Notes: Wrote this under the influence of procrastination. Not very good. Not really slash. Read and review!
"Dude, let's go to Vegas."
"You're on drugs, Venturi."
"No, man, seriously. Let's go right the fuck now. Let's go to Vegas."
"Are you freakin' crazy? I'm not going to Vegas with you."
Derek threw his Sports Illustrated to the side and jumped to his feet, jabbing his finger toward his bedroom window, curtains open wide and gaping to the picture of falling snow. "C'mon, dude! This fucking blows! You think it's snowing like this in Vegas? No. And you know who go to Vegas. Hot chicks. Hot chicks in tiny bikinis by the pool. And they travel in flocks, by the dozens, dude. By. The. Dozens."
"Derek, I don't know if you remember this or not, but we gotta go back to school on Monday," Sam deadpanned, looking up from the TV only briefly. Coz, you know, I Love the 80's is so important.
"It's college, Sammy. Who cares if we don't show up for a couple days? It's not like they're gonna call our parents or whatever. We're 21. We control our own lives now."
"This is a very stupid idea."
"Look, we got a car, we got a couple of suits, and I been saving up some money for a rainy day."
"Yeah, Derek, for a new roof."
Derek frowned, folding his arms across his chest. "And since when have you been the voice of reason, Oh Mighty One?"
"Since I paid your rent last month," Sam said coolly."
Derek paused, glancing up at the ceiling (those watermarks are really starting to grow) before dropping to his knees by Sam's bed. He clasped his hands together, put on his best hurt puppy face, and began to plead, "Sam, Sammy, Sam, Sam, please, please! Gotta get outta here, man! Gonna go crazy! Sammy, please!"
Sam's blue eyes narrowed, though his lips twitched in amusement, something he couldn't hide no matter how hard he tried. "I want to be back here by Monday night, you hear?"
Derek whooped, grabbed Sam's face hard between his hands and laid one on him, right on the forehead. Coz, dude, Vegas!