered down the stairs, across the floor, and smacked right into the wall with a sickening high pitched bark and thud. I hopped down the rest of the steps and approached it nervously. I was suddenly reminded of that really dumb crocodile hunter with the accent on TV.

Carefully, I arched my neck to check and see if it was alive, still. With a heave, the thing got to its feet, started up its barking once more, and, as I reacted on instinct to chase it out the side door, ran into the unknown of the morning light.

KFC bucket firmly in place.

I think it was officially the happiest animal in the world at that moment.

And I was officially the most screwed.

I was tempted to run after it and never come back.

-/Present/-

I grimaced and touched my jaw tenderly. I think she was too angry to do anything worse... like trying that thing with the food disposal. Shuddering, I counted my blessings.

Glancing at the clock on the Kitchen wall, I sighed. There was no way she was going to clean up that mess by herself before school started. Wincing at the thought of facing her wrath willingly, I ascended the stairs.

-/Squall's POV/-

What. The hell. Was he doing. IN... MY... ROOM!?

"I'm here to help."

Oh.

Hell fucking no.

I told him this. Then he gave me a 'geez, isn't it obvious' look and explained.

"You'll never get this cleaned up in time for school."

"Oh yeah? Guess what? I'd rather be late. Out!"

He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't do this, I already told you. Some dog got into the house with a bucket of fried chicken on its head and tore up your room."

I sneered at him. "And why, pray tell, didn't you try and stop him? Hmmm...?" I stopped him from answering but cutting in with, "Even if I believed you, which I don't, the fact that only my room was wrecked is good enough."

"I tried getting it out! But you hate it when I'm in-"

"Get... out." I hardened my eyes at him. "I don't need, or want, your help. You've done enough damage as it is."

I turned back to my task at hand and heard him huff and leave the room.

Glaring at the mess, I started in. It took a few minutes, but I froze when I noticed the smell. Wet dog. Looking carefully around, I noticed the large amount of fur that stuck to almost every surface in the room. So Seifer hadn't been lying...

Scowling, I go to find him.

-/Seifer's POV/-

I looked up as she entered the room, a dark expression on her face.

She looked at me expectantly. I blinked.

"Well?" She put her hand on her hip. "I thought you said you were going to help me."

I opened my mouth to remind her that she had told me to basically fuck off, but ended up replying with, "Yeah."

Geez. She must be schizophrenic or something.

-/Later, Squall's POV/-

Rinoa stared at me in chem class. We ignored the looks of death our lab partner was giving us as easily as we ignored the strange fizzing our lab was doing.

"What?"

I sighed and began to repeat myself, but she shook her head and held up her hand.

"No, no, no, I heard what you said, I just... er... you can't be serious." I gave her a deadpanned expression. She held her hands over her mouth but I could tell she was giggling. "Oh, wow, you are serious. So some dog with a bucket on its head-"

"Supposedly with a bucket on its head," I reminded her. She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, supposedly with a bucket on its head, got into the house and decimated your room? So now you either sleep in the same room as Seifer or on the couch? I think this could only – hey, is our lab supposed to be doing that?"

I followed her gaze for a moment as it rested on what the liquid was doing at that point in time – which was eating through the table at an alarming rate. I shrugged and said no, but we could blame it on our lab partner.

"So, where are you going to sleep?" She asked. It was my turn to stare at her as if she had grown another head. Wasn't the choice obvious?

"The couch, of course!" Was it my imagination, or did she look slightly disappointed? "The good thing was that my shoes managed to survive the entire thing intact... so I just have to wash all my clothes." The thought irritated me.

"So, did you apologize for punching him?" Okay, who was this and where was Rinoa? Hey, our lab test had just plopped onto the floor through the hole it had made in the table, and was busying itself with running away.

"Of course not!"

By this time, we had our eyes trained on the pile of goop as it trembled and quivered, sliding around chair legs towards the vent on the floor near the wall.

"Oh, I see, can't even be nice to the poor guy. Did it ever occur to you that maybe he's trying to be friends with you?"

I scowled at the little creature as it began eating a lab paper someone had dropped on the floor. "No. And if he is, he's got a strange way of 'trying to make friends'."

Rinoa sighed and the creature ate through the vents, now loose in the heating system.

"Everyone's different."

"Squall, Rinoa, what happened to your lab table – and your lab partner?" We looked up at the teacher, looked down at the table, then looked for our lab partner. Hm.

I shrugged. "I don't know what happened to the lab table, but our partner was acting weird."

With a straight face, Rinoa added, "He was saying something about escaping."

The teacher gave us a weird look.

-

I dumped another load into the dryer, growling as I slammed the lid down and began folding up the load I had taken out. I stuffed the clothes neatly into my duffel bag and thought a moment about getting a metal lock box to keep my stuff in for the rest of the week.

I sighed and shook my head.

I was still irritated with Rinoa's comment about Seifer's way of 'making friends'.

In two words, it sucked.

-

Well… Editing this was a very cheap, half assed event. O-o But I'm kinda rushed. Anyway. Iskander: Thanks for your care and perception. It's nice.

Oooh... Here's something neat: I'm on the Author Alert list of 100 people. That's insane... Oh, and I won't be updating tomorrow. Check in on Monday, though.