When you get back to the townhouse, you deposit your carry-out into the fridge, which still makes you flinch when you open the door. Bro raised you right. Yeah. Whatever. You threaten both of the oldest siblings to stay away from your food, but you'd doubt they'd listen. You know they won't eat anything; you almost wish they would. You just didn't want to go back and find bits of smuppet in your food. Maybe you should have locked your take-out in a vault. What a waste.

You bust into Dane's room—not that you had to—and crash on his bed. He looks over his shoulder towards you from his closet and raises a brow. You raise one back. No one says anything. There's that.

"Who spends one-fifty on food?" Dane begins, turning back towards his closet.

You raise up your hands and point your thumbs at yourself. "This motherfucker right here and of course you. I didn't eat Benjamin's weight in food alone."

"You sure? You were really getting at that beef, man."

You toss one of his throw pillows at the back of his head. He doesn't dodge. In fact, he just takes the hit with a chuckle.

"You're a fat ass," you reply.

He turns towards you and points at his stomach. He cocks his head to the left. "The ladies would disagree."

"Porn mags don't count, bucko."

He picks up the pillow and makes like he's about to throw it at you. You raise up your arms to protect your face, but you can see the smirk slide across his lips. He flashes over to you, pillow grasped in both hands. He shoves his hands down into your stomach, and the air rushes out of you, body curling around the place of impact. Fuck this guy.

You grab him by the arm closest to you and pull him down before rolling over and pinning him down wrestling style. "Dude, what the—dammit!" he shouts, but fuck that, you're not getting up. He catches onto your sweet restraining tactic and bucks out of your grip, sending you rolling to the floor. You sit up quickly, arms raised and prepared to take him down, but he's just laying on his back, looking down at you. Guess the game is over.

You adjust your shades and smooth down your hair as Dane sits up and does the same. Birds of a feather... He looks down to you before looking up towards his clock.

"It's six-fourteen. When do you want to go out?"

"You shrug. "When does the strip get interesting?"

"Bout ten, ten-thirty."

"Guess we're going out at ten."

"Pretty fucking late, dude."

You put a hand behind yourself, supporting your weight. "What, you scared, man?"

"Dude, I fucking live here. Of course I'm not afraid."

"Then get the candy out your ass, and let's do this."

Dane stands up and walks over towards his computer. "Yeah, yeah. We'll go."

You look over towards him and watch him load up his computer. Boring. Where's the synth set he talked so much about? He push yourself up from the ground and walk across the room to a waist-high bookcase with a black case sitting on top of it. You come around to the back and look down. The case was opaque, and you could see the various buttons and switches just barely. Looks good. You slide your fingers under the case and lift it up, removing it from the synthesizer. It was all pretty high tech, but you flip the switch and decide to give it a go.

You're not really good at it.

Dane spins around after a few minutes of your awkward fumbling and walks over.

"Back up. Let me show you how it's done," he says to you. You step away from the equipment. "Why don't you go work on Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff while I do this?"

"Hella Jeff," you say simply.

"Hella Jeff? What happened to Sweet Bro?"

"Shit gets real."

He scoffs and adds a muttered, "Whatever." before bending down out of the way. This time, you're close enough to see what he's doing. Apparently, this "bookcase" has a hollowed back that's actually a cabinet, and that's where the rest of his sweet equipment is hidden. You nod slowly in appreciation and walk over to the computer. Soon Dane's mixes fill the air, and you just kick back and listen.

Unable to sit quiet for too long, you decide to rap along to what he was pushing out. He glances up to you but joins in here and there. Sometimes he throws out some sharp rhymes; other times, he just gives back a "yeah" or an "uhn" to fit in with your words. Of course, he had his moments when he's purposefully obnoxious, but you can let him have those.

For now.

Nine forty-five rolls around, and the two of you are getting redressed for the limelight. Might as well do it up since you were in Vegas. Bro had packed your black suit for some reason. He got it for you when you announced you were getting ready to paint the town. That's not weird to you, not at all. Of course not.

Creep.

The tips of your fingers swish your messy bangs over your forehead. You're not going to do anything to them, but some part of you thought about it. Would it be a gesture of irony if you slicked your fringe where they waved to the side and then clung to your face. Something like how Bro's looked sans slicking. Was it ironic enough for you to be assed to do it?

Yeah maybe, but you weren't shooting for 'douchebag' today. Dane throws on his black suit and orange button down and glances over to you.

"'Ey, you ready?" he asks.

You open the bedroom door and step out. "Born to be."

Bro and Sis are nowhere to be found; you're not sure if they're here or outdoors. You wonder, for a fleeting moment, if there's anything in your food, but you can only wait and see. Right now, you were stepping out. It didn't take long to get down to the strip. It was about ten-fifteen by the time you both get there. It would have been a hell of a long trip by foot, but you both took a cab. Who called for it? You don't remember Dane ringing up somebody, but hell, anything was possible with your family's speed. Like the older Strider promised, Vegas was alive and well; the bright lights wiped away the sky above. Now all you needed was a camera set just below the two of you, panning around and showing of your identical smirks. Maybe one day. Dane hit you in the shoulder with the back of his hand and led you towards one of the buildings. You glance up at the name in shining lights before following him inside. The light starts to get dimmer the further in you both go, but the hall is draped in red-velvet. You take a hand out of your pocket and drag the tips of your fingers along the way. Yeah, you're looking bad ass now, especially with Dane to your left. This would make a good slow-mo in a movie.

You two find a small table near the bar and look over towards each other. You both nod and turn towards the stage as the room goes pitch black. The other patrons begin to clap, and you and Dane do so as well. Vaudeville music starts to play. You feel a hand clasp over your shoulder and pull you down. You raise both brows as you feel the side of Dane's hand press against your temple.

"Happy birthday to us."

You chuckle and turn your head towards his. You feel him shift. "Yeah, happy birthday."

The girls that sang were pretty good, especially since they actually sang the songs they were performing. When one of the girls started doing a feather fan routine, you realize now that Dane dragged you into a burlesque bar. You glance over to him with a sharp movement of your head, but he's already looking at you, both shoulders shrugged up and a comical smile on his face. You could make out that cheesiness even in the dim light that reached your table. He knew. You shake your head and look away, enjoying the rest of the show. Might as well, the music is good and the chicks are hot. Win win for everyone.

"So what's your big plan?" Dane asks you as you two walk out after the show.

"Follow me." You walk past him down the sidewalk.

He watches you go before jogging after you. "You know where you're going?"

"I better. I've seen it enough over the past few days."

He falls quiet and you're sure he's looking at you, waiting for you to elaborate. He'll just have to keep waiting. You direct his path through the crowd, and he stays close enough to not get lost. Occasionally you glance up to the neon signs to make sure you're going the right way, but when there's noticeable gap in blinding imagery, you know you're in the spot. Dane begins to make his way past you up the steps and towards the doors, but you reach forward and grasp his shoulder. He looks down to you.

"Nah, man. We're not going in there," you say, a smirk forming over your lips. "Tonight, out here's your stage."

His lips part as though he's about to say something, but he looks towards the sidewalk and then down to you again, wondering if you're serious. It's written all over his face. You nod slowly.

"Yeah, man. We're making this happen."