I guess I am one of those people. Whoops.
Also, this chapter's kind of long. Again: whoops.
The whole car ride to Claire and Jack's street, Pony had lectured the twins. Claire had to admit, it was pretty impressive, especially coming from Pony. For a minute, she actually looked like she might spank her younger cousins. Which would have been really weird to watch, so Claire was glad she hadn't.
In the end, Pony's expert reprimands had little effect, mostly because the twins were still traumatized from whatever unspeakable horror they'd witnessed. And it really was unspeakable, because no matter how much she or Pony asked, they wouldn't breath a word.
Finally, they got home.
"Thanks." Claire said to her elder cousin as she ushered the younger ones out of the car.
Pony's hands were clutched around the wheel so tightly her knuckles had gone white, "Yeah, anytime."
"Might want to ease up a bit there." Claire suggested. When Pony gave her a questioning look, she gestured to her cousin's hold on the wheel.
"Oh." Pony released her grip abruptly, then dropped her hands in her lap with a sigh. Turning back to Claire, she offered a weak smile, "What a night, huh?"
"Quite the night." Claire agreed.
Pony nodded to the mute twins, hovering like ghosts behind Claire, "Make sure they get in ok?"
What Pony meant was: "Make sure they don't get caught". Even though she'd been furious with the little twins, Pony wasn't about to rat them out. She did, however, make them promise it would never happen again.
They had sort of. Well, they'd nodded.
That had been enough for Pony.
Claire? She didn't think Tina nor Tito even knew Pony was speaking in English. Whatever dream world they'd entered, it had pretty good sound proofing.
Exchanging goodbyes with Pony, Claire turned back to her younger cousins. About to ask if they'd been smart enough to bring a key with them, she stopped herself.
Because that would have been a bit hypocritical, seeing as she'd left her key in her purse. In Karen's car.
Which was still at the party.
Claire smacked her forehead, "Crap!"
This seemed to puncture Tina's brain at least, "What's wrong?"
Claire gave her younger cousin an audacious look. A lot of stuff was wrong. But no, that wasn't fair on Tina. She was genuinely concerned.
And Claire was genuinely in trouble.
Unless...
"Hey," Claire said, suddenly hopeful, "Do either of you have a key?"
"Yep." Tina said, pulling a key ring from her pocket while Tito nodded dumbly.
"To my house?" Claire added.
Tina's brow scrunched. Even Tito gave her a funny look.
Right. Claire had forgotten. They hadn't inherited the window entering trait.
"Damn it." Claire stomped her foot, then glowering at Tina, "Would your brother still be awake?"
Both the twins opened their mouths. Claire pointed at Tito, "Not him. The taller one."
"Hey!" Tito piped up, "I'm not short!"
Ah, so he too was back in the land of the living.
"I didn't call you short." Claire snapped, "But you are, don't get me wrong."
Tito started to speak (whine), but Tina quickly interjected, "Jack's probably still up. Want me to check?"
"Nah, I'll check myself." Claire grabbed both her younger cousins by the shoulders and started steering them forward, "But I will make sure you two reach your beds safe, sound, and incognito."
Both twins started to complain, but Claire shushed them. They'd reached the houses, after all, and even if both their parents were asleep, she didn't want to chance being heard.
Sneaking around back, Claire helped Tito with the lock on his window. When that was open, both twins scampered inside. Tina was on the second floor (stupid cousins with their two story house...) so she'd have to creep upstairs as best she could. Wishing them luck and reminding them they were idiots, Claire proceeded to Jack's window.
The blinds were down, but light shone through. There were also voices coming from inside, but that was probably his TV.
Privately thanking her cousin's nocturnal habits, Claire rapped on the window.
There was a bang inside, and some fuss seemed to follow. Claire tapped her foot on the grass irritably, but the squishing sound her shoe made didn't sate her annoyance in the least. Finally, the blinds shot up and Jack's face appeared.
Spotting Claire, his wariness turned to vexation.
Funny, how they always mirrored expressions.
Jack flicked the lock on his window and shoved the pane up, sticking his head out, "What are you doing here?"
About to answer, Claire paused when a voice came from inside, "Who is it?"
Claire's eyebrows shot up beneath her bangs, "Jack! I didn't expect this from you! Someone staying the night!"
Jack scowled at her sarcasm, "Funny. You're not deaf; that's clearly a boys voice."
"And I'm not condemning your relationship at all!" Claire hurried to assure, "In fact, I'll be your biggest supporter in the tough road-"
"Claire!" Jack fumed, reddening in choler.
"It's your cousin?" suddenly, a familiar face was beside Jack's, blinking at her in surprise.
Claire blinked back, but not in surprise.
"I knew it was him all along." Claire told her cousin, "It's the way you guys act towards each other in class."
Cliff regarded her curiously, having not been privy to the cousins earlier exchange. Jack rubbed a hand across his face, choosing exasperation over anger, "What do you want, Claire? It's late and as you can see, I'm busy."
"Very busy, I'm sure."
"Not what I meant." Jack snapped, ignoring the oblivious Cliff's stare, "Why are you back anyways?"
"Huh? Oh, that." Claire nodded in the direction she'd come, "Ask your siblings."
Jack's scowl darkened. He'd known where Claire had been alright, and he knew Tina and Tito hadn't been supposed to go with her.
"Anyways," Claire pressed, not wanting to dig the little twins too deep a hole, "I need your key."
Jack gave her a surprised look, "My house key?"
"Yeah. You know, the one that unlocks your window so I can sneak into your room when you're gone somewhere and steal all your crappy video games and the porn magazines under your bed. Not for myself, of course. I'd sell them at school. There's probably a market for that kind of stuff, even here."
Jack flushed angrily, while Cliff just gawked at him, wearing his own faint blush, "You keep that kind of stuff under your bed?"
"No!" Jack snapped, a little too loudly. Quietening his voice to a venomous hiss, he leaned towards Claire, "You have your own key, go away. My friends and I are busy."
Claire quirked an eyebrow, "Friends? As in plural? Don't tell me you're counting that imaginary sheep again..."
Jack reddened at the reminder of his childhood imaginary friend, while Cliff's incomprehension increased.
"You're not making me want to help you." Jack growled.
"Then don't help me. Just give me your key. I'll return it tomorrow."
Jack chewed the inside of his mouth a minute, then shook his head, "No way." as he stepped back out of view, Claire started to call out to him, but soon Jack was back with the key. Instead of passing it to her, he pushed the window all the way up and started climbing out.
"What are you doing?" Cliff demanded, startled.
"I'll be back in a sec." Jack assured him, dropping nimbly to the ground. Turning to Claire, he twirled the chain his key was on around his finger, "Let's do this quickly. We were in the middle of a match."
Figuring Jack meant video games- since he usually did with terminology like that- Claire shrugged and walked with Jack the two minute distance to her own window.
Sticking the key in the lock, Jack gave it a jiggle until he heard a faint click. Pulling out the key, he started to push up the pane.
It didn't budge.
With a grunt, Jack put both his arms into it.
The window wouldn't move.
"It's stuck." Jack growled.
"Let me." elbowing her cousin out of the way, Claire tried the window. But no matter how much effort she exerted, she had the same outcome as Jack.
"Damn it." Claire muttered, "It's stuck."
"I already told you that." Jack pointed out.
"Yeah, but this way I believe you."
Rolling his eyes, Jack started back for his house.
"Oi!" Claire ran after him, "Where are you going? I can't sleep outside!"
"I know." Jack grumbled, "That's why we're getting help with the window."
Claire scoffed, "From who? Cliff?"
"No, Gray."
Wait, what?
Gray?
Since when had Gray been there?
Claire's face dropped. Of course. The three guys spending Friday together. Male bonding and all that. She should have realized sooner.
Then she could have opted to sleep outside.
But she'd probably have to anyways. It wasn't like Gray would really want to help her.
Reaching Jack's window, she peeked over her cousin's shoulder into the room. Sure enough, there was Gray, next to Cliff. Both boys held controllers and were focussed on the TV. Cliff looked mildly distressed, while Gray was furrowing his eyebrows slightly in concentration.
Jack tapped on the higher part of the window, immediately garnering the attention of both boys.
"Oi, Gray." Jack called, "Claire needs your help with something."
Claire shot her cousin's back daggers.
Pausing the game, Gray dragged himself to his feet and made his way reluctantly to the window, slow enough that Claire had to wonder if a turtle really was faster than him.
Not that she remembered their whole conversation from that day. Or had replayed it in her mind over and over.
Because, no, of course she hadn't. That would be ridiculous.
Confused at her own train of thought, Claire gave her head a slight shake, then focussed on Gray, who she realized was looking at her expectantly.
And by expectantly, she meant in agitation.
"Oh." Claire said, remembering what Jack had said.
But she wasn't going to ask for Gray's help, because it had been Jack's idea to get him. And besides, why would this guy be able to get her window open if she and Jack couldn't?
Still, she had to say something.
"It's nothing really." Claire finally said, as nonchalant as she could manage, "I just wanted to see if you actually wear that hat all the time. Which, apparently you do, so I'm good now."
Gray blinked at her in a surprise similar to Cliff's, then he glowered at her in a way Claire could never imagine Cliff doing.
Not that she could see Cliff glowering at all, but this was like the king of all glowers, so definitely not.
Jack punched her in the shoulder.
"Hey!" Claire exclaimed, more surprised than anything else, "You do not hit girls!"
"You're not a girl, you're my cousin. My stupid, rude cousin." Jack turned back to Gray with a sigh, "Her windows stuck and she needs to sneak in without her parents finding out. Can you help us open it?"
For a moment Gray made no reply, then still looking at Jack, shrugged, "I can try."
Both cousins stepped back while Gray climbed out the window. Honestly, even he looked comfortable with using windows as doors. Claire didn't understand.
When Gray was standing with them, Jack went to the windowsill and started hoisting himself up.
"Where are you going?" Claire demanded, the same time Gray said: "Aren't you coming with us?"
Claire glanced at Gray, who hazarded a look at her as their voices travelled off. The moment their eyes met, the two scowled and turned back to Jack.
"Back to my room." Jack replied, pointing at Claire to indicate he was answering her question. He then swerved his finger to Gray, "And no. It's my turn to challenge Cliff anyways. You had your shot at the championship."
Gray's frown deepened, but he made no further complaint as Jack tumbled back into his room. Claire, on the other hand, had to dig her nails into her palm so she didn't try and drag Jack back out.
And then they were alone. Jack even shut his window- the bastard.
"So..." Claire finally said, turning on her heels and striding off, "My house is this way."
"Yeah, I know."
Claire stopped and gawked at him over her shoulder, "Jack told you?"
The look Gray gave her was so unimpressed she actually felt bad for no reason, "No, I kind of walked you home the other day."
And now that Claire had a reason to feel bad, she felt even worse.
Embarrassed, specifically.
"Right." Claire muttered, 'You did."
"Yeah."
Yep, this wasn't awkward at all.
Luckily, the walk to her house was two minutes.
"It's unlocked." Claire said, gesturing to her window when they reached it, "But like Jack said, it's stuck. Like, really, really stuck. You can give it a shot, but I doubt you'll be able to..."
While she'd been talking, Gray had been fiddling with the frame around the window. Finishing that, he gave the lower pane a sharp push and with a scrape, it shot up.
Claire gaped at the open window, finding it quite hard to keep her mouth closed. So she figured, while it was hanging open like that, she might as well make use of it and say something.
But all that came out was: "That. Yeah, you could just do that." she blinked at him, "How did you do that?"
Gray shrugged, the only hint her idiocy was bothering him the slight twitch in his left eyebrow, "I work under my grandfather. He's a blacksmith, but he dabbles. I know a bit about how things work."
Talk about generalizing.
Blacksmith. Now that was interesting. In all honesty, Claire didn't know there were blacksmiths anymore. Sure, she knew people did the same job blacksmiths did, she just didn't know they were still called that...
Of course, she didn't say any of this to Gray. He already thought she was an airhead. No need to give his case more evidence.
Not that he even had enough for a case, because she wasn't an airhead. He just... was around at the wrong times.
All the wrong times.
"Thanks." Claire finally said, a bit lamely, since she'd only just realized she had yet to thank him.
Gray only shrugged.
Jerk.
"What if it sticks again?" Claire asked, unsure of what else to say or do.
"Oh. Just do this." Gray showed her where and how to force the window up. It seemed to Claire it was more a matter of strength-which she didn't have aplenty- than anything else. About to say this to Gray, she paused when she realized something in her room had caught his attention.
Following his gaze, Claire felt her face heat. There, standing out against her blue bedspread, was the white bra she'd switched out of when changing for the party. The one with the lace.
Petrified, Claire could only sidle her eyes over to Gray, half urgent, half horrified to catch his expression.
His face was almost as red as his hair, and he looked a bit horrified himself. Not to mention dazed.
Great. Just freaking great. The one time she'd worn that stupid bra. She didn't even like it all that much. But that morning all her other ones had been in the wash.
Every curse word she knew streaming through her mind, Claire managed to choke out, "I guess you can go back to Jack's now. Thanks again."
Her whole tone sounded fake, and the words were stale on her tongue. Gray seemed to start a little and looked at her, as if he'd forgotten she'd been there at all. But instead of his gaze going to her face, it landed on her chest. Seeming to realize- with a brief flash of shock- what he was doing, Gray quickly met her eyes, but the moment that happened he went even redder and glared away.
And then he walked away. Briskly. And didn't stop until he'd disappeared behind the corner of Jack's house.
Claire scowled at the spot he'd last been for a moment, fully aware she was still blushing. Out of anger, of course. Duh, she was angry. The guy had just seen her bra and stared at her, and then he left without saying anything. Not even 'you're welcome' or 'sorry' or 'is that really your size?'.
Except no. Not that last one. That was wrong.
Claire shook herself furiously then turned back to her window. Hoisting herself up, Claire scrambled into her room, just managing to catch herself as she started to slam the window. The last thing she needed was her parents waking up. That would make her night a masterpiece.
Instead, Claire marched to her bed, snatched up the offending undergarment, and- crossing to her bureau- shoved it as far as it could go in the drawer.
She'd never wear it again. Ever.
And every time Gray looked at her and thought: is she wearing it? The answer would be no. Never.
But he wouldn't think that. Why would he think that? Why was Claire thinking he would think that?
Body slamming her bed, Claire grabbed her pillow, pressed it hard over her face, and screamed.
...
Kurt sat on their couch, at home, flicking mindlessly from channel to channel.
He'd left the party early, after watching Gwen and Bob dance through three songs. He'd lost sight of them by that point, which was lucky since the fourth song was slow. Kurt left then. As it turned out, parties just weren't his thing.
Who knew?
When he got home he found Joe and Katie cuddling on the couch. Well, Katie was cuddling. Joe seemed thoroughly absorbed in some sit-com or another, which was odd since it didn't appear to have anything to do with fishing. Katie hadn't looked very happy about Joe's disinterest, but when she saw Kurt her face had fallen further.
Katie had glanced past him, then pursed her lips, "Where's Gwen?"
"Huh?" Joe asked, turning to Katie. Upon spotting his brother in the doorway his brown eyes lit with understanding, "Oh! Hey, bro!"
"Isn't she with you?" Katie pressed, ignoring Joe.
Kurt shrugged, but this answer didn't seem to satisfy Katie, who had slowly returned to her usual glare for him. "She stayed at the party."
"Oh." was all Katie said, sounding disheartened- an emotion which only became more evident when she sighed, "Well, hopefully she comes back for the night."
"Why wouldn't she?" Kurt asked, too startled to think the question through.
Katie gave him an annoyed look, "It's a party."
Ok... and that explained what?
"Anyways, nice seeing you, Kurt." Katie said, glaring again- pointedly.
Oh. She wanted him to leave.
Just about to follow Katie's obvious order, Kurt stopped when Joe called out: "Don't go yet, bro! Come watch this with us! It's hilarious!"
Katie's face contorted horribly at hearing this, but Joe wasn't paying attention to her. Kurt hesitated a moment, then said, "I think I'll just go to bed."
Katie seemed mildly pleased by this reply, but Joe wouldn't hear of it, "Come on, bro! There's plenty of room!"
As if to emphasize this, Joe moved down to the edge of the couch, causing Katie to almost face-plant into the cushion.
To say the least, she did not look impressed.
After several more attempts to leave, Kurt eventually found himself sitting next to a fuming Katie and watching slap-stick comedy.
Not his best night.
Barely an hour had passed when Katie got up, saying she was going to bed. Apparently, she'd texted Gwen earlier and gotten permission to stay over, which wasn't very surprising. Gwen and Katie were almost as good friends as Lyla and Gwen, plus Katie frequented their house because of Joe, so Gwen always kept a sleeping-bag in her closet for the other girl.
Katie stood there a moment after declaring that she was turning in, staring at Joe, who seemed content to go back to watching the current show. After about three minutes, a miracle occurred and Joe got Katie's silent message. He then excused himself as well, leaving Kurt alone.
Which was perfectly fine.
Kurt changed the channel again, wondering what Katie and Joe had been up to. Probably just making out, or chatting, knowing Joe's bizarre disinterest in such intimate things. They definitely hadn't slept together, Kurt knew that much. They wouldn't, because a) Joe apparently had no pheromones at all and b) if they did, the only place they could do it was in Kurt and Joe's room, which would just be gross.
Kurt quickly dismissed the thought, before he gagged. Besides, they hadn't been alone together that long; almost twenty minutes after Joe and Katie had gone downstairs, Katie came back up, disappearing into Gwen's room without so much as a glance at Kurt.
Which, again, was perfectly fine.
But now Kurt was back to thinking about his own problems, mainly: Why was Gwen so late coming home?
Katie's words kept running through his head:"Well, hopefully she comes back for the night."
Why wouldn't Gwen come back for the night? If she didn't, where would she go? What would she be doing, or rather, who would she-
Kurt abruptly cut off the thought, as the image of Bob and Gwen dancing resurfaced in his mind. Of Bob and Gwen holding hands back when they dated, even though Gwen hated that sentimental kind of thing. Of Bob and Gwen kissing.
This time, Kurt did gag.
It was no use thinking about this sort of thing either. Besides, it wasn't his business. All he was to Gwen was a little brother, if that.
But he couldn't stop thinking about it. So he just sat in front of the tv, pushing buttons on the remote, and pretending that he wasn't waiting to see if Gwen came home.
...
Tony didn't know what time it was when they finally reached Muffy's house, only that it was well past midnight. It felt like hours had passed since they left Rock's though, like it should already be morning.
In other words, getting Muffy home had been a hassle. And Muffy herself had been absolutely no help. Half the time, she'd been stumbling around laughing and talking nonsense, the other half she'd been slumped against him, asleep, causing Tony to have to stop repeatedly and wake her up.
They were currently in the other half.
"Muffy." Tony said, shaking the girl's shoulder, hard. "Muffy, we're at your house. Wake up."
It was the shaking that did it. Muffy blinked groggily, her eyes glassy as she took in the one-story building in front of her. "Ah."
"Yes, 'ah'." Tony repeatedly irritably, "Now do you think you can stay awake for maybe, I don't know, three minutes? That's all you really need to get inside and collapse somewhere."
Muffy stared at him blankly.
"Never mind." Tony half sighed, half groaned, holding out a hand to her, "Give me your keys."
"Keys?" Muffy asked, still blank.
"Yeah." Tony said, "They open things. And they're shiny. Does that help?"
Muffy squinted at him, as if he were the one that was wasted, "Are you ok? You look kind of... wobblyish."
Tony didn't even blink, "Yes, I'm ok. I'm freaking ecstatic, which is why I'm wobbling so much. This has been the best part of my night."
When it was clear none of this had registered with Muffy, Tony held out his hand again, "Keys."
This time, Muffy seemed to understand him. Reaching down the front of her dress, she extracted a pair of keys with a puffy pink thing on the key-chain. Tony scowled at this. What was with girls and keeping items in their bras?
Then Tony realized Muffy didn't have any pockets. She was wearing a dress, after all. But still, she shouldn't keep her keys there, and definitely not hand them to him now. Which was what she was doing. The whole thing made him feel incredibly uncomfortable.
For what reason? Tony shook his head. He was just tired. And Muffy was still drunk, so it didn't matter where her keys had been, as long as he got her inside and got himself the hell out of there.
So Tony finally took the keys. Muffy didn't seem to realize he'd taken several minutes to do so. In fact, Muffy didn't even seem to register that he had taken them; instead she stayed just as she had been, her now empty hand stretched out.
Maybe Tony could just leave her like that and go. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. A perfect idea.
"Come on, Muffy." Tony said, taking her by the shoulder and guiding her to the front porch. There were three steps and, after some difficulty with Muffy's heels, they both reached the door.
After unlocked it and pushing it open, Tony stepped back and looked at Muffy, who was just staring listlessly ahead, "Ok. That's it. You can go in now."
Muffy yawned, then rubbed her eyes blurrily, "Huh?"
"Inside. Your house. Go." Tony waved towards the open door, "Come on, Muffy. I've gotten you this far. I'm not carrying you inside."
Muffy blinked at him a moment, then asked, "Why not?"
Tony scowled at her. She was proving almost as difficult to deal with drunk as Rock.
But not quite.
"Because you're probably heavy." Tony explained, "And it's not necessary. Unless you managed to injure your leg in the last five seconds just standing there."
Muffy stared at him dazedly a moment, then pursed her lips in a little pout and said, "I'm not fat."
Of course that's what she would pick up on.
Tony sighed, then took Muffy by the arm and tugged her inside. For a moment, Tony was tempted to glance around, but instead focussed directly on Muffy, holding up the key, "I'm going to leave now. Take this and lock the door after I go. Make sure you close the door first."
Muffy frowned, looking confused, "Where are you going?"
"Home." Tony replied.
"Oh." Muffy said, her voice almost melancholy. Then she turned abruptly and staggered to the couch, where she promptly fell down and went to sleep.
Tony, still holding the keys out, was at a complete and utter loss.
After a moment Tony let his hand drop to his side, while the other ran angrily through his hair.
He should have just left her at the party.
Tony went to the couch, prepared to wake Muffy again, but then he paused. Her face looked so haggard under the smeared make-up, and she seemed to be sleeping so peacefully...
Wait, what? He wasn't feel compassion was he?
Since when was he capable of that?
Ok, Tony thought, I'll just leave her and go. She's fine now.
Except she wasn't, because she was on her back.
Tony couldn't help it. He face-palmed. The couch was so narrow that even if he rolled her on her side now, there wouldn't be room to prop up anything to keep her like that. And he couldn't let her stay sleeping on her back. What if she threw up?
Which, judging by how intoxicated she'd been, was very likely to happen.
"I hate you." Tony grumbled, glaring at Muffy, before heading for the hall that would no doubt lead to her bedroom.
He felt like a creep, opening doors and looking around her house. It wasn't very big, but Muffy's room still happened to be the last one he checked. Well, the second last. The other remaining door was locked.
But Tony knew he was in the right bedroom immediately. It was strewn from top to bottom with jewellery, skirts and dresses, and the cabinet was covered in make-up tins and boxes. There was some other clothing lying around that Tony purposefully didn't look at.
Returning to the living room, Tony did what he'd sworn he wouldn't do: he picked Muffy up and carried her.
She was heavy.
Luckily, he made it to the bedroom, where he gently layed her on her side, propping her up with the pillows on her bed and a few from the living room. Finally, his task complete, Tony sent Muffy one last withering look and left.
Except there was one more problem: the door would be unlocked.
... unless he locked it and took the key with him.
No. No way. That would mean returning the key and things were weird enough as they were after the night's events. He didn't need another encounter.
But he couldn't leave her, well, vulnerable. Even though he was pretty sure he'd seen pepper-spray in her purse...
Still, leaving the door unlocked...
Tony ran both hands through his hair. What was he supposed to do?
...
The first thing Karen realized when she woke up was someone was carrying her. The second thing she realized was that they were moving. The third thing she realized was that she was no longer on the nice, soft grass.
And then she was missing the grass.
"Rick." Karen croaked, beating a fist against his rock-hard, muscular chest, "Put me da' hell down."
Wait. Rock-hard? Muscular?
What?
"Oh, she's awake." a voice above her said, sounding surprised, "Should I put her down?"
"She'll only collapse again." a familiar, nagging voice said to her right.
Karen's eyes shot open, and immediately fell on the face above her.
"Who da hell are you?" Karen tried to yell, only to end up slurring her sentence half way through.
"Karen," Rick said, an undercurrent of agitation in his otherwise even voice, "This is Bob, Zach's nephew. He was kind enough to help me get you home."
"Hey." Bob said, "Nice to meet you."
Karen gawked at him, "Zach's nephew?"
Bob grinned, "Yep. People tell me I take after him."
That, Karen would later reflect, was an understatement.
But, at the moment, she was fixated on only one thing.
"Zach?" Karen asked again, turning her questioning gaze to Rick, "You mean the guy that has the hots for your mom?"
Both Bob and Rick went blood red, but it was the latter that snapped, "Karen!"
In reply, Karen started to laugh, and she continued laughing right up until she fell asleep.
...
"Aaaaarrrrrgggghhhhhhh!" Jack threw down his controller, "You are the worst, Cliff! Get out of my house!"
Cliff, sitting cross-legged next to Jack and still holding his own controller, blinked at the other boy in surprise, "What did I do?"
"You won!" Jack exploded, waving at the screen, "Three consecutive times! Aaarrrggghhh!"
"Um," Cliff said, still clutching the controller, "Sorry?"
Suddenly, a knock came at the window, making Cliff jump. Jack, unfazed, leapt to his feet and jabbed a finger at Cliff, "This isn't over!"
Cliff just stared at him.
Crossing to the window, Jack shoved it up and stepped back while Gray climbed in. Once he was inside, Jack turned to him, about to ask what had taken so long. Then he saw the look on Gray's flaming red face.
"What happened?" Jack asked, taken aback.
Gray opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Closed it. Opened-
"Never mind." Jack sighed, going back to the television and dropping down beside Cliff, "I shouldn't even ask. It's Claire. No doubt she did something horrible to you."
"She-" Gray started, "She-"
"Don't hurt yourself." Jack advised.
This seemed to bring Gray back to himself. The fire in his face slowly faded as he scowled at Jack. Making a point of walking around the brunet to sit on the other side of Cliff, Gray muttered, "Nothing happened."
Jack laughed. Gray glared daggers.
"Don't worry, Gray," Jack chortled, "We won't force you to tell us."
"Force him to tell us what?" Cliff asked blankly.
"Don't ask Cliff," Jack grinned, "We don't want to bring up any traumatizing memories."
"I'm not traumatized." Gray growled, reaching for Jack's controller, "I see you lost the last round."
"And the two before that." Cliff supplied, not unkindly.
Jack still hit his arm, "Shut up, Cliff. We're talking about Gray's trauma, not your superhuman video game skills."
"I thought we weren't talking about Gray's trauma." Cliff said.
"We're not!" Gray snapped, pressing a few buttons on the controller, then mumbling under his breath, "There isn't any trauma to talk about."
"I think someone's in denial!" Jack sang, leaning around Cliff to poke Gray in the head. Gray swiped at him, but settled for a glower when he missed.
At that moment there was a bang outside Jack's door. Everyone started, then exchanged puzzled glances. Hesitantly, Jack got to his feet and opened the door, revealing the hall beyond and...
His little brother. Face down on the floor.
"Uh, Tito?" Jack asked, prodding his brother with his toe, "What are you doing?"
Tito turned his head to the side, eyes glazed, "I don't know. I just started walking away from the images, but they follow me everywhere. Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere..."
For a moment, everyone was silent, then Gray nodded at Tito and said, "That's what trauma really looks like."
Jack couldn't disagree.
...
Somewhere in the house, a door slammed.
Kurt jolted awake. For a moment, he blinked around dazedly, but when his eyes landed on the still blaring television, he remembered what was going on. With a sigh, Kurt pushed himself up into a straighter sitting position and fished the flicker out of the couch cushions.
It was only when he heard stomping on the stairs did he remember what had awoken him.
Kurt muted the television just as Gwen burst into the room. As soon as her eyes landed on him they flared, and in seconds she was heading straight for him.
Coming to a stop in front of Kurt, Gwen simply stood there a moment, between him and the TV, arms crossed and glaring. Kurt stared at her, openly stunned. Gwen didn't seem to notice.
"So?" she demanded, her voice sharp.
Kurt continued to stare at her in immense puzzlement, until he managed to articulate a hoarse: "Huh?"
Considering the circumstances, he couldn't manage anything more.
"Don't play dumb!" Gwen snapped, "You left me at the party, without even so much as a text!"
Kurt stared at her, wide-eyed, "Uh..."
"Do you know how long I spent looking for you?" Gwen demanded, continuing her tirade, "No one had any idea where you were, and even if anyone had seen you leave they were to drunk to remember! If Bob hadn't helped me look it probably would have taken me another hour!"
Bob. Even in the middle of Gwen's confusing fury, Bob came up.
"So?" Gwen demanded again, her hands on her hips now, "Why the hell didn't you answer your phone?"
"Um..." Kurt flailed, looking for an excuse, "I, um... lost it?"
Damn it. He hadn't meant to end that like a question.
Instead of commenting on this, however, Gwen was suddenly hovering over him, one hand against the back of the couch to keep her balanced, while the other slipped into Kurt's pocket.
Kurt froze. Not just Kurt, but Kurt's brain. He had no idea what was going on, why Gwen was so close, what she was-
"Aha!" Gwen exclaimed, sounding satisfied. The next thing Kurt knew, his phone was dangling in front of his face, "What's your excuse now?"
Kurt blanched, his brain failing him once again.
Gwen pushed herself back, off the couch and turned her phone to face him. "Oh, look at that. You have some messages." Gwen tossed the phone back at him, not bothering to see if he caught it as she headed for her room, "The last one's now in effect."
Puzzled, Kurt checked his phone, which had been on silent the entire day. Sixteen new messages.
All from Gwen.
At first, they weren't so bad. Stuff like "Where are you?" and "Are you still here?". Then, they gradually got worse and worse. "Where the hell are you?" "You better have a damn good reason for not answering your phone". And finally the last one, that Gwen had commented on: "If it turns out you had your cell this entire time I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU FOR A WEEK!"
What was it Gwen had said?
"The last one's now in effect."
Oh. Right.
Shit.
...
Minutes after Pony pulled into her driveway, and was sticking her keys into the lock on the front door, she got a text. From her brother.
He needed her to pick him up.
As if this weren't bad enough, but when Pony read where he was...
To sum things up, she was not in a good mood.
Honestly, what a shitty night. First Tito and Tina, now her brother. And the one person she'd wanted to see at Rock's party hadn't shown up. Could things get any worse?
Remembering where Tony was, Pony pulled a face.
Yes. Yes they could.
The drive took about fifteen minutes. Even though the town wasn't that large, Tony happened to be on the other side of town. Why, Pony didn't know.
But she would find out.
Spotting her brother standing in front of a small house, Pony pulled up by the sidewalk. She waited until Tony was in the passenger's seat, slouching and staring moodily out the window, then turned the car around and started home.
After about two minutes of silence, Pony asked, "What were you doing there?"
Tony was quiet for at least another minute, then he ran a hand through his hair, "She was drunk. I just helped her home."
"Right." Pony said, her tone curt. Tony shot her a glare.
"That's all it was. I was just doing the right thing." Tony slouched further in his chair, "I thought you'd be proud."
Pony ignored his last comment, "That's all, was it? Then what did you put in your pocket when I drove up?"
Tony's eyes darted to her quickly, then away, but Pony caught it. He'd thought she hadn't seen him.
"My phone." Tony muttered.
"Oh." Pony said, "Your phone."
"Yeah." Tony replied dryly, "My phone."
"The one in your left pocket?"
Tony didn't reply right away, when he did it was wary, "Yeah..."
"Odd." Pony turned the corner, "I thought I saw you put something in your right pocket."
Again, Tony was silent, then he growled, "Yeah, that is odd."
Pony stopped the car abruptly. Unprepared, and having not put on his seat-belt, Tony lurched forward, catching himself against the dashboard.
"Why the hell did you do that?" Tony snapped, shoving himself back into his seat while giving his twin a furious look.
Pony was unmoved, returning Tony's look with even, icy calm, "Empty your pockets."
Tony flushed an angry red, "What?"
"I'm not starting the car again until you do." Pony added, taking out the keys for emphasis, then looking at her twin expectantly.
"Fine!" Tony snapped, pushing the side door open, "Then I'll walk!"
Pony watched her twin get out of the car, slam the door shut, and proceed to storm off down the street. After a moment, she stuck the keys back in the ignition and started driving.
She drove right past Tony.
If he wanted to be difficult, that was fine. She could be difficult too.
Besides, she'd seen what he put in his pocket.
Keys. And not their house keys. No, Tony had left his at home, assuming Pony would be there to let him in. Unfortunately, by the time he reached the house, Pony would be in bed, asleep.
Oh well. Not her problem.
Her problem was the skank Tony had apparently decided to involve himself with. Again.
Except this time, Pony would make sure her brother didn't get hurt.
I wonder what could possibly be going on here? O.o
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