Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Breakfast club, including but not limited to, it's characters and locations... and little else besides that, so please don't sue.
Thanks to Philipa Alshre, Lumos2000, Thwarted Moony and TWbasketcase, who were all kind enough to review and give me the encouragement needed to contine.
Walking through the front door quietly John sighed 'Another good ol' day at the Bender household'.
He'd chilled with Mino until 9:00 when he knew it'd be safe to go into the house.
Popping the door closed behind him he turned around slowly.
Mom and Pops passed out on the sofa. Check.
Two bottles of now empty scotch on the coffee table in front of their respective drinkers. Check.
TV turned up to Max Volume with latest rerun of 'MASH' on the screen. Check.
Ahh, something's never change. He gave it to his parents, at least they were consistent.
He had mastered the art of not being around once they reached that pivotal point of fucked-up. By 7:00 they were a quarter of a ways through their bottles, and arguing over Jeopardy. By the time 8:00 rolled around three quarters of their bottles were gone and they were singing along to a sluggish version of Lynard Skynard's 'Freebird' that could only be heard by them. Then there was 9:30, when they would finally gulp down the last of the liquor, turn to look at each other, jump at each other kissing and throttling, and then proceed to pass out in a tangled mass of limbs.
Switching off the TV he grabbed the empty bottles and proceeded into the kitchen. Dropping the bottles into the recycling bin, glass clinking loudly, he whipped around to make sure neither of them had been woken up. Seeing no movement he sighed and sat down at the counter.
He wasn't usually home for dinner, so his Mother always made him a sandwich and put a bowl of soup on the stove for him. Turning the burner on he took a bite of his sandwich.
The rentals would be out for the rest of the night and he could do his usual Saturday night routine. Shit, not tonight.. Rick was up in Chicago trying to land a gig at a club playing the drums for a house band, taking Freddy and Pole with him. That left him sitting here trying not to make a sound with the only T.V. in the house was being guarded by the alchi's.
Finishing off the last of his soup he put the bowl in the sink to wash later on. His Father wasn't that bad, and only got really pissed off if John did something while he was drinking, such as slam the front door accidentally waking him up. Ahh.. the one and only time John landed in the emergency room. His Father may have been drunk, but he wasn't stupid, and they didn't need Social Services coming around.
Grabbing his trench coat off the stool beside him he went out the back sliding door onto the deck. Hopping over he made his way towards the bleachers where he could smoke a joint and no one would bother him. He knew Chris Bowes was throwing a party tonight, so none of the Stoners would be there to beg for his weed.
It was cold out tonight and he pulled his gloves out of his coat pockets to slip them on. He lit a cigarette and cut through the woods towards the fields. Climbing up the stairs he went to the middle of the seats and reclined back across two of them, staring up at the stars letting his mind wonder.
Not even ten minutes later he heard foot steps up the stairs. Sitting upright he noticed it was a chic in an overly sized coat. Couldn't make out her face though. He watched her until she slid down behind the announcers box. He shrugged leaning back.
Then the sobbing caught his attention. Reluctantly getting up and walking towards the annoying ass sound he lit another cigarette. This is not what he wanted to be doing with his Saturday night. Rounding the box he stood in front of the girl. He could see the rea hair sticking out from his cap and mentally slapped himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
It was then that she noticed him, jumping back. Yep, definitely Claire Standish.
"Calm down, I ain't gonna hurt you Princess.." He sat down to be eye level with her, taking one last drag of smoke and tossing it away from him. Well this is amusing.
Irony. She was looking at him questioningly and he stuttered "I. I just.." and struggled to remember why he came up here. The crying, dumbass, oh right.. "I just heard you cryin' and wanted to see what was going on."
He expected her to get mad and tell him to get his sorry ass away, but she jumped into his arms and buried her head into his neck, tears making their way through his shirt onto his skin and he was so surprised that he fell backwards her still securely in his arms.
"Whoa there sweet cheeks, lets save the naughty stuff for when we're some place warm enough to lose the clothes." She laughed like he hoped she would and he began to pat her back. He'd been with lots of girls, but this was the first he'd taken the time to comfort. After all, he was usually the reason they were upset. Hurt them before they hurt you, was his motto.
As Claire snorted back tears he hoped to God that she wouldn't have done the same to anyone who would have walked up to her, that he being the source was the only reason she was clinging for dear life onto his neck for comfort. He'd admit he thought she was a bitch on Saturday, but he saw underneath that as well, someone deeper he could relate to as a pebble in the shoe that was their parents' lives. He just hoped she was willing to let the deeper side show, and he hated to admit he'd be willing to do the same.
Hmm. Where should I take this next? I'm open for suggestions, so don't be afraid to give them. :-)