Chapter 2 – Finding a Pencil

Second installation of party-misdirection for dummies.

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"Do you think we overdid it with the streamers?"

Justin didn't reach up to rub away the headache that was steadily growing between his eyes. Any sign of weakness would be attacked with too much vigor on the trail of good intentions, and he honestly didn't have the patience, or energy, to deal with it.

He did sigh though, because he was human, and there was only so much he could do. "The answer to that question ten minutes ago was 'Yes', so I'm gonna go ahead and say that now, ten minutes later, the answer is still yes."

"Are you sure?" Posed by the stepladder they had procured from Eric's garage, Trip was the model picture of 'party decorator'. Equipped with a tool belt solely dedicated to paper streamers, balloons, and various ribbons, Trip looked like a goth had thrown up on him, if only because of Wes' stringent black-white-and-red only rules. Smart move on the blond's part, as Trip had been vying for a rainbow motif in the weeks of preparation up to this momentous occasion. There had been disappointment, sure, but Trip seemed to be making up the lack of color variation via immense quantities, hence Eric's ceilings and walls being decked in far more paper arcs, twists, and braids than could ever be considered necessary.

Mike had relieved Trip's balloon authority about two hours ago (a blessing for all their sakes – the former Magna Defender deserved a trophy at the very least), but with a stubbornness Trip refused to acknowledge but irrefutably possessed, the green ranger had kept a few bags in his tool belt. For no other reason than spite, Justin was sure.

Sarcasm was a tempting response. Some might consider it tragic that it felt like the most natural reply to the earnest stream of sunshine that was Trip Regis. Maybe a dramatic roll of the eyes delivered alongside a 'Why, sure I'm sure' and then an immediate retreat back to what he had been doing before, clearing away furniture to the outskirts of the room to allow for proper 'mingle-ability'. Justin had stopped questioning the term an hour ago. The joint forces of Kelsey-and-Katie (hyphen necessary, they were an unstoppable union) were too mighty to deny on even the most tenuous subjects. Perhaps especially those subjects.

Getting bossed around by yellow rangers, since when did this become his life?

Trip was still looking at Justin with those painfully earnest baby browns that had Wes wrapped around the green ranger's finger, but Justin wasn't buying it, no sir. He was not at all invested in this needlessly exasperating, unreasonable, incomprehensible-

"Yeah," the word gushed out of him, not as a surrender, but not totally the reassurance for the party activities Justin had sworn would never exist because they were for party-preparing activities. "I'm sure. You're good Trip. Consider your duty done."

Trip contemplated him for a second, then looked to the ceiling to admire his handiwork, nodding slowly. Justin would not make the mistake of assuming this meant the Xybrian agreed with him in any way. He knew better by this point.

This was why he was not disappointed a few seconds later when the green ranger declared. "At least, for the living room. Now, onto the kitchen."

"Or we could-"

"The kitchen!"

Justin surrendered with grace. Scowling, but with grace.

-:-:-:-:-

"You're overcomplicating this."

Commander Collins glared at the eggs resting in the cardboard carton on the counter, eyes cataloging each shells' potential threat against his person.

Kai would never be one to condemn exercising caution when approaching any kind of situation, combative and non-combative alike, but he could admit, in time, that there were certain instances where excessive trepidation negated the benefit such caution generally provided. It was an exercise in balance, and one Kai felt could only be mastered in time. This was why he had chosen to speak to the commander as opposed to allow him to continue his fruitless build up of paranoia. It was inefficient.

It was probably not conveyed as kindly as it could have been, but Kai was all too familiar with the potential miscommunications that rested in flowery suggestion and innuendo. English was an arduously grating language, born with the same phrases and colloquialisms of any culture, and Kai found it much more effective to simply say what he meant. He had not been built for subterfuge, or even basic commiseration. Getting this far should be commended. Were Kai comfortable with self-praise, this would probably be an appropriate situation.

The commander seemed to take Kai's admonishment in stride. Showing no negative effects save for what was reserved for the eggs. "But they're so…"

"Delicate, yes." Kai nodded, projecting an aura of confidence as a means to provide comfort. "Especially with our enhanced strength. That does not make them an insurmountable trial, but more of a…"

"Bump in the road?" The commander pulled his eyes away from the carton for the first time since Kai had opened them on the counter. Whatever fears he possessed seemed to be temporarily abated in favor of a smile. The expression caused the lines by his eyes to crinkle, forming a not altogether unpleasant expression. It wasn't one Kai was entirely familiar with, or comfortable with having aimed at himself alone, though he had gradually grown more accustomed to such looks via Leo. It was…nice.

"Indeed." Kai shook off the distraction – an unnecessary observation – and held onto the facts. They were the one thing that could not be refuted and as such, they provided the ultimate comfort. "Handle them with care, and instead of cracking them against the edge of the counter, use the flat surface to provide an even break. This way, there is less risk of egg yolk running down the side of your counter."

The commander laughed, a small, derisive sound. "Could have used that advice a couple of hours ago."

"I would have been happy to supply it, had you asked." That reply was easy, for it was true. Kai was always willing to help out his allies in any capacity that he was able. "However, to mourn what could have been is a useless exercise. Let us work on what we can control."

The commander's grin widened, his blue eyes bright in what Leo would probably consider trepidation. "Sounds like a proper plan, captain."

"Technically, I'm an ensign," Kai replied with a smile of his own. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

It was not how he had intended to spend his afternoon in preparation for Eric's party, here, in Commander Collin's spacious kitchen, but he did not find it a distasteful alternative. Perhaps, in a way, it was even better.

It was a tantalizing thought.

-:-:-:-:-

"Swing, battah-battah-battah, swing-"

"The batting cages were nixed Taylor, get over it," Hunter snapped, waving a lazy hand in the yellow ranger's direction while he kept his eye on the tiny plastic ball resting at his feet. In Rocky's opinion, the amount of concentration the thunder ranger exerted on lining up each putt on the mini-golf course was inversely related to his performance, and as such, watching his dwindling path into absolute failure was probably going to be as much as golfing itself.

It probably didn't help that a majority of their 'party goers' happened to possess some die-hard competitive streaks (looking at you, Hunter-Taylor-Lucas-Eric (no matter how much the latter denied it)). Ultimate defensive skills for saving the world all of them had, but it seemed for some that combat training did not translate to putt-putt skills.

Carter had intervened when Taylor had started questioning Hunter's 'super ninja abilities' at hole 2, but the blond's critiques were probably only second in harshness in comparison to Lucas, so the steaming pile of frustration building up over there wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world.

Rocky ultimately decided he was grateful for Alex's presence (as confused by that as he had been for like, five seconds, until he saw how Lucas looked at him). The brunette seemed to be a solid presence for countering Lucas' sour mood, obliviously relieving the blue ranger's tension with an endless stream of questions about the game, its purpose, the strategy, and other things that were incredibly adorable to watch.

Adam had already elbowed Rocky about three times for lack-of-stealth when watching their interactions, but the only person noticing him (aside from his super-studly boyfriend) was Eric, and if he weren't so busy being all cool-guy stoic, he would have totally backed Rocky on his teammates' complete charm.

"For the love of god Bradley," Eric drawled, metal club propped against his hip so he could fold his arms across his chest in a relaxed picture of boredom. "Take the swing."

"Strategy requires time jerkass," Hunter replied easily, his eyebrows furrowed in an expression of determination that was doomed to fail.

Taylor snorted, club propped against her shoulder like some kind of resting weapon. "What strategy? Hit the ball. If you don't suck, it goes in the hole."

There was an almost-proud feeling in Rocky's chest when Hunter didn't deign her response with so much as a glare. Baby steps. So proud.

Carter sighed, a put upon thing that bemoaned his position as the mature one in the group (Adam had declined the role through the simple act of not talking, which would probably be something the Lightspeed ranger would be bitter about later). Frankly, it was impressive that it had taken this long to wear at his patience. Props to that guy.

"Not everyone recklessly rushes into things," Lucas (of all freaking people) chided, instigating a scoff-eyeroll-snort combination from the Quantum-Eagle team-up that was practically artful in its synchronization.

Alex angled his head towards his teammate, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took in Hunter's serious posture. "I don't understand," he muttered quietly, aiming, Rocky was sure, to keep his comment out of Eric's hearing. "If this is just a pastime, then what need does it serve to excel when there is no practical purpose?"

Lucas stiffened – in part, Rocky suspected, because he was one of those implied to be uselessly-competitive individuals, and partly because of Alex's close proximity. It was adorable, those two. Rocky was almost sad about the no-camera rule Carter had established at the beginning of their golf-day.

Almost. The rule was there for good reason, if Leo's birthday party was anything to (hazily) remember.

That had not been a great morning-after for hungover-Rocky.

Adam, feeling kind (and sexy, but that went without saying. Guy just oozed it), stepped in to answer for Lucas. "The same purpose as any other extra-curricular activity people get worked up over," he began with a sly smile (because he was a troll, no matter how much Tommy insisted Adam was the 'cool, thoughtful, rock' of their team, he was a rock-troll). "Pride."

Alex, still leaning forward, chin hovering above Lucas' shoulder, considered this with a blink. After a few seconds he nodded, confusion disappearing in a completely hilarious way, because hey – Alpha male behavior was a perpetual constant through time. It was both amazing and depressing for society as a whole.

Still, it was a bit comforting to know that some things would always be constant.

"It's not pride if you're defending your reputation as an awesomely capable human being," Hunter defended, his super-ninja hearing picking up the conversation no problem.

"That's the exact definition of 'pride'," Rocky noted. As much as he would have loved to see Adam delivery that nugget of knowledge in that dry, deadpan way of his that was more viscous than the sharpest wit Hunter could offer; Carter still hadn't caught onto the whole troll-thing, and Rocky wanted to push that realization off for as long as possible.

Hey, he had to figure it out on his own – no way was Rocky going to make it easy on anyone else.

Hunter rolled his eyes – drastic enough that Rocky wasn't totally sure if it was for show, or a legitimate response to Rocky's 'ignorance'. "It's called basic human decency," he countered. "Now watch and learn as I show you how decent I am."

Rocky looked away when the blond pulled the putter back, sharing a mischievous look with Adam as he listened for the familiar sound of plastic on metal, only to be immediately overwhelmed by intense heckling and laughter from the rangers closest to the putting mound.

"Should we allow him to retry since the went off course?" Alex asked, the confusion-brows morphing into more of a concerned thing (and probably still confused) as he watched Hunter traipse into the bushes next to the hole, grumbling and cursing all the while.

Carter sighed, shaking his head in defeat. "Maybe we should just do teams."

"I don't see how that would make it better," Adam noted, still smiling. Oh, sure it was because he was just a nice guy, and not because he was secretly evil just the tiniest bit.

"It wouldn't," Carter agreed. "But I don't see how it could make it worse."

"Famous last words." Rocky grinned, even in the face of Carter's weariness. There was being a helpful teammate, and then there was taking your lumps.

Carter, for all his well-rounded do-goodness, was due for a little hassle.

As though knowing his cue, the Lightspeed agent squared his shoulders and approached the four rangers (the urge to snark at Hunter had outweighed Lucas' need to stay with Alex) arguing in the bushes, saving the general public from excessive fallout of their discourse.

Adam sidled up to Rocky smoothly, metal putter resting against his shoulder like a sword. "You're a fountain of wisdom."

"From you, I shall take that as a compliment."

Alex, on the other side of Adam, shifted towards them. "Would it be an insult from someone else?" The look on his face after he asked it indicated that he had meant to keep the question to himself, and Adam and Rocky were kind enough not to laugh at the face of mild horror as the brunette hurriedly rushed on. "We should get them out of the bushes."

"We should do a lot of things," Rocky agreed. "But yeah, bush removal probably isn't a bad idea."

Not like they needed to get banned from the golf course as well.

Though that would make for a good story.

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Endnotes:

For clarification, Wes and Kai are occupying the kitchen at Wes' mansion, while the rest of the party preparations are taking place at Eric's house (a.k.a. the place Trip is streamer-bombing with unapologetically reckless abandon).

Adam would be a troll. He would.

Until next time :)