theme: terry towelling socks

Rigby hastily unzipped his backpack, causing folds of dirty clothing to droop out the sides. Cold air flowed out of the vents, creating a frigid atmosphere in the bedroom.

Kicking off his sandals, he buried himself under the lilac-scented sheets of his guest bed. He was just about ready to pass out from exhaustion.

Being invited up to Margaret's parents' cabin to stay the week was one thing. No one had told him that he had to go hiking. Or eat 'relatively healthy' foods. Or have to get off his lazy butt and use his legs for once.

Rigby's body was so used to taking it easy and being inactive for hours at a time. Was physical labor what Margaret's family called 'fun'? What they considered leisure?

His muscles tensed up again. He flopped over to another side. His friends eventually piled into the room with him. Mordecai, smoothing over sweat that dotted his forehead, eyed the raccoon.

"Giving up so soon, dude?"

Rigby grumbled, pulling the blankets over his head. "I'm tired," came his muffled croak.

"Whatever, Rigby." "We're going back down with my dad," Margaret informed him, gesturing to Mordecai and Eileen. "Actually," Eileen replied, slipping out of her boots. "I think I'll head in, too."

"Alright, you guys. You know where we'll be if you need us," Margaret said, heading out before Mordecai. Eileen whipped out her leather suitcase and slid her hand in the top crack. She pulled out a white bundle, fitting needlessly into her palm.

Rigby sneaked a glimpse from under his multi-layered cover. "Socks?" he questioned. "Not just any socks," she replied. "Terry Towelling socks."

The mole woman gave a slight nod in response. Unrolling them, she carefully slipped into each sock. Rigby noticed the embroidery that wove around the top; a series of cobalt loops. Without warning, Eileen toppled into the bed previously occupied by Rigby.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, furiously pushing her arm. "Knock it off, Eileen! I was here first!" Coyly, she replied, "at least I didn't hog all of the blankets."

Rigby growled, but then settled into his groove in the bed. She'd have to get out sooner or later.

Eileen turned. Due to his partially outstretched nose, they were practically Eskimo-kissing on the spot. He could feel her breath release on his face as she spoke.

"It was nice out. You know, the stars."

He did a half shrug and pulled the blankets up higher. "That meteor shower.. don't you remember? They shined bright like tonights' stars," she whispered, drawing closer. "Two celestial bodies.. coming together.

I also recall that we were together that night. Alone, on top of make-out point."

Rigby felt claustrophobic, and he still wasn't sure where Eileen was going with this.
"The midnight air was so cold... yet, refreshing."

He felt her lukewarm hand wrap around his. Immediately after, she jolted up and wiggled out from underneath the covers. "I knew it. You're freezing!" Eileen proclaimed, heading over to her suitcase once more. "So what?" Rigby scoffed. "I'm a man. I can handle it."

Eileen snuck something out of her clothes and tossed it to him. It rolled off the corner of his bed and plummeted to the floor. "I'm gonna make us some hot chocolate. But in the meantime.." she said, glancing at the ground. "Wear those. It'll warm up your feet."

Rigby watched as she left the room, hearing the distant upward thuds as proof of her exit.

He leaned over the edge of the bed and saw that she had indeed thrown Terry Towelling socks at him.

A/N: Everyone! I'm alive!

No, but really... thanks for being really patient with me. Right after that last chapter a while back, I got a terrible case of writers' block (and not to mention, a lot of school work). But I've regained a lot of motivation and I'm happy to say that I'll be posting again!