A/N: Hey-o. Chapter go is a go!
PS: Go is Japanese for five. (Nuh uh, still not getting better with puns)
Disclaimer: Kookiebites13 does not own PoM, Dreamworks does. And this story is purely fiction.
Chapter 5: Dinners and Siblings (Part 1)
Madeline gave a wince as she heard the horrible splat sound, followed by Maru's screech and Phil's desperate yelp – all three came from the bottom of the stairs in the living room.
"Be careful, Phil!" her husband shouted from where the rest of the family were, the dining table. He shook his head, turning the newspaper over to the next page to see how yesterday's local football games went. He wasn't much of a fan, but he was pretty determined to get along more with his new coworkers. And since this morning they wouldn't shut up about yesterday's darn kickoff, he thought football might just be the perfect opportunity.
Joseph Pane was a man in his late thirties. He was tall and skinny with brown-and-slightly-red hair, a pair of glasses (and a monocular just because he loved antiques), a taste in good watches and normal obsession with TV crime-dramas. Mason considered him a genius in profits and marketing, because he could practically persuade anyone to do what he wants without sounding ridiculous or making no sense at all. Which was why the twins made an agreement a long time ago to never give their father any stupid ideas to save their family from embarrassment. Despite being a genius businessman with high status in his career world, his reputation for embarrassing his children was far higher than the sky itself.
"Dad, people would probably forget about it by tomorrow," commented Mason, somewhat slightly annoyed that his father got to read a newspaper on the dining table while he didn't get to do so with his poem compilation book – which by the way had disappeared. That, and because everyone knew their father's effort wouldn't work much anyway after all those comments of his about throwing misshapen balls with your hands. Phil was the only sport enthusiast in the family, really. The only sport Joseph Pane did regularly without any complain was chess.
"It's football, Mason. These people are crazy about it!" he said just as Phil was entering the room, rubbing his sore elbow. The older twin greeted their father with a simple nod before plopping down on his usual seat next to Mason's. The twins didn't give any sign of acknowledging each other's presence as Mason quickly returned to his musings about his list of homework while Phil had his head propped by one of his hands and another one hugging his stomach trying to contain the incredible hunger he was feeling. "Hey, maybe one of you should sign up for football team later in high school!"
The twins, who gave each other a short knowing side glance, came up with a messy chorus of "No, thanks," and "Nope. Basketball," as their answer.
Their father laughed. He grew up as an only child, so after being blessed with a pair of twins who could talk to each other with some sort of telepathy, his own sons' banter became his personal amusement. He would've patted them hard on the back if it weren't for the fact that they were sitting across from him – fortunately for the twins. "Oh come on, I was kidding, boys."
Mason smiled politely and Phil rolled his eyes. One excused himself to help their mother. The other trailed him without thinking twice before their father could say anything else. Mason's annoyed glare came for him right after, just as expected.
You owe me for saving your butt.
Don't be so smug, Mason.
Hey, I came up with the idea to help Mom out with dinner.
Pfft, anyone could come up with that idea.
Oh, really?
I could.
Mason snorted, cutting their eye contact.
"What are we having for dinner, Mom?"
Phil sniffed the kitchen air a few times. "I smell pot roast!"
Their mother's head peered up from the edge of the fridge door with a small grin. "Philip, you owe your brother for that, you know." Madeline then winked at Mason who had his hands behind his back and a sly look on his face.
"Mooom…" Phil whined, at the same time giving Mason a death glare while their mother wasn't looking. "Don't call me that."
If their father had a taste in good watches, their mother had a taste in good poetry and house décor. She also had a habit of going nuts about formal dress code, she said she always felt under-dressed whenever their dad took her to a business meeting with his friends. But the twins knew that it was all her fault for not accepting their dad's offer to buy her fancy dresses. She took baking as a professional hobby, taking it to the extreme by always pretending that she was in Master Chef. And Phil couldn't decide which one was weirder: the fact that their mom was challenging people on TV (who by the way couldn't even hear her) for a bake-off or the fact that she and their father would argue every night about 'ways to kill people'. It was still creepy, even when the twins knew that they were watching CSI while doing so.
"That's the thing about being parents, Philip." Mason snickered at their mother's comment. "We get to decide what to name our kids."
Phil was about to reply with a snarky remark when he was interrupted by a hungry meow. An orange chubby cat was sitting by the kitchen door, her eyes were wide with plea, probably suffering from the smell of pot roast like Phil was.
"Well aren't ya hungry."
It mewed in response.
"Good. Me too." Phil patted his stomach lightly. He turned to Mason. "Why don't you get her dinner, Mason?"
He furrowed his eyebrow. "Me?"
"Yeah!" Phil shoved his brother out of the kitchen, making their mother chuckle. "You help Maru, I'll help Mom with the pot roast."
"Phil," Mason growled warningly. Phil shushed him with his finger.
"Can't you feel how tortured Maru is right now, bro? I mean, look at her sweet face!"
"You're not doing this."
"Oh I am," Phil whispered quickly. He earned a curious look from Maru. "'Aww, Mason, I'm hungry. You will help me, won't you?' See that sad face, Mason?" Maru looked perfectly normal. "Do you want to disappoint her?" Phil went to last resort by giving his brother a cute puppy dog eyes look. Their mother said he was born with the ability and could melt the hearts of everyone within beaming distance.
But Mason wouldn't be called the serious one if he couldn't resist its effect.
Mason uncrossed his arms with a tired sigh, finally giving up out of pity. "Fine. But only because you begged pathetically."
Phil punched his fist into the air, then disappeared back into the kitchen while Mason motioned for the orange cat to follow him. On his way out he just smiled and shook his head when he heard his father's murmur of, "Oh the joy of having a sibling…."
"Meow."
"Yes, I know, Phil's such an annoying little-"
Ding dong.
"Mason can you-?"
"I'll get it!" The boy shot a sympathetic look at the cat before he made a dash towards the door with Maru trailing not far behind.
"Kowalski, I need intel on Bluejoe's new invention asap."
"Sorry, I didn't get a clear view of it last night." Just a few steps behind them, Rico yawned wide, and Private who usually reminds him to close his mouth with his hand when yawning seemed too tired to care, as he just waddled clumsily and at the same time trying to keep both his eyes open. Kowalski glanced at the poor boy's sleep deprived state before his own yawn caught up to Rico's. "But rest assured, the ray's paralyzing effect would only last for a few hours."
"Which is enough time to take over the whole school, Kowalski," grumbled Skipper. "And these psycho kids aren't battle ready either," he added after a couple of kids in a hurry passed by and the four were alone in the dorm hall once again.
Private raised his hands. "Skippah, permission to skip first period? I'm not exactly in the mood for Mrs. Dunn's one hour long lecture on contemporary art's history, and I don't want to hurt her feelings."
Skipper checked his watch slash mini laser gun. First period started fifteen minutes ago, and his men weren't exactly in fit condition to go through detention (plus they don't have time for it, anyway, what with Bluejoe on the loose once again with a new weapon). "Permission granted, soldier. Go catch some z's. That's an order for all of you. I'll see you at lunch." Kowalski, Rico, and Private saluted their leader, then sauntered tiredly to their own bedroom (which was right next to each other's, really). Rico almost passed out before opening his door, and poor Private inserted his key on the wrong door.
"This is gonna be a long day."
"Don't worry, Skip," groaned the brunette girl who was lying upside down on the couch as she massaged her sore arms. "I had a long day too." Today's practice was a little rougher on her than usual, mostly because she was too busy thinking about the idiot who locked a poor kid in her locker a couple of days ago to focus on stretching. So in the end, well, she payed quite a price – though it came with a positive side too, because right now she was pondering whether to act sick and use her bruising bodies as an excuse to skip school on Monday. She muted the TV as the credits started rolling. Her eyes left the screen only after the list of casts showed up.
"I deserve to be among those amazing actors!"
"Yeah right."
Hans let out a muffled 'ouch' as a pillow smacked right onto his face. The thrower, Lulu, was a total mess. Her unbraided hair was tangled in wild knots, and she hadn't bothered changing out from her gi like her mother had told her to when she arrived home an hour ago. She was resolved to grant herself a 'Friday night freedom', saying she was too tired to eat or change into her pajamas. So she kicked off her shoes and trotted upstairs to her bedroom. As expected, the 'too tired to do anything' excuse didn't apply to a couple of Immortals new episodes.
With a voice like an evil ghost, she said, "Who gave you the authority to enter my maze of destruction?"
Hans rolled his eyes as he tried to approach the couch in his sister's room. "What is it with you and darkness? I almost can't see a thing in this place! And aren't you gonna eat?"
Lulu's finger pointed an empty bucket of strawberry ice cream on the coffee table nearby.
"Really, sis?"
Lulu suddenly got up and stared at him with a poker face, then she said, "Friday night's freedom, Hans," before falling backwards.
"Well, okay." Hans squinted his eyes as he made his way towards the couch. The boy sat down, pretending the bright ads that illuminated her dark room weren't hurting his eyes at all. "Mom's at Aunt Greta's. And you were right, Clemson does know your locker combination."
"Ugh, that fiend!" Another pillow was launched into the air. It touched the ceiling briefly before it bounced down, targeting Hans' slick black hair. Fortunately he moved just in time.
Hans sighed, grabbing the remote to change the channel. Without particularly having interest in what happened between his sister and their cousin this time, he asked, "Oh no. What is it now?"
"Nothing. Just… what a cool birthday present he gave me on Tuesday. I already confronted him about it though."
"Was it another dissected frog or do you rather wish that it was?"
"You just stopped making sense by asking that question."
Hans shrugged, stifling a yawn. "I try my best to speak your language."
"Aw, you do love me."
From the way Lulu started ranting about karate practice and avoiding the topic of Clemson's present, Hans instantly knew that Clemson did something really special this time. Tuning out Lulu's voice, he wondered what it could be (a dead bird, that photo of Lulu when she had to wear a pink gi for her tournament due to a clothes mixing accident? Clemson didn't pour stale milk over her history report, did he?) while surfing through the channels.
"…you should've seen his forms, Hans, it was awful! Also, Sensei Yamaguchi said his apprentice would start working at the dojo next week. He better not be lame. And he better not be cute because all the girls will lose their focus and we really need to practice hard for this year's tournament and we couldn't possibly-"
"What's so bad about it?" Hans suddenly interrupted, though not looking at her. He knew she needed him not to, if he really wanted to get an answer out of his sister.
"Well we couldn't disappoint Sensei again, could we?" she retorted. Huffing a stray hair out of her face, she propelled her back from the sofa with her elbows and stared at Hans with one of her warning glares. Ah, so she knew what I was talking about, thought Hans.
Hans decided to leave the TV alone, shifting near the coffee table where the large empty bucket of ice cream hid a medium sized red book from his view. Picking it up, gagging slightly at the sight of poetic and old english words on the insides, he responded. "Clemson's present for you," Hans clarified, for the sake of the charade, "What's so bad about it?"
Until this day, Hans still didn't know why in a spur of moment Lulu had plucked the book out of his hands and dashed through the front door into the peppermint autumn air with nothing but her gi and coat.
A/N: Man, this one's twice as long as the previous. Booyaah!
I've always intended for Hans and Lulu to be siblings, but I didn't know I will like him in his role so much. And Clumsy Clemsy, too. Wait for more appearance from the Hoboken fam.