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cherrygorilla · 24 days

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Ice Pop 🍃

Aaaah, Happy Birthday, Danelle! I hope you're having a wonderful day! I honestly didn't think I'd be able to get anything done to celebrate this year with how busy I've been, and I felt terrible, but luckily being at home for the last week has given me some time on a night to whip a little something up. It's not the best, or the most exciting, but hopefully it can somewhat make up for my months of radiosilence, and bring you a little joy today. 🥰

Now, this can pretty much be considered a standalone AU one-shot, but it was supposed to be a section in the third part of ASDO - yes, I know I haven't even finished the second part yet, I'm working on it lol - however, due to changes in timelines and things, it's not going to be able to work like this anymore. Still, I wanted my idea for two certain characters meeting for the first time to have some sort of a home, even if it is no longer canon. And who knows? Maybe it'll help for their appearances in other stories haha. But yeah, if you're wondering about the context of the rehearsal it's centred around - that's what it's for 😂

Anyway, enough of my rambling! I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you have a great day however you end up celebrating! You're the best internet friend a girl could ask for, so you deserve it! Happy birthday, Danelle!! 🥳

"Ugh, she just gets prettier every time I see her."

As rubber sneaker soles met blistering asphalt, Vivien couldn't help but giggle. Swinging the door of the sky blue convertible shut, she turned to face Carrie, affectionately rolling her eyes as she saw where her gaze, and flattery was aimed. Proudly plastered across the side of Sound Stage 4 was a colossal banner advertising the newest season of Find Your Voice, decorated with the gigantic heads of eight of its core cast members. And off to the left hand side, beaming down the camera lens over the top of an advanced geometry textbook, was the very same blonde as the one standing there admiring it.

"And Miles wonders why he can't get Royce to stop calling you vain," Vivien sarcastically teased.

Reluctantly tearing her gaze from the studio's prime position billboard, Carrie settled the younger brunette with a contented smirk. "I don't care; it's true," she said, holding back a giggle of her own as she swung her car door shut. "And besides, a little self-love's healthy."

"A little?" Vivien snorted with a raised eyebrow.

Carrie didn't have a comeback for that one, instead just laughing along with the teenager as she locked up her Mustang and rounded the car to join her. Bidding the oversized version of herself a final goodbye with a proud grin and a mock salute, as a way of thanking her for her contributions to their show's ever-growing ratings, Carrie began leading Vivien out of the studio parking lot.

Jogging a few paces to match the blonde's brisk walking pace, Vivien soon returned to scanning her surroundings like she'd just set foot in Munchkinland after a tornado. By now she had thought she was somewhat familiar with the movie world her extended family lived in, or at least the portion by the beach where they all resided. But exploring the downtown area brought that same giddy novelty of her first visit flooding back to her. It was like the whole city had a filter over it, turning up the saturation of the colours in the brickwork or shop signs, and bringing out their warmth to match the sunrays kissing the freckles up and down her arms.

Once she'd finally regained control of her childlike wonder, and had stopped gawping at the buildings lining the street they were strolling down as though they were exhibits at a science museum, her attention returned to the same question that had been plaguing her since Carrie had ushered her into the passenger seat of her car. "You know, you still haven't actually told me where we're going."

"I'm taking you to the venue."

Despite her nonchalant tone, Carrie's revelation made Vivien's breath catch in her throat. "Already?"

"Well yeah," Carrie replied, seemingly confused by the panicked squeak in the girl's voice. "I thought you'd want to get some practice in first."

Melting into a smile with a relieved sigh, Vivien let her shoulders relax and her feet be guided by the clunky, patterned platform boots parading her down Sycamore Close. Acting as a rather effective tour guide, Carrie gave her a walking tour of her and Miles' weekday stomping ground - she pointed out the mechanic shop where he worked, where their favourite sandwich shop was, which place did the best coffee, which place did the worst coffee - she even pointed out the laundrette Miles almost flooded after an unfortunate lunch-break run-in with a meatball sub, and threw in the anecdote that went along with it for good measure. There was the florist shop, the record store, the pharmacy - the whole street looked like it could have been plucked straight out of a movie set. And, in a way, Vivien supposed it had been. But as they rounded another corner, the pastel awnings and inviting smells disappeared.

It was far from a dump; palm trees still sporadically lined the road, and storefronts held haphazard displays of their products to entice the sparse crowds of customers. But the trashbags sitting at the curbside, and the uneven sidewalk slabs, made this part of town feel a little less polished than the rest. Just as Vivien finished reading the intricate chalkboard sign hanging outside a local bookstore though, and she turned back to follow Carrie's lead, a cloud of smoke obscured her view of the path ahead.

Thankfully, the haze had dispersed by the time the girls approached, but the stench of weed that replaced it made Vivien's nostrils itch. Scrunching up her nose, she slightly quickened her pace, hoping to get to a bakery down the street that could drown out the smell before her eyes started watering. But in the seconds that followed, she didn't know what surprised her more: the fact that Carrie was acknowledged by the stoner responsible for the smoke show, or the fact that she actually stopped to talk to him.

"Heyyyy, Carrie-oke! What the hell are you doing here so early?"

"We're down a drummer, so we need an emergency rehearsal with our stand-in," Carrie replied, a hint of amusement colouring her tone - whether that was due to the circumstances, or the fact that she sensed Vivien's utter confusion was a mystery to the brunette though.

"You lost another one? What happened? She didn't-"

"Yeah, Amber dumped him… Again."

"Fucking hell," the guy snorted, taking a quick drag on his joint and blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, away from the girls, which Vivien appreciated. There was something about his entertained grin that drew her interest - or maybe it was that mischievous twinkle she spotted in his dark, albeit bleary chocolate brown eyes as he lifted his round sunglasses onto the top of his head. Either way, her intrigue towards the young man was making the weed smell more and more tolerable with each passing second. "Two drummers in four months? Is she trying to set a record or something?" he cheekily continued.

"I don't know," Carrie sighed with an eyeroll at her friend's expense. "But she definitely made the right call with that last guy; he was a total deadweight."

"Was that the coupon guy?" he checked. And once Carrie nodded her confirmation: "Oh yeah, he was a fucking moron. She can do so much better."

"Exactly," Carrie replied, throwing her head back with a hearty laugh at the brunet's earnest response. "But, yet again, her commendable level of self-respect has left us without a drummer less than eight hours before doors open. Hence the emergency rehearsal."

The deeply pensive expression, pulling the guy's eyebrows together, had Vivien biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from giggling, especially when he revealed what he'd been thinking so hard about.

"Hence…" he mumbled, through a mouthful of the BLT sandwich he'd picked up from the plate balancing precariously on the windowsill beside him. "Gnarly adverb... Respect."

Carrie just shook her head with another amused grin. "That stuff's hittin' good this morning, huh?"

"Oh yeah," he chuckled with a contented nod of approval. "You want a hit?"

Whilst the offer itself wasn't too much of a surprise to Vivien, the length of time Carrie appeared to consider it for certainly was. For a moment, she even thought she saw the blonde's arm twitch, as though instinctively moving to accept, before she caught herself and shook her head. "No, I can't-"

"Oh come on, just a little one."

Again, Carrie almost appeared convinced, before her better judgement won out. "No, I- Look, maybe later," she eventually compromised, taking a step towards the propped open, painted brown door beside them to prevent any attempts at further complaints from the stoner. "I already told you, I'm not here to just hang out. We've got to rehearse."

"We? What are you talking about? Who's-?" But as Vivien followed Carrie's lead, inching towards the doorway, she looked up to find that set of bleary brown eyes fixed on her for the first time that conversation - any traces of an end to his question completely falling out of his head the second he spotted her.

Now that she'd actually been acknowledged by the guy, Vivien took the opportunity to fully take in his appearance: fascinated by the fact that such a creature even knew Carrie, let alone spoke to her like a friend. His dark, taupe hair fell in half-hearted curls by his shoulders - more in limp waves than anything, which were pushed away from his face by the arms of the scratched, round sunglasses balanced atop his head. His scrawny frame was hidden by a baggy denim jacket that looked as though it was about four sizes too big for him, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and a shirt beneath patterned so intensely she couldn't look at it for long without seeing spots in her vision. Old, flared, brown trousers; scuffed, but clearly well-loved, maroon boots; and a jumbled collection of leather bracelets, fabric wristbands, and peace sign pendants completed the look - a look she could only think to dub: dishevelled bohemian. If he'd have been on the cover of a history book about the hippie movement she wouldn't have batted an eyelid. And yet here he was, standing right in front of her, looking at her as though she'd just been beamed down from a spaceship.

Apparently her very existence was all it took to stun him into silence; his brain clearly needed all the energy it could get to process what he was seeing. She could practically hear its cogs spinning on overdrive as he searched her face for some recognisable quality. And just when they were starting to sound like her old laptop loading up The Sims, he tore his gaze from her and fixed it back on Carrie.

"…Who the fuck is that?"

The genuine confusion riddling his expression amused Vivien to no end, having to catch herself before a giggle escaped her lips as Carrie, evidently more familiar with his antics, simply replied: "It's Viv."

But the explanation made absolutely no difference in that empty, freckled head. The guy still looked as lost as ever.

"It's Vivien," Carrie tried again. But when she was met with a further, if not slightly more irritated, blank stare, she let out a frustrated scoff and turned so that she was fully facing the airheaded brunet again. "Vivien O'Brian-"

"You say that like you expect me to know who she is," he cut in with an incredulous scoff of his own.

"You do know."

"Then who the fuck is it?"

"Vivien," Carrie fired back with great exasperation - the kind that could only come from years of friendly, pent-up frustration. "She ice skates. She reads books. Miles talks about her like once a fucking week!"

Ethan's eyes lit up like a Roman candle. "Yoooo, where is Miles?" he asked, all inquiries about the brunette forgotten in an instant at the very mention of that all-important name.

But his eager grin was met with a look of disapproving disbelief. "I don't know," Carrie snapped, left floundering for an answer thanks to the stoner's inability to hold a properly structured conversation. "At work, I assume."

He looked about as satisfied with Carrie's answer as she had with his question though, tipping his head up to the sky and letting out a frustrated groan that would have given a sulking six-year-old a run for his money. "You seriously didn't bring him with you?" he checked, quirking an eyebrow at her out of the corner of his vision - clearly hoping this was just some dorky prank set-up.

"No, I don't think he gets off 'til 5," Carrie flatly fired back.

"Ughhhhh." There went that stroppy groan of frustration again. "That's fucking forever away. What am I supposed to do 'til then?"

"You could help us set up for our rehearsal," Carrie suggested with a smirk. "You know, like any respectable entertainment coordinator would."

He just rolled his eyes. "It's gonna be so boring without him though," he whined, scuffing his boot along the sidewalk as he dejectedly kicked a pebble against the side of the building.

Now it was Carrie's turn to roll her eyes as she let out an incredulous scoff. "Need I remind you, we were friends way before Miles came into the picture?"

The stoner levelled her gaze for a beat before a knowing smile tugged his lips into that same mischievous grin from before. "Yeah, but from that point on, nothing else really mattered, did it? Let's be real," he chuckled. Despite the ribbing, and obvious penchant for a certain mechanic, there was a glint in his blood-shot eyes that revealed his fondness for the blonde after all though.

And the feeling was clearly mutual since she was still willing to continue the conversation - she couldn't even successfully stifle her smile back as she shook her head and muttered a quick: "You're such an idiot."

The brunet made no attempt to argue - in fact he let out an amused snort of agreement as he reached for the rest of his half-eaten BLT.

Seizing the opportunity to take control of the conversation again, Carrie attempted to steer it back on track with an exaggerated, "Anyway." Tugging her guest closer, and dramatically gesturing to her, she continued, "That Vivien we talk about all the time: this is her."

The guy nodded thoughtfully. "Vivien…" he mumbled through a mouthful of bread - still playing that oh-so challenging game of connect-the-dots.

"Yes, Vivien," Carrie confirmed, as though encouraging a kindergartener. "She stayed with Miles and his brothers last April."

"Mmm," he nodded, finally showing some evidence of understanding. "She's dating that other mechanic guy - the one Miles lived with for-"

"No," Carrie cut in sharply over Vivien's incredulous laughter. "That's Mick and Butchy."

"Well how the fuck am I supposed to-?"

"Viv's dating Royce," Carrie explained, cutting off his complaint before he could derail the conversation any further.

"She's dating Royce?" he questioned, half-mumbling to himself as he fought through the disbelief the new information carried. His eyebrows scrunched in incredulity, his lips curled into a sort of confused grimace-

But then it finally clicked - the force almost popping his eyes out of his head in the process.

If the sudden change in the stoner's expression hadn't already set Vivien off to laugh harder, the sharp gasp that followed, and sent what remained of his mouthful of sandwich flying into the back of his throat, certainly did.

"Holy shit!" he eventually managed to choke out between the hacking coughs to help dislodge the piece of bread. "That was actually real?" he went on to ask once he'd caught his breath again, staring at Carrie with tear-stained eyes and a look of utter stupefaction. But she just nodded and chuckled as she handed him a bottle of water from her purse. "I thought Miles just made that up so I'd stop thinking his brother was a lame-ass," he continued, pausing to gulp down the offered water and rid himself of any remaining evidence of his mini choking fit. Holding the water bottle out to its original owner with a heavy, contemplative sigh, he levelled her gaze and lowered his voice to ask a dubious: "You're definitely sure it's real then?"

"You do know you can talk to her yourself, right?" Carrie checked, raising her eyebrow as she took back the bottle and gestured to Vivien yet again.

The guy paused, mouth slightly agape, as the realisation steadily dawned on him. Shifting his gaze to the brunette, he instead posed the question to her. "...You're actually dating Miles' brother?"

"I am indeed," she replied, smirking through poorly stifled giggles at the caricature of a guy's reactions.

"And they're definitely not paying you to say this?"

"I wish I was getting paid," Vivien snorted. "Easiest buck I'd ever make."

A thoughtful nod followed, as though impressed by the girl's honesty. And then came another bite of that BLT as he mulled over the revelation a little more. "Well, shit," he eventually settled on, with an amused smirk of his own. "Good for him… And you, I guess," he added, with a vague nod in Vivien's direction.

And then there was silence. It seemed as though he felt his role in the conversation was over now if the way he engrossed himself in inspecting the limp piece of lettuce sticking out the side of his sandwich was anything to go by. But Carrie had other ideas.

"Is that it?"

"Is what it?"

"That's all you have to say?" she raised an eyebrow and pressed.

"Well what else do you want me to do?"

But Carrie's disgruntled eye roll told Vivien she wasn't about to spell it out for him. "You have the social skills of a fucking garden snail," she muttered, before turning to the younger brunette with an almost apologetic shake of her head. "Well, since he's not gonna introduce himself - Viv, this Ethan. I had other, cooler friends I wanted you to meet first but, unfortunately fate had other plans."

Ethan still frowned despite her teasing tone. "I know you don't mean that, Cole," he protested, to which Carrie just smirked and rolled her eyes again.

Vivien felt like she was constantly on the brink of laughter watching the pair interact, caught between genuine amusement and utter disbelief. "So you two are like legitimately friends then?" she asked, feeling the need to check since her brain still didn't feel ready to process what her eyes were telling her.

Matching mischievous grins graced their faces as Ethan nodded and Carrie stifled another chuckle. "Don't look so surprised," she added after clocking the girl's reaction.

"No, I just-" Vivien floundered, struggling to articulate everything her brain was trying to process into a proper sentence. But after several failed attempts, she let her straight-to-the-point inner voice take over talking duties, with a spluttered laugh to join it. "How the hell did it happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well I just- I thought I had an idea of what your friends would be like…" Vivien trailed off, again at a loss for words.

"And this isn't it?" Carrie asked with mock-surprise as she jerked her thumb in Ethan's direction, just as he took another hit of his joint.

"...Well, we call you Barbie for a reason," Vivien teased. "I just didn't expect Little Miss Perfect to hang out with…"

"Someone who looks like they crawled out of Fraggle Rock?" Carrie offered with a smirk that quickly set the girl off to laugh.

Luckily, Ethan started laughing along with them - but not for the same reasons. "Yooo, they call you Barbie?"

"That's what you took from that?" Carrie checked in disgruntled disbelief.

"That's so fucking good," he mumbled as another amused grin settled on his lips.

But Carrie just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Vivien. "I swear you kids think I'm some sort of saint," she chuckled before teasingly adding, "You're not the only one who can have cool, weird friends, you know?"

"I never said I was," Vivien argued through a laugh. "I just don't know where you two could have ever crossed paths. Where did you guys meet?"

"He works on the sound for Find Your Voice and a couple of other shows on the lot. So I've known him ever since I booked the part," Carrie explained whilst Ethan worked on finishing what was left of his BLT. "He was just another part of the crew at first, but, because I talk to anyone and everyone all the time-"

"'Cause she loves the sound of her own voice," Ethan cut in through a mouthful of bacon, cheekily licking mayo off his thumb.

Carrie silenced him with a withering stare - but his lingering smirk told Vivien that he wasn't phased in the slightest. Still, Carrie was able to finish the rest of her explanation uninterrupted. "-I started to talk to him between takes, you know, since he was always there with the boom mic. And then one thing led to another, and before I knew it, he was sacking off lunch with the other tech guys to come and raid my dressing room for cookies."

"Oh come on," Ethan frowned at the light ribbing. "Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same for your mom's snickerdoodles."

"You ate crumbs out of a trash can."

"And I'd do it again," Ethan shot back with an earnestness that just made his and Carrie's sibling-like bickering even more entertaining. "You can't talk anyway; you ate that piece of pizza Miles spat out into a napkin the other week."

Ethan's accusatory frown, paired with Vivien's grimace just made Carrie's attempts at a justification even harder to come by. "Listen, I was not…" she began, eyes darting to the brunette on her left as she tried to phrase this in a way that wouldn't tarnish her reputation any further. "...of sound mind that evening. Plus, he's my boyfriend - I've tasted worse than saliva."

As if the first part of the confession hadn't shocked her enough, Vivien jerked her head back in reaction to that last line. "Eww, Carrie!"

Ethan's loud bark of laughter was a completely different response though. "Hey, I never said there was anything wrong with it," he eventually chuckled. "I'd have probably eaten it if you didn't."

"And I bet you'd have loved it too, you freak," Carrie fired back with a smirk despite her nose wrinkling in disgust.

Ethan's proud grin was all the evidence she needed to know she was right.

Once Vivien had recovered from her future sister-in-law's nausea-inducing revelation, she was able to continue with her inquiries about the scruffy stoner she'd become so fascinated with. "Wait so you know Miles too?"

"Know him?!" Ethan squawked.

His reaction sent Carrie's eyes to the heavens as she tipped her head back in despair. "Don't get him started, Viv," she wearily warned.

But Ethan didn't even give the brunette the chance to question any further, seizing the opportunity to talk about the mechanic with both hands, and a lovestruck smile. "Miles is my soulmate; my cosmic chaperone - we're spiritually bound by the very threads of our existence."

The edges of Vivien's smirk twitched, dying to let the guffaws it was holding back free as she raised an eyebrow. "That close, huh?"

Ethan gave the girl a solemn nod. "He's the ketchup to my mustard."

"Well shit," Vivien deadpanned, matching the guy's energy perfectly. "You can't get closer than that."

Shaking her head at the pair, and the situation in general, Carrie went on to explain: "The second I brought Miles on set it was game over. He asked Ethan some dumb question about a song on the radio and he's been following him around like a bad smell ever since."

Both physically and metaphorically.

"It was Money by the Rolling Stones, and we still say it's our song to this day, thank you very much," Ethan cagily retorted, as protective as ever over his friendship with Miles, before adding a slightly more in character: "That guitar line is gnarly."

"'Our song'?" Vivien questioned with a snort. "Are you guys gonna use it for your wedding or something?"

But the teasing remark bounced off Ethan like a rubber bullet as he mulled over the proposal with a mellow grin. "I could dig it."

Again Carrie just fondly shook her head, at both Ethan's response and Vivien's reaction. "Believe me, Viv," she went on to say. "They'd need no encouragement. I mean, you'll see it for yourself later, but they're inseparable when you get them together. Like, think of the biggest bromance you know, then times it by four…and you might be getting close."

"They're really that close?" Vivien chuckled in disbelief.

Carrie nodded intently. "They're like fucking limpets."

"I can't believe Miles has been hiding the fact he's got a best friend from me for all these years," Vivien said with cheeky incredulity. "I'm never letting him live this down. I didn't think losers like him were capable of having best friends."

"Well believe it, because he's not going anywhere," Carrie snorted. "Believe me; I've tried."

"Protest all you want, 'oke. You and I both know you'd be lost without me," Ethan said, slinging his now free arm around Carrie's shoulder and pulling her towards him, before affectionately squidging her cheeks together in a way that immediately had her trying to squirm out of his grip.

"I'd have one hell of a mopey boyfriend, that's for sure," Carrie compromised with an affectionate roll of her eyes as she finally somewhat relaxed into the awkward embrace. "And a pretty boring social life."

"Exactly!" Ethan said, that same mischievous grin from earlier making its fateful return. "Who else would you have to go and play midnight mini golf with? And who'd you get to play ice tag with you on set?"

"Isn't it called 'freeze' tag?" Vivien teasingly questioned. "And why are you adults playing freeze tag at work?"

"Uh, we're 22, we're not dinosaurs," Carrie retorted. "And it's not 'freeze tag', it's 'ice tag': a Carrie and Ethan original."

"Well if it's not freeze tag then what is it?" Vivien laughed.

"Duuude, it's so fun!" Ethan enthused. "You've gotta sneak to one of the craft services ice buckets, grab a couple cubes, then pick your victims. If you get one down the back of their shirt - or pants - without them noticing 'til it's already down there, and without it melting, you get a point - and they then have to be the next one to go get the ice."

"The camera guys hate it," Carrie laughed. "But it makes long filming days so much more fun. We've got like half the cast and crew playing now."

"Yeah, the scoreboard in her dressing room's insane," Ethan added.

"So you've built an entire friendship around a game about ice cubes?" Vivien questioned with an amused quirk of her eyebrow.

"Pfft, no, we hang out all the time!" Ethan said.

"Yeah, believe it or not, Miles and I do voluntarily hang out with him when we're not running around after you guys," Carrie chuckled.

"To do what?" Vivien snorted.

"All sorts. We've had a few good movie nights lately 'cause we found out Ethan's got like the weirdest taste in movies ever; he's seen shit like 'Attack of the Crab Monsters', but not The Wizard of Oz."

"Well I have now, but it was fucking weird, man," came Ethan's review. "The scarecrow guy's face looked like it was melting off." Directing his next point at Vivien in particular, he departed his first bout of wisdom on her. "Not one to watch high, dudette, trust me."

"Noted," Vivien acknowledged.

"So yeah, we've had a couple of rogue movie nights if Ethan's been in charge of securing the projector reels," Carrie continued. "But other than that it's just like general, everyday stuff. At least for us, anyway. We don't really get much chance to properly plan stuff out - it kind of just happens. Like the other day, after work, Amber started trying to teach us all how to do one of her crazy yoga routines - we'd never have suggested that until we did it, but it was some of the most fun I've had in weeks."

"Yooo, I was so fucking good at it. I might get her to show me some more stuff next week; I really felt like I was tapping into something powerful with it."

"Oh it was powerful alright," Carrie acknowledged with a giggle. "Miles couldn't believe it - I haven't seen him laugh that hard since he watched you take 20 minutes to make that packet ramen."

"Look, I just have other skill sets to most people," Ethan retorted with a resigned sigh. But a fleeting memory soon had his confidence racing back. "You've gotta admit I was a key player in helping you wreck Eric's car though."

Vivien's jaw dropped to her purple sneakers. "I'm sorry, you did what now?"

The guilt was written all over Carrie's pretty little face. Knowing she had no leg to stand on if she attempted to deny it, thanks to Ethan's unending honesty, she caved with a sigh. "Ok, yeah, so we may have totaled Eric's sports car-"

"Fuck, it was so fun!" Ethan exclaimed. "Me, Amber, and Carrie went to town on that thing. And Julie-"

"Anyway," Carried quickly cut in, trying to change the topic of conversation.

But the disbelief glittering in Vivien's emerald eyes wasn't about to let her get off the hook so easily. "Oh no, I'm not going anywhere until I hear this story," she grinned eagerly.

Letting out a defeated huff, Carrie compromised. "Alright, fine, I'll tell you later. But not a word of it gets back to Miles, ok? Because he has no idea we were the ones responsible for that - and we need to keep it that way."

"Oh come on, why can't I hear it now?" Vivien asked, sticking Carrie with her classic puppy dog eyes for extra, black-mail-y effect.

But unlike her other half, Carrie wasn't so easily won over by the pleading. "Because we need to go practice," she fired back. "We've wasted enough time talking to this bozo already."

"It's not been a waste," Ethan indignantly replied. "I've had a great time."

"So have I," Vivien agreed with a chuckle.

"And I'm very pleased for you both, but that doesn't change the fact that we need to rehearse. So hurry up and unlock the function room for us, tech boy," Carrie bossily snapped back despite her affectionate eye roll.

"You see how she speaks to me?" Ethan snarkily muttered to Vivien as though behind the blonde's back.

"I thought he was the sound guy for your TV show, what does that have to do with us rehearsing here?" Vivien asked, scanning the outside of the building for some sort of clue as to what the place even was.

"He is, but he's also the entertainment co-ordinator here, which means he's in charge of all the live music equipment, and the emcee for the night," Carrie explained as he stamped out the end of his joint with the toe of his boot. "So we're stuck with him all day, I'm afraid."

"I'm also your number one competition, so you'd better be fucking good," he retorted with another mischievous grin. "'Cause you've yet to beat us once."

"You've got a band too?" Vivien asked.

"Yeah - me, Miles, Donny, Rizzo and Desky. Don't let Carrie brainwash you about her bogus trio though, 'cause she can talk all she wants, but she knows she only put it together 'cause she was jealous of ours."

"You're so full of shit," Carrie retorted.

"Oh yeah? Then how come you've lost the crowd favourite vote to us every single time?" he cockily shot back. And when, for once, she didn't have a snapback at the ready: "That's what I thought. Fucking. Poser."

"Brag all you want, but we're gonna make you eat those words tonight now that we've got Viv on our side," Carrie coolly replied, sparing the brunette a smug smile.

"Oh shit, yeah," Ethan said, his competitiveness vanishing once he remembered the reason for his new friend's visit. "You're filling in as their drummer, right?"

"Yeah," Vivien confirmed, trying to hide the fact that her stomach did a backflip at the very thought. "At least that's the plan."

"Gnarly," he acknowledged with an impressed nod. "Where'd you learn to play?"

"My brother Riven taught me back when we were kids."

"Nice, you ever done any shows before or-?"

"Hello? What part of, 'we need to go practice', do you not understand?" Carrie cut in with a pointed glare in the stoner's direction.

"Uh, we're having a conversation here," Ethan countered, totally oblivious to her frustration.

"We actually have a band of our own with two of our friends that we've played a couple of shows for, yeah," Vivien carried on with a giggle at Carrie's expense.

"Oh really? No way!" Ethan exclaimed, seeming genuinely excited by the prospect.

"Yeah, and we write all our own songs."

"Seriously? That's so-"

"Guys!" Carrie tried again - one more stall away from stamping her platform go-go boot on the ground and throwing a toddler-style fit. "Come onnnn."

But yet again, Ethan wasn't bothered in the slightest by her rising irritation. In fact, he was rather irritated himself by her impatience. "Carrie - can't you see I'm talking to my new friend here? She has great knowledge to bestow, and I have much to learn - so quit interrupting; we're having bonding time. You're being rude."

"You can't pull the 'friend' card on me with Viv; she's like my little sister-" Carrie tried, but her indignant protests were drowned out by more of Ethan's senseless rambles.

"So, we'll circle back to the band thing later; I need to do some mental collage-work first, 'cause your canvas is feelin' a little blank, dudette," he began, leaning back against the brick wall and closing his eyes, as though to better visualise the 'memory version' of the brunette before him. Pressing a couple of fingers to his forehead, in an attempt to strengthen their cerebral connection, he continued, "We'll lay down some basics first. Quick-fire: name, birthday, last bone you broke."

Vivien had to bite back a laugh before responding: "Vivien O'Brian, August 22nd, and it was my wrist when I was 10."

Ethan's eyes peeled open, shining with intrigue. "No way, you've actually broken a bone?"

"Why are you so surprised? You asked," Vivien chuckled.

"'Cause most of these losers I ask don't do anything exciting enough to risk bodily harm," he snorted back, with a smug glance in Carrie's direction, relishing the steam that was practically rising from the top of her head. "How'd you break it then?"

"My skating partner dropped me," Vivien said, luckily able to look back on the memory with a more optimistic view than the other participant.

"'Skating partner'?" Ethan mused.

"Yeah, we're figure skaters - my friend Riven and I; the one who taught me to how to play the drums," she explained, catching on quickly that the more context clues she offered, the sooner they'd get to the point.

"What, like roller skating?"

"No, ice skating," Vivien clarified with a giggle.

Ethan's eyes glazed over in understanding. "Ohhh, right. Like ice hockey."

"No, not like ice hockey," Carrie cut in with an exasperated sigh, trying to break it down as simply as she could. "Figure skating. It's like ice dancing. Think the winter olympics - lots of twirling - little dresses-"

"Ohhh, no way! You do all those crazy jumps and shit?" Ethan exclaimed - finally catching on.

"Yeah," Vivien acknowledged. "At least three times a week, usually."

"At the olympics?" he asked, genuine amazement coating every word.

"No, we're not at olympic level," she chuckled, deciding to forgo the explanation that the olympics, at most, happen 3 times a decade. "Not yet, anyway. Our coach is working us towards it though, so who knows? Maybe one day."

"Holy fuck, we're talking to a future olympian, Carrie," Ethan enthused, bumping the blonde's arm in an attempt to share the excitement with her. But when she just rolled her eyes, yet failed to hold back her smile, he continued. "Do you do other competitions and stuff though? Or do you just like practising and doing it for fun?"

"No, we compete. I've got like a whole shelf of trophies in my room," Vivien said, poorly stifling a laugh as Ethan's eyes grew wider still. "We're the reigning national champs for our age bracket."

"Woahhhh, far out, man," he breathed. "That's awesome!" Thumping Carrie's arm again, this time a touch harder to coincide with his growing excitement, he gave her another aside, "Yo, Carrie, we're talking to like a legit celebrity here."

Vivien didn't know what she ended up laughing harder at, Ethan's genuine awe at her achievements, or Carrie's deadpan look of resignation. Those blue eyes of hers looked like they could have melted steel.

Snorting out a laugh of his own at the blonde's expression, he turned back to Vivien with a smirk. "That never gets old," he grinned, evidently well-versed in teasing Carrie about her level of fame. "Anyway, enough about her; she gets more than enough attention. What other cool, hidden talents are you hiding under those glasses?"

"I don't know, I don't think anything else really counts as a talent," Vivien downplayed. "I've taken a few archery lessons, I like going and exploring abandoned buildings-"

"Woah, woah, woah, 'abandoned buildings'?" Ethan questioned - bloodshot eyes once again sparking to life. "What the hell? You're so cool. She's so cool," he said, turning to see if Carrie was sharing in his bewilderment too. "How the fuck did you end up dating Miles' lame-ass little brother? No offence, but like-"

"Ethan," Carrie scolded.

"No, come on, not in like a mean way; he sounds great - I'd protect him with my life - but like, all I ever hear from Miles is that he fucking reads nerdy library books," he attempted to justify.

"Well I like reading too, you know," Vivien countered with a teasing smirk.

"Yeah, but you still seem to have a life," Ethan retorted, with all the social graces of an ox. The hearty laugh Vivien let out in response soon had him back to grinning like an idiot though. "Yo, why's Miles kept us apart for so long? You're awesome - we've got such a good energy going here," he chuckled.

"Yeah, why has Miles kept us apart?" Vivien agreed, looking to Carrie for some sort of explanation.

Begrudgingly rejoining the conversation, she explained with a teasing smirk at the stoner's expense. "Because you're a terrible influence - I speak from experience. He's gonna kill me when he finds out I've introduced you two without his supervision." But then she turned her attention to the younger brunette. "And because the second you see them both together, his cover as the somewhat responsible adult looking after you kids is gonna be blown out the water."

"Oh come on, how bad can he be?" Vivien laughed.

"It's not bad, necessarily - it's just that when they're together, and you're not around, all responsibilities go out the window, and the 22 years of pent-up stupidity are unleashed," Carrie explained with a laugh of her own.

Grinning mischievously, Vivien said, "In that case, I can't wait for his shift to end."

"Yeah, which is gonna be soon if we don't hurry up and get our asses inside," Carrie said, shooting Ethan with another pointed look.

"Huh? D'you hear something, Viv?" Ethan asked his new protege, intentionally blanking the steadily seething blonde.

"Ethan, come onnnn, please," Carrie pleaded, bouncing on the balls of her feet like an impatient child. "You can continue this while we're setting up."

"Weather's pretty nice this morning, huh? Not too humid, not-"

"Fine, I'll just have to kick the door down," Carrie resigned, hiding her smirk behind his back. "I hope no one's left their guitar lying around where it could get damaged if-"

Whirling around with a look of pure horror, Ethan muttered a sombre, almost warning, "Don't even joke about that; you know she's my baby."

"You play the guitar?" Vivien questioned.

"'Play's putting it lightly; I think I can noddle away on that thing better than I can talk," Ethan snorted.

"Like that's hard," Carrie teasingly retorted before continuing. "As much stick as I've given him this morning, he is really good on that guitar," she went on to acknowledge with a genuine smile. "Riven, Miles, and Butchy can talk all they want, but they're not a patch on this guy - I think if he wasn't so mentally stunted he'd be considered some sort of prodigy or something."

"You know, you can just give me a genuine compliment," he said, frowning slightly at her friendly jab.

"I know… I'll start when you start," she retorted with a smirk he soon reciprocated, before shaking his head and letting out another snort of laughter.

"Ok, we'll stick with this; we've got a nice thing going here, why ruin it?"

Grinning at the pair of old friends, and the way Carrie squeezed him into a hug from the side, Vivien's ever-active brain started formulating a new idea - one that would hopefully get her in the good books of both cartoon-cliches come-to-life. "Well, if you're this good on the guitar I've obviously gotta hear it for myself," she prompted, drawing the brunet's attention back to her.

"Shoot, of course, I'd love to play something with you - you know any-?" Ethan began to gush, shoving Carrie away from his side in favour of chattering away to the brunette again.

"Don't we need to get into the function room first though?" she asked, sparing a quick glance at a suddenly very excited Carrie.

"Oh shit, yeah. You shoulda just said, Viv. I'll go unlock it for us," Ethan chuckled as though the concept was entirely new - sending Carrie's eyes to the heavens again.

But the blonde's groan of frustration was drowned out by Vivien's optimistic giggle, as she teasingly mumbled under her breath, "See? That wasn't so hard."

"You two are really gonna make me regret introducing you both, huh?" she said with a weary chuckle of her own as Ethan disappeared into the building.

"On the contrary; I think we're gonna have more fun than ever," Vivien laughed back. "I need to see more of this 'wild' side he brings out of you. First I find out you're bi. Now I find out you smoke weed and could go down for criminal damages to your ex's car with that…thing. I feel like I barely even knew you before."

Carrie just chuckled to herself at the teenager's amazement. "I did try to tell you I was more than just Miles' girlfriend."

"What else are you hiding now? Surely there can't be more," Vivien demanded. "Are you gonna introduce me to your secret three-year-old or something?"

"Eww, no," she laughed. "Just be patient, you'll find out when you're ready," she smirked with a confident mystique Vivien could only have dreamed of. "I've gotta keep at least some of the mystery alive."

Before Vivien could press the older girl for any further clues though, a bedraggled head of shoulder-length brown hair appeared in the dark doorway. "Come on, Ice Pop. It's all unlocked."

Vivien looked from Ethan to Carrie and back again, perplexed. "Ice Pop?"

"Yeah, Ice Pop," Ethan simply confirmed, with a dopey grin.

"Nicknames are kind of his thing," Carrie explained, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in to inform the brunette. "It's just how his little pea-brain works. And once he's settled on one for you, you're kind of stuck with it - unfortunately," she added, thinking back to the months of convincing it took to get him to stop calling her 'Coleslaw'.

"Why 'Ice Pop'?" Vivien questioned - as amused, and fascinated, by the guy's thought process as ever.

"'Cause you ice skate," he explained as though it was obvious. "And you're wearing purple - you've actually just got like a purple vibe."

"What does purple have to do with ice pops though?" she asked.

"Well the purple ones are my favourite, and you're my favourite ice skater, so…" he replied, miming the fusion of ideas with his hands for added effect. "Ice Pop."

Poorly holding back her flattered, yet still slightly amused grin, Vivien tried to protest. "You've never even seen me skate."

"Minor details," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You're the only one I know by name though - so, you don't have a lot of competition. But that still makes you my favourite."

All the skating talk was lost on Carrie, but there was something about the conversation that caught her attention: "The purple one's are your favourite? They taste like ass."

"Probably why they're my favourite," he snorted as Carrie just wrinkled her nose. Not wanting to delay the imminent jam session any longer, he quickly turned back to Vivien though, managing to catch her attention between her hearty laughs. "What do you say then? You like it?"

"Yeah, I like it," she grinned, warmth spreading throughout her chest as she watched the stoner's eyes glow with appreciation.

"Sweet," he breathed, holding her gaze for a beat before beckoning her towards the wooden archway in the brickwork. "Come on then, Ice Pop. Welcome to The Grapefruit."

Following a nod of approval from Carrie, who promptly trailed behind her, Vivien let Ethan lead her through a bead curtain and into a dimly lit, oak-panelled hallway. The floor almost immediately dropped into a stairwell, lined with black and white photos of musicians, and prints of various fruits in the same assorted shades of orange, yellow, and green from the beads at the entrance.

As they descended, Vivien, as talkative as ever, especially now that she was more at ease around the guy, decided to start probing Ethan for more details. "So if I'm Ice Pop, and Carrie's Carrie-oke - does Miles have a nickname?"

"Nah, you can't improve upon perfection," Ethan sighed, grabbing the railings of the staircase and launching himself down the last four steps. "I do have a 'government name' I call him though when he needs me to talk some sense into him," he continued after landing with a thud in front of a two-way corridor.

"Which is?" Vivien prompted as they turned to the left and reached another door.

"Miles per Gallon, Miles per Hour, Miles from Anywhere - there's a couple variations," he replied as he pulled a bunch of keys from his back pocket and started working on the lock. "Just depends on my mood."

"Oh my god, I can't wait for him to get here," Vivien giggled. She didn't know what she was laughing harder at: Ethan's nicknames for her honorary big brother, or what she imagined his face would look like when he realised she now knew about them.

"Well, in the meantime, make yourself comfy. 'Cause it sounds like you're gonna be here a while," Ethan chuckled as he pushed the door open and stepped aside to let her enter first. "Behold: your performance space for the evening."

As Vivien stepped into the room, that same surreal feeling she got the first time she set foot in the Wet Side Story world flooded through her - it felt like a dream, like everything would disappear in a puff of smoke if she touched it. But as her sneakers met scuffed, wooden floorboards, she stayed very much in one piece - as did everything else around her. The wood-panelled walls continued into what she now understood was an underground bar - but, despite the lack of sunlight, it was far from dingy. The overhead lights bathed everything in a soft, golden light, which complimented the room's colour scheme perfectly. The same shades of rust orange, mustard yellow, and olive green from the beaded curtain at the entrance clung to the upholstery and decorations - and yet brighter pops of colour, in line with the bar's citrussy namesake, made the whole room come to life. The earthy tones, mismatched furniture and clashing patterns made it feel so quintessentially 60s, but that just made Vivien love it even more - even if it did smell vaguely like stale beer.

"Hold up, how old is she? D'you think I'm allowed to have let her in here if she's not 21?" Ethan asked Carrie as the pair followed Vivien into the function room.

"It's not like you're gonna serve her any alcohol, she's just here to perform," Carrie said, brushing off his concern with ease. "And besides, if she wants anything she can just sneak some of mine," she added with a mischievous grin the stoner quickly shared.

"Yeah, what am I even saying? Since when did I start giving a shit about following the rules?" he snorted, pocketing his keys and crashing onto the nearest, faded leather couch.

"Alright then, Viv," Carrie continued, stepping up behind the teenager, who was still gazing around the room in wonder. And yet it wasn't until the blonde put her hands on her shoulders and steered her towards the centre of the room that she even noticed the sprawling stage - complete with mic stands, a dusty piano, several guitar amps and that all-important drum-kit. "You ready to take her for a spin?"

Vivien's first instinct told her 'absolutely not', but there was something about the warmth in Carrie's hopeful smile, and Ethan's earnest encouragements, still fresh in her mind, that gave her pause. Maybe she could do this after all; they certainly seemed to think she could. And she wasn't going to get over this stage fright without trying, so she might as well give it a go with a supportive audience - a rather unconventional, supportive audience; but one that, given her newfound fondness of the pair, and their apparent abundance of love for her in return, one that she wouldn't have traded for anything.

#p.s. there might be another surprise later that coincides with this 👀#probably not as exciting - but definitely necessary by now lmao #Vivien #Carrie #Ethan

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cherrygorilla · 6 months

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Lover

10th Anniversary One-Shot

The 9th of October 2023 marked 10 years since I first started writing and posting stories with my girl Carrie, and whilst I know I'm almost an entire month late to this (courtesy of my exhausting uni schedule lol), it felt like too big of a milestone to just let pass by. Now, this might not be the most sophisticated, or interesting, story, but it's a lovely chunk of self-indulgent fluff to celebrate how far Carrie and I have come from where we started. Writing my silly little stories has been such a joyous, and needed escape over this past decade, and I can't thank you enough for sticking around to read them; it truly does mean the world to me. Still, as a way to try, here's a fun little slice-of-life one-shot with Miles and Carrie, because I always need more of their relationship lol. Plus, it felt like a cute way to show Carrie's character progression, and the journey Miles has taken her on, ever since I decided to write that little spin-off story with them all that time ago. Getting to write with Carrie and Miles, and all the rest of your characters, Danelle, has injected so much fun and excitement into my stories again, and I'm so grateful for you letting me use them to help indulge my funny little fantasies and disappear from my overwhelming day-to-day life. It's been an honour.

And so, without further ado, here's to 10 years of cherrygorilla! 💕

P.S. Now that I've got this posted, I can finally go and enjoy the final part of Camp Wanamaker, because I've been dying to read that ever since it was posted - I just told myself I had to get this done first! 😆

Heaven had been depicted in many ways, but none quite compared to the atmosphere inside an apartment, on the fifth floor of a grand building off the corner of Palm Way Boulevard. An eclectic array of lamps bathed the walls in soft, warm light, as the lilting voices of glamorous housewives crackled through the Zenith's speakers, lulling the room's occupants into a slumber. With bellies full of hearty rigatoni, and eyelids drooping in the near twilight, the pair were the picture of contentment. Their bodies sunk so deep into plush, muted teal velvet, they feared they'd need a rope to haul themselves out again. And as fingers idly wove between locks of toffee brown hair, Carrie couldn't have kept her blissful grin at bay if she'd tried.

Notes of raspberry slid across her tongue as she set her glass of rosé down with her free hand, just in time for the show they were watching to cut to commercial. Fondly smiling down at the head of subtle waves in her lap, she scratched her nails ever so slightly deeper into their scalp, prompting what could only have been described as a purr to drift from the bundle of wool, cotton and freckled skin. Other than that though, the figure made no attempt to move beyond the rhythmic rise and fall of their back. And if the steadily lengthening breaths were anything to go by, Carrie knew sleep would be coming to claim her guest all too soon.

"You still with me, baby?" she teasingly asked.

"Mhm," Miles mumbled, snaking his arms tighter around her waist as he readjusted his head in her lap. At first Carrie just thought he wanted to get into a more comfy position, but when he craned his neck almost out of her lap altogether, she should have known he had other motives. "...Mrs Lancaster's definitely having an affair."

"How'd you know?" Carrie chuckled at the abrupt shift of focus. "Did you see her leaving in that purple dress again?"

"No, but I saw her bringing a guy back."

Sitting up to get a clearer look herself, Carrie peered out of the large window to her right, straining her eyes to spy on one of the many, staple characters in the not-so-fictional soap opera she and Miles had been dreaming up, which centred entirely on the outlandish residents of her neighbouring apartment block. Sure enough, the portly brunette, nearing middle age, could be seen parading a young man who was far too tall, and far too handsome, to be the balding real estate mogul who shared her last name, through her front door. Clearly her husband's excessive business trips had finally taken their toll.

"Damn, get some, Angela," Carrie tittered.

"He's gotta be at least half her age," Miles mused in morbid bewilderment, watching the pair like a hawk until the door swung shut behind them. And even then, he just graduated to looking out for movement behind the lace curtains. "I know we joked about her being a cougar for like 3 months, but I didn't think we were actually right. How the hell did she pull that off?"

"Well, love works in mysterious ways," Carrie smirked, as amused as ever by her boyfriend's investment in her neighbours' social lives.

"I think love's a pretty generous way to phrase it," Miles snorted. "Desperation might work better."

"Hey, they could be soulmates for all we know," Carrie playfully retaliated.

"Well in that case, I'm very happy for them," Miles conceded with a laugh at the very thought. "...And very glad that those curtains were installed last week."

"Amen," Carrie chuckled as she took another sip of her wine. The previous conversation soon triggered another thought to spring to the front of her mind though. "Speaking of love working in mysterious ways, you'll never guess who came into work today sporting a rock the size of a peanut M&M on her left hand."

Miles bolted upright, any remnants of sleep gone from his eyes in a single blink. "Shut the fuck up, he did not propose to her."

"No, he didn't, sadly - wrong finger," Carrie explained to her wide-eyed boyfriend, who was hanging on her every word. "Apparently it's a 'moving in present'."

"They're moving in together?" Miles asked - morbid bewilderment once again distorting his usual, laidback grin, as it almost always did in the face of his guilty pleasure: gossip about Carrie's insane coworkers. In this case, it was Find Your Voice semi-star, Emmalynn Rae, who, when she wasn't trying to become more plastic than person, was in the process of stealing her ex-best friend's fiancé for herself. He wasn't exactly proud of his fascination with the mindless drama of others, but when he was this deep in the bizarre lore of the inner workings of Carrie's coworkers' relationships, he couldn't help but get invested.

"So she says. And apparently they finalised everything on that big vacation to Palm Beach they kicked April out of."

"I thought that was a 'girls trip'?"

"So did I, but clearly posing for 'candid' paparazzi shots with April's sister and her new boyfriend trumps whatever the original plans were."

"Her sister was there?" Miles exclaimed in disbelief before his mind started to process everything he was hearing. "Dude, what the hell? As if the whole boyfriend thing isn't bad enough, she kicks April off the trip that she wasn't even invited to, that was planned to help April feel better about all the shit that she started, just to invite April's sister and deliberately drive a wedge between them? That is such dirty, mean girl shit. Oh my god. Why would her sister even-?" But Miles' better judgement soon caught up with him, as did a fresh wave of exhaustion. "You know what? I can't get into this tonight. There's too much to unpack."

Carrie couldn't help but giggle as he wearily rubbed his eyes. "Good idea. You wanna wait until you can talk about it with your co-conspirator too?"

"Does he already know?"

"I don't think so, he wasn't there when she was mouthing off about it anyway," Carrie chuckled. "So don't worry, you can do the honours of breaking the news to him."

Grinning at the very thought of informing his lank-haired accomplice, Miles finally felt the burst of adrenaline the story had shot through him start to dissipate as his shoulders slumped and he tugged the recently discarded woollen blanket back around him. "I was gonna say, if he knew when he stopped by the garage earlier and didn't say anything I'd have been very surprised."

"He stopped by the garage?"

"Just on his lunch break, it wasn't for long. He spent most of it getting Nino to play stupid games with him anyway," Miles explained with a chuckle at the comical, yet endearing, mechanic's expense, before flopping backwards on Carrie's huge, cloud-like sofa so that he was facing her, rather than curling up in her lap again like an overgrown tabby cat. As his head hit a decorative, satin-y throw cushion though, a new commercial plastered itself across Carrie's TV screen, alerting the pair to the fact that they'd talked through a quarter of the mind-numbing sitcom they'd been too lazy to change the channel on.

The restaurant advertisement worked a charm on Carrie though, grabbing her attention in an instant. "Hey, Crimson Sun! I've heard some really good things about that place. You want me to try to get us reservations for next week?" she suggested, eyes twinkling with excitement before playfully adding. "It might be nice to eat our Chinese food off a plate for once instead of out of a cardboard box."

"You're big-timing takeout boxes?" Miles teased. "What's next? You gonna tell me you'd rather eat at a table than off the paint tarp on the floor?" He pressed with a sideways glance at the folded up cloth in the corner of the room, serving as a reminder of the many weeks they had already spent renovating Carrie's apartment.

"I'm not totally giving up on the takeout boxes, I'm just saying it might be nice to start taking date night out of the apartment again; I feel like we haven't been out in months. Plus, I still haven't seen you wear your cool new shirt from the thrift store."

"We have been cooking a lot," Miles agreed, mind wandering back across the many weeks of stay-ins, and the various home cooked recipes that accompanied them. "I could go for a sit-down meal. I'm starting to get sick of my own cooking anyway," he added jokingly.

"I'm not," Carrie retorted with a protective scoff. "I literally had a dream the other night about those steaks you made - with those creamy potatoes and caramelised shallots…"

"They were pretty good, weren't they?" Miles conceded with a proud, yet grateful smile.

"Mhm," Carrie confirmed as a wicked twinkle flashed in her ocean blue eyes. "One of two things in that dream that made me wake up with drool all over my pillow."

Carrie's suggestive smirk was just met with a bark of laughter and a teasing shake of his head as Miles tried to mask his flustered embarrassment behind a loving eye roll though.

Having rendered her boyfriend speechless, Carrie decided she had to be the one to fill the comfortable silence that had settled over them in the minutes that followed. Fighting the on-screen drama queens for Miles' attention, she glanced at the clock and took one last sip of her wine before announcing, "Come on, it's getting late, I'd better start clearing stuff up in there."

The second she made an attempt to move from the sofa though, a whine of protest met her ears, and a hand gracelessly grabbed for hers.

"Let go, I've got leftovers to clean up," Carrie giggled, weakly attempting to wrench her arm free.

"It can wait 'til morning," Miles protested, entwining his fingers with hers to further delay her escape.

"No it can't, my whole place is gonna stink of meat sauce if I leave that pot out overnight."

"I like the smell of your meat sauce," Miles tried.

"Not at 7:30 in the morning, you won't," Carrie chuckled, once again attempting to stand, only to be dragged back down again.

"Just light one of your fancy candles to block it out," Miles said, pulling Carrie towards him with a chuckle despite his pouty frown. "I need cuddles."

"You're so clingy tonight," Carrie giggled, melting under his big puppy dog eyes as she let herself fall against his chest, and right into his waiting arms.

"I’ve been surrounded by nothing but cars all day, I’m touch starved," Miles lied as Carrie rolled onto her stomach on top of him.

"Is that so?" she quizzed, with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Mhm," Miles mumbled earnestly, reaching up to push her golden curls away from her face before snaking his arms around her back and pulling her closer.

Turning to putty between his hands, Carrie just chuckled and dreamily grinned down at him. "Well we can't have that, can we?" she breathed against his cheek. Surrendering to his magnetic pull, she nibbled at his bottom lip until she felt his hands skim the base of her spine and the nape of her neck, which is when she crumbled altogether and pressed her plump, peachy lips to his. Each kiss she tasted more oregano, and parmesan, felt more muscle and faded cotton, smelt more cedarwood and citrus, fighting to drown out the lingering motor oil stuck in his pores - leaving her far more intoxicated than any of the rosé in her pretty, iridescent wine glass ever could.

Even when they broke apart, Carrie couldn't stop drinking in her view, studying her boyfriend's face like it was mounted on the walls of the Louvre. The bump on the bridge of his nose, the scar peeking out from between his eyebrow hairs, the way the left side of his mouth curled up ever so slightly more than his right when he smiled. She could stare for hours, eyes glazed over in adoration as a mindless, giddy grin splayed her own lips, getting lost in swirling pools of baby blue, streaked with steel blue like they were a Claude Moet. It was perfection.

She knew Miles had fallen first, but she'd fallen harder - completely helpless to resist.

Finishing off with one last gentle peck, Carrie smirked as she asked, "Better?"

"Mhm," Miles chuckled, lazily skimming her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "That doesn't mean you can go and clean up though."

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it," she dramatically replied, drawing a chuckle from the lips still tasting the last whispers of her lip gloss as Miles wrapped his arms tighter around her back, effectively trapping her in his embrace for the foreseeable future. Not that she minded, of course. And with an even closer front row view of the charming mechanic, love-drunk into a stupor, the barrier between her brain and her mouth was steadily deconstructed. "You're so handsome," she murmured.

Miles just bashfully chuckled, momentarily breaking eye contact to try to recover some of his composure. "You'd think that with how many times I hear that from you I'd start believing it," he said, stealing a kiss to stop Carrie from pressing the topic further.

When they broke for air, Miles tugged at the crocheted blanket around his shoulders, cocooning the pair in swathes of pink, blue and yellow wool. Hoping it would prove as a sufficient distraction from his appearance, Miles asked, "Do you think if I ask Julie nicely enough she'll make me one of these?"

"I think you need to have reached 'best friend' status for at least five years before you get that kind of privilege," Carrie replied with an amused snort as she proudly let her fingers trace the meticulous rows of stitches.

"Do I not get bonus points for being the best friend's boyfriend? Or for the fact I piggybacked her ass for half a mile last week when she broke a heel?"

"Why do you care?" Carrie laughed.

"Because I want a cool blanket," he retorted. "…And I spilled coffee all over the big fleece one back at my place."

Deciding to save her breath rather than chastise the brunet for his clumsiness, Carrie just fondly shook her head and said, "I mean, by all means, knock yourself out, but I wouldn't count on it. You'd probably have better luck asking Mick; she might find the time to make you one if you bribe her with snacks."

As Miles conceded with a chuckle, Carrie laid her head on his chest, smiling to herself as she felt it rumble with laughter beneath her cheek. Between the melodic cadence of ageing TV stars, and the steady thudding of Miles' heart, muffled by freshly washed cotton, and paired with the comforting weight of his arm across her back, Carrie felt so at peace with the world that every passing second nudged her closer and closer towards a deep, blissful sleep. Everything was just perfect; she couldn't have felt happier. But as her subconscious started to wander, drifting and further and further from dreamland, that thought begged the question…

"What do you think you'd be doing right now if we never met?"

"I thought you were asleep," Miles mumbled through her mane of hair, chuckling at the very notion.

"I've not had that much wine," Carrie groggily giggled. But as silence once again fell over the pair, she realised she wasn't going to get an answer to her question. So she asked again. "Come on, I'm serious. What do you think you'd be doing?"

Favouring the prospect of any conversation, no matter how bizarre, over the asinine plot of the graveyard slot soap opera still droning throughout the living room, Miles decided to play along. "I don't know. My Thursday nights'd be a hell of a lot more boring, that's for sure."

"You think?"

"Well yeah; I'd just be sat around at home with Benny and RJ like any other night of the week."

Despite Miles' nonchalance, Carrie's brows furrowed. "You don’t think you’d be dating someone else?"

The suggestion took him by surprise. "...I don't think so. I mean, I only landed this relationship by chance - or, dumb luck, I suppose. It's not like I was actively looking for a girlfriend or anything at the time, it just kind of…happened."

"You could make it sound a little more romantic than that," Carrie jokingly chastised, following her giggles up with, "You really don't think you'd have found anyone else?"

"I already told you, I don't know," Miles chuckled. "It's not something I've ever thought about. I can't even really picture myself dating anyone else anyway."

"You're so full of shit," Carrie snorted. "What happened to your type being artsy brunettes?"

"I do not have a 'type'," Miles retorted with an incredulous guffaw.

"Really?" Carrie teasingly challenged.

"Really. That was just… the kind of girl I used to think I'd end up with one day," Miles tried to explain, which was hard considering the fact that he didn't fully understand it himself. "Or at least the kind of girl everyone expected I'd end up with anyway. It's not like I ever went seeking anyone like that out though."

"Come on then, enlighten me. What's this dream girl of yours like?" Carrie prompted.

"Ok, well, she's super loud and obnoxious, and she's got this crazy blonde hair that keeps getting caught in my mouth-"

Carrie dug her elbow in his rib. "Would you just play along? You're not worming out of this with flattery."

"How am I supposed to describe a girl I've never thought about?" Miles asked.

"Oh come on, you've got a better imagination than I do. I'm sure you can come up with something," she said, pausing for exactly one second before saying: "Here, I'll start you off-"

"Oh, so you've thought about your hypothetical competition before then?" Miles taunted, biting back a laugh at his girlfriend's steadfast protectiveness.

"Shh. Well she's definitely got to be brunette, we've already established that. And I think she'd have brown eyes too, those pretty ones that look like they're speckled with green. And she'd be super artistic like you, so you could do all the fun creative date ideas we try, but you'd both end up with masterpieces every time instead of-"

"I don't know, I think our cereal bowls are masterpieces," Miles cut in with an impish grin.

"Stop interrupting me, I'm on a roll here," Carrie playfully scolded. "She'd either be a total free-spirit, always wearing long flowy dresses, or old shirts covered in paint splatters, and those fun headscarves in like a million different patterns. Or, she'd be a preppy girl, in those cute sweaters and corduroy skirts - you know, really leaning into that whole 'girl next door' vibe?"

"She doesn't sound loud or obnoxious at all," Miles jokingly noted.

"Definitely not," Carrie giggled.

"She sounds shy, or at least quiet. Maybe she'd open up a bit after she gets to know you more, but at the start there'd be this whole 'closed book', mysterious vibe about her. And she'd read weird, cryptic poetry I'd pretend to understand to impress her."

"So you'd be the 'me' in the relationship," Carrie pointed out with another playful giggle.

"Yeah, I guess," Miles laughed. "She'd probably outsmart me all the time too. And have a hidden tattoo of some really deep, really random philosophy reference I'm too dumb to understand."

"Mmm, yeah, that's a good one," Carrie mused, before summing up, "So your dream girl's a mysterious brunette, who's both super booksmart and creative, has a cool sense of style, and - and I'm just spitballing here - I can only assume gets on incredibly well with your brothers because she's just so effortlessly likeable?"

"Yeah, and look what I ended up with," Miles snorted, prompting Carrie's jaw to drop in indignation.

"I'd choose your next words very carefully if you want to avoid spending the night out in the lobby."

"Oh come on, you know I wouldn't trade you for anything," Miles chuckled, hugging her closer still to his chest as he pressed a loving kiss to the top of her curls. "And whilst I'll be the first to admit you look great in green, I don't think you can really be jealous of a girl that doesn't even exist."

"I know," Carrie reluctantly mumbled, drawing another laugh from Miles' lips. “I still don’t like the sound of her though.”

“Don’t worry, I think you could take her in a fight,” he said with an amused smile. “And she may have a cool sense of style, but it’s still nowhere near as cool as yours.”

“Thank you, baby,” Carrie happily murmured as she snuggled deeper into Miles’ chest, ego sufficiently massaged.

“Any time,” Miles smirked, before teasingly adding. “I don’t exactly think you have a leg to stand on here though, Mrs 'I only go for blondes with brown eyes'," he teasingly added. “I’m straight up batting zero in both departments.”

“And yet somehow, here we are,” she teasingly mumbled back.

“Alright then, we’ve established my imaginary girlfriend, now it’s your turn; which blonde supermodel do I need to take down to defend my honour?” Miles asked with a smirk, more entertained by the idea than defensive about it. “And why do I feel like I already know her?”

Rolling her eyes at Miles’ playful jab, and pulling the crocheted blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, Carrie let out a sigh as she pondered her answer. “…I don’t know, I feel like if I never met you I’d probably just still be with Eric,” she eventually admitted, even disappointing herself with the lacklustre response.

Miles stalled at that revelation, and the change in her tone. “Really? You wouldn’t be dating someone else?” he checked, genuinely shocked by what he was hearing, especially given everything he knew about Eric Brennan and his girlfriend’s opinions on him.

"…Probably not, no," Carrie replied. "Unfortunately."

"You’d have taken him back after he cheated on you?"

"I mean…if I hadn’t met you…then yeah, probably," she confessed, uneasy as the admittedly embarrassing realisation dawned on her. Hoping to lighten the moment a little, she tagged on, "Don't tell Viv I said that though; that's not very 'girl boss/men ain't shit' of me."

"Yeah, it's not. It doesn't sound like you at all," Miles noted, quiet concern riddling his tone.

"Yeah well, we can't all be badass feminists all the time," Carrie chuckled with a woeful sigh. "But - and I can't believe I'm saying this - in Eric's defence-"

"Woah, woah, woah, where the fuck is this going?"

"Let me cook, let me cook," Carrie laughed over Miles' comically indignant scoff, grinning to herself at the incorporation of the lingo her 21st century campmates had enlightened her with, before settling down and beginning her explanation. "In Eric's defence, he was my best relationship really until it all went to shit. So if that was the only thing I had to factor into my decision, and I didn't know everything that I was missing," she said, sparing the boy acting as her mattress a loving grin. "Then yeah, I probably would have just taken him back. I know it maybe didn't seem that serious from an outside perspective, but it felt serious to us. When we were in it, we were fully in it. It's kinda silly looking back, but we really did think we'd go all the way, even in the early stages - shows how naïve we were, I guess. We’d even talked about getting married and stuff - kinda stupid for two 19 year olds, I know, but we were just so sure it’d work out…" Carrie trailed off, suddenly realising she'd let her mind aimlessly wander to a place she hadn't visited in over two years. A cold knot settled in her stomach as she took in the cobwebs and thick layer of dust. Perhaps it would have been best to leave it untouched… "Maybe he just felt too comfortable, I don’t know," she went on to ponder, trying her best to be nonchalant despite the shame gnawing away at the back of her brain. "Or maybe he just felt insecure… Either way, I think I’d probably just have forgiven him…or accepted that was just the way things were for us, I guess."

The silence that followed Carrie's admission spoke volumes. But, deciding that she'd tormented herself enough with idiotic 'what if's, she let out a weary chuckle and broke it before Miles had the chance to. "Pretty crappy answer, I know, but hey, we can't all have fairytale endings." Lifting her head to meet Miles' gaze, she shot him a tired, dreamy smile and added, "I'm just glad I managed to find mine."

Noting the almost apologetic look in her eyes, Miles managed a small chuckle to set her mind at ease. Playing with a loose curl of hers in a further attempt to distract her, he dared to break the underlying tension. "Nice save, that was starting to get way too deep and depressing for date night."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," she replied with that playful dramaticness she captured so effortlessly, relaxing in an instant as soon as Miles started playing with her hair. Although, the same couldn't quite be said for her mind, which was still aimlessly wandering off down path after path of her subconscious. "It doesn't have to be depressing; it's all imaginary anyway. Maybe we did get a happy ending in some parallel universe. Maybe we just amicably moved past it and carried on like nothing ever happened."

Miles' nose crinkled in disgust. "Or maybe you dumped his sorry ass and were rescued by your super hot, blonde, knight-in-shining-armour girlfriend."

Carrie couldn't help but giggle at the suggestion. "Ok, ok, I'm liking the sound of that one," she admitted, resting her head back on Miles' chest again. "Not super realistic, but I like it."

"Since when were we factoring realism into these?"

"Good point. Well, in that case, maybe there's a universe out there where he never cheated at all then. Maybe we're just still together, living in our weird little celebrity bubble where real-world problems, and genuine human emotions, don't exist…" Carrie trailed off once again as another realisation dawned on her, prompted by the almost plastic nature of her last relationship. "Maybe we're not that far from living out our lives in Barbieland after all."

"Please, god, do not open that can of worms again," Miles jumped in before she could explore the thought any further - immediately getting flashbacks to their last trip to the modern world. What had started as a fun, entirely innocent and well-intentioned movie night suggestion, tailored to the very girl in question, had ended in Carrie having a full-blown, earth-shattering identity crisis. No one could have predicted the blonde's uncontrollable sobbing once the credits started to roll, after having seen a few too many similarities between herself and the film's protagonist for her own comfort, but that didn't stop Vivien feeling riddled with guilt for days afterwards - long after Carrie was brought back to her senses by her loved ones. Miles, Mick and Vivien spent hours trying to get Carrie to stop hyperventilating long enough to talk her around, treading through the same points for what felt like an eternity before her self-worth started to be restored. To say the ordeal was exhausting was an understatement. And still, to this day, the doll's name sends a shiver down their spines.

"I won't, I won't. I'm very secure about my emotions and my life as a whole," she tediously sing-songed, chuckling her way through the same reassurances that had been drilled into her head that fateful evening. "Even if it is all happening in a completely fictional world," she added with a snort. "I'm fine, don't give yourself another stress headache."

"Don't worry, you're not the only one that brings them on; I think they're inevitable any time my brothers are around Vivien," Miles sleepily teased. "That girl's gonna put me in an early grave."

"She'd better not," Carrie said, protectively hugging him closer. "I don't know what I'd do with myself if I didn't have you around."

"You'd manage, I'm sure," Miles chuckled, rolling his eyes despite gladly welcoming the extra cuddles.

"I wouldn't, I'd be a total mess" she earnestly protested. "And don't try to argue with me; you're not the one inside my head, you don't know what's going on in here."

"You're right there," Miles conceded with an amused laugh. "Sometimes I get lucky, but most of the time I don't have a clue - especially tonight; what's with all this talk about other universes?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well first it was the one where we had never met, then it was all the different outcomes with you and Eric, now it's one where you're living like the doll who shall not be named," he explained, drawing a giggle from Carrie's lips. "Where did it all come from? I thought we were supposed to be following Gladys' conspiracy against Francine."

"I don't know, I guess I was so bored by their lives I got thinking about ours," Carrie joked, sparing the wrinkled actresses a smirk before she continued. "I mean, we live in a completely different universe to Viv and Mick, right?"

"Mhm," Miles mumbled.

"Well that's proof that there's at least two universes out there, who's to say there aren't more? A bunch more."

"And you think there's versions of us out there in all of them?" Miles asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean, maybe. Who knows?" Carrie giggled. "I'd like to think there are - ones where we're doing really cool things, in really cool places - stuff we'd never dream of doing in this one… We always find each other though, and end up falling in love - at least in my head we do anyway."

"Of course, of course,” Miles acknowledged with a serious nod despite the amused grin that kept creeping back into place. “What kinds of things are these other versions of us doing then? And what makes them so cool?"

"I don't know, it could be anything. We could be anything. We could be world-famous musicians, we could secret agents, we could be doctors-"

"Yeah I'm not letting you anywhere near me with any kind of medical equipment," Miles snorted.

"I think that's probably wise," Carrie said, letting out her own snort of laughter before continuing. "But that's this universe's version of me. What if there's a 'me' out there that's like a super professional surgeon or something?"

Biting his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud at the thought, Miles went on to ask, "So there's a bunch of different worlds out there where we're all just running around doing different jobs?"

"Well it doesn't have to just be different jobs; we could be living out whole different lives. I mean, we're from a movie to Viv and Mick, right? What if there's versions of us where we're in other movies?"

"Oh ok, now we're talking," Miles breathed through an entertained grin and a glance across at the TV. "You really think there's another world somewhere out there where we're living out the lives of Gladys and Francine?"

"There could be! We can't rule anything out here."

"So…there could be one where we have superpowers?" Miles proposed.

"Why did I know that was going to be the first thing you'd suggest?" Carrie asked rhetorically with a fond roll of her eyes.

"'Cause you know how insanely cool I am," Miles chuckled. "Am I at least playing along properly now?"

"Yes, yes, this is great," Carrie reassured through her laughter. "Your crazy imagination's perfect for this kind of thing. Now, tell me all about what kind of superpowers we'd have."

"I can't pick for you."

"Sure you can, I don't know anything about that superhero crap-"

Miles cut in with a reproachful gasp. "You take that back right now."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, 'crap' was harsh," she acknowledged with an apologetic chuckle. "Don't make me a bad guy; I don't want to have to fight you."

"You wouldn't be a bad guy," Miles reassured with a chuckle of his own. "...I don't know what kind of superpowers you'd have though - that's a tough one. I don't even know what I'd want, actually."

"Oh come on, Miles. You sounded like you had answers ready to go," Carrie groaned as she tried to come up with suggestions. "...What's that comic book series you like? The one with the boy made out of metal…"

"The Adventures of Metalex and Ultraviolet?"

"Yeah, that one! Couldn't we just be those two?"

"If we can let anything slide then sure, but I don't think we're much like them as characters, really. We could still probably do a great Halloween costume for them though," Miles said, his passion for the subject giving him pause as he considered a better answer. "But, there's a character from the X-Men in Mick's world who's a crime fighting disco diva…"

"...I'm listening," Carrie smirked, ears pricking up at that revelation. "What does she do?"

"I don't remember fully - something to do with singing and absorbing sound though. Maybe stuff to do with manipulating light too, 'cause I think she's called Dazzler," Miles explained. "I think you'd be a good fit for her."

"I could see that," she smiled. "Now what about you?"

"Like I said, I don't really know. There's too many cool superpowers to pick just one… It might be fun to be able to shapeshift though, or just make things appear out of thin air. Oh, and being able to freeze time; that would be awesome," he gushed, like a child reeling off his Christmas list.

"Mick's kind of already got that one down with her crazy transport machine," Carrie noted with a chortle.

"Yeah, I guess she does," Miles acknowledged, grinning as he allowed his imagination to begin running away with itself. "Come on, give me another one, this is fun."

"Another universe for us to live in? Ok, uh… Well, what movies did we watch with everyone over summer?"

"Oh, fuck yeah. We're gonna end up doing this all night; we watched tons," Miles laughed, before pausing to cast his mind back. "We never got around to watching the movies with you, but, keeping up with the whole supernatural powers theme, do you remember when Viv got you to take that quiz to find out your Harry Potter house?”

“My what?”

“Harry Potter - the books about that magic school in England.”

“Ohhh right, I got the one with the snake, I think.”

“Same!” Miles grinned excitedly, lazily high-fiving Carrie back as she chuckled and raised her arm for him.

“Aww, that’s nice,” Carrie sleepily mumbled. “What do they do in Harry Potter then? I remember Viv and Riven trying to explain it to me but I don’t think a word of it went in. It sounded like they just ran around with their wands, casting spells at each other though.”

“Pretty much,” Miles snorted. “I think that’s all I’d want to do if I had magic anyway - besides cuddle up with you in the Slytherin common room, obviously. I don't think I'd care about solving any of the big mysteries or anything. I like hearing about the drama, I don't like being involved in it… Knowing me and what I was like in high school, I’d probably just end up learning a bunch of spells to try to impress you. Maybe I’d try to ride a broomstick too if the spells didn't work, but who knows? Maybe the wizard version of me can’t balance for shit... What do you think? Would you be impressed if I picked you up for a date on a broomstick?”

“I thought only witches ride brooms,” Carrie yawned.

"Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s a free-for-all in those movies," Miles chuckled. "What would you use magic for? You think you could ride a broom?"

"Hell no, that sounds like a nightmare!" Carrie scoffed.

"I don't know, I think you'd be fine; you've got good balance," Miles reassured once his cackling laughter had died down. "Viv said you'd make a good witch anyway, so you can't let her down."

"Oh, she did, did she?"

Miles could tell from her tone that her eyebrow was arched with judgement, and he couldn't help but smirk. "Yeah, but I think to her that's a compliment."

"Oh…well, that's nice of her then," Carrie grinned, happily snuggling back into Miles' chest.

"I don't know if I necessarily agree with her though," Miles chuckled.

"I know; I'd be such a shit witch," Carrie laughed. "I let my emotions get the better of me way too much to be able to be trusted with any kind of magic."

"You said it, not me," Miles said with a mischievous grin. "I don't think I'd be much better, to be honest. I feel like it'd just be one more thing to stress me out."

"And that's the last thing I want," Carrie said, protectively pressing a kiss to the back of one of their entwined hands.

"Here's to a life of being total normies then," Miles chuckled.

"I'll drink to that," Carrie sleepily grinned.

"Yeah, I think we should probably leave the magic stuff to Royce, Viv and Benny," Miles said with a fond smile at the thought of his brothers. "I feel like they'd deal with that whole thing much better than we would."

"Sounds like a plan," Carrie mumbled, stretching like a cat in a sunbeam before continuing the conversation. "Come on, give me a movie I've actually seen. I'm feeling so helpless out here."

"Well we spent a week of our lives we'll never get back watching Twilight-"

"Fuck off, I'm not being a vampire or a werewolf," Carrie snorted out her reproach. "And neither are you; those movies are dogshit. I'd rather die than be that pale or hairy."

"It's fine, I don't think we were supposed to take them seriously," Miles laughed. "At least I hope we weren't."

"Come on, give me a better one."

"Ok, what about The Hunger Games ones? We spent ages talking to Viv and Royce about what Districts we'd be from - how far do you think we'd get in the arena?"

"Eww, no, I don't want to think about us dying," Carrie pouted.

"Who said anything about us dying?" Miles teasingly scoffed, feigning horrified disgust.

"That's a great point actually; I could totally see you winning it," she earnestly acknowledged.

"Seriously?" Miles asked.

Carrie could tell how shocked he was from his voice - a vivid contrast to her effortless confidence. "Sure; you're so Peeta-Mellark-coded it's insane." After hearing Miles snort out a laugh, she lifted her head slightly to ask, "Did I use that right, do you think?"

"You're asking the wrong person, baby," Miles laughed.

"Ugh, anyway. You could definitely pull a Peeta in the Games and come out the winner. I'm sure you'd have done something really noble to get there in the first place, like step in for one of your brothers or something - you know, get the crowd rooting for you right from the start? And then you're really strong, and quick, so you'd do great in the training. Plus, you've got the artsy side like he does with his baking, so you could do all that camouflage shit he did in the first movie too. And then you'd really seal the deal with a killer interview that cements you all the sponsors you could ever wish for, thanks to yours truly, and you'd breeze through that arena like a pack of ice pops in July. It'd be a walk in the park; I'd make sure you got so many sponsor gifts you wouldn't even have to get stressed once - I could just stare at your pretty face from the training centre all day, waiting for you to get back out."

"I'm in there fighting for my life and you just get to sit and watch it on TV?" Miles asked indignantly.

"I already told you, you wouldn't even need to fight; you'd get so many sponsor gifts they'd just carry you through to the end. It'd just be like a little vacation," Carrie airily replied. "Plus, no one would want to hurt you anyway, you're too handsome for that," she earnestly added, shooting Miles a disapproving look for even thinking about correcting her.

Luckily, that wasn't what he was hung up on. "I don't care about that - how come I have to be a tribute and you don't?"

"I thought Viv said I'd be a stylist," Carrie said. "And I'd make a damn good one too, especially for you. You'd be the best dressed guy out there, for starters. And, with a little coaching, and clever strategizing, I think we'd be able to cook up an interview moment so explosive it'd make that baby bombshell Peeta dropped look like childsplay."

"You really think so?" Miles asked with an amused smirk.

"Absolutely. This kind of thing is my bread and butter - I'd make you a star," Carrie nodded, brimming with confidence Miles was about to put to the test.

"Ok, and what if you weren't a stylist?" he proposed. "What if you were a tribute too?"

"Well we couldn't both be tributes," Carrie started to argue.

"Why not?"

"Because there's no way I could ever hurt you, let alone kill you," Carrie matter-of-factly stated, horrified by the fact that the notion had even been brought to her attention. "I'd just sacrifice myself; you've got more to live for."

"What the- ok, scrap that. I don't want this to take a depressing turn. You're the tribute this time, I'm the lovesick boyfriend waiting for your return - far away from any danger. How's that playing out?" Miles asked.

"Oh, well that's easy," Carrie said with a smug smile. "I’d give them the greatest show they’ve ever seen."

"What are you talking about?" Miles snorted.

"The whole thing's like one big reality show, right?" Miles murmured his understanding, prompting Carrie to continue. "So the people watching want to be entertained - and if I've got a captive audience of the entire country, for what could be the one and only time, you'd best believe it'd be the best damn performance of my life."

"Oh yeah? And how are you pulling that off?" Miles chuckled with a quirked eyebrow.

"Are you doubting me?"

"Not at all," he promised through a laugh. "I'm just curious."

Taking his word, Carrie started to explain. "Well it wouldn't be that much different to my plans for you, I guess. I mean, I don't think I'd do anything noble to end up there in the first place like you would - we both know I'm too vain for that. But if what Viv said can slide, and I can be from one of the rich districts, then I think I'd be able to hold my own pretty well. I think a lot of it's got to do with mind games anyway, both with the other tributes and with all the Capitol people who'd be looking to sponsor you too, and I feel like I'd have a lot of fun messing with people like that. Like I said, if the people want to be entertained, I'll entertain them. Even if I thought I was gonna die, I'd want to go out with a bang - you know, give them something to remember me by; if I can't be around, my memory might as well be."

"After seeing the way you handled that media frenzy your breakup with Eric caused, I have no trouble believing you'd have that entire competition in the palm of your very soft, very capable hands," Miles chuckled.

"I do love messing with the press," Carrie sleepily giggled.

"I wonder why," Miles rhetorically mused with a fond roll of his eyes. "You'd be a real Capitol favourite, huh? You'd be from one of the rich districts, which automatically gives you an advantage with a bunch of sponsors, plus you'd be considered a career, so you'd have an alliance from the start if you wanted it. You'd scare all the other tributes shitless because you'd be so good in training, and you're super pretty and charismatic on top of all that? You're the one that'd breeze through that place, not me."

"Well, I don't know how good I'd be in training," Carrie mumbled. But the smug smile Miles could hear in her voice told him that she wouldn't be questioning any of his other claims.

Smirking to himself, as amused as ever by her well-intended narcissism, he scoffed. "Pfft, yeah right. I've seen you doing your stage fighting and stunt practice, and all I'll say is: there's no way I'd want to be up against you in that arena, 'cause I don't think I'd be making it out in one piece."

Carrie lifted her head with a firm frown. "Like I could ever hurt you."

"I don't know, if we didn't know each other beforehand you might," he mused with a laugh. But when he saw how unimpressed Carrie looked by his hypothesising, he conceded. "Alright fine, if we ran into each other I'd beg for my life, you'd take pity on me, I'd spend the rest of my time in there trying to make it up to you as you take out every opponent we come across-"

"-And I'd use my womanly charm to persuade you that the only way you could possibly do that is by ripping my clothes off and having your way with me right then and there."

Miles' bark of laughter almost shook the walls. "In front of all the cameras?!"

"We could die at any moment in there, Miles - are you really going to deny yourself a good time because of a few cameras?"

"Yes! Because I'm not fucking insane!"

"...I don't care, I'd still shoot my shot," Carrie chuckled, still unchanged in her opinion after taking a few moments to reconsider. "And besides, the element of maybe getting caught, or killed at any minute, makes it hot. Think of the tension - the passion!"

"...You're a freak," Miles teased with a shake of his head.

"Hey, I said I'd give them entertainment," Carrie smirked.

"Yeah, not that kind of entertainment."

After several further minutes of laughter-fuelled teasing, where ribcages shook and tears leaked from scrunched up eyes, Miles finally started to get their conversation back on track. "Ok, ok, so we're teaming up and taking the Capitol by storm - sexual exploits and all, apparently… Now, what other movies can I take advantage of your crazy good combat skills in?"

"...I've never had to train with a sword before, but I think I could hold my own with a lightsaber pretty well," Carrie sleepily smirked. "I mean, how hard can it be?"

"How many Star Wars movies have you even seen?" Miles chuckled.

"Like half of one, but I got the gist," she replied.

"Oh yeah? And what were your takeaways from it?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The accents made no sense, the lightsabers were cool…and you'd look hot in one of those jedi outfits."

"...Likewise," Miles smirked, exchanging the laughter he'd been biting back for the giggles that his comment began pulling from Carrie's lips. "I just hope our midi-chlorian counts are high enough."

"Yeah, no, you've already lost me," she yawned, as Miles took over laughing duties with hearty chuckles of his own. "We wouldn't have to be aliens, would we?"

"No, why would we have to be aliens?" Miles asked.

"I thought they were all aliens in Star Wars," Carrie mumbled.

"Well, it is set in space, so yeah, I guess they are all aliens, technically."

"See? I do know what I'm talking about," she proudly grinned.

But Miles wasn't so easily convinced. "Yeah, I think I'd still sooner take my chances with you on Earth."

"Ok then, what other things are set on Earth?"

"...There's that zombie show Vivien and Royce were obsessed with over summer,” he offered.

“That was set on Earth?”

“Yeah.”

“The one with those things that had mushrooms growing out their heads?” Carrie demanded. “That was happening on Earth?”

“Well not our version of Earth, but some distant, future one, I’m sure,” Miles chuckled. "Well a future one to us, anyway."

“If all the future has to offer is freaky touch screens and a virus that makes fungus eat your face then I’m glad we were born in the 40s,” Carrie mumbled.

“Honestly, me too,” Miles laughed. “I don’t think you’d need to worry though; I think you could hold your own."

"Oh yeah? What makes you think that?"

"I've seen how protective you get over the people you love. If I'm getting attacked by zombies and you're around there's no way you're letting them lay a finger on me."

As horrifying as the prospect was, Carrie couldn't help but smile. "True," she agreed. "You're just as protective though, especially over your brothers. They wouldn't have to worry about anything with you around to protect them."

"Those fuckers don't stand a chance with us around," Miles sleepily chuckled, entwining his fingers with Carrie's before she gave them a confirmatory squeeze.

Another yawn escaped the blonde's lips as her mind wandered, prompting her to ask, "So what? Do we just fight monsters in every universe? …Or each other?"

"Well if we're going to be so good at it, we might as well," Miles teased. "...You think we could take on a demogorgon?"

"Sure, yeah, bring it on," Carrie sarcastically fired back before furrowing her eyebrows. "Who would we even be? Aren't they all kids in that show?"

"No, there's a bunch of other characters beside the kids. You need to stop doing facemasks when we watch shows you have to pay attention to; you end up missing half the plot."

"I don't care, I'd rather be clueless than look like a raisin," Carrie grumbled back.

"You're decades away from looking like a raisin," Miles chuckled.

"Yeah, well, if I keep up with my facemasks then I won't ever look like one," she retorted. "At least I hope I won't." Over Miles' gentle laughter, Carrie's eyes glazed over in thought as a stream of consciousness began to trickle from her lips. "This obsession with my skin is all your fault anyway. Do you know I never even thought about getting old until I started dating you?"

"What?"

"Is that weird?" she asked, assuming by his tone that it likely was.

"Well what did you think was gonna happen?" Miles asked, biting back a chuckle.

"I don't know, I just could never picture myself as an old lady. Or I never wanted to… I don't know. I used to think it was some weird bad omen that I'd die young and just never find out…" she trailed off, shaking the thought from her head as she felt Miles' hand still between her curls. Fixing a smile to her face she turned to look at him and said, "But now I'm practically counting down the days until you admit you need your glasses all the time and I can push you around in a wheelchair. It's like I've got a reason to stick around now: someone I want to experience everything life has to offer with - even the bits where we start looking more like prunes than people."

Softening into a relieved grin, Miles let the morbid thought flutter into the back of his mind, along with the touching gravity of her following point - he wasn't ready to process all of that in one night. "Let's face it, if anyone's pushing the other around in a wheelchair, it'd be me pushing your dramatic ass," he snorted.

"Well, you have always been a wonderful chauffeur for me," Carrie acknowledged with a knowing smirk.

"So I hear," Miles smirked back.

"And it'd be a real shame to stop that just because we're old and decrepit," she joked, chuckling away with Miles as images of them with greying hair and weathered faces flashed through her head. "Alright, alright," she eventually continued, once the couple's chatter about their golden years had petered out. "Enough talk about us as senior citizens. Just because I can picture them now doesn't mean I enjoy thinking about myself as senile old lady. Who would we be in Stranger Things then? Cops running around trying to keep Royce, Benny and Viv under control?"

"I don't know, maybe," Miles chuckled at the very thought, pleased to be drawn back to the realms of fantasy. "Or maybe we could work together somewhere else, like Steve and Robin in that ice cream place."

"You'd look so good in that little sailor outfit," Carrie happily mumbled to herself before the rational part of her brain took over again. "We couldn't be Steve and Robin though; we're nothing like them."

"I don't know, I think it could kind of work. I mean, they share a ride to work-"

"You can't base all this off one scene of carpooling," Carrie argued. "And besides, you're nothing like Steve: some air-headed jock who has an identity crisis and starts crushing on a lesbian?"

"I don't know, it sounds pretty accurate to me. I've got the identity crisis down, I've crushed on a lesbian, I've got a group of kids who are unreasonably attached to me-"

"Who's the lesbian you've crushed on?" Carrie asked, ears pricked in interest.

"Well…you half-count, right?" Miles attempted with a lopsided smirk.

"...Jesus Christ," Carrie said, shaking her head with a heavy sigh as she fought away the laughter that was already rippling through Miles' chest. One look at those crinkled blue eyes and beaming face and she soon caved though - as defenceless as ever against her boyfriend's infectious grin.

Eventually, she came back to her senses, bringing a joking, yet still disgruntled, question along with her. "Why do all these scenarios have to involve scary things?" she whined as Miles finished letting the last of his chuckles die down. "Can't we live in a fun alternate universe?"

"Well what makes something 'fun' for you?" he questioned.

"Something without the threat of us dying, preferably."

Pausing to consider a suggestion, and to stop further, amused chuckles spilling from his lips, Miles let his fingers lazily weave through Carrie's curls. It wasn't until his eyes drifted across his hand-painted handiwork, to the collection of mismatched picture frames on his girlfriend's wall that a fresh idea sprung to mind. "Well I was talking about Friends with Mick last week and who she thought was most like each of the characters-"

"Yes! This is so much better, oh my god," Carrie gushed, perking up as soon as the words left Miles' mouth. After all, this was much more fun to think about than the bleak, dystopian alternatives they'd already considered. "Well, I have to be Rachel, obviously."

"Obviously," Miles agreed, hiding his smirk and matching her ardour with practised ease.

"And Mick would make a perfect fit for Monica - just less obsessed with tidying," Carrie babbled, rattling through even more reasonings about their friend's kindness, level-headedness, and 'mom friend' energy, until she ran into a brick wall. "That creates a big problem though."

"What?"

"Well if I'm Rachel, and she's Monica, then you'd need to be Ross. But there is NO way I'm letting you be compared to him. No one we know deserves that kind of slander," Carrie explained with a disgust that entertained Miles to no end. His laughter didn't halt her train of thought though. "You're much more of a Chandler anyway, but then you can't be him either because that'd mean you'd have to date Mick and you already know how insecure-"

"Ok, ok, yeah, we don't need to go down that road," Miles jumped in, laughter dying the second that notion was brought up. Luckily for him, she didn't dwell on the thought any longer than she already had.

"What about the others then?" she continued through a yawn. "I think Amber could be a pretty good Phoebe."

"Yeah, she's definitely got that whole free-spirit vibe down," Miles said, although it didn't take long for a smirk to start tugging at his lips again. "And I think we both know there's only one person that can be Joey…"

As she lifted her head from Miles' chest, Carrie met his gaze with an identical expression - eyes glittering with mischief as a smirk held back a barrage of childish giggles, which spilled out as soon as they uttered the same, all too familiar name.

"…Ethan!"

The couple giggled their way through several other hypotheticals as the night drew on, leading one another down every path of their imagination possible. Despite Miles’ insistence otherwise, Carrie was convinced he’d make a wonderful fairytale prince for her to fall in love with. Although, Miles suspected that had a lot to do with her childhood obsession (well, she claims it was just a childhood one) with a rather charming 1950 Disney cartoon, and the hopeless romantic side of her brain playing tricks on her logical one. The compromise they eventually settled on was that Carrie had to be the one with any sort of royal bloodline, with Miles being the unwitting commoner who, through some grand adventure, ends up falling into her arms just in time for a happy ending. That line of conversation soon brought about Carrie's suspicions that Miles' younger brothers would no doubt sooner compare her to a fairytale villain though. And whilst Miles tried to persuade her otherwise, despite knowing for a fact it was true, to his amusement she found an appreciation for the role after considering how much more exciting it is to play a 'bad guy'. Even though Miles confirmed that she'd nail the whole 'evil queen' narrative, he still found himself relieved when she reassured him she'd never choose that path by choice; she'd pick living out her childhood dreams of singing and dancing around in pretty ballgowns and tiaras over black cloaks and bubbling cauldrons any day.

All that talk of fancy dresses took their imaginations - or rather, took Carrie's, and dragged Miles' along with it - to the prospect of living in that regency era drama Viv's aunt, Charlie, was obsessed with. And since Carrie had heard plenty about the steamy escapades the members of high society in that show had embarked on over this past summer, she had a wealth of, admittedly comical, ideas about how their time in 19th century England would have panned out - reckless, impassioned romps and all.

Taking on another of their extended family's special interests, Miles fondly brought up his pseudo-little-sister and her obsession with a certain ship, which, thanks to her insistence on watching the 1997 movie every single time they visited her world, he had a pretty good knowledge of now. His comparison of themselves to the film's protagonists had Carrie hooked from the start with its accuracy - after all, it wouldn't be the first time she had prepositioned him to 'draw her like one of his French girls' - but neither of them were overly fond of the untimely demise the whole door debate brought about, so their version of events for the night ended long before an iceberg ever entered the picture.

Story after story, more tales were spun from threads of twilight. If Carrie wasn't lounging around in ostentatious dresses atop the waves, she'd be splashing around beneath them, with a tail of shimmering scales and a siren song powerful enough to lead sailors to a watery grave after hearing just one note. Luckily, Miles didn't plan on manning a ship any time soon. Or, of course, there was the inevitable mention of Carrie's resemblance to a good witch from Oz, whose blue bubble costume Carrie had been dying to don ever since she'd set eyes on it. With Mick as her emerald counterpart, Vivien stepping into the darker role of Nessarose, and Butchy being a no-brainer choice as Fiyero (even if she would have had to swallow her pride long enough to feign infatuation with him), Carrie found herself almost willing a twister to lift her entire apartment block from its foundations. They planned to start an entirely new Mystery Gang with themselves stepping into Freds's ascot and Daphne's go-go boots, Mick using her boundless intelligence to don Velma's glasses, and Ethan using his bumbling enthusiasm to take on Shaggy's, well, everything really. And since Ethan's van was a perfect double for the Mystery Machine anyway, all they needed to do was find a willing mutt to stand in as their Scooby. Then it was time for Miles' intelligence to step into the foreground as he acted as the tutor for lawyer-wannabe Elle Woods - or, in their version - Carrie Cole, who'd enrolled at Harvard law school in a bid to get her asshole ex-boyfriend back, only to end up with a whole new career - and a whole new boyfriend. With the concept of whole new boyfriends on the table, a Mamma Mia-themed storyline was quick to be suggested after Carrie fell in love with the movie over her summer in Mick and Viv's world. Admittedly, the concept was purely rooted in the blonde's desire to run around a Greek island singing Abba songs with her friends, and not at all in the actual plot, so it was no surprise when the whole pregnancy/paternity storyline slammed the brakes on that suggestion.

It did get her thinking though…

"Do you think there's a universe out there where we have kids?"

The question had been mumbled innocently enough, but it still made Miles' heart still. He was just relieved Carrie was no longer draped across his chest, or else he feared she'd think he was dead.

Throughout their endless scheming, the restless pair had taken up several other positions sprawled across Carrie's doughy couch, but as the pull of sleep drew ever-closer, they had defaulted to an old favourite of theirs. Miles, once again, had his head in Carrie's lap, purring in contentment as she delicately combed her fingers through his hair. And although he couldn't see Carrie's face from here, he could tell from her voice alone that her eyes were glazed with tiredness - practically glueing themselves together with every blink despite the fact that her used makeup remover pads were decorating her coffee table.

Letting out a yawn to help feign his nonchalance, Miles hoped he could keep his voice steady as he replied, "Sure, there's gotta be at least one. If you think there's versions of us out there with magic powers I don't think it's that crazy to assume that we could be parents in at least one of these alternate realities."

"I suppose," Carrie murmured, pausing for a beat to consider the prospect. The longer she let the idea sit in her head though, the more sure of her next point she became. "I'm just glad it's not this one."

The chuckle in response to her snort of laughter was reflexive, but the sigh of relief that followed felt instinctual. "Amen," he sleepily grinned. "I've done enough parenting already to last me a lifetime."

"I'll say," Carrie agreed, before jokingly adding, "At least you've got a valid reason, I just think I'm too self-centred to ruin my body for a baby I wouldn't even be good at looking after… As much as I love my mom, I don't think she passed down a single maternal instinct to me."

As light-hearted as Carrie's banter always was on this topic, Miles knew that there was an element of truth behind every joke. With a reassuring squeeze of her thigh, he said, "Don't say that, you're always looking out for my brothers and Vivien - and look how you were with all the other kids at camp."

"Yeah, but I wasn’t looking out for them in like a 'mom' way," she protested with a chuckle. And whilst it only felt natural to want to sing her boyfriend's praises in return, knowing he'd already proved himself everything a father needed to be and more, she held her tongue. After all, the last thing she wanted to do was unearth any of the long-buried trauma Miles' dad had saddled him with; besides this was all just supposed to be for fun. "Anyway," she eventually continued, hoping to lead the conversation back to more fantastical roots. "In this very distant, bizarre universe where we decided we wanted to procreate, how many unfortunate children am I exposing to by sub-par parenting?"

"It would not be 'sub-par'," Miles tried with another laugh.

"There's a reason the only pet I've ever had is a goldfish, baby. Don't push it," she fondly scolded to the sound of more bubbling laughter. "Now come on, use your awesome imagination to make me unreasonably attached to our fictional family. I want it to be like that time I dreamt we had a four-year-old called Beau and then went through a two-day depression when I woke up and realised he wasn’t real.”

Miles’ laughter continued, grateful she was making light of a situation that very well could have led his mind down a dark path if left unaccompanied on the journey. “You should have known he wasn’t real the second he was called ‘Beau’; there’s no way I’d let that slide,” Miles teased as he began toying with the hem of Carrie’s organza nightgown. Her offer to further the conversation still hung in the air though and, deciding to take the reins and drive out the torturous ‘what ifs’ from his mind, Miles cautiously picked it up, examining the prospect in great detail before starting to sculpt his version of events.

“Ok, well… I think if we were going to have these hypothetical kids, we’d end up having three,” he slowly began.

“How’d you come up with three?” Carrie asked, tired eyes sparkling with interest and amusement - grateful her gentle coaxing had ended up working in her favour. “Or is there some weird Murphy family ‘rule of three’ I don’t know about.”

“No, I don’t know really,” Miles snorted, before going on to explain. “I guess I just thought that we’d have the first one - by accident, ‘cause even in this weird scenario I still don’t think we’d volunteer ourselves for it. But then we’d probably want to give them a sibling, so we would try for a second. And then, just when we think we’re getting the hang of having two kids, and we’re getting pretty comfortable with things, we’d get pregnant with a third by complete surprise. Because nothing ever goes smoothly for us, so I can’t imagine having kids would be any different.”

“Ok, ok, I can see that,” Carrie happily chuckled, watching the faceless blobs Miles had conjured dance about in her mind, waiting patiently to be assigned the rest of their features. “Not super pumped about having to push out three watermelons, but I’m sure alternate-universe-me will manage.”

“Mhm, us Murphys are known for our big heads,” Miles teased.

“Great, even more reason to never get pregnant,” Carrie groaned with a playful roll of her eyes. “If this other version of me is having to waddle around like a whale for 27 months of her life, she’d better get some cute babies out of it.”

“Well yeah, they’re a mix of our DNA, of course they’re gonna be cute,” Miles laughed, catching sight of Carrie’s smug smile in the reflection of a glass picture frame. “They’re all gonna be boys though, so we’ll have our work cut out for us.”

“All of them?” Carrie squawked. “I don’t even get one girl to play princesses with?”

“There’s nothing to stop you playing princesses with our boys,” Miles chuckled.

“I know, but if I was gonna have kids I always wanted a girl. I don’t think I’m particularly cut out to parent any child, but I always thought I’d do better with a girl than a boy.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, baby, but based on what your mom’s been saying for the last year, I think we’re destined to only have boys.” Over the sound of Carrie’s disgruntled grumbles, Miles carried on. “My dad only had brothers, my mom had a brother, I’ve got my two brothers, your dad has a brother, your mom has three brothers, you’ve got Tanner - according to your mom, it was kind of a miracle you came out a girl if your family tree is anything to go by. So matching those two sets of genes together-”

“I’m destined to always be surrounded by testosterone,” Carrie finished with a disgruntled sigh. “Yippee.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Miles teasingly chuckled. “My mom had three boys and we didn’t turn out so bad, did we?”

“No, that’s the only thing that gives me some hope about alternate-universe-me,” she acknowledged with a fond smile. “I may be biased, but I’d take Murphy boys over regular boys any day.”

“Hell yeah you would,” Miles playfully agreed with a sleepy, smug grin. “And as the one who basically raised all three of us, I’m taking full credit for that.”

Watching Miles practically glow with pride as he nestled deeper into her embrace, Carrie couldn’t help but smile to herself. “Watch it, Mary Poppins,” she warned with a teasing smirk, affectionately scratching his scalp like he was a slumbering labrador. “Your praise kink is showing.”

Miles’ head whipped to face hers in a split second, mouth agape in indignation. “I do not have a praise-” But the smirk he was met with, and the giggles escaping through its cracks, made it increasingly difficult to stand by his point - as did that knowing sparkle in her eye. Realising all too quickly he was fighting a losing battle, a point only reinforced by the lingering warmth in his stomach his girlfriend’s latest compliment had placed there, Miles caved with a roll of his eyes and flopped back down in Carrie’s lap. “Whatever. You should just be grateful; there’s far worse kinks I could have.”

“I know, and I thank my lucky stars every day that I landed such a perfect man,” she teasingly replied, earning herself a light dig in her rib cage that soon led on to increasingly flirtatious play fighting.

It took the end credits of whatever brainless soap opera rerun they’d been watching crackling through Carrie’s television speakers for the pair to finally surface for air. A tangle of limbs, flushed skin and tousled hair as breathless grins grazed past one another.

“Come on, it’s getting late,” Carrie began, prompting a childish frown to grace Miles’ expression.

“Aw man-”

“Quit your whining,” Carrie teasingly scolded, wriggling out of Miles’ grip and heaving herself off the sofa before he could pull her back down again. “I’ve still got leftovers to clean up.”

“I already said to just leave them,” Miles protested, reaching out to wrap his arms around her leg to hold her in place.

Rolling her eyes, she bent down to his eye level and propositioned him with a smoulder, “The sooner you let me go, the sooner we can move this to my room.”

Miles’ hands were dropped in an instant.

Smirking to herself, Carrie grabbed her now empty wine glass and retreated to the kitchen, chuckling under her breath as she set about rinsing off their dirty dishes and decanting the now-cold pasta sauce into a brightly coloured tupperware container. Offering her beloved goldfish, sat in its palatial bowl atop her kitchen island, a nod of acknowledgement as she cleaned the soap suds from her serving spoon, she couldn’t help but notice her cheeks aching from the hours upon hours of grinning into her boyfriend’s blue eyes. Trying to shake the giddiness from her head, she cursed the charming mechanic under her breath for reducing her to girly giggles and a stomach full of butterflies. But try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to be anything other than grateful. After all, she couldn’t remember a time she’d felt this happy before.

She hadn't even realised she'd been humming to herself until another song interrupted her own little tune - smooth, crooning vocals drifting throughout her apartment, accompanied by the occasional sputter of her record player, spouting romanticised lyrics that soon fixed her aching smile back in place. It wasn't long before pattering footsteps joined the chorus of plucked strings though, prompting Carrie to glance over her shoulder and find her boyfriend groggily rubbing his eye with one hand, and snatching up a half-eaten piece of garlic bread with the other.

"What do you think you're doing?" she chuckled with an eyebrow arched in judgement.

"I was hungry," Miles chuckled through a mouthful of crumbs as Carrie lovingly shook her head and turned back to her basin of bubbles.

Before she could start lecturing him about how he shouldn't be snacking right before he goes to bed though, she found a strong pair of arms snaking around her middle and a grinning face perching on her shoulder. Soap suds coating her forearms, her breath hitched in her throat as a tender kiss was pressed to her cheek - sending ripples of warmth across her skin. The sponge stilled in her hand as she felt her body melt into his, lips spread in a contented smile.

"I put all your skincare stuff away in your room," Miles mumbled against her cheek.

Carrie's smile only grew. "Thank you, baby. You didn't have to do that."

"I know," Miles beamed, starting to lead her away from the sink, not sparing the splatters of foam they were trailing across the floor a second glance. "I just wanted to."

Grinning like the idiots they were, and spurred on by the distant record Miles had set in motion after being left to his own devices, the couple swayed and spun around Carrie's apartment kitchen like it was the dancefloor of a highschool prom. Giggles tumbled from their lips, bathed in warm, low light and, in Miles' case, traces of garlic butter, until they were left gasping for air.

"You need to stop distracting me," Carrie gently scolded as one song started to fade out and bleed into another.

"Then stop being so easy to distract," Miles playfully retorted as she reluctantly disentangled herself from his embrace and set about tidying away their leftovers once more.

As Miles fell into stride beside her, and joined in the clean-up efforts, after sending him a grateful smile, she found herself saying: "You know, you don't have to help. You are, technically, my guest, after all. If you just came in here to eat old garlic bread then knock yourself out."

Chuckling, Miles carried a stack of plastic containers over to the refrigerator. "Actually, I came in here looking for more pecan pie," he said, drawing a laugh from Carrie's lips as he combed through the fridge's contents. "But, uh," he continued, grabbing her attention as he swung the door shut and turned back to face her with a smirk. "I think I know something that's gonna taste a lot better."

A rush of heat flooded through her as she met his smouldering gaze. She wished she could say that her hands were the only part of her body thoroughly soaked, but she'd have been lying through her teeth. After wringing out her flowery kitchen towel with practised ease, holding Miles' stare the entire time, she threw it aside and fixed a seductive smirk of her own to her lips. "Likewise."

They met in the middle of the kitchen with a kiss, steadily-building passion bubbling beneath the surface and fuelling their increasingly frantic roaming hands. Before either one could get carried away though, Miles hooked his arms around Carrie's thighs and hoisted her around his middle, before promptly seating her down on the nearest kitchen counter. "I know tonight was supposed to be your night for cooking, but there's this new recipe I wanna try out," he prepositioned, voice smooth and husky as it skimmed her burning cheeks and bounced around her hormone-riddled brain. Standing between her open legs, Miles pulled her body closer still before letting his hands roam south - lips so close to hers they were practically sharing the same air as he added, voice barely above a gravelly whisper. "Now, are you gonna let me try it…or are you gonna make me beg?"

A shiver ran up Carrie's spine as a blissful grin split her face. "I'm all yours, chef," she teasingly responded, before being whisked back up in her boyfriend's arms and paraded across her apartment. A trail of joyous laughter and soap suds followed the young couple until Carrie's bedroom door clicked into place and they disappeared into their own world of smitten euphoria. Garments were shed and bodily fluids were exchanged, but even through the haze of pheromones clouding her every move, the lingering notion of their evening's discussion remained. Sure, it had been fun to consider all the different universes her and Miles could have been living in, but nothing quite compared to the one she'd wound up in. It may not have been perfect, but when she was with Miles it might as well have been, because lying there in his embrace, sweaty skin and cold feet and all, there was truly nowhere else she'd rather be.

After a lifetime of searching, she finally felt as though she'd found her happy place. And his name was Miles Murphy.

#Carrie #Miles

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cherrygorilla · 7 months

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"...as we danced in the night, remember

how the stars stole the night away..."

It's their dayyyyyy. Whether they know it or not, this song started it all for them. And I so wanted to have something proper to celebrate such a momentous occasion (at least for me anyway, especially since I also missed out on doing anything for it last year, and because, as you know, I'll take any opportunity possible to fangirl/obsess over our characters lol). But, because of uni, I'm nowhere near done with the next chapter of TMM yet. So instead, you'll just have to enjoy a little moodboard, and a snippet/sneak peak of their next conversation - with the moodboard featuring some rather fitting quotes from Stranger Things' very own Murray Bauman, who, I think, Miles and Carrie could really do with a visit from if my recent rewatch is anything to go by... Too bad he has no place in my plot outline lmao. Oops!

"Oh come on, you teed that one up for me." "Get to work, pretty boy... And work that blue shirt for some tips." "You're delusional." "I'm telling you, one wink from you, in that shirt, with that hair, and the juniors will be weak at the knees. I know I am."

#this is so lame but I couldn't not celebrate #they're my babiessss #and this is so 'their song' in the TMM universe #as unlikely as it may be for them to get married one day...#if they were to be so lucky - I'd like to think that they'd have their wedding on September 21st #to honour that moment they first had a real sort of 'spark'#you know?#omg that's so cheesy. who even am i???#I'm rambling because I'm tired but I don't care because I had so much fun making this #like it's so pointless but I had such a good time putting it together #maybe I should make random little moodboards like this more often lmao #or not #I should probably be writing instead lollll #but September 21st only comes around once a year #so I'll let myself off tonight #because like I said #their moment to this song needs to be celebrated appropriately #as the true catalyst for disaster it is 😌#jk but also not really 👀#ah if only Miles could have bottled up the happiness he felt in that moment #i have a feeling he might end up needing it...

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cherrygorilla · 9 months

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The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 2)

Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne - 4:53

Yes, it is a ridiculous amount of time since I last posted anything to do with this (or anything at all really), but I've been dying to write for this story again, so I thought it would be a good way to help me get my groove back. Plus, I wanted to wait until Camp Wanamaker was done before I went back to working on Acting School Drop Out (because I feel like I might be able to use some stuff that's been mentioned in the next part lol). So, after months and months of uni stress that's kept me away from my google doc, here's the next installment of the story that's kept me going through it all.

Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!

Heavy eyelids dropped over a pair of umber eyes trying, and failing, to focus on the computer screen in front of them. Whilst the radio often felt like Butchy's only co-worker, today it just seemed to be functioning as a lullaby machine - and the smooth, fade-out ending of Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman' just proved the point further. One second he was staring blankly at a page of pixelated text on a fuzzy screen, and then the next thing he knew he was drooling into the palm of his hand and almost falling off his chair at the sound of a car racing past his window.

It's not even that he was tired - it was barely even 11am for Christ's sake - he was just so bored his brain was shutting down from lack of stimulation. And considering the latest turn of events, his body wasn't far behind. The roaring engine disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the incessant ticking of the plastic wall clock in its place. It didn't matter what kind of car it was, or where the hell it was going; all Butchy knew was that he wanted to be in it. Hopefully travelling far, far away from this crappy, dead-end town, and this shoe box of an office, that was more dust than desk, and smelled like a wet rat.

Begrudgingly, he gathered himself together and finished typing out the latest file he'd been working on - something about trespassing in the old steel mill, he didn't care enough to look into the details. Tipping his head back, he rubbed his palms across his eyes, trying to press as hard as he could to draw some sort of alertness to the forefront of his mind. If anything, it just made him more tired.

One glance across his desk let his gaze settle on the dorky Star Wars mug Royce and Bentley had gifted him on his last birthday, and for the first time since he'd slumped in the splitting leather swivel-chair that morning, a ghost of a smile graced his features. He took a swig and drained the mug of the last of its contents: bitter, room-temperature coffee. Wincing at the taste, he picked up the next file to work on, but swiftly dropped it in favour of refilling his mug. After all, the walk to the coffee pot in the main office was the only change of scenery he got all day. Sometimes he watered the dying yucca plant beside him with the rancid liquid just so that he had an excuse to get away from his desk.

The tapping of keyboards and mumblings of the same, tedious phone calls he overheard every day met Butchy's ears as he lumbered down the hall and pushed open the office door. Lurking behind the frosted panel, caked in as much dust as the rest of the building, was the rag-tag reception team, consisting of three women Butchy had absolutely no intention of even looking at, let alone speaking to. He'd given up trying to make conversation with his co-workers pretty quickly after every meagre attempt on his end had been ignored. Most shifts passed without him uttering a single word. However, Lela ditching his ride that morning must have thrown him off more than he realised, because this shift was about to become an anomaly.

"So I said to him: If you know so much about the damn sausages, why don't you cook 'em yourself?"

"I bet he knows a lot about one kind of sausage."

"Oh Jen, pull your mind out of the gutter, you sound like a teenager."

"She practically still is one."

"I'm right though, aren't I?"

A strained sigh slipped past Butchy's lips before he could stop it. The nasal drones from the women behind him were enough to make his eye twitch at the best of times, but the added scraping of Jennifer's nail file made it inevitable. Before he could short-circuit altogether though, one of the adjoining doors to the main office was pushed open, and the conversation unfolding behind it immediately caught his attention.

Heaving a sigh that put the young trainee's to shame, the fourth, and final receptionist, led the charge into the room - two officers hot on her heels. "Well, you'll just have to go alone then, won't you, gentlemen?"

"We can't just 'go alone', the chief's the only one that goes on solo investigations. What if it's dangerous? What if we need back-up?"

"And what, pray tell, Officer Reynolds, is so 'dangerous' about a broken store window?"

"Well from the sounds of things it's a pretty clear-cut robbery. What if the culprit's still on the scene? What if he's armed?"

"Why are you assumin' it's a 'he'?" Jennifer piped up with a smirk, punctuating her question by blowing the acrylic dust from the tip of her nail.

As expected, neither officer batted an eyelid at her interruption.

"We got the call last night. You've got a higher chance of him sticking the damn window back together."

"But what if it's like that time when Old Man McRoberts'-"

"Enough, boys. I don't want to hear it," she finally snapped, slamming the stack of paperwork down on her desk so hard it even made her glasses chain quiver. Turning to the pair with her hands planted firmly on her hips, she continued. "Callahan, you're on patrol with Officer Powell; Reynolds, you're investigating that store window. Alone."

"But Fran, that never-"

"No, I don't want to hear another word. You're going solo, Reynolds, and that's that."

"...Uh, I could go with you."

The whole office fell silent. Even Jennifer's nail file seemed to pause for thought. But all too soon, six pairs of eyes fell on Butchy, whose grip on his mug instinctively tightened under their bemused glares. He couldn't exactly blame them; even he couldn't believe that he'd dared to speak - let alone suggest such a thing. But then again, this was a perfect opportunity - perhaps the only opportunity he'd get (at least for the foreseeable future) to prove himself a worthy member of the team. Being stuck behind a computer screen all day was getting him nowhere - in fact, he was pretty sure he had even less respect now than when he'd first set foot through the door over a month ago. But working on a case, a real case, meant he could put all the skills he'd learnt in his training to the test - show everyone that potential he'd promised in his interview. This could be the making of Officer Bandoni. This could be his ticket out of that godawful, stuffy office. This could be-

"Oh my god, look at his face; he's serious."

God, he hated Jennifer. But he hated that cackling laugh of hers even more.

"Jennifer," Linda, the crotchety receptionist to her left, scolded. If Butchy hadn't known better, with her brusque, hushed tone and sharp glare from over the top of her tortoise shell glasses, he'd have thought the woman was her mother.

"Yeah right," Officer Callahan snorted. But a pause, followed by a brief glance in the new recruit's direction soon had his confidence faltering. "I- Oh…"

"Hey, cut him some slack, Jen; the kid's still learning the ropes," Officer Reynolds piped up, ignoring Officer Callahan's attempts to hide his smirk by smoothing out his moustache, and instead sending the smarmy receptionist a blasé, yet stern frown. "Of course he wasn't being serious."

"Actually, I was," Butchy corrected. He set his mug down and stood his ground opposite the two officers, gently nudging his chin up and puffing out his chest in an attempt to outwardly show some of the confidence he was so desperately trying to scrounge together. At least that would help to mask the stubborn rage bubbling away in the pit of his stomach. The staff's dismissiveness was frustrating enough on its own, but being reduced to a 'kid' was downright infuriating. 'Kids' did not single-handedly raise their little sister. 'Kids' did not give up their weekends to go and work in a shitty garage for two bucks an hour all throughout high school just so they could have food on the table. 'Kids' did not shoulder the responsibility of four adults after stepping up to parent, not only his own sister, but the three boys next door too. Butchy hadn't felt like a 'kid' in years. He had always been the oldest - the most mature, the most dependable, the most capable… So for these six adults, who had barely given him the time of day in the month he'd been working with them, to stand there and tell him he was nothing more than a 'kid'...it was insulting. And he was determined to prove them wrong. "If you need another officer for back-up, and no one else is free, then why can't I go with you?"

"Well, for one, you're not an officer-"

All Reynolds had to do was hold up a hand for Callahan to snuff out his snickers. "Because you haven't finished your training yet, son," he plainly explained. At least his withering look was softened by a bored tone.

"But I've aced every part of the course I've completed so far," Butchy argued. "And this could be a chance for me to learn on the job, out in the field-"

"Son, let it go."

"You said, yourself, that I've got potential. Why can't I just show you-?"

"Look, kid, you're not ready - you won't be for a long time. I admire the optimism but we've gotta look at the facts here. And truth is: the dirt on Callahan's shoe's got more experience walkin' 'round a crime scene than you do. I know you want to get out of the office and get a taste of the action, but I can't work the case and babysit you at the same time. It's just not realistic."

'Babysit'? Butchy could feel the word in the palm of his hand as he clenched his fingers into a fist around it, crushing it, along with all its juvenile connotations. "I'm not a 'kid', I'm eighteen years old," he insisted, choosing his words and tone very carefully as he fought not to lose his cool.

"Yeah, and I'm not a chainsmoker neither," Jennifer sniggered, appearing to have swapped her nail file for a cigarette during the confrontation. She took a long drag as her, deep, carob eyes latched onto his, lashes sprawling across a rough sea of streaky kohl, before letting the smoke leak out through her crimson-painted smirk.

Butchy didn't know what was more nauseating: her attitude or the stench of tobacco hanging in the air.

Officer Reynolds let out an exasperated sigh that soon stole back the trainee's glare though. "That's all well and good, but it's not gonna change my mind. You need more experience before you go out in the field, Bandoni," he explained, with an expression that told Butchy he was well-weary of the conversation now. "You can't learn to run before you learn to walk. It's just not realistic - if anything, it's naïve."

"But how am I supposed to get more experience when I'm stuck behind a desk all day?"

Butchy's question was shot down though as the pair of officers crossed the room to the office's main door, back to their usual routine of barely acknowledging his existence. "If I'm not back by two for your CPR training, Officer Powell will handle it, okay?" Reynolds said as he plucked his hat from the coat stand in the corner and secured it atop his head of thinning, taupe hair. Knowing the new recruit wouldn't be satisfied with any answer he could give him, he'd just decided to brush the question aside altogether.

And knowing that defiance, and further provoking, would get him nowhere, Butchy finally relaxed his hand, and gave a stiff nod. He silently watched the officers announce their departure to the room and felt his shoulders slump in defeat, his chest aching with betrayal. Officer Reynolds was supposed to be his mentor, the one who would take him under his wing as he learned the ropes - and yet he'd kicked him to the curb and spat in his face the one time he'd tried to do the right thing. At least that's how it felt to him anyway.

"Bye boys," Jennifer trilled with a flirty giggle as the office door closed behind them. Tapping the ash from the end of her cigarette, she turned her vampish smirk to Butchy. "Nice little show there, Bandoni. And there I was thinking today was gonna be boring."

Butchy's frown deepened as her scornful laughter battered his ears. The thick-headed she-devil wasn't worth his breath though - even the sickened huff that escaped his throat felt like a waste. His fingers once again closed, although this time they at least found the warm ceramic of his mug beneath them. Letting the heat seep into his skin, he took a deep breath in through his nose and tried to focus on anything else other than the anger boiling in his chest. At least the Star Wars mug, and the memory of receiving it, gave him something to anchor himself to: a way to discharge all the bitter resentment that had been steadily building for weeks, but had finally come to an ugly head. One more snarky comment from Danielle and he'd have hurled the coffee at her sloppy up-do, he knew it - he could feel himself teetering on the brink.

And yet, a friendly hand in the centre of his back was all it took to draw him back from the edge. "I should be thanking you," Fran said with a sympathetic chuckle, and roll of her eyes at the officers' expense. "I thought they'd never leave."

Managing a weak, but grateful smile to the receptionist, Butchy finally picked his mug up from the drink station and took his leave before he could draw any more unwanted attention to himself. Jennifer's squawking voice still rang in his ears as his footsteps pounded down the hall, desperate (for once) to shut himself away in his office. At least in there he knew he was safe from further embarrassment, even if the only thing waiting for him was a stack of files on petty traffic crimes. Apparently reading about speeding fines and parking tickets was all the excitement his life could afford him for the time being. But, for once, he actually found some comfort in that.

"Well, Wuthering Heights, you were fun while you lasted, but I am not going to miss you," Vivien snorted, holding the worn paperback out in front of her, as if to address it like an old friend.

The gentle chuckles that bounced the soft, chocolate brown curls beside her set her innocent little middle-school heart aflutter, and she caught herself clamping her lips shut in case it tried to escape. Craving the thrill of that sensation again, she snatched a shy glance in his direction before plastering the jovial grin back on her face. "Thank you for the 'A' though, Emily."

"What are you thanking her for? We did all the hard work," Royce scoffed. "I wrote so many notes on the moors I'm pretty sure I almost gave myself Carpal Tunnel."

A snicker crinkled the brunette's nose. "Well you do have the neater handwriting."

"And you have all the good ideas," Royce chuckled, praying desperately that the prickling he felt across his cheeks wasn't what he thought it was.

Stopping in front of a set of painted metal doors, Vivien turned to him with a disapproving frown. "Not all the good ideas."

"Fine… most then."

Whilst Royce may have been able to keep his blush at bay, Vivien felt hers raging like a wildfire as she downplayed his compliment with an affectionate eye-roll and pushed her way out into the crisp autumn air of the Hawkins Middle parking lot. Hopefully a bracing breeze like the one that smacked her across the face the second she set foot onto the asphalt would help her systems stop running on overdrive, because right now she felt like a live wire about to catch light. One wrong move from Royce and he'd be fried to a crisp.

Wrapping her free hand around the forearm that flanked him, protecting his arm from being barbecued should he decide to fondly bump her as they fell into stride once more, Vivien, composure regained, offered him a smile. "I guess that makes us a pretty good team then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," he agreed, holding her gaze for a beat and letting the sincerity of the moment swell alongside the tingly, warm feeling spreading through his chest. "...And we've got the A to prove it." Terrified by the sensation, he snorted out a laugh that shattered the tenderness of the moment just as awkwardly as how he almost tripped over his own feet because he was spending more time looking at Vivien and her freaking dimples than where he was walking. Damn his stupid hand-me-down sneakers from Miles and their stupidly long laces.

More awkward, cheerful chuckles tumbled from the middle schoolers' lips as Royce steadied himself again and they made their way over to the cluster of trees by the soccer field. It didn't take Vivien long to break the comfortable silence that had fallen over them though. "I don't know what we're going to do with ourselves now that project's finished; it completely took over our lives for like two whole weeks there."

"I'm sure we'll find something."

But Royce's laidback grin was the complete antithesis of Vivien's tense shoulders and skittish gaze. Then again, he had no idea what she was planning, or what her skating friends had been begging her to do for weeks.

It couldn't be that hard, right? It was just one little question. She asked him questions all the time, this one didn't need to be any different. And besides, there wasn't really anything Vivien felt as though she couldn't talk to Royce about; he was her best friend, he was always her first port of call for anything that was bothering her - well, unless it was about something like her period; that was strictly for her mom…

But this was just a question: one that could very well have been asked without another thought had she not attached all the extra weight to it in her mind. And yet here she was, fighting her own tongue, trying to persuade it to recite the script she'd meticulously planned out in her head the night before, because for some reason it wasn't convinced by her promised ability to brush the sentiment off as 'just a friend thing' should Royce take it badly. And neither was her mind, really.

Realistically though, what was the worst thing that could happen if he had a weird reaction? It's not like a meteor would crash out of the sky and strike them both down or anything, no matter how much she may want it to in the moment - she knew; she'd checked and it wasn't the right time of year for it. The worst that could happen is things might be a little awkward between them for a couple days, right? He wouldn't-

-Actually, scratch that. Vivien didn't want to think about it.

"Well, actually…" she began, before she could talk herself out of it any further.

Vivien felt Royce's gaze land on her the second she stopped to clear her throat, which had become inexplicably scratchy ever since those last words had left it, clearly so reluctant to be said they'd dug their heels in the entire journey out into the cool, October air. And as soon as it did, it felt as though all her sweat glands released at once, adding a glistening sheen to her already crimson skin. Horrified, Vivien kept her gaze on the ground a few paces ahead of her to avoid having to find out if Royce had realised, and pushed her round, silver-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose in an attempt to shield herself from further embarrassment as a result of her thirteen-year-old hormones wreaking havoc in her own body.

Fearing that the longer she dragged this on, the more her subconscious would betray her, she swallowed her nerves and ploughed ahead. "Do you remember how you missed out on going to watch The NeverEnding Story this summer because you had to spend your ticket money on a new wheel for your bike?"

In her periphery, Vivien saw Royce's hand shift up to play with the fraying fabric of his backpack strap. He only ever did that when he felt uncomfortable. She didn't even have to look at him to confirm it either, the pause before he responded told her almost as much as his tone of voice did.

"...Yeah, but what does that-?"

"Hey nerds!"

Despite their disdain for the term, both Vivien and Royce's heads whipped around to try to locate the source of the voice, mentally cursing themselves for even acknowledging that the phrase could have been used to refer to them, let alone responding to it. But as green and brown eyes scanned a sparse sea of middle schoolers, searching for signs of anyone with ill-intent, they came up short.

"Over here!"

The voice, carried on the wind, drew the pair's gazes to a figure, practically standing on the bench of a rotting, wooden picnic table to try to grab their attention and their disgruntled grumblings fell from their lips within seconds of one another, replaced by fond sighs.

Bentley waved the duo towards him so spectacularly that, for all they knew, he could have been directing a plane to land. And whilst Vivien couldn't help but smile at the blond's boundless energy, she also couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with how easily Royce shelved their conversation by letting out an almost relieved: "Duty calls."

"Yeah," Vivien agreed with a forced smile and a breathy, awkward laugh to match his. Although it dropped from her face the second he turned his back to head over to the shaded seating area.

Once he was a good few paces ahead of her, and she was sure he was out of earshot, Vivien let out a frustrated huff, so hot she was surprised it didn't steam up her glasses. "Goddammit, Bentley," she muttered, shoving her library copy of Wuthering Heights into her backpack as she started trudging along behind Royce. "I almost got through it all that time."

But Bentley was none the wiser to Vivien's grand plans; too excited by his own news to consider that the pair may have been busy. And besides, the easygoing grin his older brother shot him as he approached made him none the wiser.

"You've gotta come up with something better to call us, Benny," Royce said, fondly shaking his head as he climbed the last few steps of the hill leading up to the picnic table, adorned by Bentley's friends, the contents of at least three up-turned pencil cases, and enough sheets of paper to paper mache a small child. Thankfully, the table was sheltered from the worst of the breeze, so the most that a stray gust could do was flutter the edges beneath the various, makeshift paperweights (dog-eared textbooks and unopened juice boxes) strewn across the splintering surface.

"Why? You are 'nerds'," the boy laughed as he bounced back down into his spot on the bench seat beside August.

"We are not," Royce protested.

"It got you to come over here, didn't it?" Bentley replied with a cheesy smirk.

Royce let out a slightly bitter sigh as he fumbled through a response. "Well- yeah, but it's… demeaning."

"Then why'd you respond to it?" Kona snorted, apparently more focused on selecting the right shade of crayon than bothering to look Royce in the eye as she insulted him.

The bluntness of the eleven-year-old's comment drew a snort of laughter from him before he could stop it, whether it was in amusement or incredulity though he'd never know. But the smile that threatened to envelop his disapproving frown stayed firmly in place as he said, "Because I'm so used to everyone else calling us it, that's why. And you shouldn't be contributing to the problem anyway; I thought we were all on the same side here."

"You calling us nerds, RJ?" Zack piped up with a challenging quirk of his eyebrow.

"Pot calls the kettle black," Royce smirked.

"White boy says what now?" Zack retorted with a confused frown that soon gave way to a mischievous grin the second that Royce rolled his eyes and playfully ruffled his hair, insisting through shared laughter that the boy knew what he meant.

"What are you guys doing up here?" Vivien asked with a breathy laugh of her own as she arrived at the picnic table and caught the end of the boys' friendly roughhousing.

"Having fun until you nerds showed up," Zack scoffed as he shoved Royce's chest in an attempt to get the older boy away from him. But the bubbling giggles that tumbled from his lips as Royce expressed his disdain for the name once more told everyone all they needed to know about how much he enjoyed the brunet's company - proved even further when he resorted to wrapping his arms around his torso and tackling him into a hug from his spot on the bench.

"Looks like it," Vivien noted with a bemused chuckle. "What's all this then? You writing out your own comic book or something?" she continued, gesturing to the vast collection of paper spread out before the quartet.

"We're designing our characters for this cool new game Gus brought in," Bentley raved, holding up his sheet of paper for Vivien to see. "Look at my guy, he's got a wand that's disguised as a paintbrush and this magic flute that lets him talk to animals."

"Damn, Benny, that's so cool," she grinned, marvelling at the artwork with almost as much care as the blond put into creating it.

"And look, here's the one I'm doing for Gus," Bentley continued, shuffling the papers around until he selected the right one.

"You didn't want to draw out your own?" Vivien asked the boy, whose sandy blond eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.

"Nah; Ben's better at art," August admitted, only glancing up from his work to shoot his oblivious friend a shy smile. "And I enjoy the planning part of it more anyway," he went on to explain. "So he's doing the drawing, and I'm filling out his character sheet for him."

"Yeah, 'cause there was no way I was gonna be able to deal with all that," Bentley snorted.

"This looks like a lot of work for just one game," Vivien noted, inching another piece of paper towards her and finding it covered from top to bottom in meticulously written words, numbers, and the occasional, scribbled doodle.

"Tell me about it," Kona scoffed. "I feel like we got extra math homework with this stupid number system we've got to work off of," she added with a huff that blew a straw strand of hair away from her eyes. Begrudgingly tapping the open, yellowing pages of an intricately illustrated book with the end of a pencil, she brought the thirteen-year-old's gaze to the table she was drawing from.

"You guys are willingly doing math over lunch and you're calling us nerds?" Royce asked with a teasing incredulity that earned him further, playful bickering from Zack.

"So what do you do with all this when you've created your characters then?" Vivien continued, feeling a fond smile tugging at her lips as Royce's unbridled laughter tickled her ears. Fighting the urge to swat the imagined sensation away, she focused her attention on the other children at the table. "What's this dorky wizard math game called?"

"Dungeons and Dragons," Bentley explained.

Vivien’s ears perked up. “Dungeons and Dragons? That weird roleplaying game Riven plays with his sweaty high school friends?”

“Who’s Riven?” Kona asked.

“My skating partner,” Vivien said, throwing the explanation away like a used napkin so that she could get back to the main point at hand.

“Ew, so is he like your boyfriend then?” Kona teased with a devilish wiggle of her eyebrows.

“No!” Vivien blurted, maybe a little too quickly if everyone turning to look at her was anything to go by. "No, not like… It's just- He's like my brother, ok?" she hurriedly tried to explain, trying to ignore the bile now creeping at the back of her throat the very thought alone had placed there.

"Ok," Kona snorted, smirking to herself as she caught Royce's shoulders slump in relief in her periphery. Making the ninth-graders squirm was a favourite pastime of hers, and lately, all this girlfriend-boyfriend talk around them, despite making her want to hurl, had been a homerun every time.

"I didn’t know Riven played DnD,” Bentley piped up, earning himself a grateful smile from Vivien for taking some of the heat off her.

“Neither did I until he made us switch our practice days so that he could go play pretend with a bunch of dorks out the back of Eddie 'the freak' Munson's trailer."

"Riven's in that weird Hellraiser club?" Royce asked, bushy eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"My sister says they're all devil worshippers," Zack mumbled.

"It's Hellfire," Vivien corrected. "And they're not devil worshippers - well, Riven's not anyway. As far as I know they're just losers in matching shirts who play make believe like they're still in first grade."

"It's more than just playing make believe," August dared to pipe up with a somewhat defensive frown, immediately toying with the corner of Bentley's character sheet the second the group's attention landed on him. A sideways glance in the blond's direction earned him a reassuring smile that breathed some much needed confidence into his lungs, and as he released it, he said, "There's this whole world you can build your own stories around with all these super detailed characters and a bunch of lore you can discover. I spent my whole weekend reading through the books my cousin gave me and that doesn't even cover half of it. It's like one big choose-your-own adventure story, but everyone gets a say in what happens, and gets to feel like they're a part of it."

A beaming grin and steel blue eyes, sparkling with excitement, found Royce with startling ease. "Doesn't that sound cool?!" Bentley enthused.

"...It actually does," Royce admitted, even surprising himself with his answer.

"Hear that, Auggie? You didn't even have to mention dragons to convince someone that time," Kona snickered, firing the curly haired boy beside her a smirk.

"Whatever," Zack scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You thought they sounded cool too," he added with an accusatory nudge of the blonde's elbow that had her cursing him under her breath for making her pencil skim across the page.

Ignoring his friends' sibling-like arguing, so used to it by now that it honestly would have been stranger to acknowledge it, Bentley kept his attention, and his toothy grin, focused on his older brother. "I knew you'd like it! You're always borrowing those old fantasy books from the library and writing your own versions of them."

"Well- yeah, ok, but what does that have to do with this?" Royce stuttered, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment despite Vivien's small, amused smile.

"Well this is just like that! Gus wrote out our first campaign all by himself," Bentley gushed before leaning into the shying blond beside him. "That's like the story, right?" he checked in a hushed tone. And after receiving a confirmatory nod, he turned back to Royce with renewed enthusiasm. "The plot, the monsters, the bonus quests - he came up with it all!"

Bentley pushed a stack of papers towards his brother, bound by treasury tags and bearing enough ink to have drained an entire pack of ballpoint pens. "Holy shit," Royce breathed as he picked it up and began flipping through the makeshift book, becoming more and more stunned with every turn of a page. "You wrote this whole thing by yourself?" he asked August, who timidly nodded. "In one weekend?" Again, the boy nodded, this time a little more eagerly. And Royce could see why. "...Wow," he marvelled, smiling as he watched the younger boy swell with pride. "This is really impressive, August."

"You put some serious work into this, huh?" Vivien noted.

"Yeah, I guess," August admitted as his steadily reddening cheeks were pulled aside by an appreciative grin. "It's not like I minded though," he went on to hurriedly explain. "It all came together pretty quickly once I got into it. Plus it gave me an excuse to shut myself up in my room away from my stuffy aunt and that stupid dog she carries around in her purse," he added, earning himself a bright laugh from Bentley that completely stalled his train of thought. Luckily, it was nothing that clearing his throat and refocusing his gaze on the blond's character sheet couldn't fix though. "I guess I just thought it would be something fun for us all to do together, you know?"

"Yeah, it sure sounds like it," Vivien said with a warm smile. But there was still a little, nagging thought hammering away at the back of her head, and she feared that if she didn't use this opportunity of an out as her last-ditch attempt at getting Royce alone before the end of the school day then that nagging thought would break right through her skull and puncture her brain with its pesky little pickaxe. And she needed all the brainpower she could muster to get through this, so she did not want to take any risks. "Anyway," she continued, snagging the attention of the table of eleven-year-olds as she clapped her hands together. "We'd better let you guys get back to planning. We wouldn't want to be the reason for you guys delaying your first adventure now, would we?" she asked rhetorically, firing a knowing look across at Royce that was not-so-subtly hidden behind a theatrical grin.

If Royce picked up on the intensity behind Vivien's gaze though, he didn't show it, instead remaining as blissfully oblivious as he always seemed to be when it came to her intentions as he took his turn to offer a fond smile to the table of his brother's friends. "You'll have to let us know how it goes," he said, before adding with a chuckle: "I'm invested now; it sounds awesome."

Breathing out a sigh of relief between her teeth as Royce rounded the picnic table to join her, Vivien kept her almost clown-like smile plastered to her face as she thanked whatever great powers were at work for making Royce ever so slightly more perceptive than the other, gormless teenage boys in their class. But just as she was inching her way back down the hill, and readying her opening line for the brunet once they were out of earshot of the eager little gremlins, one of them piped up with a perfectly pointed pin to burst her bubble.

"Why don't you just play with us then?"

Bentley's wide-eyed, hopeful grin was the only thing keeping Vivien from snatching up Kona's muddy jump rope and strangling him with it. Besides the years upon years of sibling-like friendship, obviously.

Forcing out a strained laugh, she managed a tight, "It's alright, Benny, we don't want to crash your fun."

"You're not crashing anything; we want you to join in. Right, guys?"

Ok, so Bentley can't read social cues… Good to know.

It would have made things a hell of a lot easier if Vivien could have known about that before she set the wheels of her master plan into motion though, because right now she felt like they were so out of sync they were about to derail the handcar she'd strapped this grand idea of hers to. But even if she could have brought herself to get mad at Bentley, Zack jumped to the blond's defence before she even had the chance.

"Yeah, we're gonna need all the help we can get because Kona can't add up for shit and I'm not about to let my guy Omar Scale Crusher die after I've spent all this time working out his stats."

"I can't add up for shit?! What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who got put in Math 2!"

"Only for a week! And I totally got a better grade than you on that test last week."

"No you didn't!"

"Did too!"

"Bite me!"

As the pair energetically bickered about Zack's accusations, which Kona steadfastly claimed were built on entirely false foundations, Vivien found her frustration with the picnic table occupants crumbling away. After all, they weren't to know that she'd been practising for this lunchtime conversation with Royce for weeks. How could they? The only others she'd confided in were her three skating friends and the balding Big Bird stuffed animal from the end of her bed that had taken on the role of Royce during her many rehearsals. And she couldn't blame them for their excitement over the game either; even she had to admit that it sounded pretty cool. Plus, after hearing Riven rhapsodise about Hellfire's epic campaigns for weeks now, she was starting to get a little curious about the game and how it was played.

"Omar Scale Crusher, huh?" she eventually chuckled, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Zack that soon ground his and Kona's squabbling to a halt. "How'd you come up with that?"

"Isn't it sick? Auggie had this big list of names with cool meanings to help us decide."

After shuffling through the endless sheets of paper around him, August found the right one and went on to explain for a very enthusiastic Zack: "Omar means 'one who has a long life'."

"Yeah, so he'd better live up to his damn name! I'm not planning this whole thing out to have him die in the first round," he declared with a hearty laugh, before tagging on: "Plus my uncle's called Omar and he's awesome."

Vivien couldn't help her snort of laughter at the blunt innocence. "Very creative," she noted. "What is he then? Like a viking or something?"

"No, he's a wizard," Zack stated matter-of-factly. "'Cause why would I bother using a sword when I could just kill an enemy with magic?"

"How come your guy's holding a sword then?"

Royce's frank delivery, from over the younger boy's shoulder, had a laugh spurting from between Vivien's lips before she could stop it. And Bentley, August, and Kona were all quick to follow suit.

However, as to be expected, the brash brunet soon scrambled a retaliation. "Well I'd still want one for backup."

"No duh," Kona chuckled as she finished shading in the metallic sheath of the dagger her character clutched in a leather clad fist. "Magic or not, you still need a weapon."

"Is your character a wizard too then?" Vivien asked Kona, but the incredulous snort the blonde let out could have told her all she needed to know on its own.

"No, Andromeda doesn't need to rely on magic to keep herself out of danger; her dexterity's off the charts."

Before another argument could break out between Zack and Kona as a result of her roundabout dig at him, August decided to speak for the table. "Zack’s our mage, Kona's our thief, Ben's our Bard and my guy's a ranger."

"But you're the dungeon master too, right?" Bentley checked, mischievous blue eyes peeking out from beneath furrowed bows.

August's own eyes were drawn to Bentley's the second that he'd opened his mouth, but the smirk tugging at his friend's lips was what captured his attention. "What's so funny?" he challenged through a chuckle that coaxed one out of Bentley too. "You don't think I could be a dungeon master?"

"I never said that," Bentley laughed. But the look the boys shared meant they both knew that's what his tone had implied.

"You didn't have to."

"Well can you blame me? It just sounds so menacing and scary. I know you read all those horror books and stuff, but come on, you're about as intimidating as Winnie the Pooh - who, last time I checked, was still tucked under your comforter next to your pillow and your old baby blanket."

Jaw dropped in incredulity, August lightly elbowed Bentley in the ribs. "I can so be intimidating," he retorted. But if he was pretending to be mad at the boy, his true feelings were soon revealed by the smile he couldn't seem to keep off his face.

"Yeah, well, we've yet to see it," Kona bluntly noted, which once again set Royce and Vivien off giggling at the sixth graders.

"You sound like you've got a pretty well-rounded group then," Royce carried on, drawing the conversation back to August's point from earlier. "Are there even any roles left for us? Or are we going to have to start doubling up?"

"You can double up if you want, but there's still a bunch of classes that haven't been picked yet," August explained, flipping through the large book spread out before him until he got to the right page. "We've not got a druid, a cleric, or a fighter."

"What does a fighter do?" Royce asked.

"Fighters are weapons-oriented warriors, who fight using skill, strategy, and tactics," August recited from his handbook, bringing the group's attention to the detailed illustration of an armoured swordsman, wielding what looked to be an incredibly heavy shield with almost no effort at all.

The second Vivien's eyes met the page she knew it was game over; her imagination kicked into overdrive and tossed all other thoughts about how she could have been spending this lunchtime to the curb. Racing at a million miles an hour, her brain plucked ideas from seemingly thin air and began piecing together a muscular young woman, strong enough to knock an ox clean off its feet in one quick shove, although you'd never know it since her frame was cleverly disguised in roughened leather padding, tarnished silver armour, and rich, violet robes fashioned into a sort of cape. Her face was weathered, but kind, and her vibrant, emerald eyes sparkled with determination, and the promise of adventure. Like the picture in August's book, the woman carried a large, battle-scarred sword by its ornate handle, and kept a hefty shield vigilantly by her side, painted in, again, deep shades of indigo, violet, and the blood of her enemies, naturally. She also had a quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder though, nestled beside a crossbow, just peeking out from behind a head of flowing, chestnut locks. The heroine had no time for preening, so her hair was tousled with grease and grime from combatting the elements on her journeys, but as it fluttered in the wind, it was kept away from her face by intricate braids, weighed down by silver rings and stolen jewels of amethyst and topaz. She smiled at Vivien from the forefront of her mind, as if marking her territory there, and Vivien felt her heart skip a beat as she breathed out a quiet, and hopefully nonchalant: "Hmm…cool."

"That sounds like a good one for you, Viv. Strategy and tactics? You're great with planning stuff out," Royce noted. But one glance in her direction and his face broke into a knowing smile the second he clocked her eyes, glazed over in thought, and lips, parted in awe.

"Yeah, and look, you'd make a great cleric," Bentley continued, pulling Royce's gaze away from Vivien, albeit reluctantly. Flipping the page of August's handbook, he excitedly tapped at a drawing of a tall man, draped in heavy, fur pelts and bronzed chainmail. A glowing staff was held in one hand, and a massive axe was thrown over his shoulder as though it weighed no more than a sack of flour.

"Clerics are versatile figures, both capable in combat and skilled in the use of divine magic," August recited from the page after a light, nudge from Bentley. "They're also powerful healers."

"See? That's perfect for you! You're always helping patch us up if we fall off our bikes," Bentley enthused, undeterred by the amused chuckles that his brother unleashed as a result of what he thought was an adorably innocent explanation.

"Yeah, and we could use a healer on our team, especially with those two and their lack of impulse control," August snorted as he gestured to Kona and Zack, who jumped at the chance to express their indignation.

As the group of friends returned to jovially bickering amongst themselves, Royce and Vivien's minds were quietly whirring with ideas. Ideas which, upon glancing at one another, they soon realised were all too perfectly aligned.

"What do you say then, losers?" Kona finally asked once she'd finished fighting her ground against the boys, snapping the eighth-graders out of their heads and bringing them back to reality with a knowing smirk. "Are you playing with us or not?"

Royce, as always, left the decision to Vivien. But the hopeful glimmer in his caramel eyes, paired with her own, itching curiosity made that decision all too easy. And besides, even if she wasn't spending time alone with Royce, she was still spending time with him. And that was good enough for her.

…For now.

"Well… I guess one game couldn't hurt, right?" she said with a smirk that soon broke out into a grin as Bentley's face lit up like a firework display. And it only grew when she glanced across at Royce for one last confirmation that she'd made the right decision, only to find him beaming with almost as much enthusiasm as his brother.

If this nerdy little game brought Royce this much joy, and was even half as much fun as it sounded, then Vivien knew it would be worth another few hours of crippling anxiety. Besides, she hoped that she could immerse herself in the story so much that she'd forget all about her predicament with the brunet anyway. But as they took their places at the picnic table, and Royce's sneaker brushing against her shin shot a jolt of adrenaline up her leg with such a force that she almost jumped straight back out of her seat, she knew that that was just wishful thinking. Covering up the brief waver in her cool, confident exterior with a quiet cough, she tried to refocus her mind on the endless streams of information August was unleashing on the pair of them.

"-and so the group our characters all belong to is called The Circle of the Emerald Torches, but part of the first campaign is about how we get our name, so I'll explain more about that later. Before you start, and before I give you your character sheets though, if you want to be in our party then you'll need to recite the Oath of Noble Heroes so that we know you're serious about this."

"Don't worry, we had to do it too. But it's so cool, you'll love it! And then there's a declaration of loyalty for you to sign somewhere too," Bentley tagged on before the boys started animatedly babbling amongst themselves about the ins and outs of their party's rules again.

Shaking his head at the pair, Royce took the opportunity of them being distracted to lean over to Vivien and teasingly chuckle, "What the hell have you just gotten us into?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the boy, knowing that his enthusiasm for the game was a major driving factor in her decision to play, and that he was also well-aware of that fact, she looked him square in the face and hid her smirk behind a deadly serious, blank expression, "I'm pretty sure we just joined a cult."

American History, Volume 2, lay open on page 38. And it had laid there like that for the past 45 minutes, having been abandoned by its current owner almost as soon as it had been removed from their backpack. Because instead of completing the assigned history homework, the desk's occupant was using their study hall period much more wisely: by shredding a solo, courtesy of Ozzy Osbourne, on possibly the most prestigious instrument of all: the air guitar.

Ethan's eyes slid shut, and a blissful smile curled his lips as he mashed the volume button on his Walkman with practised ease. Bar after bar of 'Crazy Train' pounded through his skull at a staggering volume, rattling what little of his brain was left in the mostly vacant space between his ears, helped along by the bopping of his head in time with the song's beat. When his fingers weren't plucking out riffs on imaginary strings, they were banging out the drumline on a drum kit that was just as real as his Gibson SG. And all the while, he was passionately miming the lyrics for his audience of the pencil shavings and dust mites that hugged the wall beside his desk.

He felt the music in his bones. The bass line pumped through his veins. Every note that was played resonated through the chambers of his heart until it felt like the song was as much a part of him as his left arm. And the deeper he let himself sink into the music, the less aware of his surroundings he became - or the less he cared to remember them anyway. Until a sharp elbow to the ribs shattered his rockstar illusions, that is.

Bleary brown eyes met earnest, steel blue, and held nothing but confusion for the several seconds it took him to realise that Miles’ mouth was moving without making a sound.

“What?” Ethan bellowed, prying a wailing headphone speaker away from his ears as he leaned closer to the exasperated brunet.

“Jesus, man!” Miles exclaimed under his breath as he reached across to his friend’s Walkman to frantically turn the volume down. “Are you trying to blow your eardrums out or something?”

“That would be pretty metal, so maybe,” Ethan chuckled, entirely unphased. But Miles’ disapproving frown soon had him rolling out an explanation. “You’ve got a front row seat for my biggest show yet and you’re choosing to lecture me about volume control? I can care about my hearing when I’m in the retirement home.”

“You’ll be lucky if you make it to a retirement home," Miles snorted. "You've got the survival skills of a two dollar house plant."

Instead of arguing back, or even rolling his eyes at his best friend's dig, Ethan just continued chuckling along in agreement as he slid his headphones down to rest around his neck - still blaring out Ozzy Osbourne's vocals, although they were only just audible over the hubbub of chatter and laughter that filled the rest of the classroom. "What were you saying before anyway?" he went on to ask. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah, the answer to number four."

"Pfft, you think I've even made it past one?" Ethan guffawed, astonished and highly amused that Miles thought highly enough of him to assume he hadn't been shirking his responsibilities all afternoon. "I've got no fucking clue. What chapter are we on again? Abraham Lincoln?"

The mix of despair and disbelief Ethan was faced with when he glanced back across at Miles told him his guess might not have been as accurate as he'd pitched it to be. "...Are we not on Abraham Lincoln?"

"We haven't done Abraham Lincoln since freshman year," Miles deadpanned before letting out a chuckle of his own. "When was the last time you actually paid attention in one of Mr Bishop's classes?"

"Probably freshman year," Ethan noted with a laugh, slumping back in his seat and starting to rock on the back two legs of the flimsy, plastic chair. "I think the only chance I've got at retaining any of the information in that textbook for this month's pop quiz is if I eat it."

The look of reproach Miles shot the carefree stoner could have fooled any passerby into thinking that he was the boy's father, but he blamed that on the past however many years of having to act as a sole parental figure for two young boys - who, on several occasions, had actually proved to be far more mature than the lank-haired brunet before him. More often than not, Ethan felt like a third child he had to keep alive. And somehow, his lack of height was not one of the driving factors behind that reasoning.

"Oh come on, don't give me that look," Ethan groaned, ever the resentful teenager in their relationship. "You've not exactly been Mr Studious yourself today."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well you've been stuck on that same question for the last twenty minutes 'cause you keep making goo-goo eyes at you know who," Ethan smirked as Miles' eyes widened in horror and his forehead started to prickle with sweat.

"No I don't," he indignantly tried.

"I thought you said you were over her," Ethan teased.

"I am! It's not like that anyway," Miles muttered, then added. "And it's not been twenty minutes."

"It totally has."

"How the hell would you know? You've been listening to Motorhead since we sat down."

"Yeah but my fuckin' eyes still work," Ethan snorted, hitting Miles with a loving grin that had him rolling his eyes before Ethan had even finished his sentence. And yet, the boy's frustration did nothing to deter him from probing further. "What's the stalking for this time then? You know, if you're not trying to get in her pants anymore."

Miles was at as much of a loss as Ethan. His eyes found the head of bouncing, blonde curls with almost no effort at all (likely a result of an entire study hall period of practice), searching for some sort of answer. But all he found was a dull, fluttering in his chest.

Even the giddy, lovestruck butterfly that had been trapped in there for months seemed to have admitted defeat.

Still, his gaze never wavered. He watched airy laughter spill from her glossy lips, and her nose crinkle beneath brilliantly blue eyes, framed by thick, black lashes and copious amounts of mascara. Whilst before, Miles could have eaten through a movie theatre's entire popcorn supply and still want to look just a little longer, in that moment he just felt empty. And that’s when he realised it wasn't actually Carrie herself that was occupying his mind, it was everyone else around her, and how she was treating them. Plucking a proudly presented flyer for a house party from one, impishly teasing another, waving at Sharon Frye on her way out the door, firing a flirty wink in jest at Steve Harrington after giggling at one of his jokes…

Miles was certain she'd looked at every other person in that room at least once since their study hall period had begun, and yet the closest her eyes had ventured over to him was when she glanced at the clock on the wall. Every thought in his head was plagued by her smile, or her voice, or her laugh… Had he ever even crossed her mind?

"Do you think she actually cares about us?"

Miles hadn't been able to bring himself to tear his forlorn gaze from the blonde in question, but that didn't stop Ethan from snorting out an answer. "Well yeah, I'd hope so; we spend enough time with her."

"Not by choice," Miles huffed.

“Well she talks to us now, and that’s more than we could have said before we worked with her, so that’s got to count for something,” Ethan chuckled. “But if this is about what I think it’s about, then she absolutely cares about you, dude. Like way more than the rest of us.”

“You really think so?”

“Dude, it’s like you two are glued at the hip. I can’t get you away from each other for shit once we close every night,” Ethan replied. And when Miles still looked unsure, he added, “Why else do you think I always get stuck cleaning the kitchen with Mick? She hates my guts!”

“No she does not,” Miles softly chuckled.

“Well I definitely don’t think she likes me, not like Carrie likes you anyway,” he retorted with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows. “I’m telling you, man. There’s something there. There’s no way she’d laugh at your crappy jokes like she does if she didn’t at least have a little interest in you - I don’t care if Mick thinks it’s bullshit, I know I’m right.”

Miles just rolled his eyes, but a hopeful smile desperately pulled at his lips, no matter how many times he tried to dismiss it. “I don’t know, I think she probably just does it to be nice,” he mused, watching as Carrie animatedly responded to Rachel Price before turning back to resume her conversation with the girl sat beside her - the very girl that Miles still had an irrepressible urge to swap lives with: Juliet Harmon. Now faced with nothing but the back of her head, he quickly lost interest in the view. “…She seems to act like that with most people.”

“She definitely does not, man. Why do you think the entire marching band is scared to look her in the eye? She’s like one of the biggest bitches in school,” Ethan scoffed. But he paused when he realised Miles wasn’t laughing along with him. “Why does it matter how she acts around other people anyway?”

“It doesn’t,” Miles huffed. “…Not really.”

But the second he dared to make eye contact with his oldest friend, the floodgates opened and the truth came tumbling out.

“I just…feel stupid for letting her get in my head, and for actually thinking that we had something special - that I was somehow different to all the other idiots who throw themselves at her to get a second of her attention. But here I am, thinking about her constantly, hanging onto every interaction we have like my fucking life depends on it, only for her to… Ugh, I don't know. I just…don't want it all to not mean anything to her, when it means so much to me - no matter how much I try to convince myself it doesn't. I mean, yeah, she's nice to me at work - really nice - but she barely even acknowledges me outside of All Skate… It's like I don't even exist, like she doesn't even realise I'm there. And it makes me feel like shit."

"She barely acknowledges anyone," Ethan absentmindedly mused. "I wouldn't take it personally."

"That's a lot easier said than done," Miles huffed dejectedly. There was something freeing about Ethan's nonchalance over Miles' feelings though; it made them feel less suffocating. And whilst he still felt entirely hopeless about the situation, he did feel a little bit of the pressure ease off as he rested his chin on his hand and let his mind start to wander. "...You think she actually considers us friends?"

"Sure; she calls us her work friends all the time."

"No but like her actual friends," Miles clarified.

"Dude, I don't fucking know; the female mind is a mystery to me at the best of times, but hers is on a whole other level," Ethan scoffed in incredulity. "Do you not remember that like thirty minute debate I had with her about diet sodas? Actual insanity.”

Miles' quiet chuckling as he reminisced about what had started as an innocent question, yet progressed to a full-blown screaming match, with each participant equally as confused and frustrated as the other, was soon silenced by Ethan's next prompt though. "I know a way you can find out though…"

"...No!"

"Oh come on, man. Don't be a sissy. It'll be so easy. And then you can stop getting hung up on all these bogus hypotheticals."

Miles' initial horror slowly dissipated as Ethan's reasoning started to lure out a far greater force from its hiding place in the corner of his brain: his curiosity. "...You really think I can just go up and talk to her? In class?" he asked, as his eyes once again found that jumble of golden curls.

"Sure, why not? It's only study hall."

Again, Ethan's nonchalance, which was only heightened by the fact that he was trying to balance a pen on his curled upper lip as he responded, did far more for Miles' confidence than any pep talk of his own could have. And besides, maybe he was onto something - maybe it really was that simple; it always was in his world.

"It wouldn't be weird?" Miles double-checked.

"Why would it be weird? All you're gonna do is talk to her. And we already established you two are friends, so what could go wrong?"

Miles shuddered at the very thought. "So much."

Ethan glanced across at him, ready to fire out further encouragement like a sixth grader with a penchant for making spitballs, but when he clocked his friend's nervous fidgeting, he reconsidered his situation and gained a little clarity. "Ok…yeah, fine, stuff could go wrong. But are you gonna die?" he proposed.

"No," Miles begrudgingly mumbled.

"Are you gonna break something?"

"No, but-"

"Then how bad can it be?" Ethan cut in with a lopsided, optimistic grin before Miles could tie himself up in any more self-conscious knots. "Just get over there and scratch that itch that's been bugging you for weeks; it's not gonna stop until you do. And you'll feel so much better after."

It took Miles by surprise every time it happened, but yet again, it seemed as though Ethan might actually be…right. This question of Carrie's loyalty had been eating away at him for weeks now. And, as he'd stressed earlier, it was making him feel shittier and shittier with every day he let it drag on. Asking her outright was a definite way to get his answer… It was just going to require him growing some balls, as anything to do with All Skate's resident disc jockey apparently made his own shrink to the size of peas.

"...Just walk over and talk to her?" Miles checked. Although, between us, he was just stalling to give himself more time to muster some courage.

"Yeah, as a friend," Ethan confirmed.

"You really think I can pull that off?" Miles asked with a dubious, but hopeful quirk of his eyebrow that had Ethan melting like a bomb pop that had been left out in the 4th of July sun.

"Absolutely," he grinned, totally enamoured by his friend's giddy trepidation, and the promise of a relationship he so steadfastly defended. "She's got a major soft spot for you, man. I see it like every night," he went on to reassure. "There's no way she's gonna blow you off. You'll be fine."

And as a result of that dopey grin, complemented by the ratty, chestnut locks, and vacant, dark chocolate eyes… Miles believed him.

"...Ok, I'm going in," he breathed through a determined smile.

"Atta boy," Ethan chuckled, fist-bumping Miles before tipping his chair back onto all four of its legs again, as though to signal the resolution of their predicament. "Go scratch that itch," he added, finishing their little handshake with a bolstering point before lifting his headphones back over his ears and disappearing back into his wildest rock star fantasies - totally oblivious to the disaster about to unfold right behind him as Miles took a deep breath and waded into the wild, uncharted waters of the female mindset.

"So now that we know that y=7, we plug that into this side of the function, that we've already simplified, to give us this…which then means that we can carry this over here, giving us x=3."

…Silence.

"Right?" Juliet checked, although the satisfied smile that had settled on her carnation pink lips as soon as she finished the sum was beginning to falter into one of desperation as she turned to her tutee. "Did you follow along ok that time?"

But all Juliet was met with was a glassy stare and an infatuated grin, smushed between two fists as its owner rested their chin on their palms. "You're so smart, Julie," Carrie breathed.

Juliet just rolled her eyes, although she did little to hide the bashful blush tickling her cheeks. “Never mind that, did you understand how I worked it out that time?”

"...Kind of?" Carrie tried, offering a lopsided, hopeful grin to try to lessen the blow.

If Juliet's exasperated huff was anything to go by though: it didn't work. But her frustration dissolved the second that she met Carrie's gaze. "Where did I lose you?" she asked with a gentle, patient sigh.

"The whole reversing the function bit," Carrie admitted as she bit her lip and braced herself for Juliet's reaction. Although the blonde's expression never wavered, the dismay that flashed in her eyes soon had Carrie barrelling through an explanation. "I swear I was getting it before that this time, but then it all started to sound like you were talking in another language, and then I got distracted by that pretty way you write out the 'x' again, and then I just…"

"...Stopped listening all together?" Juliet teasingly offered with a fond smirk.

Carrie scoffed in mock-defence. "No, I listened the whole time, I just stopped taking it in," she went on to clarify. But as soon as she drew a giggle from Juliet's lips she melted into that same infatuated grin from earlier as she admitted, "I'd never stop listening to you. You know I could listen to you talk for hours."

"Even about algebra?" Juliet teasingly tested with an affectionate smile of her own.

"Of course about algebra," Carrie gushed with a glittering honesty that soon had Juliet giggling again. "Believe it or not, this is the most I've ever understood a math module," she carried on, straightening up in her seat to help give her point a little more credibility, before tagging on a jovial, "And it's all thanks to you, smarty pants."

"Would you stop calling me that? It's so lame," Juliet protested, hiding her smile behind a frank eye roll. "And besides, I'm not that smart."

"You so are; you're like the smartest person I know," Carrie gushed, never one to let her friends downplay their successes, much to Juliet's disgruntlement. The blonde's frown didn't deter Carrie from continuing to lovingly babble straight through her stream of consciousness though. "That brain of yours has to be huge - no wonder you get headaches all the time, it's because it doesn't have enough space in there."

Carrie's knack for making herself giggle never failed to make Juliet smile, but yet again she found herself trying to cover it up with a bashful roll of her hazel irises as she let out a sigh and attempted to get their conversation back on track. "You wanna try another question then?"

"Don't try to change the subject," Carrie fired back with a mischievous grin.

"I'm not, you are!" Juliet retorted, biting back an incredulous laugh. "We're supposed to be doing algebra, not Juliet 101."

Carrie's mischievous grin only broadened. "Now that's a class I might actually get an A in."

Rolling her eyes for the third time at her best friend's antics, Juliet teasingly tried, "What? Not an A+?"

"Maybe," Carrie smirked. "But then again, I might get distracted by my teacher." Her wiggling eyebrows soon had Juliet reprimanding her and attempting to draw her focus back to her school work, but Carrie's mind was already wandering off too far down a different path altogether. "...Do you think you'd ever wanna be a doctor, Julie?"

The comment, that fell slap-bang in the middle of Juliet's offer to rewrite the steps of the previous algebra equation, baffled her into silence - so taken aback by the suggestion that she almost thought she'd misheard the golden-haired girl. "What? No," she spluttered, looking at Carrie as though she'd just sprouted a third nose. "Where did that come from?"

Juliet's confusion didn't seem to faze Carrie though, because her dreamy smile stuck it out through her whole, rambling explanation. "I don't know, I just figured you should use your big brain for a job one day. You know, like one that actually actually makes you think instead of just like a working a cash register, or stacking books or something. And you need to be super smart to be a doctor, so…"

Juliet was quick to shoot down Carrie's optimistic grin. "I do not have what it takes to be a doctor, trust me."

"Sure you do," Carrie defended. "I'd let you be my doctor."

"Oh well then hand me my diploma," Juliet sarcastically replied, once more fondly rolling her eyes and chuckling at her best friend's enamoured stare and incessant bolstering.

"I'm serious," Carrie pressed on though, determined to get through to Juliet despite her doubtful smirk. "I'd trust you with my life, you know I would. I'd let you save my life any day of the week," she grinned. But, after giggling to herself and absentmindedly twirling her pencil between her fingers, when she finally latched onto Juliet's hazel gaze again, only to find it significantly less jovial, it was her turn to express her confusion. "What? You don't believe me?" she teasingly challenged, with a quirk of an eyebrow.

But Juliet still didn't seem to be in the mood to joke back, as her lips fell in line with the horizon and her gaze darted to Carrie's right before finding her again.

Ok, now Carrie was really confused.

"Huh?" she murmured, clearly not as in tune with her best friend's thoughts as she assumed she was.

However, this time, Juliet flicked her eyes to Carrie's right with a touch more resolve, and paired it with a slight, but very purposeful nod of her head in the same direction. And finally, Carrie seemed to get the message.

Following Juliet's line of sight, Carrie turned to look over her shoulder, only to find herself face to face with a person that almost caught her off guard as much as Juliet's sudden shift in dynamic had. "Oh," was the first word to jump from her lips, startling her back into what Juliet lovingly dubbed as 'show-mode' as she rolled her shoulders back and fixed a brilliant smile to her face. "Hey, Miles."

The second that Carrie acknowledged Miles, any confidence he'd managed to trick himself into conjuring fled. And whilst he had a Herculean urge to do the same, he too plastered what he hoped was a convincing smile to his face as he finished his approach to the blondes' shared desk. "Hey, Carrie," he said, breathing a sigh of relief for even managing to get the words out. And yet, he still pushed a little further to add, with a nod of acknowledgement too, "Juliet."

The entertained smirk that started pulling at the corner of Juliet's lips in response caught him off guard, and he felt his stomach gently clench in defence. But he chose to ignore it, returning his gaze to Carrie's bright smile - its familiarity putting him back at ease and igniting that usual fire in his chest that sent warmth spreading throughout his-

Wait, why was she turning back around?

"Right, where were we?" Carrie said, dazzling Juliet with a grin as she readied her pencil on the page. "I've got a good feeling about this next one; I think if you just take it slow-."

"Ahem," Juliet interrupted. Her gaze caught Carrie's once again and held onto it for a beat before she tilted her head forwards, signalling with her eyes that there was still something - or rather, someone - behind her. The confusion, almost disbelief, swimming in Carrie's eyes made Juliet have to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing, and locking onto Miles' look of bewildered dismay just made it even harder. But luckily, Carrie was quickly able to decipher her visual message once again, with little prompting this time.

Turning around to find that, to her surprise, Miles hadn't just been greeting her as he passed by her desk, he was, in fact, standing there - well, expectantly shuffling from foot to foot anyway - Carrie remounted her smile. Although now, Miles realised, it wasn't so welcoming. It felt almost…uncomfortable.

"Oh, sorry. Did you want something?" she offered.

He did - desperately so. And yet, he felt as though the sudden shift in tone had already started to write out his answer.

The hairs on the back of his neck started to twitch as the walls of his stomach steadily closed in tighter. But, determined to stand by his heart, and prove to himself (and Mick) that his feelings weren't all built on fantasies he'd created in his head, he brushed the unease away and stood his ground. "No, not really. I just thought I'd…stop by…see how it's going."

Carrie's smile faltered again, giving way to further confusion. "...See how what's going?"

"...Study hall?" Miles said. But the response came out as more of a question than an answer, which he supposed was down to the fact that he wasn't even sure of it himself. And despite his hopeful grin, which he feared was now looking more like a grimace, he couldn't seem to stop trying to rub the growing discomfort from the back of his neck.

God, he hoped that he didn't have any sweat stains.

"Oh, uh, it's going fine," Carrie politely replied. Although her awkward fidgeting with her pencil's eraser told a different story. "We're just going through the algebra homework."

It was weird; it wasn't as though the conversation was making her seem 'off', it was like…the very fact he was talking to her was so distracting she couldn't settle. She was the centre of Miles' universe. And apparently he was just an asteroid in hers: a misshapen hunk of space rock, hurtling past in the blink of an eye, and completely blindsiding her with his very insignificant existence.

A fellow asteroid must have collided with him at some point, because he could feel this weird twinge in his chest, by his heart, almost as though the impact had chipped a corner off. He swallowed thickly, pushing the creeping discomfort away. "The one for Mr Moreno's class?"

"Mhm," Carrie confirmed with a nod.

"Oh, nice…" Miles trailed off with an awkward chuckle and what he feared was now looking like a rather desperate smile. And he was sure his expression only got worse when his gaze was pulled off-course by Juliet, who gave him a look that made him want to give up altogether. How her hazel irises had managed to harness the ability to hiss 'you are totally blowing this' in his ear, he had no idea. And yet, the urge to prove her (and everyone else) wrong gave him the motivation to plough on. "Well, if you still need any help with it later, I don't mind going through some of the answers with you at wo-"

"It's alright," Carrie bluntly cut in, slicing out a chunk of Miles' self-esteem as she did so. "Julie's got it covered," she added, turning to dazzle the blonde with a brilliant grin.

By the time that grin made its way around to Miles though, it felt cold. And it seemed suppressed, like she hadn't really wanted him to see it. What he feared was the beginnings of a smirk were tugging at the corners of her lips too. And whilst he wanted to believe that it wasn't at his expense - some cruel inside joke the pair of blondes had whispered with their oh-so talkative eyes in the second that Carrie's back was turned - something in the pit of his stomach told him otherwise.

"Thanks though," Carrie lazily tacked on, with a brightness in her tone that just felt hollow to Miles now.

"No problem," he breathed. But there was a problem, and he was staring right at her.

Miles tried to find it in him to mean the smile he sent her, but he just couldn't. Somehow, what was supposed to have been a simple conversation between 'friends' had left him feeling more insecure than ever. Why was she so difficult to talk to? And was she making it so difficult? If they'd been at All Skate, cleaning the rink after their shift, he'd have had no trouble talking to her - their conversations flowed like the Mississippi River when it was just the two of them. And yet here, he felt like he was trying to coax water out of a rusty garden tap in the peak of a summer drought.

He couldn't find the words to piece together what he wanted to ask - he didn't think such a sentence existed, not one that he could construct anyway. Carrie seemed hellbent on getting rid of him, which did nothing for his creeping fear that she was only nice to him at work because she had no other option for company. And the damn heat radiating from Juliet's pitying smirk had so much sweat running down his back he contemplated running to the nearest bathroom to wring out his underwear.

And somehow, those glittering, sky blue eyes of hers still threw him a line - a glimmer of hope to cling to. After all, she'd surprised him before - countless times - maybe she'd be able to do it again.

Just as Miles was moving to open his mouth to try one last time though, he was beaten to it.

"Was there anything else you wanted? Or was that it?"

Any hopes of a redemption for the blonde were snatched from Miles' grasp, and the reality of it felt like a punch to the gut. Thoroughly deflated, he accepted his fate with a heavy sigh. It may not have been the outcome he wanted, but at least he had an answer now, and there was a silver lining to that, he supposed.

"...No," he breathed through a forlorn, but relieved smile. "That was…that was all."

Miles felt he must have imagined the concern that flickered in Carrie's gaze - wishful thinking, he supposed - because the airy giggle and laidback grin she flashed him certainly didn't marry up with it. "Oh, alright then. See you later!" she chirped with a wave as he started the walk of shame back to his desk. Again, just as he was turning back to offer a farewell of his own though, she managed to get her words in first. "Don't forget your thick socks."

Miles stopped in his tracks. Now he was more confused than ever. The cheeky glint in her eyes, the knowing smile, the reference to a throwaway joke from their closing shift last night… Everything he'd just come to terms with about her vehement disinterest in him had been called into question with those five, simple words, and a wink that just about made his heart stop.

…Maybe she did really care after all.

With his heart leaping up from its dejected slumber, Miles shot her a grateful smile and chuckled an earnest, "I won't." Breathing out a contented sigh, mind already racing with ways to talk to her about this more that evening, Miles finally felt his shoulders relax as he raised the hand that had been rubbing the back of his neck his whole time. "See you la-"

Nevermind, she'd already turned around to talk to Juliet again.

Again the brunet was flummoxed. The only thing he felt truly confident about as he slunk back to his desk was the very thing he'd been warned of before wading into that mess: the female mind was a mystery. And he had never felt further from figuring it out.

Turning back to Juliet, Carrie couldn't help but shake her head and chuckle under her breath. "That was weird," she noted, tilting her head in the direction of her retreating co-worker.

But Juliet's eyes had never left the bumbling brunet. "Mmm… He's kind of cute," she mused. Although her prompting smirk was lost on her tutee, since her sapphire gaze was immediately pulled to the back of Miles' head.

"Yeah." Carrie's breathed response fell from her lips with startling ease, so much so that it even surprised herself. Hoping to catch it before it slipped into Juliet's ears though, she shook the starry-eyed gaze from her head and scrambled together a cover-up. "Uh, yeah? I can try to set the two of you up if you want. You know, put in a good word at work and stuff."

If she expected Juliet to accept her optimistic offer with open arms though, she was soon proved wrong.

"Yeah something tells me he's not interested in me," she snorted.

Carrie looked at her, perplexed. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't he be? You're like a total babe."

"Oh come on, Carrie. Please tell me you know that he's got a major crush on you," Juliet said with an almost disapproving frown. "Like major major."

Carrie scoffed at the accusation. "It's not major," she tried, rolling her eyes in a further attempt to downplay the gravity of what Juliet was implying.

"Carrie," Juliet pressed as she knitted her brows. "The guy could barely speak."

Caving under the blonde's hardened gaze, Carrie let out a resentful huff. "Ok fine, so he's got a little crush," she finally conceded. "What's so bad about that? It's not like anything's gonna happen; he knows I've got a boyfriend."

"Mhm… And what does Eric have to say about Miles?"

Carrie rolled her eyes so hard Juliet thought for a second that they might never come back down again. "Why does it matter?" she groaned, her skin prickling with irritation.

"Well he's not exactly got the best track record when it comes to being understanding about you hanging out with other guys," Juliet sighed, with a sneaking suspicion that her tutee's frustration had been triggered by the mention of her boyfriend's name alone: a welcome sign that their relationship was as healthy as ever. Not.

Carrie scoffed as a bitter scowl settled into place. "It's not like I'm 'hanging out with him', we just work together. I barely talk to him during my shift anyway, only when we're clearing stuff up at the end."

"Oh yeah?" Juliet started, curiosity piqued. "And what happens then?"

"Nothing!" Carrie insisted. "We just talk - you know me, I can't keep my mouth shut even when I want to, so of course I'm gonna talk to the guy." Letting out a sigh to try to blow off some steam, she softened under Juliet's gaze and allowed the blonde to lead her through her haze of thoughts. And if Juliet's gentle nudge in the right direction wasn't already enough to do the trick, one glance at Miles' retreating form completely burst the dam. "We've been talking for like the whole last hour of every shift since I started - about school, movies, whatever really - it's like the only thing in that dump that's worth sticking around for. I kind of just did it because I was bored out of my mind at the start, but turns out he's actually really fun, and sweet too - you wouldn't believe some of the stuff he does for his little brothers, Julie; I've literally gone and cried in the break room before after he was telling me about it. It's that cute."

"You cry at everything," Juliet countered with a fond, teasing chuckle.

"Oh come on, not everything," Carrie retorted. Naively hoping that their conversation on the matter had ended there, she let her eyes settle on Juliet's again, only for them to inch open the floodgates once more with a simple bat of her lashes and a tilt of her head. "We just talk and…goof around," she tentatively began - defensive, despite her nonchalance. "You know, make each other laugh about weird things customers have said, or stupid things we did. It's not like we're fooling around or anything. And before you say it, because I know that face: no, I am not leading him on. It's all totally platonic, I swear."

"Ok…" Juliet softly trailed off, taking a moment to choose her words before raising her next point. "Does Miles know it's all 'totally platonic'?"

Carrie let out a groan of despair, as she always did when her best friend lovingly lectured her. "I don't know, Jules. I'm not a mindreader. He's not grabbed my ass or spiked my water bottle, if that's what you're getting at," she grumbled, before promising, "I've got it all under control, I swear."

Somehow, Juliet didn't seem to be buying it; as impervious to Carrie's confident charm as ever.

"So Eric's totally chill about this whole thing with Miles?" she tested, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"He knows I work with him…" Carrie mumbled.

Juliet nodded understandingly - almost too understandingly - in Carrie's periphery.

"...And does he know how he makes you feel?"

Daring to challenge Juliet's calculated point with ignorant defiance, Carrie whirled around to meet the blonde's smug expression with a gasp of indignation, and an argument that fell away the second she realised that she didn't have a single word in her head to back it up with. Admitting defeat, she sighed and let her body slump, along with her hopes of her vindication in her best friend's hazel eyes. "Ok, yeah, fine. I know Miles has a crush on me," she confessed. Although the guilt laced into her words steadily morphed into hurt the more she tried to defend herself. "And yeah, I do lean into it sometimes because it makes me feel good about myself. Is that really so bad? Is it such a bad thing to want someone to be extra nice to you for once? Or to give you some positive attention?"

"No, of course not," Juliet assured, assuming a fierce determination of her own. "I just think your boyfriend should be able to do all those things and more, and clearly he's not."

Carrie sighed, exhausted by the very thought of him. "This isn't about Eric."

Juliet sighed back, exasperated by her best friend's submissiveness, especially when she was usually so domineering. "How can you still want to defend him, Carrie?"

"Because, I love him, Julie," Carrie replied, finally finding the contented smile the thought of him should have immediately slapped on her face. "And because he's a good guy."

"Really? Because he's been nothing but a dick to you lately," Juliet flatly countered, hoping that with a little pushing her friend would see sense.

"We've just had a couple of arguments, it's not a big deal," Carrie casually defended. "And they're all resolved now, so I don't know what you still have to complain about."

"Just because you had make-up sex does not mean that the problems were resolved," Juliet rolled her eyes before fixing the golden-haired girl with a more earnest look. "Did he actually apologise this time?"

"We talked it out first-"

"Did he apologise?"

Carrie squirmed under Juliet's gaze before muttering a reluctant, "No."

"Ugh," Juliet groaned, rolling her eyes again as she wound up to unleash a rant she'd been working up to for weeks. But, to her dismay, Carrie's defences beat her to it.

"Neither of us did, really. We just agreed to forget it and move on."

"How is that resolving anything?" Juliet asked with an annoyed frown that Carrie was starting to take personally.

"Well I hadn't thought about it until now, so it must have at least kind of worked," she attempted to justify.

But Juliet's nettled scoff told her that her stance on the matter wasn't budging. "You and Eric might as well speak two different languages; I've seen a pig and a fly communicate better than you two."

The comment drew a giggle from Carrie's lips before she could stop it. "Don't try to distract me with your cute, Southern lingo," she said as the amused smile settled on her face and she affectionately bumped her friend's arm - the act bringing both their tempers back down to Earth. Before Juliet could launch into another lecture though, Carrie hoped to diffuse the situation once and for all. "Anyway, we worked it all out and everything's back to normal," she said. Although Juliet's questioning glance made her correct herself, "Better than normal. In fact, we're going to go look for Halloween costumes together this weekend," she finished with an optimistic grin.

Now that was an improvement. For the first time since they'd sat down, Juliet found herself pleasantly surprised. "The Barbie and Ken costume's back on? I'm impressed. You two really must be getting along." Knowing how excited Carrie had been about the idea, she couldn't help but smile at the prospect of it finally coming into fruition.

"Oh no, the Ken idea's long gone. I think he's going as a firefighter or something now."

Juliet's optimism shattered in a split second, and yet she stayed frozen in place, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "...You're kidding, right?"

"No, but I don't really mind. I'll just find something else to go as," Carrie sighed through a small, indifferent smile. If she'd spotted the disgust hidden in Juliet's eyes after her last revelation, she chose to ignore it. "It'll be fun getting to plan out my own costume anyway; I've got so many more options now. And plus, the Barbie one was only gonna be a pain in the ass to-"

"You're not even doing a couples one?" Juliet asked, far too concerned with what she was learning to care about hearing out Carrie's excuses.

"He thinks couples costumes are lame," she explained with a huff. "Or at least that's what Adam told him anyway. He said he wanted to just do his own thing."

"But Carrie, you've been excited about doing a joint costume with him for like a whole year."

"So?" Carrie asked, with an eyebrow quirk of her own, shoving the accusation aside as though she was kicking an ice cube under the refrigerator. "It's just a dumb Halloween party, it doesn't matter what we wear; everyone will probably be too drunk to even pay attention anyway."

"Yeah, but it matters that he doesn't care about stuff that's important to you. He never has, and it's selfish, Carrie - super selfish…" Juliet trailed off with a frustrated sigh, praying that she might finally get the ditzy DJ to see sense. "You need to stop defending his shitty behaviour."

"And do what?" Carrie mumbled, unknowingly giving Juliet just what she wanted: a chance to unleash her anger with the infantile blond bozo and the mockery of a relationship he had roped her best friend into.

"Hold him accountable," she urged, hazel eyes blazing with passion. "Relationships should not have to revolve around making excuses and placating your partner with blow jobs - it's a fucking joke. I don't care about all the 'good times' you guys have, or all the memories you've made; the way you've been treating each other lately is appalling, and you deserve way better," she said, pausing to let Carrie absorb everything she'd just thrown at her before delivering the finishing blow. "And I know you know that too, because you're already looking for it in someone else."

Carrie's blood stilled in her veins. Sometimes it scared her how deeply Juliet understood her, and other times it felt comforting. This was not one of those times.

She took in a slow, shuddering breath as Juliet's words seeped into her skin, carrying a deep sense of guilt with them. As much as she wanted to denounce Juliet's observations and stand by her own, joyously declaring her undying love for her boyfriend at the top of her lungs…her mouth made no attempt to move from its crestfallen frown. It couldn't, because she knew she was wrong.

The despondency in the blonde's vacant, blue eyes soon drew Juliet down from her soap box though. This time she approached with a gentle, almost apologetic, smile as she entwined their fingers and began rubbing circles into the back of her tanned hand with the pad of her thumb. "I just want what's best for you, Car," she quietly promised.

"I know," Carrie murmured, mustering a grateful smile as she squeezed her hand back, as though to say a 'thank you' her mouth wasn't quite ready to commit to yet. "I'm fine, Julie, I swear," she went on to profess. But when she started to get a sneaking suspicion that the statement wasn't all that convincing, she decided to switch up her tactic. "Now can we please get back to algebra?"

The genuine laughter that tumbled from Juliet's lips was music to Carrie's ears. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say," Juliet chuckled as she picked up her pencil again.

"I'll do anything to get us talking about something else," Carrie admitted with a woeful chuckle of her own. "And besides, I think I've got a better chance of wrapping my head around this than anything to do with my love life at the moment."

"Boyfriends suck, huh?" Juliet snorted with a knowing smirk.

"Try all boys suck," Carrie countered with a smirk of her own, at last feeling as though some of her signature confidence was leaching back into her frame. Although the pair's giggles took a few seconds to die back down, a mischievous glint remained in Carrie's eyes before she let them glaze over in thought. Mind idly wandering down untrodden paths, a wistful sigh escaped alongside a rogue proposal. "Wouldn't it make life so much easier if we could take them out of the equation altogether?"

Carrie was too lost in thought to notice, but the words that left her mouth forced an entire systems reboot in Juliet's brain. She had to do a double take, certain that she must have misheard her, or had at least missed the joking undertone. But no, the glassy, pensive blue irises held nothing but sincerity. And that confused Juliet more than ever. Her mind whirred with possible explanations for the brainless musings that definitely didn't sound as though they came from a girl in a committed, heterosexual relationship, but before she dared to question her on any, a tanned hand, the size of a frying pan, pulled her prospective interview subject right out of her seat.

Carrie's eyes widened as she was whisked into a pair of cotton-clad arms the size of tree trunks, hardly able to catch her breath before it was being exchanged for someone else's. A faintly stubbled smile pressed into hers several times before she fully regained her bearings and was able to catch the frying pan hand from travelling too far south of her waist. "Eric," she giggled once she finally managed to inch their lips far enough apart to mumble a greeting against his skin. A subsequent flurry of kisses kept her from elaborating any further though. It was a wonder they didn't pass out from lack of air.

"Hi, beautiful," he eventually greeted with a smitten grin. But their lips didn't stay apart for long as the dopey quarterback seemed hellbent on keeping his coated in his girlfriend's saliva. "You have a good study hall?" he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against hers. His roaming fingers shattered any hope of his interest in her life being genuine though.

Even if Carrie had wanted to answer Eric's question, his tongue was shoved so far down her throat she couldn't get her words out. "Eric," she finally gasped, jerking her head back from his with a breathy laugh as she felt his thumb start to lift the hem of her cheerleading skirt. "You're gonna get us both detention."

"I can't help it," he chuckled, pulling her back towards him for another seemingly endless stream of kisses. "I missed you." And whilst a stupefied grin played at his constantly interlocking lips, something didn't feel quite right with Carrie. Her kisses were lazy, almost reluctant, and whilst her body normally felt like putty between his palms, today it felt…stiff. She seemed distracted. And because Eric's head was only ever swimming with thoughts of her, this worried him. "Hey," he gently prompted, nudging her chin with his knuckle to bring her gaze up to meet his. "Everything ok?"

Carrie's breath stuck in her throat, too scared of getting caught in the crossfire of two sets of brown eyes to dare to leave. Eric's sat beneath a pair of thick, furrowed brows, marred with insecure concern, and she could feel Juliet's boring holes into the back of her skull, begging her to remember everything they’d just spoken about. Tensions were high in her usually spacious brain - thoughts flying back and forth too quickly for her to make sense of as she tried to let her conscience guide her in the right direction. And although she felt herself inching towards a blonde ponytail-bolstered confession, her conscience's valiant efforts were all for naught. Carrie's fingers found purchase in the bristly blond hairs at the nape of Eric's neck, her cheeks were dusted in the scent of spearmint and the sweaty must from his football helmet. The profound warmth of his embrace seeped into her bones, and she curled up into it like a cat in the glow of fireplace embers - helpless to resist. "Everything's great," she promised, drawn in by the comfort of familiarity. "I just missed you too."

Disappointed, but not surprised by her best friend's decision, Juliet sighed as she tore her gaze away from the stomach-churning couple and began gathering together her and Carrie's things. She'd get through to her eventually, she had faith in the pit of her steadily grumbling gut. She just needed to be patient…or to find something that could drive a wedge between them once and for all.

"Ethan!"

The pint-size pothead almost jumped out of his skin at the barked greeting, which actually felt more like an accusation than a 'hello'. He didn't know what was more offensive, the girl's tone or the fact that she'd interrupted his concert-for-one.

"Jesus, Mick! You scared the shit outta me!" he cried.

Rolling her eyes, Mick let go of the headphone speaker she'd had to pry away from Ethan's ear after he'd blatantly ignored her fifth call of his name, letting it thwack the side of his head. The look on his face as he recoiled in bewilderment did have a faint smile tugging at her lips though. But it soon disappeared when he slumped back in his seat and readied himself to tune her out again.

Moving to stand in front of his desk, Mick didn't give him a chance. "Where's Miles?"

"What?" Ethan squeaked.

"Where's Miles?" she reiterated, crossing her arms across her chest and nodding at the empty seat beside him.

"He's talking to Carrie," he revealed with a blasé wave of his hand in the vague direction of the pair.

Even with AC/DC blasting through his headphones, Ethan swore he heard Mick's face crack.

"He's doing what now?" she demanded, flames roaring in the mahogany logs that made up her irises.

"He's just asking her something, it's no big deal," Ethan said - although his attempts to reassure the brunette were ham-handed at best given his lazy grin and total lack of concern.

This was further backed up by Mick's growing urge to strangle him. "Can I not trust you to do anything?" she hissed.

"What did I do?" Ethan squawked in indignation.

"Nothing - that's the problem! All you had to do was keep his mind off her-"

"I don't know what fucking mind-control powers you think I've got, Mick, but that was a bogus plan in the first place."

"Oh so what? You just weren't gonna go along with it at all?" Mick scoffed. "I just said to try to keep him distracted."

"And I tried, so I don't know what you're getting all pissy at me for," Ethan retorted. "What's so wrong with him talking to her anyway? I thought 'working through your feelings' was supposed to be a good thing."

Scowling at him for using her own advice against her, she snapped, "Talking to her is not helping him distance himself from her." But when her eyes scanned the room for that familiar mop of coffee brown hair, the sight it settled on made her heart drop to her collegiate green Campuses. "And neither is a run-in with Eric Brennan."

Trailing back to his seat, muttering to himself about the mystifying female mindset and what the hell all of that could have meant, Miles soon realised he wasn't looking where he was going when he collided with what felt like a wall of meat.

"Shit, sorry," he muttered.

When he looked up and saw who it was that had almost knocked him off his feet though, he realised his assumption hadn't been too far off.

"Woah, watch it, man," Eric guffawed.

The amused twinkle in his eye, and the smirk that blossomed as soon as his gaze landed on him, made Miles' stomach twist. Something told him that this interaction wasn't going to be nearly as quick as he'd hoped.

"Miles, right?" Eric went on to ask, eyebrow cocked in recognition.

"Uh, yeah," Miles stammered, although he was more confused than concerned at this point.

"Why you in such a hurry, bud? You got somewhere to be?" he continued, a charming smirk still sitting proudly on his chiselled jaw.

"I'm just going back to my seat."

"Oh yeah?" Eric probed, steadily turning up the pressure. "And why were you out of it?"

Miles immediately regretted the exasperated huff that fell from his lips, but he couldn't help his frustration. "Why does it matter?"

To Miles' surprise, the jock didn't snap back at his remark - there was no sign of meat-headed defensiveness at all. Instead, the guy just laughed. "It doesn't," he reassured with a jovial smile. "I just thought I'd ask 'cause, you know, from here it kind of looked like you were going over there to talk to my girlfriend."

Any relief that jovial smile had filled Miles with steadily leaked out as Eric's words sunk in. "I was just asking her about our work schedule," he explained with a careful, albeit tight smile of his own.

"Yeah?" Eric tested.

"...Yeah," Miles confirmed. Although he could feel his bravery slowly shrinking under the hulking weight of Eric's arched eyebrow, he stood his ground, hoping that a nonchalant tone and a set of squared shoulders was enough to convince the dopey blond.

"Oh well, that's a relief," he said with another booming guffaw. Miles' wishes were seemingly granted as the warning smirk slipped from Eric's face, replaced with a laidback grin. "There I was thinking you might have been trying to make a move on her or something."

Miles managed to eke out a chuckle, more at his own expense than anything. "I wouldn't do that, man," he promised through a freshly starched smile. "I know you're both very happy together."

Eric's shit-eating grin must have been powered by at least three AAs with the way it lit up his face. "That we are, my man," he proudly proclaimed. "And that's good to hear 'cause I know you spend a lot of time with her at the end of your shifts, and she says you two get along super well, so I'd hate to think that you were getting the wrong idea or-"

"Not at all," Miles assured, cutting the blond off before he could drive the knife any further into his chest. Fixing a plastic smile to his face to cover up the wistful sigh that escaped between his teeth, he delivered an admittedly painful, "We're just friends."

Eric's rich brown eyes seemed to scan every inch of Miles for any sign of a lie before he proceeded, and the brunet's lack of acting skills left him squirming like a worm on a hook as a result. But the satisfied grin that soon surfaced, dropping the tensed shoulders to help it rise, told Miles the quarterback probably needed an eye test.

"Good," Eric said with a contented sigh. "'Cause you and I both know that it'd be stupid to think anything else, right?" he went on to cockily taunt. "Like, no offence, but she'd have to be fucking insane to choose you over me… Right, Miles?"

Although his ego was severely bruised, to save his face from meeting the same fate, Miles forced himself to maintain a smile, albeit reluctantly. "Right," he confirmed.

"That's what I thought," Eric smirked, finally satisfied that Miles had taken enough of an emotional pounding if his lazy grin and affectionate arm bump was anything to go by. "Alright, nice talk, bro. I might catch you tonight if I drop by to see her, ok?"

"I'll be there," Miles verified with a strained sigh. Finally daring to drop his gaze from the sturdy blond, he made his escape without so much as a goodbye.

Apparently Eric thought he could take a little advice on the road with him though.

"Remember, watch yourself, Murphy," he hollered.

But the words didn't even register with Miles, because the swift shove between his shoulder blades was so jarring his entire focus was dragged to keeping himself upright.

Miles kept his eyes trained on the scuffed linoleum as he hastily lumbered back over to his desk, cheeks burning with self-hatred as he tried to push Eric’s no doubt smirking face out of his mind. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar voice that he finally dared to lift his head again.

“Are you ok?” Mick asked, expression overrun with an almost frantic concern. “What was that about?”

“I’m fine,” Miles brushed off, retrieving his threadbare backpack from its spot, slumped on the floor in one swoop. Haphazardly shoving the books from his desk into the main compartment, he mumbled a quick, “Can we just go?”

But Ethan’s glassy-eyed intrigue held him firmly in place. “Yo, what happened, man? Did he bust you for flirting with her?”

“No,” Miles sighed, wearily shaking his head at the stoner’s excitement.

“Did you flirt with her?” he pressed.

"No, I just- ugh," Miles huffed, quickly giving up on trying to explain the situation he didn't even fully understand himself. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go."

"I told you to just forget about her," Mick sighed.

"Yeah, well, that's a lot easier said than done, Mick," Miles retorted, returning her disapproving frown with a defensive one of his own.

"Did you at least get some closure?" Ethan offered as he rose from his desk - partly from curiosity, partly to try to prove a point to Mick.

Whilst Miles' tongue instinctively prepared to shoot Ethan's optimism down, his brain jumped in to tell it to hold fire. And after a few, brief seconds recalling the interaction, his answer soon changed. "Actually, I kind of did," he admitted with a chuckle of incredulity.

"You gonna try to talk about it more with her tonight then?" Ethan asked, smirking to himself at Mick's look of disbelief.

"Fuck no," Miles snorted with a nonchalance that took both of his friends by surprise. "I just want to forget it ever happened- just…move on."

"From her?" Mick asked, trying to hide the hopeful edge in her tone with a gentle smile.

Sparing the blonde in question one last glance over his shoulder, only to catch the tail end of her and Eric getting pulled up for their excessive PDA by their (up until now) entirely uninterested study hall supervisor, he let out a wistful sigh. A chorus of voices swelled in his head - Mick's, Ethan's, Carrie's, Eric's - each one telling a different side to the same story. He couldn't have picked one to listen to if he'd tried. So, in the end, his own took over, steering his heart down a path that promised the least damage in the long term, and that Carrie's indifferent dismissal of him had already forged in his mind. "...That's the goal."

#I know this part may seem a little boring because there's so much talking and so little 'doing'#but i promise that these conversations are all setting important foundations for stuff further down the line #you'll just have to trust me for now though #plus a lot of *interesting* dynamics are established in this part #*wink wink*#and get excited because in the next part we're heading back to All Skate #and the *real* action's finally going to start kicking off...#also I'm super sorry about being so inconsistent with my posts #finding time to write over the past few months with my crazy schedule and pretty poor mental health has been virtually impossible #but I really want to be better about that by the time I go back to uni in september #so hopefully I can find more time for myself and get some real progress made on this story and ASDO #anyway i've rambled too much #i'll let you go but I hope you enjoyed the chapter #and i hope it was a nice surprise after all the chaos you've been going through lately <3 #p.s. i know the order of things gets a bit weird at the end but I didn't know how else to write it without it sounding super choppy #basically eric bumps into miles before he goes over to greet her after class #his whole chat with miles is happening whilst carrie's having her little heart to heart with juliet #just thought i'd mention it because I wasn't sure how clear it was and my 2am brain is not a trustworthy resource

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cherrygorilla · 9 months

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Something tells me that this might be worth a re-read.

...Just saying.

The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 1)

Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra - 5:05

Is this a valid amount to have written of this story since I last posted? Probably not. But has dental school been kicking my ass for the past three months? Absolutely. I promise I’m trying my best to be more consistent with my uploads though - I just hope you haven’t forgotten about this story in the mean time! It’s too important to me to give up on now haha.

Also, if you feel as though this first chapter is vaguely reminiscent of the prologue…that’s intentional…trust me.

Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!

Keep reading

#👀

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cherrygorilla · 1 year

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Something about going to watch Wicked on Carrie’s birthday feels very fitting 😌😂 Happy Birthday, my little drama queen! 🥳✨💕

#being embarrassing about your ocs?#my main hobby pretty much lol

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cherrygorilla · 1 year

Text

I've now added so much text to the bullet point section of my last post that tumblr physically won't let me add any more because it would make it too long. If that doesn't say ✨mental illness✨ then idk what does lmaoooo.

#even tumblr is like girl. give it a REST.

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cherrygorilla · 1 year

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Happy Birthday, Danelle! 🎂

Sadly, thanks to my life being consumed by my degree, I didn't manage to get anything substantial finished writing-wise in time for your big day. However, I didn't want to let it go to waste without doing anything, especially after you'd been lovely enough to put that video together for me at Christmas. But since I'm not nearly as talented as you when it comes to doing that sort of thing, I resorted to what I do best: rambling about our characters, and the apparently endless list of ideas I have for them. Well, not quite endless, but 16 pages of a Google Doc is still pretty insane...

So yeah, this is basically just a total brain-dump of any story concepts, headcanons, random song-inspos, and TikTok references I've got stored up that would likely never have seen the light of day otherwise. They're way too much fun to just keep to myself though, so hopefully they can bring you a little joy today! And even if you think they all suck, at least you can enjoy the fact that your characters are living in my head rent-free pretty much 24/7.

And so, without further ado, enjoy your window into the chaotic, fangirl mess that is my brain…

Story concepts:

First, of all we have: ✨story concepts✨ - aka, actual, substantial ideas of mine that have potential, but likely no means of ever getting written thanks to everything else I have on my plate atm. The first two are big ones, which earned themselves their own moodboards, but the rest are just ideas that are too big to just be considered headcanons lol.

Idea 1: Bridgerton AU

Okay, I've definitely mentioned this one before, and this one at least has some potential of maybe getting written one day, but I would LOVE to do a Bridgerton AU focusing on a Miles & Carrie Enemies-to-Lovers style story. It has been like a year since I watched anything Bridgerton related though, so if the technicalities of this are a little sketchy then that's why lol.

The outline I have is basically: Mrs Murphy works as part of Butchy and Mick's staff, with her sons also taking on roles around the house. Butchy's parents had taken pity on Mrs Murphy when she came asking for a live-in work position since she had three young boys to take care of and the eldest was close in age to their own son. So basically, Butchy and Lela grow up treating Miles, Royce and Bentley like their own siblings, despite the fact that technically they work for them. The Season prior would have been when Butchy fell in love with and married Mick, so this would start with them beginning their new life as a couple, still with the Murphys working for them, and with Lela getting ready for her first Season. She'd be super nervous about it though because she's heard rumours that the prestigious Cole family are going to be entering their precious twins into the Season for the first time this year, and she knows that if that's the case then she's got no chance of getting any attention. Her family try their best to reassure her, but when it comes time for each eligible young lady to be presented to the queen, sure enough, the Coles present their daughter, Caroline, and she totally steals the show. This immediately gives everyone a vendetta against Carrie for crushing Lela's confidence, but at a ball later that evening, when Carrie is once again taking all the attention of any potential suitors, she runs into Miles and in a matter of minutes proves that she's just as much of a spoiled brat as he suspected her to be, if not worse, thus souring his opinion of her even further. They end up arguing out in the garden, since Carrie had gone out to get some air and Miles couldn't bear to be surrounded by the stuffiness of the party, they get caught in the rain, and after Carrie denies Miles' help to get her back inside (because even when he hates her guts, he still has to go and be a nice guy lol), she ends up slipping on a wet paving stone and completely ruining her dress. Their argument gets even worse and before long, Carrie's older brother (literally only a character for this story, so irrelevant otherwise that he doesn't even have a name lmao, I just couldn't have Tanner doing this because he needs to be elsewhere) demands that Miles and his family leave before they cause any further trouble as Carrie has to go and clean herself up, which she is especially not happy about since it cuts into her time of pursuing potential suitors. Butchy tries to help and defend Miles, which he does without question, but ultimately decides that it would be best if they left anyway, much to Lela's dismay since she'd finally been getting some attention from Carrie's brother, Tanner.

Miles' opinion of Carrie gets worse and worse with time, which extends to the rest of his family when they catch wind of what happened, but as Lela starts growing closer to Carrie's brother, the more time they have to spend around one another. Carrie is crowned The Diamond and as a consequence starts courting a duke (Seacat, don't ask me why, I just feel like I picture him being her other love interest in this more than Eric lmao), which Miles and his family are subjected to bear witness to after Lela and Tanner also start courting, and they're invited to spend some time at the Coles' huge estate. In Bridgerton S2 fashion, they all partake in a croquet game, where Carrie and Miles' bickering reaches an ugly head. Sick of listening to them, Mick knocks Carrie's ball off into the woods and, in an act of defiance, Carrie insists that she doesn't need Seacat's help to go and retrieve it. Vivien, a close family friend of Mick's, who is also along for the trip, and takes on the 'Lady Whistledown' type role in this story, knocks Miles' ball in the same direction after Carrie has left to annoy/tease him further, and in an unlikely turn of events, the pair end up helping each other retrieve their balls from rather precarious places, leaving them both giggling like children and covered in mud. This reveals a little insecurity on Seacat's part, however Carrie reassures him it was nothing. But when she catches Miles awake and wandering the house that night, and they get to talking again, they start to realise they might have been wrong about each other after all, and scary, new feelings start to be uncovered. They're caught by Mick before anything can happen, but the can of worms has already been nudged open and the damage has already been done, and she keeps an extra close eye on them from then on as her suspicions start to rise.

I've already gone into way too much detail already, so I'll summarise the rest of it quickly, but basically, as much as they try to deny it, Miles and Carrie start catching feelings for one another, and their unlikely run-ins just keep making it worse, especially when things are supposedly getting serious between Carrie and Seacat - at least from an outsider's perspective anyway. One day, when Miles is out tending to the horses in the stables (because that's the closest job I could think of to match his mechanic skills lmao), Carrie once again gets caught in the rain, and runs there for shelter. One thing leads to another, and in true Miles and Carrie fashion, and in true Bridgerton fashion, they get way too carried away with one another and just start going at it right there in the stables. They're not as careful as they thought they were being though, and Vivien being the nosy little genius she is, immediately figures out what is going on and runs to Royce to fill him in. In a panic, and desperate to stop Miles from ruining his life, praying that if he does everything will just go back to the way it was before, Royce comes up with a plan to use Vivien's Lady Whistledown-esque writing powers to put together an expose on Carrie and her adulterous habits (without revealing the identity of her partner in crime though, obvs), thus ruining her reputation. They don't have the foresight to realise that it will bring down Carrie's family with her though, including Tanner, and then, by association, Lela, since by the time they've sent the draft off to be printed, Tanner and Lela have announced their engagement. With a push from the queen, Seacat and Carrie announce their engagement promptly afterwards, leaving Miles horrified and Mick concerned for him, since she had been suspecting Miles had been developing feelings for a while now, which is then confirmed after getting him to open up to her, and him breaking down about how badly he's messed up by taking things as far as he did with Carrie. With Carrie and Seacat's engagement being the talk of the town, the queen throws together a whirlwind wedding in mere days, and before anyone knows it, Carrie is reciting her vows with her eyes locked on Miles, and Seacat is reciting his with his eyes locked on one of Carrie's bridesmaids. In a display not dissimilar to the bracelet incident in S2, the queen finally sees through the cracks in their charade and calls the wedding off, leaving Carrie and Seacat in a state of shock, and Carrie's reputation in the gutter, which is only made worse by the arrival of Royce and Vivien's Lady Whistledown pamphlets. Cue an utter meltdown inspired by this song from the unofficial Bridgerton musical, where Carrie, who had only agreed to the marriage in the first place to help expand her family's connections, and to help cover for her handmaid, who had slept with Seacat and had ended up pregnant, goes completely off the deep end. Will Royce and Vivien be able to enlist the help of Mick and Butchy to fix their mess, and give Miles the happy ending he deserves? …I guess we'll never know. But it sure is fun to think about!

I know I already mentioned one song from the unofficial Bridgerton musical, which I love btw, but the only other one, besides the opening number, that really makes me think of this AU is If I Were A Man - because how cute would it be for Vivien to sing this when she's hanging out with Royce and Bentley, complaining about how stupid the Season and all this 'courting' business is, only for Royce to be watching her the whole time with the biggest heart eyes imaginable??

And it's not a part of the musical or anything, but every time I listen to this Bridgerton-esque arrangement I think of this AU. I mean it just fits so well! Like the fact that it's a cover of Paparazzi when in her og universe Carrie's a famous actress - it's perfect! And it sounds so good! I feel like I can so clearly picture Miles and Carrie dancing together for the first time with this playing in the background and everyone just watching them like: 👀 ...are they supposed to be doing that??? but he's poor?? and she's supposed to be unlovable?? what's going on??

Idea 2: Star Wars AU

I only thought of this one recently but godddddd it's so fun. Like just picture Miles vibing on some random planet in the middle of nowhere, just trying to mind his own business and get by looking after his little brothers and their handful of a best friend, Vivien, aka a wannabe resistance fighter, who is always getting told by Miles to stay away from that stuff because it's dangerous. And then one day, Miles is unwillingly dragged into helping a runaway evade capture - he doesn't know who she is, he just knows that she's very charismatic, and very pretty - and she has a LOT of hair. He ends up repairing and hijacking an old space cruiser, and, with some prompting from his little brother and Vivien (any maybe Riven too; I feel like he would thrive in this universe), all hungry for a little adventure, he ends up agreeing to take Carrie across the galaxy to where she needs to go.

They run into Butchy and Mick along the way, a pair of resistance fighters working on a mission to steal some plans from the First Order, and they decide to join forces, although Butchy is incredibly reluctant to trust Carrie, despite having no problems with anyone else - he just senses there's something off with her. When they stop on a planet to refuel, the First Order has managed to track down Mick and Butchy thanks to bounties they have from a previous mission where they took down a fleet of First Order Star Destroyers, and a huge fight breaks out, that, despite their lack of experience, Miles and his family are swept up in. Surprisingly, they manage to hold their own quite well, but Miles is soon distracted when he sees that the First Order have taken Carrie. Butchy tries to help him, but his efforts land them both in First Order prison cells after they're both knocked unconscious. Butchy tries his best to reassure Miles that Mick will already have a plan in motion to come and rescue them, and tells him to just stay quiet when the stormtroopers inevitably come to question them. It's not a stormtrooper that comes to interrogate them though, instead, a pair of heels clacks along the polished floors in time to the Imperial March, accompanied by a long, black cape with a hood that is dropped when its owner comes face to face with the boys to reveal a devilish smirk belonging to none other than Carrie, who's actually been working for the First Order the whole time. Miles feels understandably betrayed, Butchy feels frustrated that he didn't trust his gut feeling more, and after some pretty intense Force mind games, not dissimilar to this scene, Carrie reveals her boyfriend Eric's master plan to bring down the Resistance once and for all. There's an obvious back and forth, as Miles tries to talk her around to see sense, but when Eric shows up he's quick to shut him down, and the unhealthy nature of his and Carrie's relationship is quickly exposed. Carrie chooses to ignore Miles' pleas, and leaves with Eric, however, as to be expected, before all hope can be lost, Mick and the others show up and come to their rescue.

On their way to escape, Butchy and Miles run into Carrie yet again and a pretty epic lightsaber battle commences. It's mainly Butchy (blue lightsaber) and Carrie (red lightsaber) to begin with, and it's rather intense since they're both, understandably, super pissed at each other, but when Carrie wounds Butchy pretty badly, Miles, despite his lack of experience and doubt in his ability since he's never even heard of The Force before (apart from through the stories Vivien would tell his brothers, which up until now he'd believed were entirely fictitious), let alone used it, has to step in to defend him. Their feelings for one another make the fight a difficult one, but when Eric finds them and starts taunting Carrie, bossing her around and degrading her right to her face, and Miles starts pleading with her and helping her try to see reason, telling her that it doesn't need to be this way and that she can be happy like she was back on the ship with him and his family, and that despite what Eric says, there is light in her because he's seen it, she finally sees Eric for who he really is, and sees through all the lies he's been telling her about the First Order. Her lightsaber, locked in place by Miles desperately trying to block her latest swing, starts flickering from red to purple (I know lightsaber colours don't work like that, but the symbolism of it shifting from totally red to a mix of red and blue [ie good and bad] is too good, so just let me live) as her allegiance to the dark side starts to waver, until finally she's had enough and turns on Eric, killing him with a final, ruthless display of passion. Miles helps Butchy to safety on the rescue ship as Mick leaves Riven and Vivien in charge of piloting it, in favour of helping tend to Butchy's wounds, before he goes back and convinces Carrie to leave the First Order once and for all. Vivien and Riven navigate the ship through one last First Order attack as they make a break for it, and by the time that the group makes their way back to the Resistance base, the fight has found itself six new soldiers: Miles, Royce, Bentley, Vivien, Riven and, of course, Carrie. Kind of a fun concept, right? Well, maybe, but maybe I just want to see Butchy and Carrie going at it with a pair of lightsabers to Duel of the Fates. Is that too much to ask? lmaooo

Idea 3: The Little Mermaid

Okay, these ones are much shorter now, and this one literally only materialised a few months ago when I started getting excited about the new Little Mermaid live action remake. Tbh, there's not really any substance to it other than the fact that I think Carrie would make SUCH a good mermaid. Like she grew up at the beach spending pretty much all her time in the ocean, she has the voice of an angel and her hair would be SO FUN underwater haha. Also, you know if Carrie was a mermaid, Miles' ass would get dragged out to sea in like two seconds flat lmao. And even before I saw you pinning some mermaid stuff to Kona's Pinterest board, I felt like she would have made such a cute little mermaid companion for Carrie - getting all grumpy about her acting weird and ignoring her (a la She's In Love from The Little Mermaid musical) and then teasing her like crazy about crushing on a human once she's figured out what's wrong and has come around to the idea of it. In a similar way, I think Vivien would also make a great mermaid pal for her, if not for anything other than the fact that her purple hair would look incredible underwater hahaha. Plus, I've always thought it would be cute for, in a totally separate AU, Carrie to start taking some of Vivien and Kona's dance classes to earn some extra cash whilst she tries to book an acting job, and when they find out that Miles is crushing on her big time, they start meddling and trying to get them together, and end up getting super close with Carrie in the process. Obviously that wouldn't work for this concept since idk how mermaids would dance, but the theme of Vivien and Kona teaming up to get Miles and Carrie together, and building a really close bond with Carrie in the process remains lol. There's literally no other substance to this idea, I just like the thought of Carrie singing pretty songs and splashing around underwater with a sparkly mermaid tail, because, let's face it, she would absolutely neail Part Of Your World.

Idea 4: Mrs Murphy meeting Carrie for the first time

Again, no real plot idea for this one, I just really like the thought of Mrs Murphy slowly realising that Miles has a crush on someone and trying to do what she can to encourage him to follow his head and go for it - giving advice here, and fixing his hair before he leaves the house there. And then when she finds out that he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out and it all went well, she's obviously overjoyed, and is always trying to convince him to bring her over for dinner, much to Royce and Bentley's dismay. Eventually, Miles agrees, but when Mrs Murphy opens the door to find that the girl her son had brought over was basically the exact opposite of the one she'd envisioned he'd fall for in her head, she's understandably…confused. Will she start to appreciate the lovably egotistical blonde for who she is with time, or will Carrie's reception at the Murphy house meet the same fate as a certain ship of special interest to none other than the girl that had the Murphys wrapped around her little finger from day one? 😉

Idea 5: The One With The Pregnancy Test

Okay, this one just totally rips off the scene in Friends where Rachel finds out she's pregnant, but it does have its own fun spin, so I'll go ahead and include it anyway. Basically, everyone's at the cabin in New Hampshire, and Mick, Vivien, Carrie and Miles are all chilling in the kitchen. Carrie goes to grab some milk from the fridge but can't stand the smell of it and starts feeling really nauseous. Miles takes it from her and gives it a sniff-test, but says that it smells fine to him. He offers it to Vivien and she says the same thing: it smells fine. Carrie's majorly weirded out, but that confusion soon turns to complete and utter terror when Mick says that the last time milk smelled weird to her was when she was pregnant. At first Miles thinks Mick's just joking because she knows how much the thought of having kids freaks them out, and says that there's no way of that being possible anyway because they're always careful and Carrie's on birth control. But Mick says stuff like that's never fool-proof and starts telling them about how Lela had to go and get a new prescription of her birth control pill because her batch had been recalled due to the dosage being too low. Carrie, knowing that she takes the same brand, instantly starts to panic because she hadn't heard anything about the recall and immediately goes to check her batch number. Miles tries to calm her down and tell her to not jump to conclusions, but when she's gone, starts freaking out in his own right to Mick and Vivien about how this all just has to be a big coincidence because there's no way he can be a dad. They talk him around a little, and say there's no point in worrying about something that might not even be happening, and eventually send him off to go and talk to Butchy and his brothers to help distract him. Mick and Vivien then go and track down Carrie, who is hyperventilating into her purse as she checks her birth control batch number for the hundredth time, praying that the next time she looks at it it'll be different. Mick tries, and fails, to get her to relax and tries asking her if she's had any other symptoms: but the missed period (which she'd previously chalked up to the stress of a busy work schedule), persistent nausea (which she had thought was just because of Bentley's poor cooking skills), and sore boobs (yeah, she had no explanation for that one) were not making things look good.

Mick finds some old pregnancy tests in her bathroom and convinces Carrie to take one so that she can get a concrete answer before she starts having a total meltdown over a hypothetical, but only if her and Vivien wait around to check on the result with her since she's in no fit mental state to find out that kind of news alone, and she's too nervous to get Miles involved yet, knowing that he'd be just as stressed about the result as her, if not more. As they wait, Carrie starts opening up to Mick and Vivien about why she doesn't want kids, why she doesn't think that she'd be a good mom, and how selfish she feels ince most of it revolves around her own vanity. She confirms what the girls had already been suspecting about Miles' view on it all: how his relationship with his dad basically ruined his desire to take on that role in his own life and saddled him with a fear of one day turning into him if he ever did somehow have kids of his own. But she also expresses a fear that she'd be letting him down by continuing to focus on her career if his views on parenthood ever changed, and worries that he'd forfeit that opportunity for her sake when she knows that, if he was to be put in that position, he'd be an amazing dad - which naturally leads on to her venting about how terrible she thinks she would be as a mom because she cares too much about the way she looks and has such a crazy work life and doesn't have a maternal bone in her body, at least in her mind anyway. Mick and Vivien do their best to reassure her and talk her around to the idea, but before they can get a definite read on her feelings towards the situation, the timer for the test goes off. Carrie makes Vivien read out the results to her; she can't bear to look herself, and Viv says that it's negative. Carrie breathes a huge sigh of relief, and says that she feels silly for working herself up over nothing, but it doesn't take long for the enormity of everything to hit her. She'd basically already started mentally preparing herself for how different her life would be because of this baby, and had started considering all the good that could come with it (yes, it was in a bid to counteract the bad, but it was still good in its own right), and part of her, although she didn't want to admit it, was starting to not only come around to the idea, but kind of getting excited about it. And even if the test was negative, she still had the problem of what the hell was going on with her body to deal with. So she asks Vivien to check again to be totally sure, which is when she reveals that it was positive all along, and that she knew Carrie would be happy about it deep down, she just wanted to get her to come to that realisation on her own first - which, thankfully, worked wonders! And after the initial shock wears off, all three girls are thrilled by the news…until they realise they now have to go and tell Miles…

Idea 6: Carrie booking a dream role

Okay, Carrie's acting roles could have their own mega-post entirely, because I have a LOT of plans for storylines she's involved in on Find Your Voice, as well as other projects like Broken Shadows and Chasing Down Chelsea, and a whole slew of other things. One of the big and pretty important Find Your Voice ones is her character's Season 2 romance with Tyrone though, which comes off the back of her Season 1 breakup with Scott (Eric's character). The reason why it's so important is because, in a similar way to how Glee was pretty monumental in the portrayal of gay relationships in TV shows aimed at teens back in the early 2010s, I wanted Find Your Voice to be one of the first mainstream TV shows to properly explore interracial relationships. And like how Kurt and Blaine and Santana and Brittany were a huge deal for Glee, Candace and Tyrone telling the story of a white girl and a black guy falling in love like any of the other couples on the show was a huge deal in the 60s. Carrie's managers were reluctant to let her accept the storyline because of what it might do to her public image, and several of her co-stars had turned it down for fear of being blacklisted from the industry, but Carrie stuck by her beliefs and her and Donny (the guy who plays Tyrone) put their all into their performances, and as a result, they won over the majority. Sure, there were naysayers and protests about them 'corrupting the youth', but most people fell in love with the couple's love story as hard as the characters fell for each other, and cemented their position as series favourites. They made TV history with their on-screen romance, paved the way for generations to come, and won a bunch of TV awards for their performances as they went - but most of all, they became super good friends in the process. That all being said, this idea doesn't involve any of that lmao. It's just important context for her career-wise, and it needed a home somewhere, so I dumped it here haha.

Now, you may remember a brief Metalex and Ultraviolet comic being mentioned in Drive My Car Part 6 (don't worry if you don't, I just hyperfixate on these things lol), and if you do, you may also recall Miles saying that he thought Ultraviolet was one of the most badass superheroes of all time. Well, this idea basically revolves around Miles having a long history with reading these Metalex comics growing up - loving the stories and becoming obsessed with the characters. So when he hears that the studio Carrie works for have bought the rights to turn the franchise into a series of movies, naturally he starts freaking out and begging her for any information she can get, which is only made worse when she finds out that her agent also manages the guy who they've cast as the lead. What she doesn't tell Miles though is that, knowing how much he adores this franchise, she decided to audition for the part of Ultraviolet. By some miracle, after a pretty rigorous audition process, she books the role, and confides in the first person she finds in the house after she's given the news (idk why I picture it being Royce, it could be anyone lol), who is equally as excited about Miles' imminent reaction, knowing that he'll lose his mind when he finds out. She ends up surprising him for his birthday by saying that she managed to talk her agent into giving her one of the promotional posters before the cast list is officially announced, and wrapping it up for him to open. And as I'm sure you can imagine, unrolling that poster to find that his childhood crush is being played on the big screen by his girlfriend, is a pretty huge deal for him. Profanities may have been shouted, tears may have been shed, shits may have been lost. All in all, a pretty successful birthday surprise if you ask me.

Idea 7: Vivien and Carrie's ✨Girl Day✨

I don't know why small-town America fascinates me so much, but I would just love to read about Vivien showing Carrie around her hometown and doing the most mundane everyday stuff you could imagine with her. Like that little snippet of them at the mall in one of your Christmas stories? Drinking boba? I need more of that. I love itttttt. Like them going through a drive-thru and then having a picnic in Vivien's car as she fills Carrie in on all the gossip from her school to get her take on it? How cute and iconic is that? I'm obsessed.

Idea 8: Pampering Session

This was going to be one of my Christmas one-shots but, as is the theme with me lately, I ran out of time. Buuut, basically it was just going to be a little culmination of a few random little self-care based headcanons I had. Like a major one is Carrie having a super extensive skin-care routine that The Murphys tease her to no end about, but she doesn't care because she loves all her random little lotions and potions and tying her hair back and setting to work on her face every morning and night - it's like her definition of 'me time' lmao. And part of that headcanon is Miles lovingly teasing her about it, but also low-key getting pulled in once she starts introducing him to his own products that he can use too. And whilst at first it's super basic stuff like: look here's some ✨moisturiser✨, it goes on your ✨face✨ to stop it looking like the sAhaRa DeSerT 🤩 and Miles looking at her like: 🤨 ...you sure about that? It progresses to him taking more of an interest - it's only slight, but he at least has a little corner of the bathroom dedicated to his handful of nice products he uses to take care of himself. And, it's mostly to humour Carrie, but there have been a few instances where she's convinced him to do facials with her - it's largely influenced by her teasing him about getting wrinkles, and he always drags his feet at first, but as soon as she starts slathering it on and it feels all nice and cooling he tooooootally relaxes and enjoys it haha. And I loved the little mention of Carrie helping Vivien dye her hair purple in Through The Valley, so I was going to have her barge in on them mid-facial chill-out-time at the cabin, likely watching some trashy reality tv show together (because I feel like they would get so invested in that kind of thing, especially if it's a really shitty one where they could make fun of it together lmao), and ask her for help re-dyeing her hair because Royce is proving to be ✨incompetent✨. Of course Royce and Vivi would tease Miles to death about the facial - but because he was in his ✨relaxation mode✨ he'd be too chilled out to care and would just laugh along with them. And knowing Carrie, as soon as she started working on Vivien's hair and fixing the mess Royce made of it she'd start grilling him about how he thought he was capable of doing this when he can't even take care of his own hair properly. After a lot of protestation, they finally convince Royce to give Carrie's hair care routine a go, with Carrie shouting instructions to him through the bathroom door as he washes his hair lol. And, much to Royce's initial disgruntlement, by the time his hair's dry it looks healthier than it ever has. He grows to appreciate the advice in the long-run though because of how much more defined and silky it makes his curls look once he starts looking after them properly, and because of how crazy his hair now drives Vivien as a consequence lol. Cute, right? If only I'd had more time over Christmas lmaoooo.

Idea 9: Ghost Mrs Murphy

This one probably sounds more ominous than it actually is, but I keep seeing TikToks about people on the verge of death being comforted by loved ones, and then afterwards realising that they weren't actually there because they died x number of years ago. And whilst I don't think there would be any sort of complications surrounding Maisy's birth (because Carrie and Miles are already stressed out enough at the thought of a baby alone, I don't want to put them through anything else lmao), I did have an idea where Carrie starts haemorrhaging and is super out of it, but all she can focus on is this really nice 'nurse' who keeps talking to her and keeping her calm. She reassures her that she's okay and that she's doing great and that her daughter is beautiful, and just basically stops her freaking out until she drifts off to sleep (i.e. passes out lol). When Carrie eventually comes around though, this 'nurse' can't be found, and none of the other nurses or doctors she speaks to seem to know who she's talking about. Miles obviously can't know for sure, because he didn't see what she did, but when he listens to Carrie's description of her, he can't help but have a sneaking suspicion (or at least a fleeting hope) that it might have been his mom :')

Headcanons:

AKA, all the other random little ideas that I have that aren't enough to warrent a full story of their own, but I still wanted to share...

Okay, I feel like this is such a random little thing for me to have latched onto, but I love the fact that Mick loves blistering hot showers. And whilst I feel as though sometimes Mick and Carrie struggle to see eye to eye (at least in TMM they do anyway haha), one thing they can both bond over is their love of lava showers. If they don't leave the bathroom looking like freshly cooked lobsters then what's the point?

Whilst I feel that generally Carrie gets along better with Bentley, her and Royce have a really similar wicked sense of humour, and if they catch each other in the right mood then they can set each other off laughing for hours. But one thing that both Royce and Bentley can agree on is that Carrie is INCREDIBLY fun to tease, and they do so ruthlessly, at every opportunity possible. Thankfully, she has a good sense of humour though and, even if she doesn't think so in the moment, she'll always be able to see the funny side eventually.

Royce and Bentley LOVE all the different accents and impressions Carrie can do, they're always so entertained when she whips a new one out of her back pocket, especially if it's unprompted.

When Carrie's pregnant, especially the first time around, she gets really bad morning sickness, like to the point where almost everything makes her at least gag, and Royce (in true sibling-esque-bullying fashion) finds this HILARIOUS, and pushes it to its very limit. Again, thankfully Carrie can also see the funny side of it and entertains the game for a while, but when they discover that the sight colour green alone is enough to make her nauseous it's game over for Royce; he's laughing so hard he needs his inhaler.

The concept of Carrie giving Bentley singing lessons is literally the cutest thing ever to me holy shit. Like little Bentley doing a cover of The Climb like the version in HSMTMTS? Brb I'm crying.

Once Royce and Carrie's relationship starts to become not terrible, he develops a weird sort of familial protectiveness over her, especially when it comes to stuff people say about her. I only say it's 'weird' because it's not like how he's protective over Vivien or Miles or Bentley, or anyone else in his family, it's like its own entity. And sometimes he doesn't even know why he cares, because both Carrie and Miles got used to ignoring it pretty quickly, but he just can't stand it. Sometimes it's just because the kids in his class are being racist pieces of shit talking about her on-screen relationships, but it's mostly gross, vulgar stuff the guys say about her body or her more 'adult' scenes in certain shows and the stuff they come out with literally makes him sick to his stomach. Maybe it could manifest as Carrie catching him defending her, or maybe he just vents to her about it one day after school, idk. But the weird protectiveness of her that neither of them really understands is such a funny, but well-intentioned little notion to me lmao.

On a different note, Miles was PETRIFIED at the very thought of meeting Carrie's parents for the first time, and obsessed about it for weeks, but they both absolutely adored him pretty much as soon as he walked through the door, and just immediately jumped to treating him as if he was already part of the family

And if anything the bond only grows stronger with time - like when Maisy is born, and Carrie's parents visit the hospital for the first time, Carrie's dad goes over to check on Miles and give him a hug before he even thinks about looking at his granddaughter lmao

And although Royce and Bentley feel super awkward about it at first, Carrie's mom is such a motherly person that she can't help but want to take them under her wing when she first meets them. They're pretty reluctant to open up to her for a while, more so than Miles was anyway, which is totally understandable, but over time, as they get more familiar with her (and she bakes them more and more birthday cakes) they start seeing her as another mother figure (after Aunt Mack though, of course lol)

Miles and Carrie's mom become low-key besties though, like she's always asking Carrie where he is if he's not with her, she's forever baking little treats for Carrie to pass on to him, and she loves filling him on all the drama she has to deal with at her catering gigs because the way he humours her by getting so invested literally makes her day

Carrie does not handle pain well at all. She trapped her finger in her car door once and from the way she reacted Miles thought that her entire hand had been ripped off lmao. But I guess that's to be expected when she's such a drama queen.

On a similar note, she hates any sort of creepy crawlies, especially spiders - and don't even get me started on her reaction to finding out that Riven has a pet lizard. She thinks he's certifiably insane.

And to round off Carrie's dramaticness - she is SUCH a cryer. Like she's such an emotional wreck that she can be laughing her head off one minute and then bawling her eyes out the next. Movies are normally the worst culprit since she's almost guaranteed to cry at something over the course of the 90 mins, which Bentley is incredibly entertained by, but as she spends more and more time in the modern world, TikToks of old people are really proving to be her new downfall.

I love the thought of Miles and Carrie both loving to cook, and both loving to cook for each other, but really struggling to cook together because they both keep wanting to take charge. Usually they can work out a compromise, but sometimes, especially with Carrie's temper as volatile as it is, stubborn bickering can escalate into chaos.

I've definitely mentioned this before but I can SO see Royce owning a cat. He's just a boy who needs a kitty to snuggle with whilst he reads, it's a necessity.

And I think you maybe mentioned this in your Christmas stories, or maybe it was your Hocus Pocus AU, it was definitely one of the two, but I LOVE the idea of Miles driving an old Jeep/truck. Like it's one that's kind of a heap of junk when he buys it, but he loves it to death anyway because he saved up all his own money to get it, and spends hours upon hours fixing it up and making it look like new again hehe.

Idk but I feel like Royce would really be into taking photos. Like he's not quite as artistic as Bentley or Miles, and he can't draw or paint very well, so he turns to taking photographs instead. That, and I feel like he's really sentimental, so I the thought of capturing memories like that would really appeal to him.

I know in your character info posts you mention Vivien getting her appendix out, but idk why I can just so vividly picture Miles getting appendicitis. Like at first he just tries to power through and insists he's fine because he's a 'man', but he taps out after like an hour and can barely move. And then maybe because Viv's been through it before she's like "this is an awful lot like when my appendix went 'boom'" lol, and suddenly everyone's like: hospital. NOW. Idk why I love the thought of that; it's so random. And the thought of Carrie and all the others taking it in turns looking after him afterwards? Ugh. Adorable.

Omg and speaking of your character info posts: I love the thought of, a couple of years down the line, once he's not feeling as financially responsible for Royce and Bentley, Miles being convinced by the others to go back to school to pursue one of the careers he always thought he'd go into. Because Miles as a teacher is such a perfect fit! And Carrie is like soooo not about school for herself, but she'd be super proud of Miles if he went back. Like at his college graduation ceremony she'd be cheering SO loud haha.

Musicals:

Okay, this section is literally just for all the roles I'd love to see our characters play/roles I just think they'd nail, which I feel like is fun because we both love musicals, so why not indulge that a little bit here?

Eponine - whilst I could totally see Carrie nailing On My Own, I really think that Vivien would be a brilliant Eponine if her school were to ever put on Les Mis, especially if Carrie was there to help her. Also, the thought of Vivien and Royce singing A Little Fall of Rain together, especially when I'm still riding the high of all that angst you put them through in Scattered Screams? SO GOOD. And if Vivien is Eponine, Carrie would make a great Fantine, don't you think? Omg and if Viv is Eponine, and Royce is Marius, then wouldn't Riven be perfect for Enjolras? Aaaah, and you could have someone like Erica or Jade playing Cosette and having a running joke with Royce about having to play each other's love interest when they'd both sooner go off with Eponine lmao. Is Scattered Screams influencing this too much? Maybe, but idc it just shows how good it was haha.

Belle - in a similar sort of vein, I feel like Vivien would be a perfect Belle in Beauty and the Beast. Like smart and brave and kind? That is so her! I feel like Carrie's character in Find Your Voice (Candace) would also be a really good Belle because she's a little braniac bookworm, and I've toyed around before with the idea of them putting it on through the show (HSMTMTS-style), but as is the theme with this post, idk where what would ever fit in a story lol. Still, I think this role would be perfect for Vivi if she was ever going to be a leading lady again after Acting School Dropout haha. And I'm sure Carrie would be more than happy to offer up her coaching expertise again haha.

Elle Woods - this will probably be a short one, because I don't feel like I really even need to explain myself but I feel like if Carrie was ever destined to play any role on stage, it would be Elle Woods in Legally Blonde. Ditzy and girly, but determined enough to put her mind to something and succeed with flying colours? That's Carrie all over! And Miles would literally never do it, but how perfect would he be as her Emmett? And with Eric as Warner? Oh my god I could die.

Regina George - purely for the iconic vocals and how good she would be at playing a bitchy villain like this, Carrie would kill it as Regina George.

Elphaba & Glinda - Mick & Carrie are such a good match for these two, and whilst I feel like Carrie would make a great Elphaba vocal-wise, the only person that I feel could be the Glinda opposite her Elphie would be Juliet

Evan & Zoe - this one only really came to me as I was putting this post together but how good would Royce and Vivien be for these roles?

Heather Chandler, Heather Duke, and Heather McNamara - played by Carrie, Molly and Juliet respectively, especially in the context of TMM; they give me major Heathers vibes there, but that's never happening in that AU lmao

And just to tag this on the end here, the thought of Kona, Vivien & Carrie singing each of the three Fionas through the ages in I Know It's Today makes me so happy

Fancy dress costumes:

Again, I have no idea how I'd fit any of these fancy dress ideas into stories, especially the first two since they're for my TMM AU and there is no excuse for the characters to dress up in that plot, but these ideas are too good not to share…

Concept 1: The Mystery Gang from Scooby Doo

Just picture this: it's Halloween at All Skate and these guys are working their shift dressed like this: Ethan is Shaggy, Mick is Velma, Miles is Fred, Carrie is Daphne and Midge is Scooby (yes, Midge, not Barney, it'll make sense later on, I promise). How perfect is that?! I literally could have screamed when I first thought of this and how much potential is wasted by a lack of a Halloween plot. But hopefully the mental image is entertaining enough on its own haha.

Concept 2: The Wizard of Oz

Again, picture it's Halloween at All Skate and the group are attempting yet another group costume with: Mick as Dorothy, Ethan as the scarecrow, Miles as the tin man, Carrie as the cowardly lion and Midge in a little basket as Toto.

Was this mostly fuelled by me realising that Mick would pull off a Dorothy costume ridiculously well? Maybe. But how well does it work for all the others too? Like Ethan might as well have straw for brains anyway, Miles is so stressed about his brothers he always struggles to loosen up and have any fun, and Carrie's huge mane of curls was practically destined for this costume. It's PERFECT.

Concept 3: Miles and Carrie

And then I just have a few couples costume ideas for Miles and Carrie, because I feel like with Carrie being an actress and practically dressing up on the daily anyway, she'd take Halloween very seriously. First of all, and quite possibly my favourite, how good would they be as Kermit and Miss Piggy??? I CAN'T BREATHE, even their dynamic is perfect for it! And it's such a fun, silly concept, I love it. Perhaps a prettier and a little more normal option would be Rapunzel and Flynn Rider because Miles' floppy brown hair and Carrie's insane blonde hair are just screaming for it lmao. But also, because they're both always down for fun above all else, they're not afraid to rock up in outfits as iconic as this too.

Concept 4: Carrie and Eric

Okay, I'll admit that this was heavily influenced by the new Barbie movie trailer that was released, but how iconic would Carrie and Eric be as Barbie and Ken? They'd be perfect! And I know based on what I've already written about Eric, he hasn't been painted in the best light, but his relationship with Carrie up until their break-up was actually pretty good - and with where the story is atm in TMM, it's actuually pretty healthy as well (I just don't know if I've done a good enough job at showing that yet lmao). They really did genuinely care a lot about each other, and had a bunch of fun together since they're naturally both pretty goofy characters (as you would expect from two actors who specialise in comedic roles). It was just an unfortunate set of circumstances really with the whole cheating scandal and Eric being a dumb, reckless twenty year-old. He never meant to hurt Carrie in the way he did, the fame just got to his head from all his newfound attention and, because he thought he was invincible, he stopped thinking about the consequences to his actions. That mentality soon came back to bite him though haha. Anyway, tangent over! I think I'm probably the only person that cares about that anyway lol. But back to my main point: they would have 100% killed a Barbie and Ken costume - Eric is perfect himbo material for Ken and Carrie would have such a fun ditzy, but super determined, take on Barbie. Whether it was for a couples costume, or as actual roles in a movie back in their universe, they're nailing it in my mind lmao.

Songs:

Here's just a bunch of songs that I have saved on my story inspo playlist that either make me think of our characters, or have entire little scenarios planned around them, that otherwise would sit in my head forever…

Doomsday - Okay, this one freaked me out when I first heard it because of how perfectly this fits, but literally every time I listen to it it makes me think of Vivien in your Through The Valley story, but specifically in that period at the end where she's waiting for Mick and Royce and the others to come back from Canada and slowly losing her hope of them ever returning. Like I always picture Vivien just trying to go about her daily life, listening to this to get her through, and her and Carrie belting out the bridge as they drive across these big, barren, open roads to get out their frustration about being left behind. And the fact that she literally says 'you did it on Halloween' when they left at the end of October??? It. Fits. So. Well.

No Time To Die - I don't know why this gives me such Scattered Screams vibes, but it just does. Like the intrigue but the promise of danger idk, I love it. I've got an idea for where I could use Skyfall, but that involves Carrie and her Chasing Down Chelsea show, which is so niche I won't even bother explaining it, but just the thought of her slinking around a party full of dangerous, wealthy people in a silky dress with a hit on someone to fulfil before she's hunted down by an intelligence agent she knows for a fact is also a guest there - ugh, it's so cool. I just love the concept of someone being dressed up so glamorously but being so badass at the same time haha

Taylor Swift: There are SO many Taylor Swift songs that I feel would work so well for Carrie (like Bejeweled, Karma and Anti-Hero all fit her vibe perfectly), but also Miles and Carrie's relationship too…

Style is one, particularly the chorus, that just makes me think of them both instantly. Like you can't tell me that chorus doesn't fit them both to a T. Plus it feeds into my headcanon that Miles' sense of style and confidence in the way he dresses sky-rocketed after he started dating Carrie, so I love it hehe.

Red is one that will be VERY important in a story I have yet to mention in this post, because I'm still holding out hope that I'll get to write it one day. But this song features heavily and proves to be a pretty pivotal moment in their relationship. And again, every time I listen to it, those two are immediately who I think of. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road and All Out Of Love also play big roles in that story, but like I said, I'm still hoping that I'll get around to writing it one day, so I don't want to give too much away too early. But that might at least give you a bit of a vibe of the theme lol.

Paper Rings is one that I first listened to after you said that you had a prompt in mind for it and holy shit, idk if the prompt was about Miles and Carrie, but they are ALL I can think of when I listen to it now. It fits Carrie's adoration of him, and her willingness to give up her flashy/dressy lifestyle in the blink of an eye if he needed her to brilliantly. God, it's so cute, I love it.

Burning Love - There's no real story behind this one, I just love the thought of Vivien visiting the Wet Side Story world and stepping out of the machine for the first time, and immediately being hit by the scent of the beach, the sound of the waves, and this song floating along on the breeze from nowhere, simply because it's one big musical lmao. Like a little montage of her discovering their world and seeing everyone going about their daily business (spotting the surfers waxing their boards, seeing Butchy working on his bike, watching Kona playing volleyball with her friends, waving to Carrie and Miles as they catch some rays, running into Royce and Bentley riding their bicycles down the boardwalk), all set to this song, would be so cute.

Keep Driving - I've definitely already mentioned my idea to do a series of Carrie and Miles one-shots based on the lyrics of this song, but I thought I'd throw it in here anyway, because I love it so much and wanted it to have a good home haha.

Mine & Landslide - I'll keep it simple with these two, because I can't elaborate just yet. But picture this: an AU of Carrie singing these to/with someone, where 📢spoiler alert📢 it's not Miles lmao. For extra context, there's a reason why they're the Glee versions of the songs lol.

Freak - I have no idea how I'd work this into any story, but every time I listen to this song I think of Carrie in some sort of Hunger Games/dystopian-esque AU where she has this picture-perfect image, and she's all sweet and nice one minute, and then as soon as she loses her temper/shit hits the fan she flips a switch and her nasty side comes out. Maybe she's provoked, maybe she doesn't know she's doing it (like some sort of Peeta situation in Mockingjay, where the Capitol are controlling him), idk, I just have not nearly utilised her insane temper enough, and the prospect is so tempting.

Uninvited - I thought I'd throw this in here because it was almost included in Drive My Car part 6, right after Carrie's let Seacat down but before Miles plucks up the courage to go over to talk to her. And it was basically just going to be Miles imagining her singing this to him to sort of test his feelings for her, but I cut it to stop myself from dragging the damn thing out to be even longer than it already was. I love the song, it just didn't need to be in there, you know? But I thought it'd still be fun to include here so that the idea isn't completely lost to time haha.

Maybe This Time & Cabaret - I've got no real concept for these songs either, other than them being used in a story that's set, again, in some sort of dystopian-esque AU where Carrie has this perfect image to upkeep, but as the life she always knew starts crumbling around her, that perfect facade starts to crack as she starts to go off the deep end…

Green Green Dress - Another very rough concept for this one, but just picture Miles and Carrie (a little tipsy) singing this together before they go out for the night. It can be before a date, before some premiere for Carrie's job, or even a party, it doesn't matter to me. I just love the thought of them goofing around all love-drunk and actual-drunk, singing this to each other.

What Do You Know About Love? - Okay, I actually have somewhat of an idea for this one, as weird as it may be. It's an AU where Miles meets Carrie stranded by the side of the road after a huge snowstorm where her car skidded into a snowbank and is now stuck there. She's not even remotely dressed for the weather because the beach is all she's ever known, and she's trying to get to a tv studio to continue the promo tour for some new show she's on, where she stars opposite some guy she's basically been shoe-horned into a fake relationship with. She naively believes it, but she barely knows anything about the guy, and he never wants to spend any time with her unless there are cameras around. Miles tries to get through to her, despite thinking she's a total spoilt airhead, and after digging out her car to no avail, failing to fix it, and then trekking through the snow for hours, when Mrs Murphy, Royce and Bentley finally come to the rescue, and Mrs Murphy offers to take Carrie where she needs to go, Miles all too quickly finds out that he's become awfully attached to the ditzy diva…And isn't quite ready to say goodbye.

You Oughta Know - I don't quite know how I'd set this up in any story, but I just love the concept of Carrie trying her best to keep her cool around Eric and Molly once they start officially dating, but then ultimately losing her temper with him and just belting this in his face. Maybe like backstage at an awards show or something for some extra drama? I've got no clue. Like I said before, I just like the thought of angry Carrie and I have not utilised her enough thus far lmao.

Supermassive Black Hole - You probably thought that I'd forgotten all about your Ordinary Human AU, but every time I hear this song I think about how cool a superhero montage would be set to this. And since one of Carrie's powers in that story was manipulating sound, I just love the thought of her grabbing random songs and using them as backing music in her practice battles at the training centre, especially because it pisses Butchy off since he thinks she's not taking it seriously. But like how cool would this be? She could bounce the audio back and forth between her opponent's ears, make the lights start strobing through the chorus, and then if she's teaming up with Miles he could start manipulating time and shit to speed things up or slow things down to fit with the music, or start conjuring stuff to make their opponents think they're seeing things. Random, I know. But it's what I think of every time I hear the song lmao, and I thought you might appreciate knowing that.

Lay All Your Love on Me - I just would love to see Miles and Carrie recreate this in the early days of their relationship, like when people at the beach start realising that there's something going on between them. At first they don't let on that something's up, no matter how much everyon tries to get it out of them, but by the end they can't keep their hands off each other (as usual lmao). So fun!

Ain't No Doubt About It - This is cheesy as hell, but how cute would it be for Miles and Carrie to flaunt their movie musical universe roots when visiting Mick's world and just burst into a rendition of this when asked by Vivien if they're aware of/worried about Royce and Bentley's determination to break them up?

At Last - There is very little else to this idea other than I love the thought of Carrie and Miles singing this at Mick and Butchy's wedding, especially if Miles had flat-out refused to sing anything when they had initially asked him, only for him to turn around and surprise them with this.

I Want It All - Basically I just really want Carrie to sing this with someone, but in the current AU I'm working most of this from, I think the only person I could see it making sense with would be Juliet. I could see it happening, and I could totally make it work, I just don't know where I'd ever put it lmao. But it's too over-the-top and cheesy for Carrie not to perform, like come onnnnn.

TikToks:

And finally, here's basically all the tiktoks I've saved as potential story ideas that will never meet their full potential, or ones that just remind me of our characters. I thought this might be a fun way to round the post out hehe...

Okay, idk if you've ever seen this guy on TikTok but literally every time he pops up he reminds me of Miles, and I don't even fully know why. I feel like ever since I first noticed it I've been subconsciously been making my take on his character more and more interested in playing the guitar, to the point now where it's becoming one of his defining characteristics. Like I just imagine him jamming out like this to random songs all the time. And on top of that - I feel like he kind of looks like Miles too - at least how I imagine him anyway with the blue eyes and floppy light brown hair. I know you already have a bunch of faceclaims for Miles, but I think he has the right vibes to slot somewhere onto the list lmao. Either way, just know that every time this guy pops up on my fyp, Miles is the first person I think of, without fail haha. Similarly, this is Royce once he starts getting good at the guitar. And I know Ethan is my OC, and he's only appeared in the few parts of TMM I've posted so far, so you might not really care about this - but he is OBSESSED with music, especially the electric guitar, and this kid is EXACTLY how I imagine Ethan would have played this at his age - he still would now tbh lmao, he's just that invested in the music. Moving on from guitars, lol, just imagine a modern All-Skate-esque AU with Carrie and Ethan goofing off at work and surprising Vivien with this after they find out she's obsessed with the Titanic. Again, super random, but this is what's bouncing around in my head all day lmao.

Concept behind this one: in true Sam Evans from Glee style, when faced with the prospect of being lonely while Carrie is away on long shoots across country/abroad, Miles decides to adopt a puppy to keep him company, and in this case, that puppy just so happens to be the canine version of the very girlfriend he's worried about missing - OR, as an alternative to this, Miles just gets the canine version of himself.

This is very Butchy/Miles-core with them both being mechanics lmao

This is so Bentley with his niece and nephews when Miles and Carrie start having kids (at least in my universe of them anyway lol). He always has the best intentions when babysitting them, but every time they start misbehaving he just panics and stares at them like: 👁️👄👁️ what. are. you. doing???

Staying in that same AU, this is 100% Miles with Maisie. And it's already cute and very on-brand with the video being Dirty Dancing, but just imagine how much cuter it could be if she was making him reenact something like this with her but it was Carrie on the TV instead. OUCH!

idk where my headcanon for Kona being insanely good at martial arts came from (at least in my TMM AU anyway), but I'm pretty sure this tiktok is partially to blame. Like she can be all cute and innocent and make you a friendship bracelet one minute, and then the next she can flip you over her shoulder like you're made of paper. I love to think that she gets Miles to help her practice too because I'm still not over how cute their bond was in Glory & Gore - but also, I can't stop thinking about Ethan hearing about it one day and totally underestimating her, leading to him making a bet with Miles that he doesn't think Kona would be able to get him on the ground - cue Kona taking literally one look at him and knocking him flat on his ass in about three seconds, leaving Miles laughing his ass off.

Again, staying in the TMM AU, Ethan 100% showed Bentley this when he was a little kid and got the exact same reaction

Carrie and Ethan's interactions with each other because they have such a hilariously chaotic dynamic - and by the end of TMM 1, sort of Mick and Ethan's interactions too (kind of a spoiler, kind of not, but we move - anyway, it's your birthday, you deserve it lmao)

Continuing with the TMM theme, as a way of summarising Miles and Ethan's friendship, coming up with shit like this is EXACTLY what they do when they're bored at work

In some AU somewhere, Vivien would SO do this for Miles with Carrie lmao

Since I never really explore Tanner and Carrie's relationship, here's a little window into it where, in true twin sibling fashion, they have been forced by their mom to be nice to one another for one

Okay, I've seen a bunch of compilations of these guys on TikTok and maybe it's just the fact that they're three brothers but every time I see them goofing off like this I always think that this is how unhinged Miles, Royce and Bentley would get if they were left alone together for too long lmao. Like they love each other to death but oh my god they can get on each other's nerves and be stupid like any other siblings.

Again, another multi-example one because my fyp is FULL of these guys, but the dynamic they have gives me such Miles and Ethan vibes - Miles is Joe, Ethan is Frank, and whilst most of the time Miles is just in despair at how Ethan has made it this far in life being the way he is, there are way too many instances where they both just revel in being absolute idiots together.

Suuuuper random headcanon but ever since Vivien showed her an ASMR video like this on her phone, Carrie became OBSESSED with them. I like to think it's because she's so in tune with her hearing because of all her music stuff she does, but she is just so fascinated by it that she could watch them for hours. And she gets so excited and tries to show them to Miles when they're just laying in bed together or chilling out on the sofa and he's always just like: 🤨 ...and???? But she LOVES the little brain tingles it gives her, and Vivien finds it hilarious. Maybe Royce is the only one that can kind of understand where she's coming from because he's got his sensitive hearing, but it has to be the right kind of video or he has to rip his headphones out. Like if it's someone whispering into the microphone and they have that whistle thing going on? Absolutely not, he's yeeting that phone across the room.

Miles with Carrie's Velvet Sunrise friends. That will make sense after Acting School Dropout part 3, I promise lol.

Okay, this works SO well if you stick with the idea from WAY back where Mick and Butchy name their son after Miles. BUT, even though they don't name any of their kids after family members besides Miles' mom, I could totally just see this being Bentley meeting Miles and Carrie's first kid.

Concept here: Miles cheering Carrie up whilst she's on her period having super bad cramps and when she's finally been doped up on enough pain meds to not be curled into a lifeless heap on the couch, they start goofing around like this as she tries to explain to him what she's having to go through because Miles is CLUELESS. Or, this is just one of their many random lunchtime activities back when they car-shared before dating, and would find any excuse whatsoever to go hangout together. Like Carrie gets wind that Miles doesn't know what a tampon does and just drops all her plans for the day to go show him lmao.

Very Carrie-coded.

Miles and Carrie's relationship in a nutshell.

More will come from Carrie's downtown apartment in Acting School Dropout but as a little insight, she would totally have a cool, fancy ice drawer like this (which leaves Royce and Bentley bAfFLeD) - and the decor is very this & this because she needs an escape from all the testosterone in the Murphys' house, and just because she has a really fun, colourful sense of style anyway haha.

Okay, I'll leave it here with this one, because I'm itching so badly to get back to working on TMM, but just imagine this transition with Royce, Vivien, Bentley and Kona on one side and Miles, Carrie, Mick and Ethan on the other. UGHHHHH. I LOVE IT.

So yeah, I know it might not be the most interesting of posts, but hopefully it was still a nice little surprise to help you celebrate and make you smile today!

Also, I'm so sorry about this being late, I stayed up editing it until like 2:30am, and I was 14/16 pages deep when my laptop decided to spontaneously shut down. 🤦 And to save me rushing through it again and being all grumpy and half-assing it, I thought I'd get some sleep and try again in the morning. And it worked because I had so much more fun coming back to this with fresh eyes lol.

But yes, that's finally it! I might come back and add stuff to this as and when I get any new ideas, but for now I'd love to hear what you think of what I've got so far if anything peaks your interest haha. And like I said before, because you always bring me so much joy with your stories, I hope I was able to do the same for you today with this ridiculous jumble of the inner-workings of my imagination haha. Happy belated birthday! 🎉

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cherrygorilla · 1 year

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Acting School Drop Out (Part 1)

Despite my hideously busy uni schedule, I'm finally back with something new - and this time it's a special little treat for a very special friend. One to say a big thank you for all your hard work and constant kindness. Danelle, I hope I could do your idea (or the first part of it, at least) justice! And don't worry...there's still more of the story to come after this; we've only just begun!

Also, is all of this totally relevant to the plot as a whole? No. But did I want to include it anyway? Absolutely haha. So enjoy 25 pages of wholesome, domestic bliss, extended-Murphy-family content to break up the angst of Scattered Screams and the stress of the real world. It's the least I can do to help <3

A blaring siren split the eardrums of five teenagers, each bathed in cyclical, flashing, red light. Their chests heaved rhythmically as they shared a tense, knowing look before a distant cry of pain shattered their moment of reprieve. In an instant, the oldest girl's expression switched to one of horror as she made a break for the door emblazoned with every 'warning' and 'danger' sign you could imagine. Her fingers closed around the handle, but before she could wrench it open, a young man slammed his palm down on the metal and held it fast.

Blood crusted around the gash in one of his thick eyebrows, pinched in panicked fury. "Are you insane?!" he hissed, sweat glistening on his olive skin like he'd just been dipped in glaze.

"He's down there! You heard that voice-" the girl frantically replied.

"That could be anyone-"

"That is James, I know it is!" she argued, throwing an accusatory arm out behind her before he could open his mouth to protest further. "Wouldn't you know if it was Tommy?"

His dark, leather brown eyes settled on the small figure over the girl's shoulder, holding the gaze of an identical pair of pupils - although their nervous hope was not reflected in his own. A ghost of a smile crossed his features as he softened under his little brother's stare, admitting defeat with a reluctant sigh. Of course he'd know.

"He's my brother, Dean. I have to do something," she pressed on, returning her attention to the task at hand.

But Dean was quick to grab it back. "I get that you want to help, but you need to let the professionals handle this," he said, almost pleading with her.

"There are no 'professionals' here," she bitterly scoffed, gesturing to the room - well, whole research facility, really - around her.

"Yeah, if any of them gave a damn, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place," a young girl, with braids that looked as though they were made from fraying copper wire, piped up - wise beyond her years if her smart-ass sense of humour was anything to go by.

"Look, someone will have called the police. Any minute now, Chief Lancaster is gonna show up with his team, and if your mom was still at the station talking to him-"

"You don't know that, Dean! They could be anywhere right now!" Margot cried. "And I'm sorry, but I am not just going to stand here and wait for help that might never come. I'm going down there to get him, whether you like it or not."

"Margot, no, it's too dangerous," Dean protested, a fearful edge creeping into his voice as he watched her attempts to wrench the door open grow more desperate, and his pleas fall on deaf ears.

"I don't care," she fired back, voice shaking with frenzied anxiety.

"You could get hurt."

"I don't care."

"You could die."

"I don't care!"

"I do!"

A firm hand locked around Margot's wrist and yanked it back, whipping the girl around to face him. Stray ringlets of wild, golden curls bounced around her face as they settled back into position, just skirting the deep, purple bruise mottling her cheekbone. Hot tears of frustration pooled in her blue eyes, blurring the image of the boy before her, but his tone alone told her more than enough. Thick, black lashes blinked the mist away, but her eyebrows remained furrowed in furious bewilderment, just like Dean's, who looked as though he couldn't believe those words had actually left his mouth. Still, their intensity never wavered, seemingly fighting a battle with their eyes that their lips didn't dare partake in. Perhaps that was why Dean's gaze kept flitting to Margot's mouth, and why Margot's heavy breaths suddenly hitched in her throat. Unless-

"Are they going to kiss?" Vivien gasped, blindly reaching out to grab Royce's hand in excitement - eyes glued to her flickering laptop screen.

"Stop asking me questions; I already told you I'm not going to spoil it," he chuckled, lazily snuggling further into Vivien's side. He was nowhere near as tense as his girlfriend was, but then again, this wasn't the first time he'd seen the penultimate episode of Broken Shadows' first season.

After a lot of pestering on Vivien's part, and a few days of locking herself away in her little 'tech dungeon', as Vivien had so affectionately nicknamed it, Mick had figured out a way to transfer all the episodes of the TV shows Carrie featured in back in her world onto a sort of memory stick device. And when she plugged that device into her present-day laptop, Mick had an entire plethora of unique, 60s media at her fingertips, which she was able to send across to Vivien whenever she pleased. The young brunette was desperate to be as up-to-date with the starlet's media endeavours as her boyfriend and his brothers were, but with her trips to their world few and far between, it was pretty hard to catch up when episodes came out weekly. And when shows like Find Your Voice were already two seasons deep, with each season having what felt like a million episodes (but in reality was only around twenty five), she really had her work cut out for her.

Whilst she'd been slogging through the incredibly cheesy, but hilarious, and often endearing, Find Your Voice alone, she'd restricted herself to only watching Broken Shadows in Royce's company. He may have only recently started warming to Carrie as her own person, but he'd been a somewhat reluctant, yet avid fan of Broken Shadows, and her character, Margot Ashford, since the night the first episode of the supernatural thriller aired. In fact, seeing Carrie play a character like Margot is what first opened him up to the idea of her not being some monster from hell, sent to skin him and his brothers alive and melt their bones down into one of her fancy face creams.

Sure, Margot started off vapid and self-centred (just like how Carrie started off in his eyes), but when the mysterious disappearance of her little brother sent her life into a tailspin, everything about her began to change. She was kicked off the cheer squad, dropped by the popular kids at school, and forced into a pretty major identity crisis - luckily, a ragtag group of her brother's classmates, and his best friend's older brother were there to help pick up the pieces. Within the span of seven, incredible episodes, Margot Ashford went from a prom queen wannabe to a badass monster hunter - hellbent on saving her little brother from the unearthly horrors that had taken over their town. Whilst it was clear to any viewer that Chief Lancaster, and the four children: James, Tommy, Catherine and Louis, were the show's main characters, Margot and Dean's roles as James and Tommy's respective older siblings had won over audiences within a few short scenes, and had quickly become fan favourites. And Royce was no exception. Dean's similarities to Miles cemented his title of 'favourite character' very quickly, and Louis' witty wisecracks always drew a smile, earning him the second place spot. However, Margot's deep, and very believable, devotion to her little brother, as well as her willingness to forego popularity for the sake of her family, was something that, to his surprise, really struck a chord with Royce. And it got him thinking: if Carrie could play this heartfelt role so convincingly, maybe there was hope for her after all…

Before Vivien could spew off further questions about the show's plot though, a gravelly roar rumbled through her laptop speakers that made her stomach drop and the two on-screen teenagers jump apart. "That sounded like the-"

"Ssh!" Royce hushed her, lightly digging her arm as he gestured towards the screen. "You're going to miss one of the best bits."

"I have to go down there," Margot insisted, dragging her gaze from Dean's and fixing it back on the sealed facility door. Nervously rubbing the spot on her wrist his fingers had just occupied, likely still tingling with anticipation, she blinked away the last of her tears and shook the fuzziness from her head, hoping that the warmth spreading across her cheeks would disappear with it.

"That thing sounded close…like, 'Tommy and I when we glued our foreheads together' close," Louis piped up with an uneasy laugh, as usual, trying to hide his fear behind a joke.

Unsurprisingly, no one else could find it in them to laugh along with him. "You don't think it's got him, do you, Dean?" Tommy quietly asked, feeling ten times smaller than he actually was as he pulled on his older brother's sleeve like an anxious kindergartener.

Memories of the towering beast, covered in matted fur and silvery mucus, they'd come face to face with mere hours earlier - the one who'd given him the nasty slash to the eyebrow - flashed through Dean's mind as he held a protective hand to Tommy's back. He didn't need to say anything; they both knew the sound was identical, so the monster had to be down there - any reassurances beyond that would have been wishful thinking.

"It's not going to open; the whole building's gone into lockdown," Catherine called across to Margot, who was fighting a losing battle with the metal door, scanning across the panel of blinking lights on the massive switchboard in front of her.

Letting out a cry of frustration, Margot stumbled backwards after her latest attempts to wrench open the door were thwarted. A strong pair of hands found the small of her back before she could lose her balance completely though, and once again, she found her ragged breaths hitching in her throat.

"Margot, I know you want to help him," Dean softly began, a gentle pity creeping into his voice as he carefully set her back on her feet, trying not to get whipped in the face by her ponytail as she strode towards the door again. "But I can't let you go down there alone."

Margot's fingers closed around the metal handle just as Dean's words registered - a feisty smirk slowly replacing the terrified glower she'd been sporting since they entered the building. "Good," she said, detaching the gun she'd stolen from the security guard they'd knocked out from her chest with one swift tug on the strap. Before Dean had the chance to talk her down further, she turned and pressed the weapon into his arms. "So you're coming with me then."

The girl's forwardness couldn't help but take him by surprise, but the glittering resolve in her eyes made any desire for him to argue with her completely fall out of his head.

"So are we!"

Margot and Dean's heads snapped in the direction of the three children they'd been saddled with looking after, both sporting an identical expression of horror as they chanted a unanimous: "No!"

"So what? You're gonna leave us here unsupervised?" Catherine scoffed, crossing her arms and arching one of her eyebrows.

"James is our best friend, we're not leaving here without him," Tommy said, steeling his voice and puffing out his chest under his older brother's scrutinising stare despite his obvious nerves.

"Yeah, we've got this far, we can't just abandon him now," Louis agreed.

"Are you kids nuts?! We barely kept you safe from that thing once, we are not going to do it twi-"

But Dean's infuriated rant was silenced as Margot let out an exhausted huff and nudged his arm. "If you think you can get them to change their mind then be my guest, but if you ask me, they stopped listening to reason back at Oakwood."

Catherine's mischievous, but fond, grin in the older girl's direction told Dean everything he needed to know. But it was his little brother's determined nod that tipped him over the edge as his grip on the firearm tightened and his head fell back in surrender.

"I knew you were one of the good ones, Marge," Louis hollered with a cheeky laugh as the older girl begrudgingly handed him a flashlight.

As the camera panned away from Margot, Catherine and Louis' collective efforts to open the facility door, Dean caught his brother's arm and bent down to his level. "If any of this gets back to Mom, your life isn't gonna be worth living…and neither will mine - you hear me?"

"What about Faye?" Ah, yes - his girlfriend.

Dean's eyes widened a fraction before refocusing on the thirteen year old, now sitting below a pair of furrowed brows. "What about Faye?" he reiterated, his tone significantly softer than the mildly threatening hiss of his previous statement.

"Well you've never looked at her like that," Tommy said with a hesitant nod in Margot's direction, causing Vivien to grip Royce's arm in anticipation once more.

A million thoughts seemed to race through Dean's head as he stood to his full height again and slowly turned to look at the blonde over his shoulder, heart hammering in his chest as he let his brother's words sink in. At first, too stunned to react, he just stared at the back of her head with his mouth agape, but as he opened himself up to finally accepting the truth he'd been pushing down for the past five episodes, a soft, longing smile started to tug his lips back into shape.

Before Vivien could get herself too excited at the prospect of the on-screen couple finally getting together though, the camera snapped back over to Catherine, and her frantic flipping of the switches beside the huge, industrial door. "It's no use; nothing's working. This thing's never going to open!"

"How are we gonna get down there if we can't get through the door?" Louis asked, nervously toying with the button on his flashlight.

Margot took one glance at their surroundings and settled her gaze on the weathered baseball bat sticking out of the young boy’s backpack. Fierce determination flashed across her face as she swiped it from its cloth holster and effortlessly spun it between her fingers, reading herself in front of the big glass window in front of the control panel. With a smirk directly down the camera lens, the girl reared back and uttered a smooth: “We go with Plan B,” before swinging the bat towards the enormous panel of glass, shattering the entire thing with one blow.

The screen cut to black before the shards could finish raining to the ground like celebratory confetti, but before the credits started to roll, another gravelly roar broke through the silence that had fallen over Vivien’s bedroom – reminding the brunette that the characters’ plights were far from over.

Vivien didn’t dare take a breath until the cast list started scrolling past her eyes, but when she did, it was a huge sigh of relief. “Holy crap, that is way too good to just be a made-up show from the 60s,” she said with a breathless chuckle, tapping the spacebar to pause the video, then reaching across to switch her bedside table lamp on. “Do you think I could just plagiarise the whole plot and sell it to a TV studio? Because I’m 100% sure it would be a hit in our world.”

“Sure, knock yourself out,” Royce laughed. “Do the same for Find Your Voice whilst you’re at it.”

“Find Your Voice is just Glee on crack – and that’s saying something. Trust me, this world’s already suffered enough with one crazy, high school satire set to music, we don’t need to add another one,” Vivien fired back with an amused snort that Royce was quick to replicate.

“What do you want to do now then?” he went on to ask, stretching out across Vivien’s bed like a cat who’d just woken up from a nap. “Do you want to just carry on and finish it?”

“No, I feel like I need to give myself time to process everything that happened in that episode first,” Vivien giggled, taking her hair out of its messy bun only to throw it back up in an ever-so-slightly neater one. “I don’t know if I can handle any more excitement today after watching all that.”

“Oh well you’re definitely going to want to wait to watch the last episode then,” Royce smirked, making Vivien’s eyes widen in amazement. He was soon back to chuckling at her excitable fangirling though as she started spewing off idea after idea about how she thought that the season would wrap itself up in one episode…

“And Dean and Margot have to end up together, right? They can’t make us watch eight episodes of them falling in love and Faye being a stuck-up goody-two-shoes just for him to go running back to her – that’s straight-up torture,” she babbled. “There’s no way that look he gave her at the end didn’t mean something – he’s so in love it’s practically written across his forehead.”

“Maybe he was just admiring her batting arm,” Royce teasingly suggested.

“Yeah right, he’s worse than you when it comes to those big puppy dog eyes," Vivien lovingly chuckled with a roll of her own. Her laughter only continued as Royce's face flooded scarlet and protestations fell from his lips, but she just pressed a kiss to his cheek that soon had them dissipating. "I wouldn't blame him if he was though; Carrie did look pretty badass with that thing."

"I guess the producers of the show thought so too; she's holding it in like every promo shot," said Royce as a smirk curled at his lips. "Miles' workshop is starting to look like a knock off baseball hall of fame."

"Wait, what?"

Deciding to just talk over Vivien's incredulous snorts of laughter as she laid down beside him, Royce went on to explain with an affectionate eye roll. "It's just the guys down at the garage being stupid that's all," he started, but Vivien was soon pleading for more details. "Every time there's a new picture of Carrie in the newspaper, or a magazine, they cut it out and stick it to the wall of his workshop. It's mostly just little clippings, or ads for the shows she's in, but sometimes it's full spreads or pull-out posters. I think one time Spencer even managed to bribe the record shop down the block to sell him a cardboard cutout of her."

"Are you serious?"

"Oh yeah, that thing was so weird. Benny and I made great use of it though; we kept hiding it around the house and scaring Miles shitless," Royce laughed.

"Have you still got it?"

"Probably, I think Miles just shoved it down in the basement somewhere. He wanted to throw it out at first, but he didn't have the heart to go through with it," he said. "Which is also why his workshop looks like it was decorated by a serial killer."

"There's really that many pictures?" asked Vivien with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's insane; they've been adding to it for years - way before they even started dating. Miles said they've been teasing him about her ever since she set foot through the door. He used to get super embarrassed about it, but when they made things official he learned to see the funny side."

"Well if he's got any spare Broken Shadows posters lying around I'll gladly take them off his hands," Vivien fondly chuckled, turning her gaze to her ceiling. "It's just so cool! I can't stop thinking about it. And there is so much potential there for TikTok edits - like a Judas one for Dean and Faye, with Margot being the 'Judas'? How perfect would that be? And the bit where the beat drops could be that bat swing-"

"You really do like it, huh?" Royce laughed, as enraptured by Vivien's passion as ever.

"Is it that obvious?" Vivien snorted, before a smirk curled at her lips. "I don't see what the problem is; making TikTok edits of your boyfriend's brother's girlfriend is totally normal."

Royce couldn't help but chuckle at her sarcasm as his fingers found hers and slowly started to weave between them. "Oh well, at least you're self-aware."

Before the lightly flirtatious teasing could progress any further though, a ping sounded from Vivien's laptop that caught both of their attentions.

"Is it running out of battery again?" Royce asked, following Vivien's lead as she pushed herself into a seated position to check on the notification.

"No, it's just an email from Mick," she explained, tapping the trackpad to increase the size of the pop-up.

"What does Mick want?"

"Nothing, I'd asked her something." One glance in Royce's direction and Vivien knew he'd be questioning her further; curiosity often consumed those rich, caramel irises, and that day was no exception. "I just wanted to know if the new season of Find Your Voice had premiered yet, that's all."

"Well it did, and it made for excellent background noise whilst I did my social studies homework," Royce snorted as he flopped back onto Vivien's mattress and returned his gaze to the popcorn paintwork on her ceiling.

Vivien's stayed glued to her laptop screen though, carefully reading over Mick's email as she gnawed on her bottom lip.

You're in luck; I downloaded the first episode just before we left. And let me tell you, if this is what the whole season's going to be like then we are in for a TREAT! Lela's already brought it up three times, and that was just this morning 😂

You might want to grab a pen before you start watching though because Candace and Tyrone open with Summer Nights - and if I don't see you copying the background dancers' exact moves on opening night then I'll be thoroughly disappointed. Then Nate starts having some sort of senior year crisis and sings some song I can't remember the name of, something about 'being me', but that's irrelevant. One song I do remember being in it though: 2 Be Loved - Belinda, Candace and Loretta literally do a 60s version of a Lizzo song, it's genius! I'll never get over how crazy it is hearing songs from our world in theirs. Make sure you watch it when Miles isn't around though, because he almost had a heart attack when he saw Carrie dancing around in a wedding veil 🤣 Omg and Tyrone does a really good cover of It's Not Unusual, he was such a good addition to the cast, I'm so glad they decided to keep him around - especially because they then literally pull off the best rendition of You Can't Stop the Beat I've ever seen - it's INSANE. And he makes SUCH a good Seaweed! It's mainly Bob and Belinda's number, but him and Carrie were on fire doing the Seaweed and Penny tracks. You're going to love it!

Also, to answer your other question, Lela says that, besides this episode, the only other songs they've done from Grease are Born to Handjive in the Homecoming episode in Season 2, Sandy and Hopelessly Devoted to You, but we don't know when they were. It was definitely back in Season 1, and they were both in the same episode, we just can't remember which one. I seem to think it's six, but Lela's convinced it's five. So maybe just skim through both until you find them - if you even think they'll be any hep at all.

If you need anything else, I'm just a call away. Hope the rehearsals are going well! Break a leg, gremlin! Or should I say, Pink Lady? 😉

Love, Mick ❤️

Wasting no time, Vivien clicked on the attached video file and opened up the latest episode of Find Your Voice, managing to pause it just as the opening credits, and the cast's accompanying rendition of Make Your Own Kind of Music, started to play. The few notes that sounded still caught Royce's attention though, as did the fond smile that had replaced Vivien's thoughtful concentration.

"Woah, how many tabs?" he teasingly questioned, glancing at her laptop screen with an eyebrow raised in incredulity.

There had to be at least fourteen - all of them episodes of Find Your Voice. "Just a couple," she bashfully replied, grinning through the blatant lie.

"You know, some people watch TV shows one episode at a time."

"I'm not just watching them, I'm using them to help me practise for this semester's show," Vivien explained. "I know it's dumb and cheesy, but so is the musical we're doing, and it's way out of my comfort zone. I just thought that watching some of these performances might give me a little more confidence, or help me get into character, I don't know - I'm willing to try anything at this point; I need all the help I can get."

A miserable frown was not something Royce often saw his girlfriend sporting, and in that moment, he felt incredibly grateful for that. His eyebrows knitted together as he reached over and gently entwined their fingers together again, soon quietening her disgruntled huff as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "You'll be fine, Viv," he reassured her. "You'll find your groove after a few more rehearsals; you always do."

Vivien was reluctant to believe him, but she still managed a small smile in response. The circles Royce was rubbing into the back of her hand did wonders to settle her nerves though; within seconds she could feel tension easing from her shoulders. It was like he was an archaeologist, uncovering her true potential by brushing all her stress and doubts away with a delicate touch and a fluffy brush. "Thanks, Rolls," she sighed, melting under his warm, caramel gaze as though she was the scoop of ice cream he'd just been drizzled over.

"Whatever you need, Vivien Leigh," he breathed into her skin as he sat up and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek.

Her face couldn't help but split into a giddy smile as she felt his lips lingering by her dimple, knowing from touch alone that he was grinning just as hard as she was. Butterflies fluttered in her chest as his breath tickled the wispy baby hairs that had been left behind by the rest of her chestnut locks, held up on the top of her head with a lilac scrunchie, knowing he was desperately trying to distract her from rearranging all the tabs she had open on her laptop. "As much as I love this, I've got to start practising for my rehearsal on Monday - I've been putting it off all week as it is, and it's only going to stress me out more the longer I leave it."

Royce pulled back a few inches. She could tell he was disappointed, but a loving gleam lingered in his eyes all the same. "You want me to help you learn your lines?" he suggested hopefully, still toying with her hand as though he never wanted to let it go.

"No!" Vivien hurriedly stuttered, eyes momentarily widening in horror as her cheeks flared scarlet. But when Royce's eyebrows knitted together, and he leant even further back from her side, she rushed to dispel his concern. "I just- I don't even have that many lines to learn anyway, there's no point," she tried with a lop-sided, apologetic smile.

"Oh yeah? Or do you just not want to be subjected to my awful acting skills?" he asked with a chuckle and a wiggle of his eyebrows that immediately set Vivien's mind at ease.

Letting herself laugh along with him, she rested her head in the crook of his neck and snuggled into his side, drinking in the comforting scent of citrus and vanilla clinging to his clothes. "They're not awful, don't say that," she quietly pouted as she pressed a protective kiss to his shoulder. She never did like it when Royce put himself down - not when she thought the world of him. "It's more the singing and dancing that I'm worried about anyway."

"So you're turning to Find Your Voice for help?" Royce snorted.

"I guess I'm just hoping that if I watch enough episodes, some of Carrie's acting magic will rub off on me," she admitted with a bashful chuckle, only half-joking. Yes, she'd gotten that desperate.

"You know she's just sat downstairs, right?"

"Yeah…but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well if you want her help, why don't you just go and ask her for it?"

It took Vivien a few seconds to fully register what Royce had said, but when she did, she slowly sat up and turned to him with the same look on her face as when he'd predicted the big twist in The Empire Strikes Back 10 minutes before the scene even started. "You're so right… Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because I'm the smart one?" Royce teasingly offered, earning him a playful shove to the shoulder. All it took was one shocked scoff of affront for Vivien to crumble and lovingly cup his cheek with her hand though.

"No, I think I was just too busy being distracted," she giggled softly, lovingly running the pad of her thumb across the swathe of freckles decorating his skin. "But you are very smart," she reassured with a quick kiss to the opposite cheek. Pushing her laptop aside and pulling her legs up underneath her, she went on to ask: "You really think she'd agree to help me with it? Isn't she busy with her own stuff?"

"You really expect me to know any of Carrie's business?" Royce snorted with another quirk of his eyebrow that soon set his girlfriend off laughing. "And I don't know, I don't see why not. It's at least worth asking."

Vivien's gaze drifted back to her laptop screen whilst she thought, where an image of a girl, only a year or two older than Vivien, with big, square glasses, and her golden curls tamed into two braids, resting atop a preppy tennis sweater, stood, draping herself over the bleacher stands and gazing dreamily back at the camera - an image Vivien had stared at far too many times after the musical's cast list had been pinned to the theatre department's door. If she could bottle even just a little bit of the magic in that performance to keep in reserve for her opening night then it would make all the difference. It was hard enough trying to remember all of the damn lines and choreography for this godforsaken show - and keeping it a secret from everyone was just making it ten times harder. Maybe a confidant could be the ticket to get her through this nightmare - especially if they could offer some acting tips along the way…

"You're right, let's go," she said, snapping her laptop shut with resolve and propelling herself off her bed before she could talk herself out of the idea.

Surely Carrie wouldn't turn her down. All she really needed was a little confidence boost with her singing…and help remembering a couple of her lines. That wasn't a lot to ask. It was just a little favour - and friends do favours for each other all the time… They were friends, right? No, of course they were friends; she hadn't just been hanging out with her over Christmas break because she felt like she had to, had she?

…Shit.

"Tu devrais les prendre."

"Je ne veux pas les prendre."

"Pourquoi pas?"

"Ils me font tourner la tête, et je ne peux pas marcher tant que leur effet ne s'estompe pas."

"I wouldn't put the emphasis on 'peux pas' if I were you; it doesn't make sense for what you're saying. If anything, put it on 'head'- 'tête'. And try to soften the 'sh' sound in 'marcher'; it's coming out a little harsh."

"Marcher?"

"Mhm."

"Ils me font tourner la tête, et je ne peux pas marcher tant que leur effet ne s'estompe pas."

"Much better," Miles grinned, proudly glancing up from the stack of papers in his hand at his temporary scene partner before continuing to read aloud. "Pourquoi avez-vous besoin de marcher?"

"Parce que je suis poursuivi par des voyous. Et j'ai besoin d'aller à Londres… J'ai besoin de rendre visite à un ami."

"You have a friend in London?" Royce asked, jumping into the conversation with a raised eyebrow and a smirk governing his expression as he and Vivien rounded the corner into the O'Brians' living room.

The question was aimed at a certain curly-haired blonde, but it was Miles that answered. "Hey, that's my line!" he scoffed, chuckling at his younger brother before reading it out in French. "Vous avez un ami à Londres?"

"...Do you speak English, Gabriel?" Carrie replied in a thick, Eastern European accent. If Vivien had to place it, it sounded Russian.

"A little," Miles - or Gabriel, if he was taking the script read-through as seriously as his girlfriend was - continued. "Why?" Judging by the edge of boredom in his voice, and the yawn he failed to stifle, he definitely wasn't.

"Ugh, all you do is ask questions… You're just like Mikhail."

"Who's Mikhail?" It was Vivien's turn to ask this time as she padded further into the room, perching herself on the arm of the sofa beside where Miles was sprawled out.

The twenty-two-year-old turned to her with wide eyes and a grin he tried to hide behind an astonished snort. He held Vivien's gaze for a second before rolling Carrie's script into a tube and lightly whacking her on the arm with it. "Quit stealing my lines, you two!" he scolded through a laugh.

Vivien was quick to chuckle along with him, forgetting all about the question she'd asked until she found it being answered by the blonde sat across from them. "He's kind of like my mentor… Well, he was before I shot him," Carrie said, with that same Russian accent and a casually foreboding smirk that was gone in the blink of an eye. "A character in Chasing Down Chelsea," she then clarified, back to her usual voice and bright smile as she bit back a giggle and lazily twirled the pencil she held between her fingers.

"So we can listen to you practise your lines for the show now, but we can't watch it?" Royce asked with a pointed look between the blonde and his older brother. To him, the decision felt totally irrational.

"That's on Miles, not me," Carrie said, deflecting the blame as easily as she brushed the eraser shavings from the sketch pad in her lap.

"I don't see how it's unreasonable for me to not want you watching my girlfriend smash some guy's head against a brick wall."

"It's not real, Miles.”

"Yeah, no shit, Royce. I'd just rather you didn't have the image of her violently killing people burned into your brains every time we have her over for dinner," he grumbled, well-versed in the complexities of this argument since the two had had it several times since the show aired a few months ago. "Is that too much to ask?"

"Is it really that violent?" Bentley leant over to ask the blonde beside him, voice hushed as though he was wary of even asking the question.

"That one was; I slammed the fake head we were using into the wall so hard it burst like a watermelon."

Bentley's eyes widened in horror, partly because of the image the words created, partly because of the older girl's nonchalance. "Seriously?"

"Mhm," she hummed before glancing up from her sketch pad and meeting Bentley's alarmed gaze with a chillingly sinister, but almost playful smirk. "It was really gooey," she added, momentarily slipping back into the Russian accent and borderline psychotic mannerisms of her character as she wiggled her eyebrows in the younger boy's direction.

"Eww, stop, I don't like how you just switch like that, it freaks me out!" Bentley protested. He shoved her arm and seemingly pushed the Russian assassin out of the driver's seat in her mind, because the next time he looked at Carrie, the kindness in her blue eyes had returned, and the giggles slipping from her lips were far too bubbly to have come from Grusha's. Her apology was appreciated, but it was her reassuring wink and familiar jokes that finally set him at ease beside her again - enough to not flinch every time she so much as looked in his direction at least.

With a heavy sigh, Miles abandoned the argument with his younger brother and turned to the girl on his left. "Did you need something, kiddo?" he asked her, mustering a smile as he went on to joke: "Or are you just here to relieve me of my duties?"

Vivien snorted as Miles quickly flipped through Carrie's script and attempted to hand it over to her, but when it came time to answer she found herself having to drop her gaze to her lap before she could respond. "Uh yeah, I kinda need some help with something for school."

Miles was pushing himself into a seated position before Vivien had even finished talking. "Sure thing, what do you need? Math? Science? History?"

"Actually, I need Carrie."

Carrie's head snapped up like a shot, almost having to do a double take to check that she'd heard the girl right. But when she saw the brunette offering her a hopeful smile, and felt each of the Murphy brothers' gazes fall to her, her mouth finally stopped opening and closing and settled into a tentative smile. "Uh… Okay, sure," she stammered, visibly taken aback, but also taken up by the request as she hurriedly set her sketchpad aside and pushed herself from the sofa.

Bentley was quick to grab her wrist and pull her back though. "Woah, woah, woah, what do you think you're doing?"

If Carrie didn't already look confused before, she definitely did now. "Um… Helping Vivi?" she tried, almost second-guessing herself from the look Bentley gave her alone. For someone who was usually so sure of herself, no one could flummox her like Miles' family.

"What happened to Bentley-Carrie bonding time?" he demanded, gesturing to the sketchpad in his lap, identical to the one Carrie had just cast aside like a used napkin.

"What happened to what now?" Royce asked with a hard, baffled blink in his little brother's direction, as though screwing his eyes shut could rid the thought from his mind. Bile rose at the back of his throat at the very concept.

"We've been at this for forty five minutes and you're just going to bail before I get to see the end product?" Bentley said, totally ignoring Royce in favour of tearing a chunk out of Carrie's frozen exterior.

The blonde's eyes darted from Bentley, to Vivien, and back again in bewildered horror, totally at a loss of what to do. Was she being pranked right now? Were they doing this on purpose to make her feel this uncomfortable? Because if so, it was definitely working. No matter what she picked, she'd be disappointing someone, so now it just became a game of favourites, and that was dangerous territory she did not want to be wading into, not when she was finally starting to make tracks in the right direction with her boyfriend's family. God, she felt like she was back in high school taking her calculus final. The very thought made her palms begin to sweat.

It was the disheartened slump of Bentley's shoulders, despite his jokingly accusatory smirk, that finally got Carrie to cave though, as she let out a sigh and sat back down beside him. "You're right, I need to finish this first," she agreed with a somewhat stiff nod as she awkwardly leant over to retrieve her borrowed sketchpad. The uncertainty of her movements, and the fretful glances that still flitted between Bentley and Vivien told the pair she wasn't as convinced she'd made the right decision as she sounded though, and soon turned to covering her back just in case. "Just give me like two minutes, Vivi, and then I'm all yours. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Royce muttered under his breath, more out of habit than anything. His previous lack of trust in the older girl clearly ran deep, and old habits die hard.

Even if Carrie managed to hear him over the panicked, fuzzy, thumping of blood in her ears, she didn't acknowledge it. "It's not urgent, is it?" she went on to ask the brunette, further concern flashing across her face and furrowing her brows.

"Oh no, it's not urgent at all, draw away," Vivien chuckled, more amused than anything at the older girl's earnest dismay over the thought of disappointing one of her boyfriend's family members. "You've really been at that for forty five minutes?" she added once Carrie's grip on her pencil had relaxed enough for her to start using it again.

"Yeah and we've only managed one picture," Bentley quipped back with a playful roll of his eyes. “Slowest drawing competition of my life.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to get it perfect,” Carrie said, protectively shielding her sketch pad as she frowned down at the page in concentration. “You’re gonna wish you’d spent more time on yours when you see this anyway.”

“Oh yeah? Feeling confident?” Bentley chuckled.

“Absolutely, I think this is some of my best work,” Carrie grinned as she proudly put the finishing details to her masterpiece. Once she deemed the drawing complete, she set her pencil down and hugged the sketch pad to her chest. “Alright, I’m ready if you are.”

“What do you think I’ve been pestering you about for the last twenty minutes?” Bentley snorted as he flipped over the cover of his own sketch pad.

“Tell you what, Viv, to make up for making you wait, why don’t you judge them?” Carrie offered, placing Bentley’s sketch pad on top of hers and shuffling them between her hands.

“Woah, woah, woah, I thought I was judging,” Miles piped up in indignation.

“Are you kidding me? You are way too biased,” Carrie fired back.

“How is he biased?” Bentley asked.

“How is Miles ‘I’d do anything for my perfect, little angel brothers’ biased?” Carrie’s quirked eyebrow and mocking tone said it all. “He’d put me in last place before he even looked at yours.”

“Oh that’s not the only reason I’d be putting you in last place,” Miles chuckled under his breath, which earned him a defensive, withering glare from his girlfriend.

“At least Vivi’s got a higher chance of judging fairly,” she continued, holding the now-anonymised sketch pads out to the brunette with a hopeful, yet slightly warning smile. “Right, Vivi?”

“Sure, I can be impartial,” she laughed as she collected the entries from the blonde and perched herself back on the arm of the sofa beside Miles.

As Carrie returned to her prickly, but still friendly, bickering with Bentley and Miles, Vivien flipped open the sketch pads. Immediately she found herself having to bite back a laugh at the stark contrast in art styles, but she was less easily able to control the amused grin that grew with every new detail she noticed about each picture. “Well…” she eventually started, quickly snagging the attention of the competition entrants. “As much as I love Loki,” she said with a fond nod in the direction of the St Bernard whose likeness had been captured perfectly in graphite by one of the artists. “I don’t think he can beat a cow in a party hat.”

Bentley and Carrie’s faces were a picture all on their own.

“A cow in a party hat?” Bentley slowly asked, thinking he had to have misheard the girl.

“I thought we were both supposed to draw Loki,” Carrie said.

“We were both supposed to draw Loki,” Bentley confirmed as they both turned their appalled gazes back to one very confused brunette.

One of them had well and truly missed the mark here - and from the looks on their faces, neither one thought it was them.

“Well this one’s definitely Loki,” Vivien sheepishly tried, before turning her attention to the other picture, holding it in all different orientations to try to help its case. “And this one… Uh… It's really not a cow in a party hat?"

“Come on, kiddo, let me see,” Miles said, finishing up scratching Loki behind the ears and sitting up to come to the girl’s rescue.

Vivien held out the sketch pad in dispute to the older brunet, but all it took was one look at the drawing for Miles to burst out laughing. Unlike Vivien, he made no attempts to hold back his laughter. And each subsequent look he dared at the picture, every time he tried to calm himself down enough to offer some helpful insight, just set him off laughing even harder.

“Carrie, what the fuck did you do?” he asked between snatched breaths, literally having to wipe tears from his eyes.

"What do you mean? Why are you automatically assuming it's mine?!" Carrie indignantly exclaimed.

"Well did you draw this?" Miles asked, grabbing the other sketch pad from Vivien and turning it around to show her.

"...No," she dejectedly admitted.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," Miles snorted before taking another glance at his girlfriend's drawing and having to hide his face in his hands in an attempt to muffle the guffaws that sprung from his lips. "Oh my god, it's so shit."

"Miles, I worked really hard on that!" Carrie exclaimed with a betrayed frown, not-so-accidentally digging his shin with her heel as she leant across the space between them on the L-shaped sofa and took Bentley's drawing from him. She studied the sketch of the dog for several seconds, blue eyes widening in awe as they inspected each pencil stroke. "You really did this in twenty minutes?"

"Well, it was more like twenty five, but yeah," he admitted with a quiet chuckle as the older girl marvelled at his artwork.

"Damn, you really are good at this, huh?" Carrie breathed before turning to him and quite literally beaming with pride. "You've got a real talent, Benny. It looks just like him!"

"Thanks," he said with a bashful smile that threatened to twist into a smirk at any moment. "...I'm guessing yours doesn't?"

Carrie deflated like a balloon as Bentley's teasing words registered and his laughter filled their space. "I think it does," she gently defended as Bentley rose from the sofa and went to go and look at the girl's drawing over Vivien's shoulder - clearly ready to form his own opinion on the matter.

"Come on, Miles," he started, passing his older brother and lightly pushing his shoulder in an attempt to get his merciless laughter to die down. "It can't be that… Oh…"

In Carrie's defence, if she'd been drawing a cow in a party hat, like Vivien had thought, she'd have done a pretty decent job. The quirky doodle, with its wiggly linework and copious eraser smudges, had its own sort of abstract charm. But its resemblance to the O'Brians' beloved St Bernard was virtually non-existent.

"Hey, you're right, it does look like a cow in a party hat," Royce chuckled, joining Bentley in inspecting the picture over Vivien's shoulder.

"Where's this whole 'party hat' thing coming from?" Carrie asked, defensively crossing her arms and going to investigate for herself.

"Well else could that thing be?" Vivien asked, pointing to the lopsided, pointy triangle balanced atop the creature's head. "I just figured you'd given him a cute little hat."

"That's his ear."

All three teens turned to Carrie in unison, each stuck in various places on the spectrum between confused and amused. Miles had sky-rocketed off the end of that scale long ago though, and this latest revelation only had him laughing harder.

"It's not actually that bad if you just…" Bentley trailed off, but as he realised that squinting at the picture didn't do it any favours other than turning it into an indistinguishable grey blob, the rest of the compliment fell out of his head.

“Hold on,” Royce started, frowning as he leant closer to the picture. “If it’s not a cow then why did you give it an udder?”

Carrie looked mortified. “I didn’t give it a- …That’s his leg!”

That was the last straw for Miles. A collective, stunned silence fell over the group after the blonde’s latest admission, but it was another of his uncontrollable belly-laughs that broke it – slipping through his fingers like the bar of fancy, milk and honey soap sat by the sink in his girlfriend’s bathroom. And her attempts at rationalising the lumpy limb’s real role only made her case worse. “Holy shit, Carrie, stop; I’m gonna pee,” he spluttered, his entire body curling in on itself as he clutched his sides and struggled for breath.

Bentley almost took a chunk out of his cheek from biting it so hard; he found Miles' laughter was infectious at the best of times, but when he was so close to giggling himself, it was like kryptonite.

Royce, however, seemed much less concerned about concealing his snort of laughter, or his subsequent, teasing remarks. "Oh well, at least I'm not the worst Pictionary player in the family anymore."

Before Carrie could chastise the smirking brunet though, his girlfriend piped in with a ribbing remark of her own. "Yeah, just put Miles and Carrie on a team together and their combined abilities even out to one, average player."

"Hey, do you want my help or not?" Carrie demanded. The young couple's fond giggles, and matching, amused smirks weren't nearly as adorable as she usually found them when they were at her expense.

If Vivien didn't know how much of a teddy bear Carrie was underneath that warning glare, she'd probably have been pretty scared. But the glance she shared with Royce, who was totally unphased by the older girl's indignant defending, left her a giggling mess.

"You know they're making you a patron of the arts at our high school, right?" he continued with a scoff of incredulity as he plucked the sketchpad out of Bentley's grasp. The pencil Carrie was still clutching practically drew his smirk itself. "I think they'd revoke your title if they got a look at this."

Ignoring her boyfriend's reaction to the comment, and the peals of laughter that followed, Carrie crossed her arms and let out a weary huff. "There's more to 'the arts' than drawing, Royce." Before adding a prickly, yet theatrical: "I'm just covering the 'dramatic' ones."

"You can say that again," Miles snorted, unable to help himself. Luckily, his brothers' guffaws lessened the sting of Carrie's blistering scowl.

"Look, you guys can laugh all you want, but I think I did a good job," she said, taking the sketch pad from Royce with a dejected sigh. "At least by my standards anyway…" Despite all the ridiculing, there was still a little sliver of pride for the art piece nestled away in her heart that had yet to be defeated. "I know it doesn't look exactly like Loki, but it still looks like a dog to me." And for Carrie, that was a win in itself.

The blonde's cheeks, flushed with insecurity, were pulled aside by a small smile that melted Vivien's resolve in seconds. "Yeah, now I know that's a leg, I can kind of see it," she attempted with a peace offering in the form of a hopeful, lopsided grin.

The gesture was completely lost on Royce though, who took another look at the drawing over Carrie's shoulder before letting out a flat: "I can't."

Utterly defeated, and too put out by the Murphy brothers all ganging up on her to bother retaliating verbally, she held Royce's mirthful gaze for a beat before resorting to a whack to the back of his skull instead. Luckily for Carrie, the gentle thump with the sketch pad, although cushioned by his halo of mahogany curls, got her message across, judging by the apologetic look Royce eventually shot her once his chuckles had died down.

"Damn, are we ever going to find something in common?" It was Bentley's turn to let out a chuckle now. "You can't play video games, I can't cook, you can't draw-"

"Hey, I can play video games," Carrie jumped in with a look of dismay, followed by a sheepish: "...just not well." Even though Bentley had clearly been joking around, the element of truth behind his words speared Carrie's heart like she was about to be roasted on a spit. "I like it when you sit and show me the stuff on your game with the talking animals though," she gently pressed on, desperate to remedy her inadequacy in his eyes. "And I'm getting better at Mario Kart, I swear. I only came last in like two of the races last time we played."

"I know, I know," Bentley smiled through a breathy laugh, laying a hand on her shoulder to stop her neurotic babbling. "I just thought with how good you are with your makeup and stuff that art might have been our thing, you know?"

The fact alone that Bentley wanted to have a 'thing' they could bond over could have set Carrie off blubbering if she let herself think about it for too long. But to know that, and realise that she'd blown it because she had the drawing abilities of a preschooler, was almost too much for her to bear. "I'm sorry, Benny. I did try, I promise."

"I know you did, it's ok," he smiled, giving the older girl's shoulder a reassuring squeeze to try to get some of the stardust that usually coursed through her veins back into circulation. Her dull, dejected demeanour was almost as unnerving to him as her impression of the Russian assassin character from earlier. "I'll think of something else for next time, don't worry."

"If you still want to do art stuff, I could get a colouring book," she offered with a hopeful smile. But it was the lively glimmer still lurking in her eye that convinced Bentley her ego hadn't suffered any permanent damage. Although, the jury’s next comment put in a damn good effort.

"Nah, I think you should just give the drawing thing another go; you might do a better job next time if you keep your eyes open."

"Oh shut up, Miles. Don't be an ass," Carrie snapped. If she'd had a mouth as big as Butchy claimed she did, she'd have bitten his head clean off. Instead, she just had to grumble at him under her breath and bore holes into the back of his skull.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't get all grumpy with me; it's alright," he started, choosing to ignore every warning sign he'd become acquainted with since the start of their relationship in favour of poking the curly, blonde bear a little harder. Carrie should have known from his poorly hidden smirk and the mischievous glint in his eye that he wasn't going to offer any real condolences, yet she listened attentively anyway. "Our kids can just get all their artistic genes from me."

Carrie scoffed so hard Bentley thought she was about to bring up a hairball. "Yeah right, like I'm having any kids with you," she said, jerking the patterned throw pillow out from behind his head and smacking him across the face with it. Miles' comedic comebacks were swiftly drowned out by her taking the pillow and shoving it into his face though, smothering his laughter, but not the playful bickering that ricocheted back and forth between them like a tennis game being replayed at double speed. "Come on then, hot shot," Carrie finally conceded, using the time it took for her to toss the pillow aside to wipe away the grin threatening to emerge from her frustrated frown. "If you're so confident then you can show me how it's done."

Graciously accepting the outheld sketch pad and pencil, Miles teased with a smirk, "Do I have to keep my eyes closed?"

"No, but I think you'd better keep your mouth closed before you end up sleeping on the sofa tonight," Carrie fired back, taking his smirk and doubling it.

There was something swimming in those cerulean irises that gave Miles pause though, as though he was only now realising that he may have waded into dangerous waters. "...How much wiggle room have I got to work with here?" he asked with a cautiously optimistic quirk of his eyebrow.

"Put it this way: the ice you're skating on right now, pal…razor thin."

If her words weren't enough to send a bolt of dread down his spine, the menacing gleam in her eyes made it feel as though she'd taken that ice and shoved a fistful of it down his pants. Maybe it was time to start taking her warnings seriously after all. "Alright, alright, I'll reign it in," he said, daring a timid chuckle. To his relief, his girlfriend appeared satisfied with the act of surrender. Although, she didn't retract the outstretched sketch pad and pencil. "...Wanna trade?" he tried as that optimistic eyebrow quirk of his made a comeback, readying to accept the art supplies with one hand whilst trying to offload the script with the other. If he was already in hot water, he might as well try to get out of 'readthrough' duty whilst he was at it.

Carrie plucked her script from his grasp like it was a rogue eyebrow hair. "It would be my pleasure," she simpered, leaving her boyfriend with a sickly sweet smirk, dripping with disdain, before turning to his younger brothers. "You know the drill, boys," she said with a relaxed sigh, signature smirk still stuck firmly in place. "Keep him in line while I'm gone."

"Yes, ma'am," Bentley barked through a mischievous grin as Royce just snorted out a laugh and shook his head. Bentley's little salute didn't go amiss though, earning him a soft giggle from the blonde as she breezed past him.

Before she could get too far across the room though, a familiar voice snagged her attention.

"What? I don't get a kiss goodbye?"

"Not after that performance," Carrie scoffed in the face of his incredulity. She didn't know what set the three teens off giggling more: her response or Miles' reaction to it.

"Ooh, hear that, Loki? Sounds like you won't be the only one in the doghouse tonight," Vivien joked, giving the dog an affectionate pat on the head as she passed him on her way to follow Carrie.

Even though his brothers clearly saw the funny side of Vivien's comment, all Miles could do was look on at his girlfriend in nervous dismay as her annoyance with him didn't seem to be shifting, and the brunette's words grew ever closer to coming true. "Love you?" he tried with a hopeful, loving smile. But it felt as though he was bracing himself for disaster.

And despite the fact that Carrie returned the smile, the satisfied mischief twinkling in her eyes told him that he'd been right to prepare.

"Nope, still not working," she sing-songed. "Between that and leaving your wet towel on my side of the bed, you're gonna have to do a lot better than 'love you' to get back in my good books, mister," she finished, taking an extra dig with her impression of him for good measure. A warning smile and an ominous toss of her hair later, she finally swanned into the hall, trailing a cloud of heady perfume, and a young figure skater, behind her. "Alright, Vivi, I'm all yours," she sighed, letting the tension melt out of her posture as she turned to the girl with a soft, expectant grin. "What do you need?"

Before she got the chance to reply though, the sound of Royce and Bentley ruthlessly teasing their older brother between outbursts of laughter made her pause. She glanced over her shoulder, into the room she'd just vacated, and immediately felt a nervous twisting of her stomach. "Uh…could we maybe go somewhere else first?" she shyly asked.

Carrie's eyes widened a fraction, but her surprise couldn't trump her concerned affection. "Sure, whatever you need," she said with an earnest nod.

Feeling the need to explain herself, given Carrie's evident confusion, Vivien said, "It's just… I don't want the guys overhearing anything, you know?"

"Why not?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing as Vivien started to lead the way to the staircase. Before she could get too far though, she felt a firm hand on her arm pulling her back. "Is it, like…girl stuff?"

"No, I already said it's about school," Vivien couldn't help but chuckle at the older girl's intensity. "I just don't want anyone else finding out about it yet, that's all."

Somewhat satisfied by the younger girl's answer, but still admittedly a little befuddled, Carrie let Vivien lead her through the house and up to her bedroom, where bookshelves overflowed, pictures of her friends scattered across the walls like constellations and skating trophies stood to attention on their respective shelves, like proud little, golden soldiers. The soft, blue walls were welcoming - a weighted blanket closing around her shoulders to calm her nerves - but the many sets of eyes trained on her from the multitude of polaroids on the pinboard across from her added even more pressure to the buttload she'd already piled on herself. After all, it wasn't everyday that your boyfriend's little brother's girlfriend turned to you for advice. This was a big deal (at least to her anyway), and she couldn't afford to blow it, no matter how much her bank account might make you think otherwise.

Even without societal expectations and pressures though, Carrie really cared about Vivien. And whilst they'd made significant progress with their friendship, especially of late, she knew that there was a good number of other people Vivien would usually turn to for help ahead of her. Still, she had to have been chosen to be the one for her to confide in for a reason, right? Even if she didn't fully understand why, Carrie knew that Vivien was depending on her. And she'd be damned if she didn't do everything in her power to make sure that she didn't let her down. But first, she needed to know…

"Alright, what's wrong?"

Carefully closing the door behind her and crossing over to stand at the foot of the girl's bed, Carrie folded her arms across her chest, face a picture of concern.

Vivien took one look at her before flopping down on the edge of her mattress in defeat, already losing her nerve now that it came time to actually admit it.

“It’s not something bad, is it?” Carrie pressed on. "Because if it is, I can still help, but I might need to tell someone else about it. I mean, I'll help you first, obviously, but if it's like life-or-death stuff then your parents should probably-"

"It's not that big of a deal, don't worry," Vivien said, letting out a weary chuckle.

“Well it obviously is to you if you're getting this worked up about it," Carrie gently replied.

"Is it that easy to tell?"

Despite the self-pitying laugh, Vivien's melancholy gaze stayed fixed on her lavender rug, sprouting fluffy fronds from the floorboards like grass from an alien planet - one she'd rather like to escape to if it meant she could avoid her current situation - but she felt the mattress sag beside her all the same.

"You've just seemed a little quiet the last few days we've been here, that's all - like you've got a lot on your mind."

"Understatement of the century," Vivien snorted sarcastically. But the moment of frivolity was gone just as quickly as it arrived - emerald eyes switching back to dull sea glass with one blink.

She flinched at first when the palm met her back, but as the warmth from it spread through her sweatshirt, a wave of comfort washed over her, and all of a sudden, the prospect of opening up to the older girl didn't seem nearly as daunting.

"You can talk to me, you know, Viv?" Carrie tentatively pressed. "It's not like I'm going to judge you or anything; believe me, I'm in no position to. I just want to help."

"Yeah, I know," she said with a grateful sigh as the blonde's impassioned reassurances finally managed to nudge her floodgates open. "I just…really don't know what to do."

"Okay…" Carrie trailed off, pausing to think before attempting a hesitant joke. "Well, that's somewhere to start, at least." After pulling a chuckle from Vivien's lips, and stopping to assess the situation again, she double-checked: "And you're absolutely sure you're not in any kind of trouble?"

"I'm positive. Trust me, the only thing in danger right now is my dignity," Vivien scoffed. With a heavy, reluctant sigh, she deconstructed the last of her barricade and poured out her soul to a pair of worried, yet expectant blue eyes. "You know how I'd mentioned my school's theatre department were putting on Grease this semester?" Carrie nodded, curls bouncing like marionette puppets. "And how I'd said I was just going to go for a part in the ensemble so that I could focus on my extra-credit assignments?" Again, the blonde nodded, and Vivien had to swallow down the bundle of nerves creeping up her throat. "Well…that's not exactly how it worked out." That same concerned confusion started to surface in Carrie's eyes again, and the desire to put her pretty little mind at ease was the only thing that pushed Vivien to keep talking. "I kind of…got the lead," she finally admitted, fixing the older girl with a sheepish smile to try to lessen the shock.

As soon as the words left her mouth, it was like a bomb had gone off in Carrie's head - explosives setting her eyes alight and shrapnel splintering her surprise into a smile. "Are you serious?" she breathed, as though saying it any louder might make it untrue. But as soon as the brunette confirmed it, a grin split across her face, so bright she could have joined the lighting crew as a spotlight. "Oh my god, Vivi, that's incredible! Congratulations!" she exclaimed, sweeping her up in a hug.

"Thanks," Vivien managed, struggling not to suffocate in the overpowering, but oddly comforting, haze of bergamot, peaches, and argan oil. If the girl's scent wasn't enough to leave her breathless, the strength with which she held her to her chest certainly did. She had to admit it was kind of nice though: the ferocity of her love, the intensity of her affection… Even if, to her, it felt unwarranted.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner? We could have done something special to celebrate-"

"I wasn't going to tell you at all," Vivien admitted with a snort once Carrie finally let her go.

That revelation killed off a good chunk of the blonde's excitement though. "...Why not?"

Vivien regretted her blunt delivery as soon as she saw how hurt Carrie looked by it. "No, I- I wasn't just not going to tell you guys, I didn't want anyone to know," she hurriedly explained before letting out a heavy sigh. "I still don't really. Well, apart from you."

Whilst the older girl's apprehension was still evident, the fact that she'd been deemed an exception made her feathers ruffle with pride. "But this is huge, Vivi. Why would you want to keep it a secret?"

If Carrie thought she'd opened the floodgates before, she broke the whole dam with that question.

"Because it's turning out to be my biggest nightmare," Vivien confessed, springing up from her bed and hastily shaking her hair out of its messy updo - hoping that was the cause of her incoming headache, rather than all the stress she'd put herself under lately. As her ramblings continued, she started to pace the floor, wildly throwing her arms out to exaggerate points, as though they'd finally been allowed to roam free after being held captive alongside all her thoughts on the matter. "I don't know the first thing about being a perfect, girl-next-door from the 50s, or some sex-symbol for guys to drool over. I mean look at me, I'm about as far from Sandy as you could get, without having to give me a dick. And every rehearsal I have is just making me feel worse about it all; I keep forgetting my lines, I can't remember any of the dance routines, and every time I try to sing, it sounds like I've been strapped to one of those damn massage chairs at the mall. I didn't even want the part in the first place, Ivy just made me audition with her because she was too nervous to go in on her own. I just wanted to be in the ensemble - or, I don't know, Jan. Not the female lead! God. And I can't stop thinking about how you guys are all going to be sitting in the audience on opening night with these big, excited smiles on your faces, waiting for me to be great, when I know that I'm not, and it makes me feel sick because I'm just going to disappoint you all 'cause I can't even get one note out without-"

"Hey, hey, hey, stop that, you're not going to disappoint anyone," Carrie jumped in, stopping Vivien in her tracks as she firmly took her hands in hers. "You could walk across that stage once, without even saying a word, and we'd all give you a standing ovation, you know that," she added with a reassuring chuckle.

"I know," Vivien sighed, trying to focus her attention on the softness of Carrie's hands rather than the stress tears that were starting to prick at her pupils. "I just don't want to embarrass myself up there," she quietly admitted.

"You won't," Carrie assured her. "You just need time to process everything, that's all. The more familiar you get with the material, the easier it'll stick in your head, I promise."

"What if it doesn't ever feel familiar though? I don't know the first thing about being a leading lady," Vivien murmured.

"No one does the first time," Carrie chuckled. "Just fake it 'til you make it; that's what I do."

"You've had to bluff your way through acting roles before?"

"You think I went into my first Chasing Down Chelsea audition knowing fluent Russian?" she laughed, matching Vivien's quirked eyebrow with ease.

It was hard to picture Carrie as anything other than confident, especially when it came to her acting. But it was reassuring for Vivien to know that the starlet had experienced the same jitters she was battling; at least that way she knew her advice came from a genuine place.

"I know it all feels pretty daunting right now, but you can do this, Vivi, I promise. After all, your teacher cast you for a reason, right?" Carrie continued with an encouraging smile that had the brunette melting like a pad of butter on a stack of pancakes.

"Thanks, Carrie," Vivien said with a contented sigh, bringing her arms up around the blonde's shoulders and pulling her close. Part of it was to show her gratitude, part of it was to seek a little bit more of that delicious comfort she'd been indulging in for the past ten minutes, and the rest was just a last-ditch attempt to try to get some of the actress' star power to rub off on her before her next rehearsal.

"You're welcome," Carrie softly grinned, leaning back in the embrace to check her expression for further clues of uncertainty before she continued. "Was that all you needed then? A little pep talk?"

"Actually…" Vivien trailed off, trying to gather together what was left of her courage before attempting the next proposal. "I was wondering if you'd be able to help me learn my part."

Carrie froze, shimmering lips parted in astonishment. "...Really?"

"Yeah, I thought with it being your job and all that you'd kind of be an expert," Vivien joked, hiding her nervousness beneath a playful tone that evaporated as soon as her pride got the better of her. "But I totally understand if you don't want to - really, it's fine. I know you're busy learning your own scripts, which is way more important, obviously. And this is just a dumb school play that literally doesn't matter at all - I don't even know why I care that much, honestly - but…I don't know… I thought you at least might have some…tips, or something, that could help me out…"

Carrie stood, expression cold and eyebrows pinched as she appeared to consider the girl's offer. Those few seconds of silence though, whilst sinister at face value, were as hollow as the space between her ears was often speculated to be by certain members of her boyfriend's family. "When's opening night again?"

"June," Vivien warily replied.

The smirk unfurled across Carrie's face like the petals of a sunflower after a rainstorm. "Well you're in luck; all the appointments on my calendar for the next few months have just been cleared out."

The joyful giggle of disbelief that left Vivien's lips felt like the bubbles that escaped when you cracked open a can of soda - all the pressure that she'd been harbouring since she saw the cast list go up fizzled away in the blink of an eye. Well, a wink really - one decorated with perfectly winged eyeliner and flecks of glitter that shone like the very star that was wearing it.

"Pretty weird coincidence, huh?" the blonde chuckled with a knowing smile.

"You really don't mind helping me out?" Vivien asked, feeling as though her reaction was too good to be true.

"'Mind' it? I mind when Miles leaves his dirty socks on my couch, this is a literal dream come true!" Carrie gushed.

"If I'd known you were going to be this excited about it, I'd have asked you for help a lot sooner," Vivien laughed as Carrie fervently babbled away to herself about different acting methods. "We don't have to spend too much time on it though, don't worry. Even if you just cover the basics I can practise the rest in my own time and-"

"Oh no, no, no," Carrie said, shushing the brunette's cautious placating with a wave of her hand before pulling her wild curls back into a ponytail and flashing her a determined grin. "If we're doing this, Vivi, you're getting the full package: acting tips, dance class, singing lessons - the whole nine yards."

"Oh boy… Should I be scared?" Vivien chuckled.

"Of all the untapped potential we're about to uncover?" Carrie smirked. "Maybe…"

#Vivien #Royce #Miles #Carrie #Bentley

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cherrygorilla · 1 year

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Recipe for Success 🥞

I know this is embarrassingly late for a Christmas story to be posted, but frankly, I put too much time into this for it to go unseen. And with how sporadic my posting can be, I thought you deserved something to keep you going until I can get the next Mixtape Mysteries post out.

Thank you for all your wonderful December prompts, Danelle. Here’s a little one-shot of wholesome family fun they inspired in return to combat all the angst you’re working on in Scattered Screams. As always, I got carried away with myself and this ended up being way longer than it needed to be, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! <3

For the first time this month, Royce didn't wake up with a wave of anxiety pinning his head to his pillow. Instead, as tawny eyes peeled open, and fell upon his anniversary present from Vivien, a delicious warmth spread through his chest, smothering him in a blissful bundle of giddy romance and brushed cotton. Pushing his comforter aside, and grinning as he rolled onto his back, Royce stretched like a cat in the afternoon sun, relishing in the stillness of the rest of the house and the thick darkness that blanketed his and Bentley's room. But as he adjusted to being awake, quiet murmurings told him that the rest of the cabin wasn't actually stuck in dreamland like he had suspected. At first he dismissed it as someone just using the bathroom, and began securing his new leather bracelet around his wrist, smiling to himself as he knotted the straps together. But as his fingers closed around his journal, the murmuring returned, this time sounding almost…musical. Curiosity piqued, he set the notebook back on the nightstand and checked the time on his phone in case he and Bentley had inadvertently slept in. But with everyone's insistence the day prior about today being a 'lazy day', he didn't really see how that was possible - especially with Miles, who, without any sort of alarm, probably wouldn't emerge from his room before lunchtime. Still, there was that murmuring again - this time with a definite melody, followed by an unmistakable thud from downstairs that confused Royce enough to fully propel him out of bed.

Grabbing a hoodie from the floor, and shooting Vivien a quick 'good morning' text, Royce padded out into the cabin hall. Greeting him was a cool, wood panelled corridor, bathed in darkness thanks to the curtains drawn across the only window. The silence from the closed bedroom doors around him was almost stifling, and for a second he almost thought he'd made the mumblings up altogether. But just as he was about to turn back, a definite, muffled voice disturbed the unnerving quiet, followed by the steady thudding of a drumbeat. Expertly dodging the creaks in the staircase's floorboards, Royce swung around the bannister and pushed open the heavy, and surprisingly soundproof door to the cabin's living room. Once inside, the noise was much clearer, and was, without a doubt, coming from the speaker in the kitchen, which appeared to still be playing Christmas songs despite the big day having been and gone.

Whilst Royce's first instinct had been that someone had just left the speaker on overnight, the fact that light was spilling out from underneath the door, and he could hear ice clinking against glass told him that there was another early riser on the loose - one with cravings that seemingly couldn't wait until breakfast. Cautiously easing the kitchen door open, Royce poked his head inside and couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched a head of bobbing, honey curls humming long to Wham's Last Christmas behind an open refrigerator door. As they turned, armed with a tupperware full of what appeared to be leftover turkey, Royce chuckled and greeted them with a teasing: "Hungry?"

Wide, blue eyes flew up to meet his caramel ones as a gasp flew from the perpetrator's lips and the container of leftovers went clattering to the floor. Thankfully, the girl's quick reflexes saved the rest of the cabin's occupants from an unwarranted wake-up call as she caught the plastic tub before it hit the tile. Pressing her free hand to her heaving chest, Carrie's head whipped back to face the intruder. "Royce, you almost gave me a heart attack."

"Gee, I knew my bedhead was bad but I didn't think I was that scary."

"You're not, I just wasn't expecting anyone else to be up yet," Carrie reassured with a tired, but amused grin. It soon slipped from her face though as another thought flashed into her mind. "Wait, I didn't wake you up, did I?" she asked, scrambling to turn down the speakers.

"No, no, you're good, I was already up when I noticed it, and even then I could barely hear it upstairs. I just wanted to come and investigate," he promised with a smile that only broadened as he watched her shoulders slump and that tired, amused grin of hers return. Closing the gap between them, Royce approached the kitchen island as Carrie safely set the tupperware of leftovers onto the countertop, along with the plethora of other food items she had extracted from the pantry and refrigerator. "What's all this then?" he asked. "You couldn't just wait until breakfast?"

"I am breakfast, that's the problem," Carrie joked. "After weeks of offering to handle the cooking to help out Mack and Mick, Mack finally said she'd take a break, which leaves me in charge of all the food today. Sounded like a good idea in theory, but when I woke up before sunrise panicking about what to make everyone to make a good impression, I realised I might have bitten off more than I can chew."

"We've been living together under one roof for almost a month now, Carrie. I think we're past 'good impressions'," Royce laughed.

"Not when it comes to food we're not," she retorted with a weary sigh. "The only person I've cooked for here is your brother, and whilst I love him, I think I could offer him a stick of gas station jerky and he'd still tell me it was delicious."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Well it's not exactly constructive criticism," Carrie chuckled as she scanned over the stacks of tupperware and sandwich bags again. "Mack said I could have free range of the fridge and pantry, but I can't remember what there is when it's all spread out like that, so I started piling everything I wanted to use up on the island so I could see it all together, but now this is overwhelming me too. And I wanted to try to turn all these leftovers into something cool, but I don't have a clue what that 'something cool' could be, and just standing here looking at it all isn't helping - if anything it's just stressing me out more, and it's too early for my brain to work properly, but I'm too stressed to go back to sleep, I just…ugh, need more coffee," she sighed, finishing her frantic, nonsensical rambling by sliding the candy cane-decorated glass over to her and sending the ice cubes clinking against the sides again.

If the caffeine-dependence Carrie shared with his older brother didn't already have Royce grinning like an idiot, the sight of her bundled up in a huge, fluffy, aqua blue robe, but still insisting on taking the drink over ice definitely did. "You know, you might not have to wear all that if you drank that like you're supposed to," he teased.

"Hot coffee's only good for like the first five minutes, then it just tastes like ass. And if I want to get my brain to stop feeling like it's made of cotton balls, I'm gonna need to drink this whole thing," she grumbled, pausing to take another sip from her straw and mull over her claim. "...Maybe the whole pot."

"You could just go back up to bed, you know; everyone else won't be up for at least another hour, maybe more. And even then, they probably won't want to eat right away," Royce tried.

"Nah, it's alright, dude. I'm in too deep now," Carrie chuckled, blowing a stray curl out of her eyes as she inspected a tub of mashed potato. "You're totally free to go back up to bed though, you know, now that you know what I'm up to. I'll turn my music down and you can go get some more shut-eye if you want; it is still pretty early."

A few weeks ago, Royce would have jumped at the opportunity to escape the blonde's company. But after a quilted throw pillow knocked the guarded stubbornness right out of him, the seventeen-year-old looked at his brother's girlfriend with a new perspective - one that had a fond smile tugging at his lips before he could think twice. "Actually, I think I could use a little company," he said, stepping back over to the speaker and turning it back up a few clicks.

The hopeful glint in Carrie's sleepy eyes melted into one of grateful surprise as she set the mashed potato back on the countertop and her signature, megawatt smile took over her face. "Alright then, pull up a stool and get inspecting," she said, drifting back over to the refrigerator and searching through its contents. "I'm gonna need all the help I can get at this rate. There's just so much stuff I- Wait, what am I doing? Do you want anything to drink? Anything to eat?" she said, interrupting herself as she poked her head around the refrigerator door with a wary eyebrow raised in Royce's direction.

"I'm fine," he gently reassured.

"Really? I can brew up some fresh coffee if you want. Or there's Mick's tea in one of these cupboards, I think it's maybe the one by the sink. Or I guess I could make you a hot chocolate. No, nevermind, it's probably too early for hot chocolate; it's only- oh, what the hell. It's Christmas, if you can't have a hot chocolate at 6:30am now then when can you?" she mindlessly babbled to herself as she rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, only remembering that she had an audience when she heard his chuckles floating over George Michael's vocals behind her.

"I guess I'll take a hot chocolate then."

With that infectious grin of hers splitting her face again, Carrie plucked the tub of hot chocolate mix from its spot nestled between festive mugs and bags of mini marshmallows. "Coming right up," she said, still relishing in the giddy sensation Royce's newfound acceptance of her ignited in her chest. A comfortable silence fell over the pair as Carrie started heating up the milk, but with her naturally talkative nature, it didn't last long. "So," she began, glancing over her shoulder at the teen, who was cautiously sniffing a tub of green beans. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, actually. I think that was the best night's sleep I've had all month," Royce admitted with a bashful smile. "Not waking up in the middle of the night worrying about Viv's present was a real bonus."

"Aww," Carrie murmured, abandoning her saucepan to lay a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I told you she would love it."

"Yeah but that didn't stop me worrying."

"Come on, let me see it," she continued, holding her hand out with a knowing grin.

Royce laughed and rolled his eyes as he shyly lifted his wrist into Carrie's palm. Brilliant, blue eyes gleefully danced over the crystals as she moved his arm around to get a better look at the engraving. "Watch it, you're gonna dislocate my arm," Royce laughed, but Carrie took no notice; too charmed by the item to do anything but grin at it.

"I knew you'd be wearing it," Carrie quietly chuckled to herself as she relinquished the boy's forearm. "You two are adorable," she finished with an airy laugh as she went back over to the stove to check on her milk.

"Yeah, I think that's the general consensus," Royce replied with a chuckle of his own as he too took to inspecting the bracelet. As he did so though, a thought began nagging at the back of his mind. "Hey Carrie, that afternoon when I showed you Vivien's bracelet…"

"Yeah?"

"...Did you already know she'd picked this out for me? Is that what you wanted to tell me but couldn't?"

Carrie glanced over her shoulder, a delicate smirk twisting her lips. "Now what would give you an idea like that?"

"Well, I don't know, I just-"

"I'd been at the mall all morning with her, Royce. Of course I knew what she was buying you," Carrie deadpanned with a teasing giggle, putting him out of his nervous, floundering misery.

"Well why didn't you just tell me then? I lost so much sleep over that damn bracelet I thought I was never going to sleep through the night again," Royce retorted incredulously.

"And ruin the big reveal? I know you think I can be a monster sometimes but come on, I'm not evil."

"...It was a pretty good surprise, huh?" Royce conceded with a fond chuckle.

"'A pretty good surprise'? It was one of the cutest things I've ever seen," Carrie enthused. "And your little faces were just priceless - I knew your reactions were gonna be good but holy shit you really delivered. That alone was one of the best presents I got yesterday, and it wasn't even for me," she giggled, before her face dropped and she uttered a quick: "Don't tell your brother that."

"I won't," Royce laughed. "I think he figured you were happy with your gifts anyway; you give really good reactions."

"What can I say? I'm an emotional person," Carrie chuckled, fondly remembering smothering her boyfriend with hugs and kisses on several occasions the day prior.

"I could tell," Royce teased. But something was still bothering him, and as Carrie lovingly rolled her eyes and went back to stirring the milk on the hob, that 'something' finally clicked into place in his mind. Looking up at the head of blonde curls from beneath furrowed brows, Royce began: "Speaking of gifts…"

"Mhm," she hummed, tapping her wooden spoon on the edge of the pan.

"What happened to that bracelet you said you were gonna get Vivien? The one with a skate on it?"

Carrie set the spoon down and turned to Royce, a knowing, almost motherly smile softening her features as she approached him. "You really thought I was still going to give her that after I saw what you'd bought her?" she snorted, perfectly plucked eyebrows quirked in amusement.

"You returned it? Because of me?" he asked in nervous dismay.

"Pfft, no, I just bought her something else. I can save the bracelet for her birthday, or a graduation present, or…something - I don't know, I'll think of some excuse," she dismissed with a chuckle and a wave of her hand.

"But why? You were so excited about it."

"'Why?' You seriously thought I was gonna steal your thunder like that?" Carrie snorted, laying a hand on his shoulder and softening her smile yet again. "Believe me, there's only one bracelet that belongs on that girl's wrist this holiday season, and it does not have a little gold ice skate on it."

Royce was stunned into silence, mouth agape and caramel eyes soaking in the image of what felt like an entirely new woman in front of him.

Carrie was the first to admit she had a pesky streak of vanity, and because of this, she rarely ever left her room without a fresh face of make-up, a stylish outfit and a polished hair-do - let alone the house. She'd gotten better about loosening the reins a little since dating Miles, and had begun to feel more comfortable in her skin, at least around him anyway, but Royce still couldn't remember ever seeing her completely barefaced. And yet here she was, without a drop of makeup on, and her curls roaming wildly across her shoulders, fanning out around her face like a mediaeval ruff thanks to the fact that she had her aqua blue, snowflake-adorned dressing gown tightly wrapped around her fluffy, pink pyjamas. He knew that she'd rather die than set foot outside the cabin door looking the way she did, but there was something about the ensemble that Royce found incredibly endearing, and almost took comfort in. Seeing the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks for the first time, unobscured by expensive foundation and rosy blush, and the traces of dark circles under her eyes she'd had him convinced she was too perfect to possess was refreshing. The bouncing curls that tumbled from her scalp caught the light in such a way that, if you looked at them long enough, could make you believe they were genuinely made from spun gold, but their frizzy, haphazard arrangement made him feel significantly less insecure about the birdsnest of ringlets sat atop his own head. In fact, if they'd been any darker, and bundled together on the top of her head, with a few paintbrushes thrown in for good measure, he could have mistaken them for his mother's. But the ocean blue eyes that glittered beneath were all her own. Sure, they had slid half-closed, and were still clouded with exhaustion, but there was a vibrant affection pooling in those unfathomable lagoons that Royce had seen Miles get lost in more times than he could count - an affection that made Royce's heart ache as he thought about how many times he'd forcibly ignored it.

Returning the young woman's smile, almost on reflex, Royce felt the warmth radiating from her soak into his skin - although he did still suspect some of that was just a side effect of the many layers of clothes she'd insisted on wrapping herself up in since stepping off the plane in New Hampshire. But the longer he held her gaze in familial wonder, the less appropriate it felt. So before he could talk himself out of it, he closed the gap between them yet again with an incredulous laugh as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his nose in tickly fleece and the sweet, musky scent of the fancy products lingering in her hair.

"You really did that for me?" he murmured.

A buttery chuckle slipped from Carrie's lips as she gladly welcomed the hug, rubbing a comforting hand up and down the younger boy's back. "There isn't much I wouldn't do for you Murphy boys," she joked. "Miles is really ruining my 'selfish brat' image, huh?"

"But I didn't even ask you to."

"Oh come on, Royce, I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I can read a room," she laughed, affectionately running her hand up to ruffle his hair before pulling away from the hug. "...I hope."

"You can…and you give really good hugs," he replied with a chuckle of his own before a grateful sigh settled in its place. "...Thanks, Carrie."

"Don't thank me, I was only doing it for Vivien," she scoffed, but her mischievous grin gave her away, and soon had the pair dissolving into another bout of laughter.

"Jerk," Royce retaliated with a playful nudge that just so happened to coincide with Carrie measuring out the hot chocolate powder over the pan of milk, sending half of the tub's contents into the steaming liquid below.

Both sets of eyes widened as they watched the mountain of cocoa powder sink beneath the surface, before slowly rising to meet the other.

"That was your fault," Carrie accused.

"It so wasn't."

"Well how was it mine?!"

"I don't know, I'm not the one with shaky hands," Royce teased as his chest started to rumble with laughter.

And try as she might, Carrie's acting skills failed her as she too succumbed to the ridiculousness of the situation and started to giggle like she'd never stop. "Oh well, I hope you like your hot chocolate strong," she sighed as she picked up her wooden spoon again and attempted to stir the monstrous concoction.

"Well it doesn't really look like I've got much of a choice now," Royce snorted. "But don't worry, I'll still drink it."

"You'd better drink it, after I've slaved over this pot for…" Carrie joked as she spared a glance at the clock on the wall. "Five minutes."

"Of course, that's what families do: they make sacrifices for each other," Royce began with a mischievous smile of his own this time.

"Oh don't start with that again," Carrie sighed, raising her eyes to the ceiling before closing them altogether. "Don't you think I cried enough yesterday?"

"In my defence, I wasn't trying to make you cry," Royce said, referring to the performance he'd dedicated to Carrie on the guitar she'd gifted him the previous afternoon. Most of the cabin residents didn't even know the performance was happening, and those that did could barely hear it over the raucous game of Super Smash Bros unfolding on the nearby flat screen - but Royce's shy, and slightly tentative rendition of John Lennon's Happy Xmas (War Is Over), and the application of the song's lyrics to the current state of their relationship, was enough to turn the usually sophisticated celebrity into a blubbering mess.

"You should have known that song would set me off," Carrie fired back.

"How was I supposed to know that?" But the smirk creeping onto Royce's face betrayed his act of innocence.

"You and your brothers have the tightest-knit family unit known to mankind and you wonder why I got a little emotional about you finally welcoming me into it?" Carrie asked with an accusatory quirk of her eyebrow.

"Just 'a little'?" Royce snorted.

"I'm a cryer, okay?" Carrie defended with a playful roll of her eyes. "And it was a big deal for me. For a while there it felt like we were never gonna work through our differences."

"Well, better late than never," Royce reasoned with a reassuring smile and a comforting arm around her shoulder.

Before the pair could fester in the borderline cavity-inducing sappiness of the moment any longer though, Royce's phone screen flashing to life on the countertop beside them caught his eye. Abandoning the side-hug, Royce went to check the notification as Carrie snorted out a knowing: "Is that who I think it is?"

"Yeah, it's Vivien," he admitted with a bashful smile.

"Well there you go, there's another thing you've got in common: you both get up at the asscrack of dawn," Carrie fondly ribbed with a yawn. "Is she pestering you with cute little 'good morning' messages, or is she already asking when she can come over?"

"No, she's asking where I am," he laughed. "She's outside mine and Bentley's window."

Carrie whirled around to face him with a look of bewildered confusion, before slowly tilting her head up to the roof, seemingly growing more baffled by the boy's claim with every passing second.

Royce found himself laughing even more as he watched the poor girl try to wrap her head around what he'd said to no avail. Deciding to finally end her suffering, he explained with a gentle: "She found a ladder."

"Is the front door not good enough or something?"

"She probably just didn't want to risk waking everyone else up," Royce said, firing off a couple of texts to his girlfriend in quick succession. "But at this point I think it's just becoming a habit."

"You kids get stranger every day," Carrie mumbled to herself with a fond, but still slightly befuddled shake of her head. A quiet fell over the pair as Carrie tended to the hot chocolate on the stove and Royce stood tapping away on his phone screen with a giddy smile playing at his lips, but after a few wary glances in his direction, Carrie couldn't maintain it any longer. "Are you gonna go and let her in then? Or is letting her freeze to the ladder first part of the fun?"

"I'm going, I'm going," Royce chuckled after his initial guffaw had been suppressed, eyes glued to the screen of blue message bubbles as the older blonde watched him leave, still fondly shaking her head.

It didn't take long for padding footsteps and hushed whispers to reach Carrie's ears, drawing a smile to her lips as she topped a mug adorned with a frog in a santa hat with whipped cream. The kitchen door's hinge let out a delicate squeak as it was gingerly pushed open, but before whoever was behind it could utter a word, Carrie, despite her preoccupation with finding a grater, jumped at the opportunity to greet them. "Is that my favourite purple-haired teenager?" she grinned into the utensil drawer.

"It had better be; I think I'm the only one you know," Vivien laughed as she slid her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie (stolen from Royce's wardrobe, of course) and sidled over to the blonde. "Nice outfit," she teasingly noted with a nod towards the older girl's fluffy get-up.

"Don't get me started," Carrie grumbled. "You have Mick to blame for this; she's the one that has us all under strict 'pyjamas all day' rules."

"It's your fault, you're the one that insisted on dressing up yesterday," Royce chuckled.

At first Carrie looked ready to argue her point, but as a yawn crept up on her, and left her blearily trying to shake the sleepiness from her head, she found herself mumbling a barely coherent: "Oh forget it," instead. Clearly she was still too tired to put up a good fight.

"You look lively," Vivien observed as she watched the girl go back to clumsily rifling through the drawer of kitchen tools.

"It's not even 7am yet, Viv. What do you expect?" Carrie huffed before doing a little teasing of her own. "We can't all be little early birds like you and Romeo over here," she finished with a snort, successfully placing the grater on the countertop. Glancing over at the pair, she was unsurprised to find them both blushing, which only egged her on. "Come on," she continued with a knowing, playful smirk as she held out her hand to Vivien, just as she had with Royce earlier. "Where is it?"

Rolling her eyes at the older girl's warranted, but no less irritating, confidence, Vivien held out her wrist for examination. All it took was one look at the bracelet for Carrie to begin grinning like an idiot, prompting Vivien to bashfully shove her hand back in the safety of the hoodie pocket before the redness blooming on her cheeks fully took over her whole face. Carrie just giggled at the teen's reaction though, and cupped her burning cheeks in her hands. "I knew you'd be wearing it, you little nerd," she said as she released the girl's face and affectionately batted it away. "Looks like you got your matching bracelets after all. You two are so wholesome it makes me sick."

"What happened to you being a hopeless romantic?" Vivien fired back, as she playfully squirmed out of the blonde's reach.

"I'm too old and jaded for that crap now, Viv," Carrie huffed as she set a bar of chocolate down on the counter and squirted a blob of whipped cream into her mouth, straight from the can, for good measure. "Miles and I decided we'd never be able to pull off anything anywhere near as cute as your little gift exchange yesterday, so we both just agreed to give up trying."

Vivien didn't even have to look at the 60s starlet to know that she was joking, but the element of truth intertwined with her words still lit a crackling fire in her chest. Royce's arm snaking its way around her waist, and the affectionate giggle they shared as soon as their eyes met, only fanned the flames further. But that didn't stop her from playfully pushing Carrie's shoulder and rolling her eyes. "You're such an idiot."

"That is so rude," Carrie snapped with another deadpan delivery that had Royce and Vivien giggling like school children. A beat of silence followed before Carrie caved and let an impish grin take over her tired features. "And so true," she finished, grabbing the can of whipped cream again and unloading a blob on the end of Vivien's nose.

Joyful, bubbling streams of laughter erupted from the two teens as Carrie turned her attention back to finishing off Royce's hot chocolate, topping the mound of whipped cream with some chocolate shavings for good measure.

"Voila!" she announced, presenting the festive mug to the chuckling, curly-haired teenage boy, who was just finishing up wiping the remaining remnants of whipped cream from his girlfriend's nose. "Not my best work, but it was a good warm-up exercise for the rest of the day."

"Why? What are you doing? Aren't you all just supposed to be laying around watching TV?" Vivien asked as Royce thanked Carrie for his drink.

"Everyone else might be, but I'm stuck playing 'chef' for the day."

"Is that why all this is out?" Vivien asked, gesturing to the stacks of tupperware sprawling across the kitchen island.

"Yup, I was supposed to be planning out everyone's meals for the day, but someone distracted me into making hot chocolate," Carrie explained with an accusatory glance in a certain brunet's direction, who just cheekily grinned back and took a gulp. Fondly rolling her eyes, she continued. "Sorry there's only one mug, I didn't realise we'd be having company so soon," she said, stifling another yawn. "The fact that both of you are up at all, let alone so wide awake, is making my brain hurt. And thinking about what to do with all this damn food isn't helping either."

"Well, instead of trying to think about all the meals at once, why don't you just focus on breakfast first?" Vivien offered.

"Yeah, that's what you're going to have to make first anyway, so you might as well start there," Royce agreed.

A dismissive frown was the first thing to grace Carrie's face as she set the whipped cream back in the fridge, but by the time she'd shut the door and turned back to face the teenagers, she was wearing an astonished smirk. "You know what, that's not a bad idea."

"I think it's just common sense," Vivien chuckled under her breath to Royce. But even if the ditzy blonde had heard what she'd said, she paid them no notice.

"Alright, let's plan breakfast then," Carrie said, rounding the kitchen island so that she stood opposite the young couple - turning their impromptu early morning get-together into a business meeting. "What are we thinking?"

"You're taking suggestions?" Vivien asked with a hopeful quirk of her eyebrow.

"Yep, fire away," Carrie nodded, grabbing a scrap of paper and a stray pen to start putting together a list of options. "We just need something that can serve a lot of people, and can be reheated if we need it to be, because I have no idea what time everyone else will be up - and let's face it, we're not seeing Miles before noon."

"Well do you wanna do something savoury or sweet?" Royce asked.

"I don't care, I'll make whatever you guys fancy. Hell, I'll even make one of each if you want. But whatever it is, we've just got to make sure it blows Butchy's stupid, fucking sausage muffins out of the water because I can't look at his stupid, smug face when I've had so little sleep; I'll just end up slapping it," she grumbled as she tiredly rubbed her eye and Royce and Vivien set off to laugh again.

"Pancakes are always a winner," Royce said.

"And with pancakes you can make the batter and then just cook them when people want them," Vivien added.

"I can't just make pancakes, I told you Royce, this is about making a good impression."

"Okay, well make fancy pancakes then. Put some chocolate chips in them or something," Royce retorted.

A snort of laughter erupted from Carrie before she could stop it. "If he thinks chocolate chips are fancy you're gonna have one hell of an easy life, Viv."

"Well what else have we got that you could add into them?" Royce asked, trying to hide the light blush spreading across his cheeks by taking another sip of his drink.

"Hmm, let's have a look," Carrie began, rifling through the pantry and absentmindedly humming along to the radio again. "Vanilla…maple syrup…dessicated coconut…I remember seeing some blueberries in the refrigerator- Ooh, cinnamon. How are we feeling about cinnamon pancakes? That's kind of festive, right? That might win me bonus points. And I could make a sort of spiced, apple compote thing to go with it, so it's like apple pie - and everyone likes apple pie, right?"

"That sounds good to me," Royce said, sharing an amused grin with Vivien at the twenty-one-year-old's scatterbrained, enthusiastic ramblings .

"'Apple compote'? Who even are you?" Vivien snorted.

"Hey, listen, I'm a good cook. These kinds of negative assumptions are exactly why I need to knock this out of the park - so get your thinking caps back on; I need a savoury option," Carrie ordered as she started gathering her ingredients together.

"Sausage muffins sound pretty good," Royce offered with a mischievous smirk.

Carrie stopped in her tracks just to send him a warning look. "Can it, fun-size," she barked, making Vivien burst out laughing as she watched the smile drop from Royce's face like a lead balloon.

"Have we got any potatoes?" Vivien eventually asked after catching her breath again.

"Probably."

"I'm kind of in the mood for hash browns," Vivien said. "Well, I'm always in the mood for hash browns really, but that's besides the point."

"Yeah, but we can't just have hash browns for breakfast," Royce countered.

"No…" Carrie murmured as she slowly crossed over the refrigerator and began to scan its contents. A few seconds later she reappeared holding a bell pepper, a punnet of mushrooms and a handful of fresh basil. "But we could have my mom's hashbrown casserole - and that's good hot or cold, so if old lazybones up there still wants any when he decides to haul himself out of bed, it won't be inedible," she finished with a chuckle at her boyfriend's expense.

"Sounds like you're all set then," Vivien said.

"Yeah, thanks to your help, you little geniuses," Carrie said with an affectionate grin as she set the first few ingredients down on the countertop. One look at the towering stacks of tupperware made her heart sink again though. "That doesn't help me figure out what to make for lunch with all these leftovers though."

"That doesn't matter," Vivien dismissed. "Just focus on breakfast for now."

"Yeah, and who knows? Maybe inspiration will strike once you get cooking everything else," Royce added.

"Okay, you're right - one step at a time," Carrie breathed before tapping her phone screen to check the time, and then letting out a frustrated grunt. "Oh my god, it's still not even 7am. There's no point starting breakfast yet; it's so early I'd just be cooking for you guys and Bentley's freaking stuffed animals." Perching on one of the barstools opposite Vivien and Royce, Carrie let out another yawn, then let her tired eyes settle on the kitchen's newest guest. "You want anything whilst we wait, Vivi?"

"You can have some of my hot chocolate if you want," Royce offered, nudging the mug across the countertop towards his girlfriend as another cheeky smirk began curling at his lips. "I mean, I would have said you could have your own, but I think we're running a little light on the cocoa powder," he added with a pointed glance across at a frowning Carrie.

"Ignore him, Vivi. If it's a hot chocolate you want, then it's a hot chocolate you'll get - cocoa powder be damned," Carrie fired back with a playfully dismissive wave of her hand in Royce's direction.

"I mean, I'd be fine with just some coffee, but all this talk of hot chocolate is making it sound pretty damn good right now," Vivien chuckled.

"Well let's start with coffee, because I think I'm going to need another myself," Carrie said, stopping part way through to let out another yawn. "And then I'll figure something out for your hot chocolate." The blonde started prepping the coffee pot, pausing momentarily to down the remainder of her drink from earlier. But whilst she waited for the mixture to finish brewing, she went back to rifling through the pantry again. A few minutes passed before she rescued a block of dark chocolate from the space between two baskets it had fallen into, and as soon as she set her eyes on it, they began to twinkle with the conception of a new idea. "Hey," she started, drawing the young lovebirds' attention away from their discussion about the previous day's presents. "Have either of you had hot chocolate the way they make it in France before?"

"No…" Vivien said slowly, firing a wary glance in Royce's direction.

"I mean, maybe when I was really little at my grandparents' house, but I doubt it. Anyway, if I did, I don't remember it."

"...You wanna try it?" Carrie offered with a hopeful smile.

"How on earth do you know how to make French hot chocolate?" Vivien snorted incredulously. The down-to-earth diva fascinated her more and more with every day they spent together. "How do you even know what it is?"

"Did you learn when you were filming that assassin show in Europe?" Royce asked.

"What assassin show in Europe?" Vivien exclaimed, eyes wide with excited intrigue at the prospect of an acting project the blonde hadn't already told her about.

"Don't get excited, Miles is still convinced it's too scary for you kids to watch," Carrie dismissed with a smug chuckle, scrambling to keep talking before Vivien got the chance to argue, "And no, actually my mom taught me."

"How does your mom know about French-?"

"She's a caterer," Carrie interrupted through another yawn. After shaking her head to try to wake herself up a bit more, a proud smile settled on her face at the prospect of getting to tell the two teens about her mother. "Most of the time it's just for big corporate events, or weddings, but sometimes she gets something fun like a family reunion. She's really into personalising the menu to the event though, so she's always trying out new recipes to impress her clients, sometimes ones that have come from halfway across the globe. And because she does most of her experimenting in our kitchen at home, me, Tanner and my dad get to be her little taste testers. More often than not I get roped into helping too though, especially if she wants to see if her staff will be able to follow the recipe."

"You must be good then if you can cook at the same level as her other staff members," Vivien noted.

Loving the little ego-boost, Carrie failed to hide her smirk before a fond chuckle slipped in and took its place. "I think it's more that I just know my mom's style of cooking. I have been helping her in the kitchen for as long as I can remember though, so yeah, I guess you could say I've picked up a thing or two along the way."

"Well can't you use some of your mom's recipes, or at least some of the things she's taught you, to figure out what to do with all these leftovers?" Royce suggested.

Carrie was readying herself to dismiss the boy as she picked up the pot of freshly brewed coffee, but as she thought over his words again, she set the pot back down and turned to him with another astonished grin. "You know what, Royce? That's not a bad idea."

"Alright, don't sound so surprised," he jokingly fired back.

Mind already whirring with inspiration, Carrie crossed back over to the kitchen island and started scanning the plastic containers again. "Yeah, we've got plenty of stuff to work with here - this'll be a breeze," she enthused, rubbing her hands together with glee. "Alright, kids, turn that music up; we've got some experimenting to do."

"What happened to my coffee?" Vivien piped up, smirking as Carrie at first looked at her in momentary confusion before her eyes widened in realisation and she raced back over to the mug cupboard. "And why are we still playing Christmas music on the 26th?" she continued, stopping the blonde in her tracks just as she'd started to get back on task.

"What do you mean?"

"Well Christmas has already been and gone. Don't you feel a little weird still listening to this?" Vivien chuckled, gesturing towards the speaker, quietly playing 'I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday'. Clearly, she did not share Wizzard's sentiment.

"I never knew you were such a Grinch," Royce fired with a teasing, but surprised chuckle.

"Neither did I," Carrie agreed. "You seriously just go cold turkey with the Christmas songs as soon as it hits midnight?"

"Yeah, don't you?" Vivien asked, walking over to meet Carrie at the mug cupboard and selecting one to try to speed up the drink-making process.

"You sure you're not still feeling a little bit festive?" Carrie tried with a mischievous smirk that had Vivien inching away from her on instinct.

"No…" she slowly began, but before she knew it, Carrie had whisked the mug she'd chosen out of her hands and taken them in her own.

"You sure about that? Because I think you are," she sing-songed, leading her away from the counter edge so that they had more space. Vivien tried to protest at first, but Carrie was hearing none of it, and neither was Royce apparently, who, for once, was actually egging his brother's girlfriend on more than his own as the blonde began bouncing the pair around in time to the song's beat. Vivien was a little resistant to the impromptu dance party to start with, but Carrie's enthusiastic vocal performance, paired with her goofy dancing soon had her laughing so hard her sides hurt. Just when Vivien felt like the turn of events could get any more surreal, Carrie grabbed her hands again and pulled her close in a lazy attempt at a ballroom hold, rocking the pair of them from side to side for a few counts before spinning her out and straight into the arms of her boyfriend. "Nice catch," Carrie noted to Royce, who just grinned at the brunette in his grasp before taking over the silly dancing duties so that Carrie could finally finish making the coffees.

"You guys are crazy," Vivien said with a breathless chuckle.

"You say that like you aren't," Royce teasingly snorted, earning him a playful shove.

"Alright, I've got one coffee for a Vivien Scrooge O'Brian," Carrie announced, handing over the steaming mug with a smirk.

"Ok, ok, I get the message," Vivien said, fondly rolling her eyes as she accepted the drink. "I will admit, that was pretty fun though," she continued, making Royce and Carrie reward her with satisfied grins.

"Good, I'm glad," said Carrie.

"And you're really good at dancing," Vivien started, eliciting a snort of laughter from the blonde.

"Well, it is my job."

"Hey, speaking of dancing, when are you going to give me a proper lesson like you promised?" the brunette continued as Carrie began preparing her own drink.

"You already take ballet. Why do you want a lesson from me?" Carrie scoffed.

"So that you can teach me something other than ballet, duh! And so that I can finish a dance class without wanting to murder my teacher."

At first Carrie was readying up to take another raincheck, but when she turned and saw the impish, hopeful glint in the girl's emerald eyes, try as she might, she just couldn't bring herself to say 'no'. "Oh alright. My new slippers might slow me down a bit, but I'll try my best," she finally caved, referring to the pom pom adorned, fluffy, cream boots Mick had gifted her the day before.

"Wait, we're doing it now? Seriously?" Vivien asked, almost unable to believe her luck.

"Yeah, why not? I've got some time to kill before breakfast," Carrie snorted, stifling another yawn as she tapped away on her phone screen, attempting to disconnect it from the speaker. "There you go, if you hook your phone up you can pick out the music and I'll…figure out the rest as I go along."

"And I'll be your audience," Royce chuckled, enjoying the safety of his barstool and mug of hot chocolate.

"Not so fast, mister!" Carrie laughed. "You can join in too, you know."

"Yeah, not likely," Royce dismissed with a smirk he soon buried in a mountain of whipped cream.

"Oh come on, I think you have promise. Your frame looked pretty good when you were dancing with Viv a minute ago."

"My what?"

"Your frame - the way you hold your arms when you're dancing with a partner," Carrie clarified, holding her arms out in front of her and grasping thin air, as if she were about to tango with a spirit. "Like this."

"Like this?" Royce asked, setting down his mug and limply raising his arms, which did nothing to impress the twenty-one-year-old impromptu dance teacher.

"No, not like that," Carrie deadpanned before rolling her eyes and motioning for the boy to join her. "Come on, just get up and try once properly, then you can go and sit back down, I promise." Somewhat reluctantly, Royce agreed, and was soon stood opposite Carrie with his arms propped up like an action figure. "See, that's already good!" she grinned excitedly. "All we've gotta do is make a couple of adjustments here…relax your shoulders more there…and then tilt your head to the side a bit and- ha! Perfect!" she gushed, standing back to admire her handiwork after pushing and prodding the teenager's arms into behaving themselves.

"Way to go, Rolls," Vivien giggled from her spot on the sidelines.

"How long do I have to stay like this?" Royce asked, cheeks already starting to tinge pink from all the attention.

"Just a few more seconds, I just want to try something," Carrie promised.

Since Royce had his head facing the refrigerator, he had no idea what that 'something' was. But before he knew it, a soft hand closed around his and the other balanced on his upper arm, making him immediately stiffen.

"Well, you've got a better frame than your brother, that's for sure," Carrie chuckled from her position opposite the seventeen-year-old. "The first few times I made Miles practise with me I had to make him hold a broom behind his head so he'd stop slouching - but that only did so much. Now I just work around it…or wait until I get to work and can practise with someone else. Don't tell him I said that though; it'll seriously bruise his ego and I don't have the energy to nurse it back to health."

"Well if Rolls is as good as you say he is, maybe he could take over the 'dance practice' duties," Vivien suggested with a playful smirk.

"Oh I don't know about-"

"For any of the ballroom dances, definitely," Carrie jumped in, matching Vivien's mischievous expression - although hers did hold its own streak of sincerity. "The foxtrot can be a bit tricky, but I think you could pick up a quickstep quite well, and with that frame I think you could do a beautiful waltz - ooh, shall I teach you guys to waltz together?"

"Woah, woah, woah, what happened to you cooking?" Royce countered, dropping the blonde's hands with a flustered shake of his head, trying to hide the ever-increasing burning of his cheeks.

"Oh come on, Rolls, it's just a dance. You're not getting all shy and embarrassed on me now, are you?" Vivien asked, that teasing edge still creeping into her loving tone as she wrapped him up in a side-hug.

"You're the one that requested a dance lesson, not me," Royce gently argued. But all it took was one look at Vivien's puppy dog eyes for him to tip his head back in despair and let out a laugh of defeat. "Alright, fine. You get one dance - that's it though!"

"Alright, you still feeling traditional ballroom? Or do you want to do something a bit more fun like a jive? That's pretty bouncy actually, I don't know if I'm awake enough for that," Carrie began rambling as she finished stirring her new iced coffee and took a long sip. "Or we could try something different altogether and do one of the Latin dances, like a salsa. You don't have to worry about your frame as much with that one, but there's a lot of hip movements that-"

"Definitely not a salsa," Royce cut in, face flooding scarlet and panicked eyes widening as soon as Carrie had started to demonstrate.

"...Alright, a waltz it is then," Carrie said, trying to contain her laughter as she set about tightening the belt on her robe and throwing her hair up into a messy bun at the top of her head.

Vivien, however, was not so successful at suppressing her giggles. "You're such a dork sometimes," she laughed fondly, pressing a delicate kiss to his burning cheek. "Never change," she finished, practically whispering the words into his skin, which soon drew a smile from the fiery pits of embarrassment.

"Wasn't planning on it," he chuckled back, pulling her even closer into his side as they relished what was left of their freedom before Carrie took one last swig of her iced coffee and transformed into their personal choreographer.

What began as a sleepy dance lesson, conducted in hushed voices and suppressed giggles, soon grew into a full on karaoke party as the rest of the cabin residents showed their faces downstairs, and the risk of waking them up disappeared. With Vivien now in control of the speaker, Carrie and Royce were at the mercy of her music taste - but at least neither of them seemed to mind the somewhat unhinged mash-up of 70s & 80s hits and musical theatre classics. In fact, Carrie turned out to make a rather good Glinda, with her huge, turquoise robe and silver whisk making comical, but surprisingly accurate, substitutions for her bubble gown and sceptre. And although Royce and Vivien had readily volunteered to be Carrie's sous-chefs once she started preparing breakfast, their respective slicing and stirring duties were swiftly abandoned so that they could bellow Living on a Prayer at the tops of their lungs.

Laughing their way through a three-way sing-a-long of Stevie Wonder's Superstition, that Carrie was not so successfully trying to turn into a singing lesson - even if her tutelage did help the pair of teens hit notes they didn't think they had in them - the amateur cooks didn't even realise anyone else had entered the kitchen until a voice cut through their dancing and chattering.

"Woah, Mack, something smells good in- You're not Mack."

"Nice observation skills, Ben," Royce snorted from his spot behind a large, glass bowl.

"What are you doing?" the bleary-eyed blonde asked as he padded further into the kitchen.

"Making breakfast," Vivien said.

Bentley's head whipped in her direction. "When did you get here?"

"A couple hours ago," she chuckled. "You were sleeping," she went on to explain with a cheeky smirk before gesturing to the hob before her. "Want a pancake?"

"What? How are you-?" Bentley eyed her dubiously before giving the air another sniff and looking more perplexed than ever. "Why does it smell like apple pie in here?"

"Because, they're not just any old pancakes, Benny Boy," Carrie announced, with a smug smile as she breezed past the fifteen-year-old, stirring a pan on the hob on her way over to grab the oven gloves. "We've got hashbrown casserole and cinnamon apple pancakes on the menu this morning."

"Cinnamon apple pancakes?"

"Yep, flipped by Vivien, and served with a spiced apple compote, fresh cream, whipped by your brother, a quick butter cookie crumble, and some apple chips," Carrie finished, proudly producing the baking tray from the grill compartment of the oven and setting it on a cooling rack. "Which Royce and Vivi also made," she added, flashing the pair a grateful smile.

"What the hell…" Bentley mumbled to himself in befuddled awe. "When did this turn into a five star restaurant?"

"Since Carrie said she'd handle the food today, apparently," Vivien laughed.

"You know we have whipped cream in a can, right?" Bentley said, sidling up to his older brother with a quirked eyebrow as he glanced into the bowl of white peaks he was working on. Before he could stick his finger in to have a taste though, it was batted away.

"Hey, watch it, I worked hard on that!" Royce protested as he protectively inched the mixing bowl towards himself. "And yes, we do know, but it doesn't the same. Ok?"

Stopping midway through her journey to the refrigerator, Carrie shifted the stack of plates to her hip so that she could use her free hand to cup Royce's cheek and turn him to face her. "I've got you trained so well," she giggled.

"Does this look ok?" he asked the blonde after a swift, but affectionate roll of his eyes as he squirmed out of her touch.

As Carrie took the whisk from him and gave it a quick beat of her own to check the texture, she nodded and instructed him to start transferring it to a smaller bowl so it'd be easier to serve from. But whilst the interaction had grown familiar to Vivien, Bentley found himself staring at the pair with his mouth agape.

"Have I like woken up in another dimension or something?" Bentley asked the room. "What is happening right now?"

"Just shut up and go with it," Vivien laughed. "And come watch me flip this pancake, I've gotten really good!" Once the blond was at her side though, she dropped her voice and shot him a knowing smile. "Looks like your little 'big sister' plan worked out pretty well, huh?"

"Have they seriously been getting along this whole time?" he asked, half in shock, half in delight.

"Well as long as I've been here," Vivien noted with a chuckle. "Looks like you finally broke them both down, Beemer."

"This wasn't me, this was a Christmas miracle; I thought they were still going to be bickering in the retirement home," Bentley snorted.

"Well, your advice definitely helped matters," Vivien compromised, glancing at the pair over her shoulder before turning back to her pan and testing to see if the pancake inside was ready to be flipped yet. "And as a reward, you're getting an entire gourmet breakfast cooked for you," she jokingly added.

"This isn't all for me, is it?" Bentley asked, mildly horrified by the idea of the three of them going to all that effort just for him.

"No, doofus," Vivien laughed, playfully nudging his arm. "What? Did you think gullible was written on the ceiling too?"

But before Bentley had the chance to reply, or look up, his brother called out to him. "Hey Benny, you wanna try some of Carrie's French hot chocolate?"

"Huh?" he squeaked, still not awake enough to fully take in what was happening around him.

Vivien was quick to jump in and explain though. "Holy shit, you have to try some; it's insane. It's so thick you've gotta eat it with a spoon!" she enthused.

Bentley's eyes grew wider with every word that tumbled from the brunette's mouth, and when he turned to Carrie for confirmation, she just nodded as that signature smirk of hers curled at her lips. "Alright then, sure," he somewhat tentatively responded, almost feeling as though the morning's events so far were too good to be true. The longer he stayed in the kitchen with the raucous trio though, the more wrong he found that statement to be. Everything from cheering at every successful pancake flip Vivien landed, to bellowing out the Mamma Mia soundtrack felt incredible - but it felt so incredible because it never once felt forced; they were just letting loose and having fun as if nothing else in the world mattered. And to those four, in that stifling kitchen, on that Boxing Day morning, nothing else did - not as long as they had each other for company.

"So…how was it?"

The person the question was aimed at had barely set foot in the kitchen with their empty plate before they were ambushed by the figure at the sink, up to their elbows in sudsy water. Their arrogant smirk flashed in the window's reflection like a ghost, poised to haunt the entrant's dreams, but was evident enough from the tone of their voice alone.

Without saying a word, the figure crossed over to the sink and dropped their plate into the basin with a blunt: "Painfully average."

Carrie's smirk followed the plate's suit as it dropped from her face, instantly replaced with an exasperated frown. But when she turned to face the critic and found him licking the remnants of his breakfast from his thumb, she just rolled her eyes. "You're so full of shit," she scoffed as that infamous smirk of hers began to tug at her lips again.

"He is, Carrie," Mick piped up, following her husband's path to the sink before softly whacking him around the back of the head before he could argue. "It was incredible. He's just grumpy because it's got him feeling all insecure about his breakfasts in comparison," she added with a teasing chuckle he soon quieted with a kiss.

"Well if you're looking for any sympathy from me, pal, you're in the wrong place," Carrie said as Butchy dragged his besotted gaze away from his wife and swiftly replaced it with one of competitive disgust.

"Yeah right, like I need sympathy from you," Butchy scoffed. "Cooking one breakfast is not enough for you to even come close to me and my reputation.”

"It was two, actually. Nice counting, bozo," Carrie fired back.

As always, Butchy couldn't find it in himself to rise above the childish bickering. But instead of trying to think of a sharp comeback, he just settled for petty taunting. "You're gonna fuck up lunch."

"Yeah right," Carrie said, mocking his accent from a few seconds earlier.

"You will, I know it," he goaded with a mischievous smirk, totally ignoring her last comment.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? 'Cause you just can't stand when I do something right."

"I wouldn't know; it hasn't happened yet," Butchy snickered, relishing the return of the ditzy blonde's exasperated glare for all it was worth and continuing with the teasing as he sensed an opportunity arise. "I mean look, you can't even wash the dishes right," he began. As if on cue, Carrie turned to look back at the basin of bubbles, and before he could think better of it, Butchy dipped his hand into the water and splashed a handful of it back in her face.

Flinching back in shock, Carrie had to listen to several seconds of the biker boy's scornful guffaws before she gathered herself and got her revenge with a firm, soapy-handed shove to his chest. "You're such an asshole."

"I thought I was a piece of shit," he countered with a smirk as he grabbed her arm and uncomfortably twisted it behind her back after she went in for another jab.

"I said you were full of shit, wash your ears out!"

And before Mick, or any of the other kitchen occupants knew it, the pair were squabbling and fighting like teenage siblings feuding over the remote (despite being the two oldest people in the room). Sure, Butchy's 6' 3'' frame gave him a definite advantage, even without all the muscle attached to it, but Carrie's feistiness could not be underestimated.

Sadly for Vivien, who was rather entertained by the two young adults' juvenile arguing, Mick soon stepped in to intervene. As expected, at the brunette's request, Butchy immediately threw in the towel. And as expected in retaliation, Carrie mimed a whip being cracked, tossing in a matching sound effect and devilish smirk for good measure. Before Butchy could fully turn his back on the blonde, he dipped his hand back into the kitchen sink, only this time he just brought out a handful of bubbles. With one gust, he blew the bubbles into her face, revealing the bird he was flipping her underneath, along with a devilish smirk of his own. "Enjoy making lunch, princess."

"I will," Carrie replied with a sickly sweet smile, trying her best not to grimace at the eye-twitchingly irritating nickname he'd adopted for her.

"Real mature," Vivien scoffed at the twenty-two year old on his way past her out of the kitchen.

The biker couldn't find it in him to respond, instead only shaking his head as a wry smile broke across his features.

"How much are you planning on adding to your little 'swear jar' after that performance then?" she continued with a cheeky smirk of her own.

"Too damn much, that's for sure," he chuckled, frustrated by his lack of self-control. "She's just so fucking annoying I can't-" But before he could talk himself into getting riled up all over again, Mick appeared in the kitchen doorway upon realising he wasn't still following her.

"Come on, Rocky, give it a rest," she teasingly scolded, before trying a new tactic at coaxing him back into the living room with a sing-song-y tone and a coy smile. "This movie is not going to watch itself, and these lips aren't going to kiss themselves either…"

As the newlyweds finally took their leave, Vivien turned back to the kitchen sink to find Carrie making fake vomiting noises as she pretended to shove her fingers down her throat, making the seventeen-year-old's fond chuckles turn into hearty, belly laughter.

"They're so in love it makes me sick," Carrie grumbled as she returned to her dishwashing duties. But the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth told Vivien her real feelings.

"You're two-for-two with the relationship dunking today," Vivien said before jumping into the open spot Butchy had left for teasing the blonde. "You sure it's not just because you're missing Miles?"

The scoff flew from Carrie's lips before she even realised it was there. "He's upstairs, Viv. It's not like he's dead - he's just a lazy ass."

"Well I wish he wasn't; he promised me a Mario Kart do-over and at this rate it's not gonna get done until after New Year's," Bentley huffed, trudging back into the kitchen with Royce, and a stack of empty plates, in tow.

"I still don't understand how he can need this much sleep," Royce, ever the early-riser, mused. "He's gonna miss lunch too at this rate - he's wasting his whole day away."

"You want to know a sure-fire way to get Miles up?" Carrie asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"If it involves dumping cold water on him, I'm so in!" Vivien exclaimed with a wicked laugh from beside her.

"Ha! I wish, but no. The only thing we need is a dessert, so if you want to stick around and help me with lunch I can show you how to make it," Carrie began with an optimistic smile, before adding in a slightly gentler tone: "Or, you know, if you'd rather go and watch the movie I can just call you back in when-"

But all three teens were quick to show their support of the idea, and the chef behind it, racing to adorn their aprons once more as Carrie finished drying her hands and turning back to her table of ingredients.

"Alright, team," she grinned, clapping her hands together as she eyed each kitchen helper in turn. "Let's get to work! Royce, you can handle the curry; Viv, you can be in charge of the casserole, and Benny Boy, you can help me with dessert."

"Do you think it needs more paprika?" Royce asked, eyeing the blonde as she dipped a teaspoon into the bubbling pot before him to taste test.

Carrie hummed for a few seconds as she mulled over the suggestion, idly tapping the spoon against her lips whilst side-eyeing her other two kitchen helpers, who had abandoned their stations in favour of dancing their way through their own rendition of Don't Stop Believin'. "Yeah, I think so. And you're alright with a little spice, right?" Royce nodded. "Alright, throw some more chillies in there then.. And maybe some turmeric too, but only a really little bit, like not even half a teaspoon. Then test it again and see what you think," she instructed as she made her way over to Bentley and Vivien with a smirk and her hands on her hips. "You two look busy. Have you finished chopping all those veggies?"

Sliding towards the starlet, Vivien revealed the heaped chopping board with a flourish and a proud grin. "Of course we have, you didn't think we were just slacking off, did you?" she teasingly added.

"You got anything else for us to do?" Bentley asked.

"Hmm," Carrie murmured, scanning the now ransacked kitchen island for further inspiration, until her eyes settled on a half-bare stalk of brussel sprouts. "You wanna turn these and what's left of those carrots into a coleslaw?"

"Not exactly," Vivien deadpanned with a look of disgust at the little green balls.

"Oh come on, they're pretty good if you cook them properly," Carrie tried as she grabbed a clean cutting board and knife. "First things first, do either of you know how to julienne?"

Vivien quite literally just laughed in the older girl's face, but at least Bentley offered an innocent: "There's a kid in my math class called Julien," although it did just set Vivien off laughing even harder.

Before Carrie could go on to explain her slicing technique though, her own fond chuckles at the boy's comment were cut off by one of the many timers the kitchen crew had set up.

"Ooh, that's the dessert timer!" Bentley exclaimed, running over to turn it off and dragging the curly-haired blonde along with him.

Oven gloves were donned, other dishes were checked with a somewhat expert eye, but only one was removed and placed on a cooling rack: glistening with syrup and billowing steam like an old-fashioned locomotive. "Perfect," Carrie smirked, looking down at the pudding as though it was made of stardust. "This is going to be so fun; Miles is gonna lose his damn mind."

"Over a dessert?" Vivien snorted in disbelief.

"I know Miles likes food, but I don't think he even really likes dessert that much, especially not puddings like that," Royce mused as he tended to his curry.

"Well, ye of little faith," Carrie began with a cocky scoff as she picked up an empty baking tray and started wafting the steam rising from the sponge's surface towards the kitchen door. "I hope you're ready to eat your words, because I give him two minutes, tops, before he's down here drooling like he's just had his wisdom teeth out."

"Two minutes? Are you on crack? Miles has never woken up and gotten out of bed in two minutes in his life," Royce laughed.

"Wanna bet?" Carrie taunted with a confidence that suddenly had the seventeen-year-old doubting himself.

And apparently, the doubt was justified, because, true to Carrie's predictions, barely a minute passed before they first heard the sound of thudding footsteps overhead. The trio of teens all turned to the blonde in amazement as she set her baking tray back down and flashed them all a smug grin. It soon disappeared though as the pounding footsteps reached a crescendo with the kitchen door flying open, almost being entirely thrown off its hinges by the figure behind it, who just pointed an accusatory finger at the curly-haired head chef and uttered a quiet, but frantic: "Where is it?"

"...Where is what?"

"Don't mess with me, Carrie; I can smell it."

"...I seriously don't know what you're talking about."

Carrie's blank expression and deadpan delivery, in contrast to Miles' wide, bleary eyes and befuddled distress made their audience's job of trying not to laugh increasingly difficult. It was moment's like this where Carrie's acting skills really came into their own.

"Your mom's gingerbread pudding! I can literally- No, you have to be fucking with me right now; you said you'd know that smell anywhere when she last made- Hold on," Miles cut himself off as the logical side of his brain finally started to regain control over his excitable, scattered thoughts. "How am I smelling your mom's gingerbread pudding right now? You said she wouldn't tell you the recipe."

"Yeah, because she won't," Carrie snorted.

"Well has she flown in to make it herself then? Because how else is it…? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Carrie's affectionate smirk won out as she finally caved and let out an airy laugh. "You have a good sleep, buster?" she teasingly asked in regard to the state of his hair. "It looks like you just stuck your finger in an outlet socket."

"And got dressed in a lost and found bin," Bentley added, noting his older brother's mismatched pyjamas and lack of one sock.

Miles just rolled his eyes at the ribbing though, and lazily ran a hand through the chestnut mop atop his head in an attempt to tame it as he worked his way further into the kitchen, eyes locked on his target with surprising precision considering how recently he'd woken up. Cornering Carrie against the counter, Miles leaned towards her with a sinister smirk and what he hoped was a seductive growl. "Where's the dessert, Carrie?"

"You haven't brushed your teeth yet," Carrie flatly noted, wrinkling her nose and angling her head away from him.

"Don't dodge the question," Miles scoffed, having to fight to keep his laughter down as he grabbed her jaw and manhandled her head back into position so that they could continue their stare down. "Where is it? And where are you hiding your mom? I haven't had my mandatory hug yet," he added with a childish pout.

"Aww, are you missing her?" Carrie asked with a mocking, childish pout of her own, although the chuckles that slipped out between her words were a telling marker of how endearing she actually found her boyfriend's fondness of her mother.

"Yeah, actually, I am," Miles said. "She's a fantastic hugger."

"Are mine not good enough or something?" she scoffed.

"No, frankly, they're not," he deadpanned with a perfectly comical delivery despite his stone-cold bluntness.

"Hey, Royce said I give great hugs," Carrie retaliated.

"Well, Royce is a barefaced liar," Miles snapped, but the smirk curling at his lips revealed the insincerity behind his words. It was evident both of them were fighting to keep their laughter down, their chests shaking from the strain of trying to keep their giggles down, and their lips clamped together in silent protest. But as to be expected, Miles was the first to break with a spluttering guffaw as he gave up the interrogation altogether, instead resorting to grabbing his girlfriend by the shoulders and shaking her like a magic 8 ball. "I know that damn dessert is here, just tell me where it is already!"

Once the blonde's laughter had subsided, she took one look at him from under her lashes and figured he'd suffered enough. "You know, you could just use your eyes," she said, flicking her own down to the countertop beside her, where the syrupy sponge sat proudly in its baking dish.

Royce, Vivien and Bentley couldn't help but laugh as they watched Miles' eyes slowly follow Carrie's line of sight, and then widen, at first in astonishment, then in pure exhilaration. He dropped his arms from Carrie's shoulders and dove for the cutlery drawer, but before he could attack the pudding with a spoon, Carrie grabbed his wrist with a strength that never failed to catch him off guard.

"Woah, woah, woah, what do you think you're doing?" she asked with a disapproving frown. "That's for after lunch."

Miles' jaw dropped to the floor in utter outrage. "Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah, we've worked hard for this-"

"Oh come on, Carrie!" Miles interrupted with an incredulous inflection that screamed of betrayal. "You are not doing this to me right now. You know I can't wait that long."

"Well you'll just have to try, won't you?" she said with a smirk. "A little exercise in self-control might do you some good." But when Miles' look of dismay only intensified, her fondness for him got the better of her, and she caved with a roll of her eyes. "I'm only kidding, knock yourself out." After all, she utilised her boyfriend's lack of self-control far too much to train it out of him now.

With his wrist released, Miles' unbridled delight took over. Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, he dug his spoon into the fluffy, copper sponge, dripping in spiced syrup that had him salivating before he'd even finished loading up his bite. As soon as the flavours hit his tongue his eyes slid shut in bliss, sucking every morsel from the spoon before having to brace himself against the kitchen counter - so overwhelmed with joy his knees quite literally went weak. "Holy shit," he mumbled into the residual warmness of the spoon as his audience's laughter echoed behind him. Thumping his fist against the countertop, he pulled himself together and prepared himself for another bite, that was, again, so good he was seeing stars. "I love your mom," he told Carrie through another mouthful of the dessert, with an earnestness that couldn't help but make her chuckle.

"I'll be sure to let her know."

"She already does; I tell her all the time," Miles tiredly mumbled back as he turned his attention back to loading up his spoon again. The taste seemed to take him by surprise every time he took another bite, with this one making him tilt his head back in stupefied euphoria. "Oh my god, what does she put in this? Crack?"

"Yep, right after the flour and sugar," Carrie joked.

"This isn't all you made, is it? Because this is not gonna last until after lunch," Miles said as he dug his spoon into the pudding again.

"No, don't worry, I doubled the recipe, the rest of the mixture's sitting in the fridge," Carrie promised with a nod of her head in the machine's direction. "This one's all yours, big guy."

Miles took a second to register what she'd said before his tired face split into a cheesy grin as he pointed his spoon at her. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"It might have slipped out once or twice," she grinned back with a fond roll of her eyes. But as soon as she turned to leave him alone with his real true love, and head back over to start Vivien and Bentley off making the coleslaw, Miles was quick to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her back in for a hug, pressing a tender, if not slightly sticky, kiss to her temple.

"Not so fast," he chuckled, keeping her pinned to his chest as his lungs became engulfed in the overpowering scent of her orange and bergamot hair oil that never failed to drive him crazy. "You need to tell me how the hell you made this first; you said your mom kept the recipe a secret."

"No, I said she wouldn't tell me the recipe," Carrie corrected. "She was more than happy to write it down for me though."

Miles was stunned into momentary silence. "...You've known how to make it this whole time?"

"Well, ever since I saw your reaction to it and asked my mom for the recipe, yeah," she chuckled.

"So you've just been lying this whole time?!"

"Listen, I've been keeping it up my sleeve for a special occasion," Carrie attempted to reason.

"And you pick the day after Christmas, when I smell like ass and the only thing we do is sit around in our pyjamas all day?!"

"Hey, I needed something to get you out of bed - and this involved significantly less ice water than Viv's idea, so I'd be counting myself lucky if I were you, mister."

"Lucky? You want me to feel 'lucky' after being deprived of edible happiness for the past eight months?"

"Yeah, 'cause you're lucky it wasn't longer," Carrie snorted. "I could have saved this 'til we were married."

"Why did you even have to hide the fact you knew the recipe in the first place?" Royce piped up, entertained, rather than nauseated, by the couple's loved-up bickering for once.

"Because I knew that as soon as he knew I could make it, he'd be nagging me about it every damn day," Carrie explained as a wry smile curled at her lips. "Good job I don't care about disappointing you anymore," she teasingly added, nudging Miles' rib with her elbow.

"Hmm, yeah, and they say 'love never dies'," he sarcastically huffed, followed by a playful roll of his eyes before he turned his attention to Royce and Vivien. "Enjoy your cutesy little honeymoon phase while you still can, kiddos; it doesn't last forever."

"Mick and Butchy are still in theirs," Bentley countered, nonchalantly sampling some of the leftover butter cookies they'd whipped up earlier and earning himself a pointed look from his older brother.

"Mick and Butchy don't count, because they actually went on a honeymoon recently - that resets the clock," Miles retaliated - but when he could feel his own flawed logic failing him, and his audience's laughter at his expense intensifying, he resorted to grumbling out his true feelings on the matter. "Well, that and their whole relationship's bullshit. Like really? You're that perfect, all the time? I don't buy it, I think they're faking."

"We can hear you, you know, Miles?" Mick shouted from the living room, which only set everyone off laughing harder.

"Putting on a whole wedding is pretty extreme 'faking', huh?" Royce chuckled, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"Listen, when Mick sets her mind on something, she commits," Miles said earnestly, still ploughing ahead with the joke.

"You know, I think you might be onto something here with this whole 'fake relationship' thing," Carrie began with a smirk over her shoulder at her boyfriend, who still had his arm locked around her shoulders. "I've never once heard either of them talk about popping each other's back pimples."

Bentley's "Ew!" was overshadowed by Miles' scoff of disbelief, where the couple momentarily locked, brilliantly mischievous blue eyes with one another, before he swung his free arm up, trapping Carrie in a fake choke-hold. "You said you love popping my back pimples!" he cried as her head fell back and she totally collapsed in his embrace. Giddy giggles bubbled over and spilled from her lips before she could stop them, and soon enough Miles was following suit. Nonsensical protests were fired back and forth as the pair continued to jokingly bicker, but indulging their laughter seemed to take precedence, as did stealing the occasional (although ever-more-frequent) kiss between affectionate jabs. The fact that Miles and Carrie spent a year becoming best friends before they broke open the floodgates and started dating became blatantly obvious in instances like this, where fooling around like complete idiots felt practically second-nature to them both.

Bentley just ended up shaking his head at the pair, making sure it was known to them both how gross he thought they were being - although that just appeared to egg them on. However, Royce and Vivien, now with the perspective of being in a long-term relationship of their own, found themselves sharing a fond smile as they looked on at the couple.

"You know when you look at Mick and Butchy and you just know they're made for each other?" Vivien began.

"Yeah?" Royce chuckled, as he watched Miles go for another spoonful of gingerbread pudding and almost drop Carrie flat on her back on the kitchen floor.

"I think the factory malfunctioned when it was making those two," she snorted, drawing a laugh from her boyfriend's lips before adding a more sincere: "It still did a good job though."

And as Royce watched Miles and Carrie realise the song had changed, and scramble to execute the beginnings of a street dance routine that was far too impressive, and far too smooth, to have come from two sleepy movie characters from the 1960s, still dressed in their pyjamas, he felt an indescribable warmth spread through his chest that well and truly cemented his new perspective of the couple. "Yeah, it did."

Vivien allowed herself to share one more warm grin with Royce as his arm snaked around her waist, before she turned her attention back to the pair of twenty-one-year-olds, now lip-syncing, as well as dancing, along to one of the few, more modern tracks on her playlist: the remix version Finesse by Bruno Mars and Cardi B - absolutely floored by what she was witnessing, and stuck between screaming their praises and laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. "When and where did you guys learn that?!"

"What do you kids think we do all day when you're not around?" Miles laughed.

"Yeah, we can't just make out all the time," Carrie added with a teasing roll of her eyes.

"So what? You guys just follow dance tutorials on Youtube?" Vivien asked incredulously.

"No, we hijack Mick's gaming set-up," Miles snorted. “Or watch shitty reality tv.”

"But you suck at videogames," Bentley accused with a puzzled frown in Carrie's direction.

"Not the dancing one!" Carrie fired back. "We've maxed out the scores on at least half the routines on that thing," she added with a proud giggle.

"And she's getting the hang of Guitar Hero now too - we even beat Mick's score on Sweet Child O' Mine the other day," Miles said with a smug smile.

"Yeah, after like two hours of practising," Mick, again, piped up from the living room, prompting another collective laugh from the kitchen crew.

Ignoring his friend's attempts to squash his achievement with a fond roll of his eyes, Miles turned back to Vivien. "You should come play with us, kiddo. We can dig the drum kit attachment out of the basement and you can show us your stuff."

"Really?" the brunette asked with a hopeful grin.

"Sure. Or, you know, you could always go watch a movie with those lameasses in there," Miles cheekily offered at Mick and Butchy's expense.

"Hmm…I think I'll go with the video games," Vivien chuckled, which earned her a proud, and slightly smug, smile from the older boy.

"Good choice."

"Forget the video games, I need to try some of this gingerbread pudding before it's all gone," Bentley said as he grabbed himself a spoon from the cutlery drawer and made a break for the dessert whilst Miles was distracted.

"Hey, Carrie said that's mine! You'll get yours later with everyone else!" Miles protested with a teasing grin as he grabbed his younger brother's t-shirt and attempted to yank him backwards.

But Bentley was just too nimble for the lethargic brunet. "Screw that! I'm the one who helped make it! All you did was lay around in bed all morning!" Bentley argued back through a mouthful of syrupy sponge as Miles play-wrestled the spoon out of his hand, laughter again starting to spill from the kitchen occupants' mouths.

With Vivien's words from before still ringing in his head, over the burbling giggles and long-abandoned music playlist, a satisfied smile settled on Royce's face as he watched the happy chaos unfold before him. 'Family' had been a hard word for Royce to identify with for many years of his life, and up until the year prior it had grown completely alien altogether. But in that moment, with Miles, Bentley, Vivien and Carrie goofing off in the kitchen, all totally at ease with one another's antics, he'd never felt more comfortable with assigning those four dorks that collective title. They were his family, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

#Royce #Carrie #Vivien #Bentley #Butchy #Mick #Miles

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cherrygorilla · 1 year

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BEHOLD: the incredible trailer for a little story I hold very near and dear to my heart - made by a person equally as special <3

Merry Christmas, Eleanor!

This was supposed to be my Christmas present for you, but Tumblr wouldn't accept the file no matter how hard I tried yesterday haha. I used some scenes from Stranger Things as wells as clips of our character face-claims from the 80s to make this work the way I saw it in my head. I've been working on this between writing prompts and, while I know it isn't the epic trailer you and your story deserve, I really hope you like it! Also, I hope you don’t mind the pick for Ethan - I saw Johnny Depp on your Pinterest for Ethan and went with that, but if you want me to change it to someone else, let me know. I don’t mind fixing it. I hope you and your family had an amazing Christmas! Sending all my love! <3

#The Mixtape Mysteries #I have the best friend in the world <3

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cherrygorilla · 1 year

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The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 1)

Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra - 5:05

Also, if you feel as though this first chapter is vaguely reminiscent of the prologue...that’s intentional...trust me.

Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!

Monday - October 8th, 1984

Eyes, the colour of the caramel on those apples from the county fair, gingerly cracked open as early morning sunlight seeped through cheap, cotton curtains. The rustling of amber leaves skittering across the tarmac outside made him stir further. And as a chilly, autumn breeze whipped around the loose drainpipe, rattling the plastic against the wall behind his head, Royce resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't be pulled back into dreamland with a heavy sigh and a long stretch.

Shuffling up his mattress, he grabbed his journal from its spot on his bedside table and blindly felt around for a pen. A yawn interrupted his train of thought before it had even left the station though, and he had to rub the sleep from his eyes before they would focus on the empty page he'd opened the notebook to. Pen uncapped, and mind still hazy from his reluctant rousing, Royce felt his attention begin to wander as the nib of his biro met paper. He scrawled out the date, and managed a couple of lines about what his dreams had entailed, but as soon as he started thinking back to the prior day, his mind ran away with him too quickly for his pen to keep up.

He and Bentley had spent most of it at Vivien's house, where she'd finally fulfilled her promise of teaching Royce (and, once he found out about it, Bentley too) morse code. She dug out some of her dad's old books from the garage that went along with his amateur radio set and pinned one of the charts to her bedroom wall. After a few quick lessons, the trio were tapping out phrases to each other through the door for hours on end, just about driving the poor girl's mother insane. In a bid to earn some peace and quiet, she took to the garage herself, and came back later with a set of old walkie talkies she handed over to the children before banishing them to the backyard. Codenames were created, make believe spy storylines were played out and laughter was shared until the sun sunk behind the fence that separated Vivien's yard from the dense forest beyond, signalling for Royce and Bentley to head back home.

Glancing down to his backpack, which had been slung at the foot of his bed, Royce couldn't take his eyes off the brick-like hand radio, sticking out from between the shabby library books and old candy bar wrappers. He still couldn't believe Vivien and her mom had let him and Bentley keep them. But after all the fun they'd had with them yesterday, he wasn't about to turn down the offer - especially after Vivien had suggested using them in place of the landline the Murphys had had to disconnect a few months back due to a faulty connection and the fact that they'd rather have running water than a working telephone. He didn't exactly know what they'd have to talk about, since they usually spent as much time together every day as they could manage, but there was no way he could have said "no" to her when she'd been smiling at him like she had. The second those dimples make an appearance his brain turns to mush, and his palms get so slick with sweat they practically need their own 'caution' sign. Even just thinking about her draws a smile of his own to his lips, and he can feel this sweet warmth unfurling in his chest that-

A snatched breath and rustling of duvet covers ripped Royce away from his thoughts as Bentley sat bolt upright in his bed. Chest heaving and choice locks of golden hair plastered to his forehead, the boy scanned the room with wide, blue eyes until recognition replaced the bewildered fear behind them. With his brain finally catching up to what his eyes were telling him to be true, Bentley let out a long, slow breath as he realised where he was - or, more importantly, where he wasn’t. Sluggishly pulling the floppy, balding stuffed dog he slept with every night to his chest, he eased himself back down against his pillow, inhaling the musty, yet comforting smell of old socks and sweet popcorn as he tried to will his heart to stop racing.

"...You okay, Ben?"

Jumping at the sound of another voice, Bentley's head whipped to face his brother, bearing another look of bewildered terror. But when his eyes met those of the older boy, brimming with familial concern, relief washed over him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he quietly promised. "Just a bad dream, that's all."

Quickly averting his gaze and snuggling back underneath his moth-eaten comforter, Bentley prayed that the matter could be dropped - just wanting to push the nightmare to the back of his mind so that he could catch a few more zs. But it appeared as though the abrupt wakeup call had bothered Royce just as much as it had him.

"How bad?" he asked, setting his pen down and closing his journal.

"...I don't know. It was just a dream, it's not a big deal," Bentley mumbled into the grubby fur of his comfort toy.

"It looked like a pretty big deal to me, Ben."

"Well it wasn't, okay?" Bentley snapped with a sleepy sigh. "It was a stupid dream. Why are you even up this early anyway?"

Ignoring the pre-teen's grumpy comments, knowing he was only being defensive because there was more to the story than he was letting on, Royce swung his legs over the edge of his mattress and fully turned to face his younger brother. "It… It wasn't about Dad, was it?"

"What?" Bentley spluttered. "No!"

"-Because it's fine if it was; I still get them too. I just thought that since you hadn't had one for a while you were maybe in a better-"

"It wasn't about Dad, okay?" Bentley insisted with a frustrated sigh, still furiously avoiding his brother's gaze. "It wasn't about anything. I was just running down the street. I tripped over on the sidewalk and woke up before I could hit the ground. That's it."

Royce spent several seconds digesting the information, but his look of concern never shifted. "Running down the street? Away from what?" Clearly he didn't believe that the root of the problem could be something so innocent.

Bentley rolled his eyes. "It wasn't away from anything; I was just playing tag. I wasn't looking where I was going and I lost my footing - that's why I woke up like that; it felt like I'd been falling."

"...That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it. That's all it was, okay?"

Royce wanted to believe his younger brother, he really did - if not for Bentley's sake, then for his own; he knew otherwise he'd just be worrying about him for days on end - but something was holding him back. Whilst the boy's words were convincing, the fact that he couldn't lift his gaze from the greying fur of his stuffed dog told Royce that there was still more that he wasn't saying. And whilst he understood that it was hard to talk about traumatic events, it wasn't like Bentley to hide things from him - especially when it came to their family, which is what he still suspected the boy's dream had involved, despite his insistence otherwise. "...You know you can talk to me, right Benny?" Royce gently asked.

Swallowing and reluctantly lifting his eyes to meet those of his brother, Bentley nodded and croaked out a quick: "yeah" that had sounded a lot more confident in his head. Still, his look of earnest at least made Royce pause before continuing his spiel.

"You don't have to struggle with this on your own. We've had to deal with a lot over the last few years with Mom and Dad and Uncle Tommy and everything - it's been hard. And starting middle school on top of that doesn't make it any easier - believe me; I've done it. I've been in the same, exact position as you, Benny. I know exactly what you're going through right now, exactly how you're feeling, and it sucks, I know it does, but you don't have to go through it alone. We're both here for you, Ben - me and Miles - but we can't help you if we don't know what's going on. You've got to talk to us, okay?"

Bentley could feel his chest growing tight, and his throat felt scratchy when he swallowed, having been ravaged by the words he was fighting to keep down. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming at Royce that he had no idea what he was going through, and that he never would. But he funnelled that pent-up frustration into holding onto his older brother's concerned gaze, and willing his neck to deliver a strained nod.

Royce could see that there was a new glassiness to Bentley's eyes that made his stomach clench - there was definitely something the boy was keeping from him. But before he could press the matter further, heavy footsteps came thundering towards their bedroom door, followed by a mop of messy, chestnut hair bursting through it.

"Guys, guys, get up, we overslept!"

Toothpaste dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, the toothbrush in his fist dripped water onto the floor and his hair looked as though it hadn't seen a comb in days - but as soon as Miles set eyes on his little brothers, the panic behind them disappeared.

"Oh…sweet, you're already up," he said with a breathy smile. "Get dressed; we've gotta leave in ten minutes."

"What about breakfast?" Royce asked, but Miles was already racing down the hall towards the kitchen.

"I'm making PB&Js!" he hollered back, likely trailing more water behind him as he dove into the bathroom to make a quick pitstop to replace his toothbrush.

A soft smile tickled Royce's lips as he watched his older brother's frantic retreat, mind temporarily clouded by hectic amusement. But when he turned back to look at Bentley, his smile slipped into a puzzled frown when he found the young boy lazily grabbing a clean pair of socks as though nothing had happened at all.

Bentley felt Royce's eyes tracking him as he gathered together his clothes for the day, and eventually glanced across to ask: "You okay? Aren't you getting dressed?"

"I just- Are you sure you're alright, Benny?"

"It was a dream, Royce. I'm fine," he replied, slipping into a chuckle at the notion that he could be feeling any other way. "You won't be if you don't find some pants without cowboys on them though," he added with a cheeky smile, prompting Royce's eyes to flit down to his pyjamas and the rest of his body to spring to action. "Vivien's not gonna be impressed when she finds out you still dress like a six-year-old."

Maybe that nightmare hadn't been so bad afterall. Royce knew Bentley like the back of his hand, and if that dream had been as bad as Royce suspected it had, there was no way he'd feel up to laughing and joking like that - not this soon afterwards anyway. He must have just been overreacting. And besides, Bentley was growing up now - if he thought that the nightmare had been 'no big deal' then Royce owed it to him to believe him. Yeah, it was hard to take a step back and let go of the reins he'd looped around Bentley's shoulders to keep him safe, but the carefree smile the boy shot as he ran past him towards the bathroom made the blow sting a little less.

A morning without chaos in the Murphy household was practically unheard of, but there was something about the mayhem that Royce took great comfort in. Quietly making his way into the kitchen, where sunlight splashed over the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink and Mr. Blue Sky crackled over the dusty radio on the windowsill, he couldn't help but smile as he watched Miles swipe jars across the cluttered countertop as though he was performing an elaborate magic trick. In reality, the seventeen-year-old was just trying to find a jar of either peanut butter or jelly that had any sort of viable contents for him to scrape out. One jar of peanut butter was so runny it was practically soup, the other was too solid to even stick a knife into. The only jar of grape jelly they had was so empty it looked like a minimalist stained glass window, and the only other jelly option was strawberry, which no one really wanted due to the hideous lumps suspended throughout it - but, thanks to a schedule tighter than the sweatband their neighbour, Mrs Martin, wore around her head every time she went speed-walking around the block, it would have to do. Royce had never seen someone break a sweat making a sandwich before, but Miles was giving it a damn good try.

"Did you brush your teeth?" he asked, hurriedly cutting the sandwich and handing one of the halves to the boy beside him.

"Eww, of course," Bentley replied with a chuckle as he set his glass of orange juice down and accepted the droopy sandwich.

"Alright, good," Miles responded, absentmindedly running a nervous hand through his hair. It wasn't until after the fact that he realised he'd definitely smeared jelly all over his hand in his haste though. Knowing he had no time to do anything about the sticky hair situation, he just muttered out a quick curse and went back to his pedantic questioning. "Uh, did you pick out a clean shirt?"

"Yes."

"Did you make your bed?"

"Do I have time to go and make my bed?" Bentley asked through a mouthful of brown bread, eyebrows raised in quizzical amusement.

"...Good point," Miles nodded, a smile pulling at his lips as he picked up the other half of the sandwich and took a bite. Out of the corner of his eye, he finally noticed Royce searching for a glass, prompting him to slide a plate bearing a PB&J along the countertop and extend the grin to him. "Eat up, buddy."

"Thanks," Royce smiled back, steadying the plate with one hand and plucking a cup from the shelf above his head with the other. "Have I got time for juice? Or am I going to have to try to eat this thing whole?" he continued with a chuckle.

"Sure, we've got time," Miles said, eagerly setting his own sandwich down and brushing the crumbs from his hands as he stepped towards Royce and opened his palm. "Here, I'll get you some, you concentrate on eating."

"Yeah, 'cause I need my whole brain to eat a PB&J," Royce teased, earning him a snort of laughter from his older brother.

"So," Miles continued as he swung open the refrigerator door, empty glass in hand. "You guys got anything exciting going on at school today?"

"Nick said he was gonna be planning something for us over the weekend," Bentley mused whilst licking a blob of peanut butter from his thumb.

"Oh yeah, what?"

"I don't know, he wouldn't say. I think it's something to do with this game his cousin dropped off when he visited last week though," Bentley explained with an optimistic grin. "So that should be cool!"

"Sounds it," Miles chuckled, turning and handing Royce his glass back, now full of orange juice. "What about you, RJ?"

"Not really," he mumbled back, too preoccupied with finishing his breakfast to think about the day ahead.

"Don't you have your book report presentation today?" Miles asked.

"Oh yeah, but that's not exciting."

"Sure it is; you and Vivien worked super hard on it."

"Tell me about it, they wasted even more time than usual at the library working on that thing," Bentley teased. "I thought we were never going to get back to playing on her Atari."

"Oh yeah? Were you having to act as their chaperone, Benny?" Miles chuckled.

"'Chaperone'? What the hell would we need a chaperone for? It wasn't like it was a date or anything. We were just doing schoolwork," an appalled Royce insisted.

"Relax, I'm only teasing," Miles said with a reassuring grin and bump on the arm. "And I'm sure you'll both have done a great job. I want to hear all about how it went tonight, okay?"

"You really care about Emily Brontë?" Royce asked with a dubious smirk.

"No, but I care about my little brother," Miles grinned, fondly ruffling the boy's hair. "Especially when he's acing his English lit class, you little genius."

"I don't know about 'acing' it," Royce mumbled, but his blush and shy smile betrayed his efforts to downplay his gratitude.

"Hey Benny, have you got your English project back yet? You were working on that like it was gonna determine whether or not you got into college," Miles asked with playfully teasing chuckle as he revisited his half-eaten PB&J.

"Oh yeah, Miss Hardy gave us them on Friday. I meant to tell you at work but then I went over to Kona's instead and by Saturday morning I'd forgotten all about it," Bentley began, rambling away as he rummaged through his backpack. Stray pencils flew in all directions and random doodles on scraps of paper fluttered to the floor, until finally, Bentley plucked a (slightly crumpled) piece of lined paper out from the chaos. Turning back to Miles, eyes alight with pride, he pushed the essay out from his chest as though he was taking his heart along with it. "But look, I got a B+!"

"Seriously?!" Miles exclaimed, eyes glittering with amazement before melting into the same pride his brother displayed. "Oh my god, Bentley, that's incredible!"

"I know, isn't it great? Miss Hardy says the only thing holding me back from an A was my spelling, but that's like a given anyway, so it's still pretty good if you think about it."

"Nice job, Benny," Royce congratulated, wrapping the younger boy in a side-hug as a proud grin of his own tugged at his lips.

"It's not just good, Benny, it's amazing!" Miles gushed, setting his now-empty plate down and wiping his sticky fingers on the nearest dishcloth he could find. "This is like the best you've ever done on a project for English class. Hand it over, I've gotta read it; this is huge."

"You don't have to," Bentley bashfully chuckled with a roll of his eyes. "It's just a boring school report." But he handed the paper over anyway.

"I know I don't 'have to', I want to. And it's not just 'a boring school report', it's your boring school report," he grinned, setting his little brother off giggling.

But before he could get past the title, a familiar horn crept through the cracks in the windowpane behind them.

"Our chariot awaits" Royce sarcastically chucked, downing the last of his juice and slinging his backpack over his shoulder as Miles let out a frustrated sigh.

"It's alright, you really don't have to read it," Bentley tried.

"No, no, I will, I promise," Miles stammered, juggling all the events he had lined up for the day in his head and trying to judge when was the best point to throw a little light reading into the mix.

"Are you guys coming, or what?" Royce called to them from the front door.

Letting out another frustrated sigh, Miles gave up and grabbed a spare magnet from the refrigerator door: one shaped like a UFO that Bentley had been all too pleased to find at the bottom of an old Cookie Crisp box. He pinned the essay to the front of the fridge and turned back to Bentley, laying his hands on his shoulders. "I'll read it when I get back from work tonight, I promise."

Bentley already knew Miles would never lie to him, especially about something as trivial as this, but the way his blue eyes shone with sincerity, and his voice edged into slight desperation, drew a smile to his lips nonetheless. "Alright, alright, I believe you," Bentley reassured with a chuckle that satisfied Miles enough to let his shoulders slump as he returned the fond grin.

"Did you guys forget about hurrying or something?" Royce joked, poking his head back into the kitchen.

"Hey Royce, get over here," Miles said, quickly beckoning the boy over to join him. He set a hand on each of the boys' shoulders and bent down to eye level, taking a second to hold each of their gazes as his lips melted into another warm grin and his heart swelled with admiration. "I'm so proud of you both, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Bentley chuckled.

"Well duh," Royce playfully drawled as Miles pulled them both into a tight hug. "Why the sudden urge to tell us now?" he went on, words becoming muffled by Miles' moth-eaten sweatshirt.

"I don't know, it's just… I know I don't always get the chance to sit you down and tell you but-"

Another longer, louder blast of a car horn blared through the chilly, morning air. It was unbelievable how much exasperation could be conveyed in one sound.

"Oh shit, come on, we'd better go," Miles muttered, sighing as he straightened up and lovingly ruffled their hair before propelling them towards the front door.

Whatever heartfelt sappiness Miles was about to share with the boys was lost to the school run rush as the three of them hurried to pull on their sneakers and attempt to appease their impatient driver. Seemingly, sentimentality had no business trying to worm its way into the Murphy brothers’ messy morning routine - at least not if their ride to school had anything to say about it anyway.

“You know, if I drove a school bus, your asses would be walking to class,” Butchy called out as the boys tore across their front lawn.

“Sorry Butchy, Miles slept through his alarm,” Bentley replied, shooting a cheeky grin back at his older brother.

“I didn’t sleep through my alarm,” Miles retorted with a defensive scoff. “…I forgot to set it.”

“Just get in,” Butchy chuckled with an amused smirk, opening the passenger door behind him.

“Where’s everyone else?” Royce asked.

“The hell if I know,” Butchy muttered. “I swear to God they’re gonna get me fired before I even see a pair of handcuffs.” A glance at his watch and an impatient scan of his surroundings later, he announced: “Okay, I've had it. If they’re not here in the next two minutes I’m leaving without ‘em.”

“You always say that,” Bentley giggled from his seat in the trunk.

“Yeah, well, this time I mean it,” he huffed, setting his face in a scowl that disappeared as soon as he caught sight of a certain brunette running down the street towards them. “And what time do you call this?” he asked with a teasing smirk that he at least somewhat conveyed his frustration.

“Sorry!” Mick cried, skidding to a halt, and struggling to catch her breath as she raced through her explanation. “My dad found some eggs that were gonna go bad in the pantry and he didn’t want to waste them, so he tried making pancakes, but we didn’t have enough milk so the batter was super clumpy, and then he couldn’t find his spatula to flip them, so he was trying to use these stupid salad tongs and then the smoke detector started beeping like crazy and suddenly there was melted plastic all over the stove-“

“Let me guess, he ended up burning them?”

“Yep, every single one,” Mick sighed with a deadpan delivery that always drew a chuckle from her boyfriend’s lips. “And the rangehood. It was a total disaster.”

“Damn,” Butchy laughed. “I’m surprised your mom still lets him in the kitchen.”

“I’m surprised we still have a kitchen. So, see? At least I have a valid excuse for my lateness,” Mick said as she grabbed the car door handle and wrenched it open. “It’s not like I just forgot to set my alarm or something.”

Butchy had to bite back another laugh as Miles shot her a look of weary disbelief and Royce and Bentley started giggling from the backseat.

“Don’t tell me you actually forgot to set your alarm,” Mick chuckled once she clocked Miles’ expression.

“…No comment.”

“What are we going to do with him?” Mick jokingly asked as she turned to Butchy, fondly shaking her head at the boy. “He can’t even work a damn clock.”

“You’re one to talk, you can’t tune a car radio.”

“That was one time!”

But Butchy was quick to shut down the bickering when a head of black hair darted by in the corner of his vision. “Hey, hey, hey, where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded as he turned to face his little sister, who was swanning down their driveway without a care in the world. “We’re five minutes late as it is – get in the car!”

“Huh?” she squeaked, stopping in her tracks as she adjusted her dangly, pink, heart-shaped earrings. But a look of recognition soon flashed across her face that allowed her lips to slip back into that same giddy grin she’d been sporting for the last month. “Oh wait, didn’t I tell you? I’m catching a ride with someone else today.”

Butchy’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at her announcement – partly because he couldn’t believe he’d waited for her all this time for nothing, but mostly because he couldn’t believe his baby sister was blowing him off so casually. “Oh yeah? Who?” he asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

But even if Lela’s expression wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the yellow Volkswagen camper van, decked out in hand-painted, groovy doodles, and blasting Walking on Sunshine by Katrina & The Waves, that pulled into view certainly was. Rolling down the passenger window, Tanner called out over the chatter of his three, rowdy friends in the back: “Morning, Lela! You ready to go?”

With the engine still running, and her usual, fellow passengers still gawping at her in incredulity, Lela giggled and skipped over to the van. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she chirped back as she threw open the passenger door and hopped in, slipping straight into whatever highly animated conversation the four teens had been sharing as they sped off into the distance without a second thought.

Momentarily stunned into silence, Mick, Butchy and the Murphy brothers watched the retreating vehicle – all still processing the bizarre turn of events that had injected a rather unwelcome unpredictability into their structured chaos of a school-run.

It was Mick that finally took the plunge and broke the tension though, nudging Butchy on the arm and offering him a mischievous grin as she tried to dampen the shock with a little humour. “Oh well, guess I call shotgun!”

Despite the rocky start, Mick and the Murphys made it to school with plenty of time to spare, much to Butchy’s relief. The four of them piled out of the black station wagon and bid their driver farewell before he sped out of the parking lot, allowing a dopey fool in round, reflective sunglasses and a ridiculous, orange jacket that made him look like a traffic cone, to roll through the cloud of dust it left in its wake.

“Waddup my dudes and dudette,” Ethan chuckled as he kicked his skateboard out from underneath his feet and caught it in the hand that wasn’t outstretched in a lazy wave. “How are we doing on this fine Monday morning?”

“All the better for seeing you, buddy,” Miles laughed through a yawn as Mick rolled her eyes from beside him.

“Shakespeare, Picasso, what the hell are you doing here?” he continued with an excited grin, high fiving each of Miles’ little brothers in turn. “You guys on a field trip or something?”

“No, we just haven’t walked to class yet,” Bentley chuckled, as amused by the older boy’s antics as ever - especially the bewildered look he sported before remembering just how close the Hawkins Middle campus actually was.

"You guys totally sure you have everything you need?" Miles checked for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. "School books? Lunch money? Stuff for gym?"

"Neither of us have gym today," Royce clarified. "And yeah, we're totally sure. You already made us check like ten times yesterday, remember?"

"Okay, okay, just checking."

"Can we go now? I think I just saw Gus’ mom parking her car," Bentley asked, craning his neck around Royce to look for any evidence of blond hair amongst the crowds of pre-teens.

"If you're not going to spring any bogus reasons for me to give you more lunch money then sure, be my guest," Miles teasingly chuckled, crossing the arms he'd just held up in surrender.

"It was for a bake sale!" Royce insisted.

"Was that, by any chance, the same bake sale Vivien told me she was organising with her figure skating friends?" Mick asked with a smirk.

"That's the one," Miles confirmed as Royce's cheeks started to tinge pink.

"Are you kidding me, little man? You paid for that crap? You totally could have sweet talked her into giving you something for free," Ethan impishly grinned, causing the thirteen year old's entire face to flood scarlet.

"Okay, I'm leaving!" Royce announced, quickly spinning on his heels and marching away.

"It's okay, he's just mad because he knows it's true," Bentley explained to the older teens, prompting them to let out a hearty laugh.

"Have a good day, Benny," Miles grinned, fondly ruffling the boy's hair before sending him on his way. "Let me know how your science experiment goes, okay?"

"Okay! Bye guys!" Bentley exclaimed, excitedly waving at Mick, Miles and Ethan before racing across the stretch of grass towards the middle school parking lot and straight past a still disgruntled Royce, who was about to get a farewell of his own.

"Hey Royce!" The brunet turned to face his older brother, thankfully having managed to extinguish the fire prickling beneath the skin on his face in the few seconds he'd had his back turned. "Nail that English presentation, okay?" Miles called out with a beaming, proud smile that couldn't help but make a shy grin tug at Royce's lips.

"Okay," the boy nodded, already beginning to turn back around. But a further, mischievous shout caught his attention before he could escape.

"And say 'hi' to Vivien for me!" Miles simply couldn't help himself; Royce's clunky little middle school almost-romance, or rather his fierce denial about it, was just too entertaining to ignore. And the bird Royce flipped him as he scowled and retreated across the field did nothing to deter the chuckles slipping from his lips, in fact it only egged them on more.

Mick's next comment was quick to shut him up though.

"So, is it just a coincidence that you and Royce are both hopeless with girls or is it like a genetic thing?"

Miles' easygoing grin dropped from his face like a fly from a rolled up newspaper, replaced by a frown that felt all too familiar given the setting and chilly, October breeze.

"Hah! Dude, it's gotta be genetic. You both have that same blotchy cheek thing going on and you both get all prickly and weird every time your chick's around," Ethan said with an amused snort of laughter as he scratched some dirt from the edge of his skateboard deck.

"I do not," Miles insisted. "What the hell are you even talking about? I don't have a chick; I've been single since like-"

"Oh hey, Carrie."

Miles' heart leapt into his throat and his eyes bugged so far out of his head they almost fell out all together upon hearing Ethan's laidback greeting. But when he scrambled to straighten his posture and turned to follow the stoner's line of sight, only to find an empty stretch of parking lot, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Really, man?" he asked, face set in a scowl.

"You were saying?" Ethan smirked.

"You're so fucking annoying," Miles grumbled, play-punching him on the forearm despite his best, yet lethargic, efforts to dodge it.

"Why? Because I'm right?"

"No, for bringing her up again. I told you I was done thinking about her like that," Miles replied with a huff as he leant back against a wooden, parking marker sticking out of the unkempt lawn.

"Hold up, you're not actually listening to my advice, are you?" Mick asked with a smug quirk of her eyebrow.

"Not if that little performance was anything to go by," Ethan scoffed.

"Well you caught me off guard," Miles tried.

"I don't know why you're both so against it, I say just let it happen," Ethan said with a blatant nonchalance that riled Mick's usually mellow temper up to no end.

"'Just let it happen', gimme a break," she muttered with another roll of her eyes.

"Why? What's wrong with that?" Ethan defended. "Best case scenario: he gets the girl. Worst case scenario: he doesn't - which, in case you hadn't noticed, is no different to where he is now. What's he got to lose?!"

"His dignity, his social life, all my respect for him-"

"Okay, okay, I think we get the point," Miles jumped in.

"You guys are blowing this way out of proportion," Ethan said before giving Miles an affectionate thump on the arm. "It's just feelings, man. Feel what you've gotta feel. Let nature take its course."

"Sounds like the kind of advice that gets baby birds eaten by stray cats," Mick snarkily retorted.

"Oh yeah? You got a better suggestion Little Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass?" Ethan fired back.

"Woah, woah, woah, let's walk it back a few steps," Miles cut in with the weariness of a father after a nine-to-five shift at the bank. "No one's giving bad advice, and no one's got a stick up their ass. It's just…time to call it quits. I don't have the energy for that crap anymore."

"You're really done?" Mick asked.

Miles simply nodded.

After holding his gaze for a beat, and realising that he was actually telling the truth, Mick felt her shoulders relax. And all her scepticism melted into a warm, sympathetic smile. "I do think it's for the best," she gently prompted, to which Miles snorted out a self-pitying laugh. "I mean you have a crazy amount of stuff on your plate right now - piling unrequited love on there wasn't really your smartest move."

"'Unrequited'?" Ethan scoffed.

"It means 'one-sided', dumbass," Mick huffed. "I forgot you have the vocabulary of a four-year-old."

"Uh, I know what it means," Ethan retorted. "I just don't think that it applies here."

"Oh come on, man, don't start this again," Miles sighed.

"I'm just saying, there's something there!"

"Yeah, with the boyfriend she's had for the last year and a half."

"Deny it all you want, pal, but these peepers don't lie. My ability to see the world in its truest form should not be underestimated; it's a gift."

"Yeah, and it was given to you in a plastic baggy by a seedy college drop-out," Mick quipped.

"Well, if that 'something' was a big enough deal to her then she'd have ditched Eric and made her move by now," Miles said with a blunt nonchalance that even took himself by surprise. "I'm telling you, she's happy as she is, and so am I. I've got great friends, two awesome neighbours, and the best little brothers anyone could ask for. What more could I want?"

"...A hot cheerleader to bone?" Ethan suggested, earning a look of disgust from Mick.

"Not this time, pal," Miles responded with an amused chuckle.

"Not even on the side?" Ethan pressed. But he just got another chuckle from Miles and a smug shake of his head. "Damn… You really are getting over her, aren't you?" he grinned proudly.

"I told you!" Miles exclaimed.

"I'm proud of you, man!" Ethan said, grabbing Miles' hand and pulling him in for a 'bro hug'. "You passed that test like it was nothing," he finished with a loving clap on the back.

"It was nothing. I told you, I'm over it - she's just another girl to me now."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive."

"Good…because she's handing out flyers over there so we're definitely gonna have to walk past her if we want to get to home room," Ethan said, smacking his hands down on Miles' shoulders and giving them an affectionate pat as he gestured towards the high school's entrance.

Miles groaned as he yet again turned, only this time it was because he found that the lanky brunet was right. Apparently his newfound certainty over his feelings would have to be put to the test a lot earlier than he'd been planning. He at least thought he'd have until their shift started tonight anyway. But no, there she was, with her unruly golden curls and gravitational pull that made the Earth spin at half its usual speed every time he set eyes on her. How she wasn't freezing in her cheerleading uniform, he would never know - but he had a sneaking suspicion that Eric's letterman jacket hanging around her shoulders was playing a rather important role. Beaming and waving at every peer that crossed her path, she was the picture of high school popularity - greeting and laughing with them all as though they had been friends for years. Suddenly their interactions at All Skate didn't feel so special anymore.

His chest ached as he watched her, strutting along with a spring in her step to match the bouncy beat of Walking on Sunshine, which was still blaring from her twin brother's camper van, parked a few feet away. A carefree smile stretched across her face that only broadened as a girl with a big, white bow holding her blonde ponytail in place, and an identical cheerleading uniform, ran up behind her and threw her arms around her neck. Her eyes sparkled with a delight that even Eric's presence couldn't ignite as she turned to face Juliet with a look of adoration that could have been plucked straight out of a John Hughes movie. Even though Miles knew that the girls had been best friends for well over a decade, he couldn't help the stab of envy that struck through him upon comparing their greeting to the one he typically received: the same cookie-cutter smile and wave she seemed to dole out to everyone else - and he only got that when she remembered he was there. He could see his resolve crumbling before his very eyes as Carrie and Juliet entwined fingers and babbled away to one another with giddy grins, so enamoured by one another's presence that Miles almost felt as though he was intruding by just standing there watching them. His eyebrows furrowed, and bile licked at the base of his throat as the truth of his reality finally dawned on him: not only was he back to square one - he was back at square one, and willing to hand over the keys to his house to swap lives with Juliet Harmon, of all people. Anything was worth Carrie looking at him the way she looked at that damn, blonde trust fund baby.

"You still feeling confident, big guy?" Ethan teased.

"...Yep."

Ethan and Mick took one look at Miles - stone-faced and misty-eyed - and knew that he was a lost cause. Mick was more disappointed than anything, but took a sympathetic approach to her consoling by laying a hand on his slumped shoulder. Ethan, on the other hand, took to imitating a trombone with a "Wah, wah, wah," that had Mick shooting daggers at him across Miles' blank stare. "Well that was fun while it lasted," he went on to joke.

"Ethan, you're not helping," Mick hissed.

Ignoring her comments, Ethan rambled on, steering Miles away from the cheerleaders and brushing Mick's hand from his shoulder in one swift shove. "Hey, I've gotta give you credit though, man; you kept that up for way longer than I expected - it was like a solid fifteen hours this time."

"Yeah, well, I was asleep for half of it," Miles mumbled.

"But did you dream about her?"

"No -"

"Then I'm calling it a win, my friend!" Ethan exclaimed, grabbing Miles' wrist and teeing himself up for a high-five that, surprisingly, managed to draw a smile from Miles' lips.

"Hmm, now you've just got to figure out how to turn fifteen hours into a lifetime," Mick dryly snorted from beside the pair.

"Don't listen to her, buddy. Negative Nancy doesn't know what she's talking about," Ethan said, waving a dismissive hand in Mick's face and locking Miles' gaze onto his with a protective hand on his upper arm. "You're making good progress! And we're gonna keep making good progress because I, personally, am gonna navigate us… so that we can get you to help…you through this…together."

"...I get what you're trying to say, and I appreciate the sentiment, but that made almost no sense whatsoever," Miles chuckled.

"How the hell are you passing English?" Mick muttered.

"I am hanging by a thread, Mickey Mouse."

"You're seriously gonna accept help from someone who can't even string a sentence together?" Mick demanded, jabbing an accusatory thumb in Ethan's direction as she stared Miles down.

But a head of dirty blonde sticking out amongst a crowd of middle schoolers in the distance, and a curly mop of brown hair trailing behind, watching a brunette with a messy ponytail and a pair of round glasses like she was a prime time TV special, caught his attention before he could respond. An immediate, and unexpected wave of pride washed over him, filling him with a confidence he couldn't quite explain, and suddenly crushes on co-workers and bickering best friends felt like trivial, distant memories - tiny obstacles in the grand scheme of his whole life that were no more consequential than a paper cut or a stubbed toe. Sure, they could hurt, and they could be a major inconvenience, but nothing could hold a candle to how important those two boys were to him. And things were really looking up for them right now - they were both doing well in school, they both had solid friends, and most of all: they were happy. And if those two were happy, then that was all he needed to be happy too - blonde cheerleaders be damned.

"You know what?" Miles chuckled as a smile slipped into place of his weary frown.

"What?" Mick sceptically asked.

"No; I don't need any help," he simply replied as he puffed out his chest and glanced over his shoulder at Carrie. Whereas once this act alone would have sent his senses into overdrive, all he felt this time was the crackling flame that her presence always ignited in his chest fizzling out into a pile of glowing embers. "I've got it under control."

"...Seriously?" For Mick, it felt too good to be true.

"Yeah, I've got a good feeling about this week," Miles said, scanning his surroundings with an optimistic grin. The October breeze nibbled away at his rosy cheeks, and ruffled his hair, but nothing could shake his determination this time. "Things feel like they're actually looking up for us for once," he went on to explain. "And I'm not gonna let myself ruin it by getting worked up over some stupid crush that's never going to go anywhere."

Mick and Ethan shared a momentary look of astonishment before relieved smiles broke across their faces.

"That's more like it, buddy!"

"Wow, look at you, Mr Positive. I'm impressed," Mick chuckled. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

With another glance across to Hawkins Middle School, where Bentley, Royce and Vivien were disappearing inside, Miles settled on his fond response: "I guess I just remembered what's actually important."

"Good," Mick said with a fond smile of her own that soon turned sour thanks to her next statement: "Because it's definitely not that narcissistic asshole."

"Damn, who shit in your cornflakes?" Ethan snorted.

"I had pancakes," Mick deadpanned, just as game for Ethan's dopey shenanigans as ever.

"Look, do you actually still not like her? Or are you just saying that for kicks?" Ethan asked. "I mean, I got it at first because it was super weird that she was even talking to us, but we've been working with her for months now and she has definitely proved herself to be more than an asshole." But when Mick showed no signs of acknowledging that he was right, he pressed on. "Haven't you at least grown to like her a little bit?"

"No, because unlike some people, I'm not swayed by hollow compliments and scraps of petty gossip," Mick replied with a pointed look at her two sheepish co-workers.

"Hey, no, come on, you've gotta admit that her telling us about Hayley Baskin tying her boyfriend to his bed frame was fucking insane - it was like an episode of Dynasty," Ethan tried to defend, but there was no changing Mick's mind - not even when Miles gave a reluctant nod of agreement.

"Yeah, because humiliating her classmates is the way to get me to see her as a nice person," Mick sarcastically fired back with another roll of her eyes. "She may have fooled you two with her stupid 'girl next door' act, but I'm not buying it," she continued, barely even sparing the two cheerleaders a glance over her shoulder as her lips settled into a bitter frown. "Look at them: smiling and laughing like they don't spend half their time ruining everyone's lives - like butter wouldn't fucking melt."

"Uh, it wouldn't anyway, it's freezing out here," Ethan said, earning himself a death glare from Mick as Miles stifled a laugh. "It's gotta be like, what? 40 degrees out today?"

"It is when you get caught in Mick's eyeline," Miles quipped with an exaggerated shiver.

"You're such idiots," Mick huffed, once again sending her eyes to the heavens as she turned and started heading to class. "I don't know why I waste my breath on you."

But Miles was quick to grab her hand, dropping the act and turning on the sincerity. "Hey, come on, we're just joking around. Don't let him get to you - or her for that matter; you said it yourself: she's not worth it."

"...And I am always right," Mick begrudgingly quipped back, softening as Miles chuckled and pulled her in for a side hug, affectionately rubbing her arm. "You're both still idiots though."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you know you love me really," Ethan grinned.

"Hmm, something like that," she hummed with a chuckle of her own as she turned to Miles and patted the arm that he had just wrapped around her. "Alright, I've gotta head off to class; I've got an algebra test first period and I'm not risking losing any more brain cells by standing around out here and talking to you bozos. I'll see you at lunch - keep that good attitude going," she instructed Miles with an encouraging smile, before turning to Ethan and flicking his forehead, "And keep him on the right track - don't be a fucking moron."

"Aye, aye, captain," Ethan replied with a lazy salute once he recovered from the thump.

"Don't lose focus," she continued, calling out to Miles over her shoulder as she headed towards the school's entrance. "You've got thi-"

But her sentence was cut off when she collided with a lacy push-up bra and found herself enveloped in a cloud of heady perfume.

"Woah, watch-" As the two girls whipped to face each other, Carrie's wide-eyed, furious glare softened into an amused smoulder the second she realised who had almost mowed her down. "Oh, hey, Makana," she said, exaggerating the name as though she was playing a game with a child - one she found rather amusing if her smirk was anything to go by.

"Carrie," Mick huffed back, not prepared to greet her with anything more than her name as she averted her eyes and tried to hurry past her.

But Carrie was too quick, and side-stepped in front of the girl before she could escape - blocking her path with glittering eyes and a toss of her hair. "You're coming to the pep rally this Wednesday, right?"

It was more of a statement than a question.

A brightly coloured flyer for the event was confidently waved under Mick's nose, as if could convince her to ditch her plans from just the choice of font alone. "No; I've got work. And so do you, remember?" she deadpanned back, not even bothering to pluck the piece of paper from the blonde's manicured fingertips.

"Oh please, it's a Wednesday - we never get anyone in on a Wednesday. Big Ralph isn't gonna miss us for like an hour. And even if he did, if everyone comes to the pep rally, then we won't be losing out on any revenue, will we? It's a no-brainer."

But Carrie's blasé attitude did nothing to sway Mick, and it showed in her face.

Undeterred, the blonde ploughed on with her sales pitch - although it did take a rather catty turn. "Oh come on, Mick. When else are you going to get the chance to show off your school spirit? You could practically be the face of the pep rally with that smile of yours - you know, when you actually show it."

Mick's scowl flared in retaliation before warping into a strained, sickly sweet version of that aforementioned smile. "Well, I hate to disappoint but you and your pep rally will have to manage without me, because, unlike you, I actually care about keeping my job. Not that I have much 'pep' to offer anyway," Mick said, trailing off with a dejected grumble as she once again tried to push past the senior.

Once again, Carrie blocked her path. "Hey, I care about keeping my job," she said, but the laughter that kept edging into her voice told Mick otherwise.

"Could have fooled me," Mick muttered, praying that she hadn't cared enough to hear.

As usual with Carrie, Mick was proved wrong.

"Oh yeah? …Care to elaborate?" Folding her arms and raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow, the golden-haired diva stood back to watch the show with a challenging smirk.

"I'm just going by your clock-in times from last week, that's all," Mick replied with a smirk of her own, emboldened when she caught Carrie's eye twitching - likely in shock that she'd actually dared to stand up to her.

"Stickler for the rules, huh?" she scoffed before her lip gloss laden smirk twisted into a wicked grin. "I bet Biagio likes that."

Now it was Mick's turn to see red. She should have known better than to stoop to such sugar-coated spiteful bickering, but with Carrie it was all too tempting. If only the senior wasn't so well-trained, Mick might have had a chance at coming out on top - but if there was anything she'd come to learn over the years, after seeing countless other students fall victim to her razor-sharp wit, no one was a match for Caroline Cole when it came to bitchy back-talk.

Mick bit her tongue so hard she nearly severed it as she set her jaw and tried to keep her cool. "Is there a point to this conversation, Carrie? Or can I just go?" she finally asked with a heavy sigh.

"Well are you going to come to the rally?"

"No."

"Then no, we're not done yet."

Letting out an exasperated huff, Mick crossed her arms and glared straight into the pair of unbothered, blue eyes in front of her. "Look, nothing you're going to tell me is going to get me to go to your stupid pep rally. I'm not missing work, and I'm certainly not covering you whilst you do either. I'm done working my ass off to make up for your laziness. So either get out of my way, or give me a flyer and do the right thing for once in your goddamn life."

"...What? Like ditch the rally?"

Mick could have screamed. Carrie's ditzy flippance was infuriating at the best of times, but right now it was just unbearable.

"I can't do that, I'm already missing the party afterwards - actually, I might have to dip from my shift a little early so that I can at least go for like an hour because, you know, I don't want people thinking I'm a total lame ass-"

"Carrie!" Mick snapped, cutting the blonde's self-centred rambling off before she reached her boiling point.

Startled by the girl's outburst, Carrie pushed her trivial social quandaries to the back of her mind and actually took stock of the sight before her: wide, resentful brown eyes and a pair of shoulders so tense she'd have offered to massage them herself had she not suspected she was the cause of their strain. A fleeting moment of sympathy resonated through her chest as she abandoned her own problems in favour of solving Mick's, although her soft smile and flippant laughter might not have been the most sincere way of attempting to smooth things over. "Alright, alright, I'll stay the whole shift, don't get your panties in a twist," she chuckled as that wicked smirk of hers started to reappear. "Or, you know, do; I don't know what Officer Buzzkill likes."

Even her attempts at being nice were laced with malice. Mick couldn't even bring herself to crack a smile as the girl's carefree giggles filled the air around her.

It took a few seconds, but Carrie did eventually notice that Mick wasn't laughing along with her, and promptly deflated like a beachball on the first day of autumn. "Oh come on, Makana, you know I'm just joking around."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm not in much of a joking mood," Mick retaliated with another heavy sigh.

Softening yet again, Carrie chipped off another layer of her 'stone-cold bitch' casing and let what was left of the warm, earnestness bubbling away beneath spread to Mick as she set the pep rally flyer back with the others in the pile and placed her free hand on Mick's upper arm. "Hey, look, if this whole work schedule thing is really getting to you then I'll start taking it more seriously, okay? No more late clock-ins, no more 'off-the-record' breaks and no more ditching at the last minute to go to the movies - I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise."

"I didn't think you had a 'best behaviour'," Mick retorted before she could stop herself - but surprisingly, Carrie was the first out of the pair to laugh at the comment, which did far more than any of her other efforts to settle Mick's nerves.

"I'll figure something out," she joked back.

"Seriously?" Mick asked, trying not to get her hopes up too high. After all her joking around, and her general lack of trust for the girl, it was hard to know if this time was actually genuine - although her affectionate smile did a lot to help her cause.

"Totally, I'll do whatever you want if it stops you looking like you want to murder me," Carrie chuckled. "Within reason of course," she added with a wink that took Mick so much by surprise that any words that could have formed any sort of response totally fell out of her head. And for the first time in what felt like weeks, Mick felt a real smile begin tugging at the corners of her lips as she stared back at Carrie. Maybe Miles and Ethan were on to something after all. There was something intoxicating about that grin of hers - the way it made her eyes sparkle like her work outfits when they caught the light from the disco ball. And when she had you locked in her tractor beam, it was hard not to succumb to the warm, tingly sensation her genuine kindness sent flooding through your core - perhaps because it could be such a rarity.

Before Mick could linger on the shift in dynamic though, and the curiously flirtatious undertones she felt sure that wink had carried (if her experience with Butchy's winks was anything to go by), a bright blonde ponytail popped up over Carrie's shoulder that immediately snatched her attention away.

"Guess whose boyfriend just dumped her after she dyed her hair green?" Juliet said with a hushed exclamation that just about worked its way through Carrie's mane of unruly curls.

Unlike Juliet though, Carrie made no attempt to hide her delight at the comment as her eyes lit up like the 4th of July and a downright villainous laugh burst from her mouth. "Holy shit, she actually did it?!"

"Yep!" Juliet gleefully giggled as she once again looped her arms around Carrie from behind and pulled her in for a hug.

"Damn, that is such a shame - I could have sworn Brad said that he liked when girls went unnatural with their hair," Carrie started with what appeared to be a genuine look of concern. "Oh no, wait. Or was it that he didn't like it?"

Any of the hope for Carrie turning over a new leaf Mick had been harbouring wilted as Juliet began to giggle and another wicked grin tugged at the curly-haired perpetrator's lips.

"...Oops," Carrie said, flashing Juliet a momentary look of mock-regret before bursting into cacophonous, callous laughter and collapsing back into her embrace.

Mick felt sick to her stomach watching the two girls cackle at the expense of their classmate - both too self-absorbed to care about the consequences of their 'jokes' for those on the receiving end. Carrie could douse herself in all the glitter and perfume in the world, but that would never change the ugliness of the person underneath. She did a fantastic job at turning on her charm to convince people otherwise - after all, it had certainly convinced Miles and Ethan - but Mick saw through the charade; she saw her for who she truly was. And fleeting moments of superficial kindness were not enough to get her to forget about the years of cruelty she'd subjected her peers to.

As expected though, Carrie spared no thoughts on the rest of the world around her as she steadied her white sneakers on the tarmac and rested her head back on Juliet's shoulder once their laughter subsided. "Oh, I love being me," she finished with a blissful sigh.

"Come on, she's over by the bike shed," Juliet said, entwining her fingers with Carrie's. "She's bound to have turned on the waterworks by now."

And with that, the giggling girls scurried off in search of further amusement without even sparing Mick a glance, let alone a farewell.

"Bye?" Mick called after the pair (moreso Carrie though, since she was the one she'd been speaking to), but they still didn't turn around - too wrapped up in their own conversation to think about the one they'd left behind.

Letting out a huff of frustration - both at being left in the dust, and at her hopes of Carrie changing for the better being dashed - Mick pulled her Walkman out of her backpack and started plugging her headset into the right port. A pair of hands slamming down on her shoulders startled her so much they were sent to the ground with a clatter though.

"Oh shit, sorry," Miles chuckled.

"This whole 'I'm over her' thing had better be real, Miles, because I swear to God she's getting worse," Mick grumbled as she bent down and retrieved the beat-up cassette player. She spent a few agitated seconds brushing it off before turning to him with a warning, fiercely protective look in her deep brown eyes. "Stay away from her."

"Hey, you're the one who nearly tackled her to the ground," Miles grinned, holding his hands up in surrender as Mick conceded in her own way with a begrudging smile. "I'll be glad when this algebra test of yours is over; I don't like you being this tense," he added, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm more worried about you than this test," Mick replied with a snort of incredulity.

"Well don't be; I can handle myself - especially against a cheerleader who's more hair than human," Miles laughed. "And besides, Kona's been practising her karate moves on me - I'm basically ready to take on anything at this point."

"Yeah, well, for my sake, don't put that to the test," Mick replied with a fond grumpiness that soon lost out to the smile Miles' laughter drew from her lips.

"Speaking of tests, try not to fail yours," Miles chuckled, wrapping an arm around her as she set about plugging her headphones into her Walkman again.

"I'll do my best," Mick replied, bidding Miles a nod of farewell as he continued on his way into school after a dazed Ethan who hadn't even realised he’d left his side yet.

Smiling as she watched Miles leave, Mick pressed play on her cassete-player. But before she could lift her headphones up onto her ears, she spotted a flash of white and blonde in the corner of her vision. Sure enough, there were Carrie and Juliet: animatedly chattering to a group of school basketball players and, from the looks of their coy, fluttering eyelashes and flirty tosses of their hair, doing their best to convince the jocks to show up to a pep rally they already knew damn well were going to attend. Still, if they wanted to drive their relationships into the dirt, then Mick certainly wasn't going to stop them. Girls like that would never know a love like she and Butchy had anyway.

So, as her smile became tinged with a rare smugness, beyond the initial disgust, she took a deep breath and let her head be filled with sweet music, rather than poisonous thoughts about a certain bitchy blonde. And as she trudged her way through Hawkins High's dingy halls, she couldn't help but feel as though Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman' was an apt choice of song to accompany the morning's events. Fate worked in funny ways like that.

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cherrygorilla · 2 years

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Carrie’s Basic Info

Whilst I try to get back into the swing of writing TMM after my holiday, I thought I’d put together a little mash-up of some of the character posts you’ve done for your characters, Danelle, but with the only OC of mine that has any real development: Carrie! So hopefully you have fun learning a little more about her!

I couldn’t really find any actresses that I feel totally match how I picture her to be, but I loved that post you did where you put all the different actors for your characters together for each decade, so I gathered together 4 throughout the ages that at least somewhat fit her.

So, going from left to right, for current times we have Florence Pugh (which I never really thought about until I saw her in the Don’t Worry Darling trailer, and then as soon as I saw her with that beehive hairstyle it all clicked lmao), for the 60s we have Jane Fonda (I mean come on, that hair is perfect for Carrie lol), for the 90s we have Sharon Stone (she has Carrie’s little smirk there down to a tee) and for the 80s we have Kelly Preston (I know I’m basing a lot of these on hair alone, but that permed hairstyle she had in the 80s has Carrie written all over it lmao - she would have really thrived in the 80s).

Alright, now onto the actual information bit, which is pretty much just her answers to the prompts from the ‘basic info’ posts you put together for your characters. But if there’s anything I’ve missed out that you’d like to know then just let me know and I can add it in!

Name: Caroline Samantha Cole

Nickname(s): Carrie (duh), Coral (only by the surfers), Squidge (only by her dad - he loved calling her and Tanner silly things when they were little - she was Squidge because of her squishy little face, and he was, and still is, Pebbles, thanks to a long-term habit of stuffing his pockets with them any time he went to the beach), Rolie (only by her grandpa - clearly the silly nickname thing is genetic, but at least it’s part of her name), Carrie-oke/Coleslaw (Ethan - had to throw him in here too, because nicknames are kind of his speciality lol)

Age: 20

Birthday: May 20th

Zodiac: Taurus

Birthstone: Emerald

Nationality: American, Hawaiian (just from her grandma on her dad's side though)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Birthplace: Bayfront Health, St Petersburg, Florida

Current Residence: Bahia Shores, St Pete Beach, Florida

Occupation: Actress

Schooling: Went to public school up until the middle-end of her sophomore year but then had to leave when she booked her first TV movie. She tried to go back once filming wrapped, but she got signed up to be in a new TV show pretty soon after and had to drop out fully. From then on she just did her schooling on set with her co-stars and, although she eventually graduated, she never got a proper ceremony or a prom or anything, which she’s still low-key kind of bummed about. At least she can live vicariously through the characters she plays though!

Talents/Skills: Singing, dancing, acting, cooking, doing her makeup, talking shit & managing her curly hair

Birth order: Oldest (by seventeen, precious minutes)

Sibling: Thomas "Tanner" Lewis Cole (her twin)

Parents: Brett Kanoa Cole and Martha Louise Cole

Signature:

Autograph:

Height: 5' 6'' or 168cm

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: A dark, golden-y blonde

Glasses or contact lenses? None. But the same may not be able to be said for her in TMM…

Distinguishing features: Her huge mane of curly hair; freckles across her nose and cheeks; a rather infectious, megawatt smile; a pretty bold, expressive fashion sense; a tattoo of doodled musical notes on the side of her ribcage; some stretch marks around her hips/butt area that she's super self-conscious about; and two moles right next to each other on her inner arm that Miles draws a little smile under at every opportunity he gets

Mannerisms: Talks with her hands a lot, has pretty intense facial expressions (useful for acting, not so useful when she's trying to not come across as a total drama queen), hums to fill the silence; checks her appearance pretty much every time she notices her reflection (some people blame her vanity, she blames her industry-fuelled insecurity)

Health: Nothing really, she just gets really bad period cramps.

Hobbies: Singing, surfing (now that her managers aren't restricting her time at the beach), cooking, sewing (her mom is trying to teach her, but she doesn't really have the patience, or free time, for it), shopping, and learning lines (yes, she considers it a hobby lol)

Greatest flaw (in their opinion): How strongly she feels all her emotions/how deeply things affect her - it's draining to live on such an emotional rollercoaster

Greatest flaw (in reality): Her obsession with her image and how the world sees her, especially when she lets it cloud her better judgement (besides her fiery temper, jealous streak and raging narcissism, of course)

Best quality (in their opinion): Apart from the talent she built her career around, probably her loyalty - she's very much ride or die for those that she really cares about, which is something she values in others, so naturally she thinks it’s her best quality too

Best quality (in reality): Whilst she sees it as a flaw, her deep connection with her emotions is actually one of her best qualities - she's so passionate about her relationships (both romantic and friendly/familial) that she puts her whole heart and soul into everything she does for them; and will often go out of her way just to show them how much she cares. Plus it's super useful for her job; after all, it's what makes her such a good actress.

Biggest fear: Failure. Failure in her career. Failure in her relationships. She just hates the idea of disappointing people. That's why she's so dedicated to her work; she's scared of doing a bad job and ruining her reputation. She's scared of letting her parents down after all the money they funnelled into her dance classes and singing lessons. She's scared of destroying her relationship with Miles because she keeps failing to fit in with his family. She doesn't want kids because she's scared that she'll fail as a mother since she's got such a demanding job. But then she's scared that she'll be failing Miles because he's such a family-oriented guy and she won't be giving him a family of his own. I could go on and on lmao. But yeah, as the ego-centric, go-getter she is, failure is definitely her biggest, and deepest fear. Needles and spiders are probably the answers she'd jump to first though ngl.

Favourite ice cream: In her world, cookie dough. But when she went to Mick's world and discovered salted caramel it was a total gamechanger.

Favourite colour: Actual colour-wise, like an aqua blue. But failing that, gold…or anything glittery, tbh.

Favourite number(s): 1…duh! Or 20 because it's her birthday date.

Favourite movies: Her go-tos are Gentlemen Prefer Blondes or Mamma Mia (depending on the century/universe she’s in lol). But the real answer, that she would rather die than admit 90% of the time, is the 1950s Disney Cinderella cartoon. It’s been her favourite ever since she was a little girl - it’s just the most beautifully magical love story in her eyes; nothing else compares. Plus, she’s always been a dreamy, Disney Princess girly at heart - under all the bravado and occasional bitchiness. But if she ever gives up that information, you know for a fact it’s not by free-will - and whilst the select few that do know think it’s adorable, they do dish out their fair share of lovable teasing.

Favourite songs: She's such a music-oriented person that this was super hard, but I'll narrow it down to just a few… It's All Coming Back to Me Now by Celine Dion (to belt in the shower); About Damn Time by Lizzo (to dance around in her underwear to); Lucky by Britney Spears (because she feels like she can relate); Tonight from West Side Story (a song from her time she just thinks is beautiful) and I’m The Greatest Star from Funny Girl (her favourite song to perform since it’s so good at inflating her ego)

A place they want to visit: Paris, partly for the shopping, but mostly for the food. It does help that Miles is desperate to go there too though…

#this was so fun to do omg #like i said let me know if i've missed anything you want to know #and let me know if there are any other characters you want me to do this for #i don't really have any other major ocs but you never know haha #carrie

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cherrygorilla · 2 years

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The Mixtape Mysteries - Prologue (Part 2)

September - Earth, Wind & Fire - 3:35

I really let myself get carried away with this one. The entire document for the prologue is 72 pages, and since the first part was 26 pages long, that means you’re in for a long read today!

Listen along with the gang here.

The next time Royce heard Madonna telling him that he could “dance for inspiration” was only a handful of hours later, when he, Vivien and Bentley dumped their bikes by the back door of All-Skate Roller Rink and raced around to the entrance – pushing open the glass doors to be met with the familiar smell of salty french fries, sweaty socks and slushie syrup. Pop music thumped through the speakers, reverberating through the heinously patterned carpet and making the glass doors shake on their hinges; and neon lights flashed above them, illuminating the inhabitants of the hang-out spot in a rainbow of colours from fuchsia to aquamarine. A handful of arcade machines buzzed and pinged in the corner; an illuminated menu sign hung over a silver bar lined with scuffed, leather stools; and a wall of white (well, beige really) roller skates stood beside it, emblazoned with a neon ‘skate rentals’ sign for anyone that couldn’t gather their own context clues. What drew the trio’s attention most though was the huddle of teenagers by the food counter.

One was sat pouring over a notepad, thoughtfully tapping her cheek with a pencil as she bounced her pristine, white sneakers in time to the music. Another was sat on the barstool beside her, shovelling fries into his mouth like his life depended on it as he ranted and raved to his captive audience. The third had a tea towel thrown over her shoulder to give the illusion that she had ‘just stopped working for a chat’, when in reality she’d been giggling with her guests and sneaking food from their plates for the past half an hour. And the fourth was leant against the archway that led into the skate rentals booth, running a hand through his chocolate brown hair as he munched his way through a seemingly very lacklustre hotdog if his facial expression was anything to go by.

“Oh good, everything’s just as crappy as I left it,” Vivien chuckled as she, Royce and Bentley made their way over to the food counter. “You have no idea how much I missed those lime slushies on vacation.”

“Did you miss that weird, bleached vomit smell too?” Royce shot back with a cheeky smile as their sneakers traversed the garish, crunchy carpet. Why it felt like that, the kids didn’t know – and they definitely didn’t want to find out.

“Oh absolutely,” Vivien joked as she stopped in her tracks and took a comically large inhale through her nose. “It’s like coming home.”

“The fact you’re thinking about vomit right now instead of those nachos I can smell is criminal,” Bentley laughed as he ran ahead of the thirteen-year-olds and dinged the bell on the end of the food counter. “Hey, I just won on the claw machine and my prize got stuck, can one of you get it out for me?” he hollered to the four teens, interrupting whatever conversation they’d been so engrossed in with a mischievous grin.

“You need to come up with a new one, Bentley; that claw machine hasn’t given out a prize the entire time it’s been here – I’m never going to believe you until I physically see you play that game,” Mick laughed as she affectionately rolled her eyes and straightened up – again, to give the illusion that she was actually committed to her job and hadn’t just been drooling into her boyfriend’s basket of fries ever since she’d given him them.

“Hey guys!” Lela chirped, beaming at Bentley and Royce and Vivien as they approached.

“You’re here early,” Butchy noted with a lazy grin and a glance at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even seven yet.”

“Well what else would we do for fun?” Vivien snorted. “I can go and graffiti the bridge by Lovers’ Lake if you want.”

“If my only two options are you bugging me or you vandalising public property then I guess I’ll have to put up with you for the night,” he fired back before cracking a smile as the pair shared a laugh.

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Vivien said just as Miles shoved the last of his hotdog into his mouth.

“How have you guys already finished your homework?” he asked incredulously, abandoning his post by the skate rentals booth altogether as he closed the gap between the rest of his friends and the archway littered with stickers and old post-it notes.

“Easy, we didn’t have any,” Royce chuckled.

“Yeah, who the hell gives out homework on the first day back at school?” Bentley agreed.

“High school teachers,” Mick replied with a dry laugh that Miles just shook his head at.

“What have you been doing all this time then? Did you have the leftovers from last night like I told you to?" he went on to ask.

"No, we went back to Vivien's after school to look at her vacation pictures and her mom offered us dinner," Royce explained, to Miles' apparent dismay.

"You thanked her for it on your way over here, right?" he pressed. Despite how much they struggled with money, the thought of him or his brothers accepting help from others was something Miles still found difficult to come to terms with.

Royce just rolled his eyes at his brother's fretting though, and sarcastically drawled out his response. "No, Miles, we kicked over the table and flipped her the bird - of course we thanked her for it."

"Yeah, come on, we're not animals," Bentley cheekily added as he hopped onto one of the nearby barstools.

Still seemingly worried about his brothers' eating arrangements though, Miles furrowed his brows and rambled on. "Well what did she make you guys? Did it have any vegetables in it?" Clearly the old lady at the grocery store's comments about calling a social worker on them had got to him.

"Jeez, who are you? The fun police?" Mick snorted.

"Nope, that would be Butchy," Lela jumped in with a playfully teasing grin that quickly earned her a scowl from her older brother.

"Oh yeah, how was work? Did your first shift go well?" Royce turned to Butchy to ask.

"Did you arrest anyone?" Bentley tagged on, eyes wide with expectant wonder.

"Wait, you actually got that job at the police station?" Vivien asked incredulously as Butchy let out a defeated sigh.

"Yeah, I got it, it's just…not what I thought it would be," he admitted.

"How come?" Royce asked.

"You didn't have to shoot anyone, did you?" Bentley continued.

"No, buddy, of course not," Butchy said, managing a chuckle thanks to the eleven-year-old's horrified expression.

"What happened then? They didn't just stick you on parking metre duty, did they?" Vivien asked with a look of disgust. "Because that's super lame, even for your first day."

Butchy's second defeated sigh in response just made Lela let out another giggle at his expense. "Oh he could only dream of doing something as exciting as parking metre duty."

"Yeah, imagine that, Butch. You might even get to see some daylight," Miles piled on, sharing a teasing grin with Lela.

"I mean, they'll probably make you wait another two years before they let you do something as important as writing tickets - but, you never know, if you're good they might let you go out and watch someone else do it after one," she finished as she, Mick and Miles all let out a hearty laugh.

"Was it really that bad?" Bentley asked.

"No, it just...wasn't as much fieldwork as I was expecting," Butchy explained, attempting to sugarcoat it to save both the kids from disappointment and his ego from further bruising.

"That's a really nice way of saying you were stuck inside typing out paperwork all day," Mick chuckled as her boyfriend shot her a weary look of despair.

"Seriously?" Royce asked. And when all Butchy could do in response was let out his third defeated sigh so far, Royce accepted the truth with a sigh of his own. "Bummer, man."

"Yeah, that sucks," Bentley agreed.

"I told you you should have taken that job at Radio Shack," Vivien said, inadvertently rubbing further salt in the wound.

With a roll of his eyes, Butchy snapped and said, "Okay, are you guys actually just here to bug me or are you going to go skate or something?"

"We're here for the arcade machines," Royce explained.

"Yeah, bugging you is just a bonus," Vivien added with a smirk that made Royce set off to laugh.

"Ooh, and we're here for slushies," Bentley piped up, shooting Mick a hopeful grin.

With a sigh and an affectionate eye-roll, Mick wandered over to the frozen drinks machine. "I thought you might be," she chuckled. "You want your usual flavours?"

"Duh!"

As Mick set to work preparing the trio of slushies, Miles stepped up to the counter with a quizzical look. "And what money, exactly, are you planning on using to play on those arcade machines?"

"If I had any, I'd let you know," Royce snorted. But when Miles just folded his arms across his chest and raised a warning, expectant eyebrow at him, he went on to explain: "We were actually kind of hoping you'd let us borrow your little palette knife thing again."

Miles let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his already messy hair - it always looked a little dishevelled this far into his shift - Royce blamed it on stress…or all the sweaty, teenage hormones hanging in the air. "I already told you guys I'm only supposed to use that when the coin slots are jammed - it shouldn't even be able to give you a free play."

"Yeah, but it does, so we're obviously going to take advantage of it," Vivien fired back with a mischievous grin.

"Yeah, come on, Miles, it's like the best part of you having this job," Bentley said, matching Vivien's grin.

"Oh yeah? Better than me being able to feed and clothe you?" Miles retorted.

"No, but it's a pretty close second," Royce bargained with a chuckle Miles did not seem to be in the mood to reciprocate.

"I can't keep just keep handing it over to you, Royce. If you get caught I could get fired."

"Who's going to catch us? Your manager's never here, no one is ever playing on those dumb machines anyway, and it's not like Mick's going to snitch on us," Royce said.

"He's right," Mick chimed in as she set the three slushies down on the bar: one lime, one cherry and one grape - each glowing its own, fluorescent shade of the rainbow. "How could I turn in my best customers?" she added with a wry smile as she held out her palm. "Pay up, kids."

Royce and Bentley exchanged a nervous glance as Vivien started frantically rooting around in her pocket for loose change.

But Mick only let them suffer for a few seconds before dropping the act and letting out a laugh. "I'm kidding, they're on the house."

"Thanks, Mick!" they all chorused as they scooped up their respective slushies and gulped down the sugar-soaked ice until their heads pounded.

Once their giggly comments about brain-freeze had subsided, Royce turned back to Miles. "Come on, are you going to let us rig those arcade machines or not?"

"Royce," Miles began to protest, but Vivien's interjection derailed his train of thought.

"Well, if not then it sounds like graffiti-ing the bridge at Lovers' Lake is back on the table."

"It is most definitely not back on the table," Miles fired back warningly, appalled at the very idea. After all, his brothers getting arrested seemed like the perfect excuse for a nosy old lady to call a social worker on him.

"Why not? I'm like 90% certain my dad's got some old spray paint in our garage, and with Bentley's art skills I bet we could make something pretty bitchin'."

"Swearing and plotting crimes? Eighth grade has really changed you, Viv," Mick snickered, setting an orange slushie she'd taken the liberty of preparing for herself down on the bar in front of her.

"Is it that much to ask that you find something legal to do?" Miles asked with another exasperated sigh. "Can't you just, I don't know, play cards or something?"

"Do you have a pack of cards?" Royce asked.

"Why would I have a pack of cards, Royce?" he wearily replied.

"Then no, we can't play cards."

"Come on, Miles. We'll hide it really well, I promise. We used it over summer when it was way busier than this and we never got caught. This'll be a breeze," Bentley tried with a hopeful smile that tugged on Miles' heartstrings more than he cared to admit.

He considered his options for a few seconds before letting out a pained sigh and asking: "You're sure this is the only alternative to you turning to a life of crime?"

Royce had to try extremely hard to hide his grin. "Absolutely."

Miles just lovingly shook his head in response. "If we end up living on the streets, it's on your head, Royce. You hear me?" he said as he disappeared into the skate rentals booth and reappeared a moment later with something wedged in his jeans pocket.

"Loud and clear," Royce chuckled as Miles trudged past Mick and met the trio on the opposite side of the food counter.

"Which machine is it tonight then, kiddos?" Miles caved and asked, letting a smile envelope his face whilst his brothers and Vivien broke into an excited debate and led the way to the cluster of arcade machines in the corner.

"I've got to check I still have the high score on Dig Dug first, but then we said we'd start with Pac-Man," Royce explained.

"Why are you so obsessed with keeping your high score on Dig Dug?" Vivien chuckled.

"Because there's no way I'm even going to break onto the leaderboard on the machine at the arcade across town, let alone get the top spot - not when Dustin plays it like it's his job."

"Well you're not going to even get on the leaderboard on this Pac-Man machine with the way you play - you can barely even get past the second level," Bentley teased.

"It's not my fault I can't remember all the dumb patterns!"

Stopping by the first arcade game they reached - a rundown Space Invaders machine that had only half of the title illuminated - Miles scanned his surroundings to make sure no one was watching them before sliding his hand into his pocket and producing the rounded, flat silver stick. "Okay, now remember-"

"If a paying customer wants to use the machine, then we have to let them use it. We know," Royce and Bentley parroted.

"And?"

"When we're not using it, the coin pusher thing stays out of sight."

"And?"

"No free games for friends," Royce said.

"Apart from Vivi," Bentley added with a cheeky grin.

Miles just sighed and fondly shook his head at them. "The things I do to keep you kids out of trouble," he chuckled as he begrudgingly handed over the arcade machine hacker tool to Royce.

"Thanks, Miles!" Royce and Vivien exclaimed as they quickly wrapped their arms around his middle and raced over to the Dig Dug machine.

"Thanks, Miles," Bentley echoed with a touch more sincerity as he gave his older brother a hug of his own. "You're the best."

"Yeah, yeah, just try not to get me fired," Miles said as he ruffled Bentley's hair and tried to straighten out his black t-shirt, adorned with All-Skate's logo and tag-line: 'That's how we roll…' - i.e. his only evidence of a work uniform.

"We'll be good, don't worry," Bentley grinned.

"Are you kidding me? Worrying about you guys is all I know how to do," Miles joked as he wished Bentley a final goodbye and headed back over to the food counter to rejoin his conversation with Mick, Butchy and Lela - and to spy on his little brothers from a respectable distance.

"Maybe it's not as bad as you think," Miles heard Mick say as he approached, apparently trying to reason with her grumpy boyfriend.

"I sit in the office equivalent of a cardboard box and read through old paperwork all day, Mick…I don't see how it could be any worse."

"Well look at it this way: at least it's giving you an idea of the sort of things you'll be dealing with once you start your real training," she went on to explain.

"And how all the conflicts were resolved," Lela added before another mischievous grin crept onto her face. "You never know, you might be able to learn a thing or two about how to stop picking dumb fights."

"Real funny, sis," Butchy scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

"Hey, Butch, if someone calls the cops on you, are they still going to have to send out a car or can you just drive yourself in now?" Miles asked, once again joining in with Lela's teasing as he positioned himself back by the skate rentals booth.

"And would they still have to question you in a holding cell, or could it just be considered water cooler talk now?"

"Are you two done yet?" Butchy asked. But his question was lost amongst Lela's giggles and Miles' guffaws.

"It'll get old for them before you know it," Mick said with an amused glance across at the pair. When her eyes settled back on Butchy's though, she found herself abandoning her slushie to lean her forearms on the bar again. Ignoring the stickiness of the metal on her bare skin, she reached out and took his hands in hers, offering him a reassuring smile as she leaned in and said, "I'm still proud of you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, before a roguish twinkle flashed in her eyes and she added, "Even if you are just a desk jockey with a shiny badge."

Butchy snorted out a laugh at her teasing remark and dropped his gaze to his now-empty plate. "Actually I haven't been given a badge yet," he admitted.

Clearly disappointed by that revelation, Mick feigned a look of horror, much to her boyfriend's entertainment. Straightening up, she paused to think for a moment whilst idly tapping her fingers on the bar - but after a few seconds, a smirk twisted her lips as she swiped the stack of post-it notes from beside the cash register and set to work scrawling something on the top slip of yellow paper. Before Butchy could question what she was doing, the post-it note was being slapped on his chest, just above his heart.

"There, now you have," she said, standing back to admire her handiwork with a proud, yet cheeky grin.

Glancing down, Butchy tested his abilities to read upside down, finding, to his delight, that Mick had labelled him '#1 cop'. Letting out a chuckle at her antics, he brought his gaze up to hers again, and as soon as their eyes met he felt all his worries and pent-up anger from the day's events melt away. The chestnut locks framing her face, the playful glint in her eyes, the way she had turned up the sleeves of her sky blue All-Skate t-shirt just to show off to Bentley that she hadn't washed off the dolphin temporary tattoo he'd branded her with on Saturday afternoon yet…even the buzz he felt race through him every time they were in the same room as each other - everything about her was just perfect. Hell, that smile of hers was powerful enough on its own to lift any weight off his shoulders, no matter how heavy.

"How did I wind up so lucky?" he eventually asked with a smitten grin Mick relished.

"The universe works in mysterious ways," she smirked.

But their romantic exchange was soon interrupted. Not by more teasing from Miles and Lela though, instead by the glass doors being thrown open by a lumbering fool in a black beanie and dubiously stained, brown corduroys.

"Speaking of mysterious ways," Mick muttered as she clocked the boy strolling over to them.

"Four deliveries and it's not even 7pm? I am on a roll, my dudes!" Ethan exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air to point at his co-workers behind the bar.

"I still can't believe there are people that like this food enough to have it delivered," Butchy muttered to Mick, before quickly adding, "No offence."

"None taken," she chuckled. "It's not like I make any of it from scratch. We've got more freezers back there than Baskin-Robbins."

"Nice, man," Miles said, matching his friend's energy and laid-back grin with an ease that only a decade of friendship could achieve. "You're making good time tonight."

"Hell yeah I am! Am I the best delivery driver this place has ever had, or what?" Ethan hollered, revelling in his momentary glory for all it was worth as he held out his arms to the side and did a little spin. How he didn't trip over the undone laces of his beat-up Nikes was a miracle considering how clumsy he usually was.

"Well you're the only delivery driver we've ever had, so it's not like you have much competition," Mick noted with a strained sigh. If she had to describe Ethan in one word, it would be: exhausting.

"Doesn't make it any less true," Ethan said as he finally reached the food counter where his friends resided. Well, one friend, one co-worker and two unwilling acquaintances. "'Sup guys."

"Hey, Ethan," Butchy mumbled. Evidently he found spending time with the guy as tedious as his girlfriend did.

"How's it hangin', wahine?" Ethan drawled to Mick, sporting a teasing grin as he stuck out his thumb and pinkie and shook his hand at her.

"I moved here from California three years ago, Ethan. You don't need to keep calling me that," Mick said with a deadpan tone that Miles had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing at.

"What happened to 'you can take the girl away from the surf, but you can't take the surf away from the girl'?" Ethan asked, disappointed that his antics weren't met with the same, warm reception Miles always put the energy aside to deliver.

"I don't think I ever said that."

"Yeah, well, middle-school-you would say otherwise," Ethan retorted as Miles finally gave in and let a snort of laughter slip out.

"Don't you have work to do?" Mick asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Do you hear a phone ringing?" Ethan fired back. And after a moment's pause of nothing but silence - well, silence save for Belinda Carlisle belting out over the speakers and the happy chatter of the skaters out on the rink - he smirked and said, "Then it looks like I'm off-duty, Mickey Mouse."

"I take it you're liking being a delivery driver then, Ethan?" Lela chuckled. At least she found his antics amusing.

"Potato chip, it is gnarly!" he exclaimed with a grin. Letting Ethan overhear Butchy calling her 'Lays' was a mistake she quickly regretted, but, with time, grew to appreciate. "I only actually have to work when some bonehead orders food. And even then, all I do is drive around town in my van. They're basically just paying me to listen to Black Sabbath and blaze-."

"You sure you wanna finish that sentence?" Miles cut in with a chuckle. "Butch started his new job today."

Spotting the '#1 cop' badge, Ethan's eyes widened and a sheepish smile broke across his face as he floundered for an excuse. "...blaze through traffic! Man, if I take those back roads then I can get across town in no time. Gotta keep that 'piping hot promise', you know?"

"Nice save," Mick said sarcastically before taking a long drag of her slushie.

"Hey, I can't get locked up; I've got hungry people out there that need me."

"They need you?" Miles asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yu-huh. Who else is going to serve them food? I made a promise when I put on this shirt, Miles, and it is one I intend to keep," Ethan said, gesturing to his version of the All-Skate t-shirt, which was a rather fitting, overbearing neon yellow. "I have a duty to the people of Hawkins to deliver them their shitty pizzas in thirty minutes or less - that's the All-Skate way. I can't just desert them in their time of need. Where else would they get a box of greasy mozzarella sticks from? People depend on us for this stuff, and they depend on me to deliver it to them. I'm like Batman, but for crappy diner food!"

"Batman, huh?" Miles chuckled. "I guess that makes the phone your bat signal."

"Dude, you are so right!" Ethan enthused, reaching out for a high five. But as soon as their hands met, a discordant ringing echoed from the kitchen behind them.

Mick couldn't help but laugh as she noticed the stoner's look of despair. "Jump to it, Batman; your people need you."

"Are you kidding me? I just got back!"

"What happened to 'serving the people of Hawkins'?" Miles asked.

"Yeah, I thought they were depending on you," Lela joined in with an amused smirk of her own.

"Well can't they depend on me in five minutes? I'm beat," Ethan huffed. But the ringing phone didn't let up.

"If you're wanting sympathy, you're not getting any from me," Mick scoffed. "Now look alive, Bruce; that microwave isn't going to work itself."

With a heavy sigh of resignation, Ethan said his farewells and trudged towards the kitchen. "These guys had better give me a phat tip for this," he muttered to himself as he disappeared through the black swing doors and sluggishly reached for the red, plastic phone on the wall.

"A broken ice cream machine? Employees high on the job? Maybe All-Skate isn't going downhill after all," Butchy said sarcastically, shooting a teasing grin at Mick and Miles, who just frowned in response. They may hate their jobs 90% of the time, but that didn't stop them from being oddly protective of the dilapidated skating establishment.

"God, he's such a moron," Mick huffed as she momentarily closed her eyes in despair.

"Yeah, but he's harmless," Miles said with an affectionate chuckle.

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Mick's lips, which was all the evidence Miles needed to know that she agreed with him, albeit reluctantly. But before either of them could debate Ethan's morals further, a voice crackled over the speakers that pulled both of their gazes to the rink.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, let's liven things up a little bit. School may be back in session, and corporate America may be kicking our asses, but that is no excuse to sit back and let life pass us by. So skate away those Monday blues and dance like it's Saturday night. I want to see some out of this world moves for this next song!"

"Unfortunately, the same can't be said for her," Mick muttered to Miles as her resentment towards the girl pulled her lips back into an all-too-familiar frown.

Mick's scowl wasn't matched by Miles though, if anything he just longingly looked on as the girl flicked up the mic of her headset and busied herself pressing buttons at her sound station.

Moments later, the opening guitar riff of Bananarama's 'Venus' flooded through the roller rink's speakers, syncing up with the pre-planned flashing of the colourful overhead lights. Mick couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Oh here we go, she must be getting bored; she's playing her song," she said, having worked with the DJ long enough to know that this was a particular favourite of hers to skate to. And sure enough, once satisfied that the song, and accompanying lighting package, would run without a hitch, Carrie rolled out of her rink-side kiosk to join the rest of the skaters on the dancefloor.

Her voluminous, golden curls spilled out of her head and down her back, no longer tamed by the green scrunchie she'd worn at school. Well, some of them were held up in an aqua blue one at the very top of her head, in a style not dissimilar to Lela's - but most roamed free across her shoulders, bouncing and swaying with every move she made. Her version of the customary All-Skate uniform t-shirt was hot pink to match her glittery knee pads, although she had hers tied at the waist and pulled down over one shoulder to reveal more of the funky, patterned leotard she wore underneath. Vibrant, turquoise leggings matched the scrunchie in her hair and the graphic eyeliner she'd applied in the employee bathroom a minute before her shift had started. But what drew attention to her the most were her signature, holographic, silver roller skates, complete with hot pink toe-stops and laces she switched out daily to match her outfit - today's being: of course, aqua blue. If her smile wasn't already dazzling enough, the sheer number of reflective items of clothing she wore meant that a new part of her caught the light of the overhead disco ball with every twist or turn she made. Even her skin seemed to be glistening in the glow of the rink's neon lights, making her look every bit as ethereal as the 'goddess on the mountain top' in the song she was singing and dancing her heart out to with her friends.

Mick let out a disgruntled sigh as she watched the girl flout her work responsibilities and skate around without a care in the world, but when she glanced across at Miles and found him watching her with awestruck wonder, she couldn't help but giggle at his expression. After all, her fondness of Miles could trump her distaste for Carrie any day. "Oh, she's got it alright," she teasingly chuckled. "Isn't that right, Miles?"

But Miles was too preoccupied with trying to stop himself from drooling to reply. He was absolutely transfixed. Every twirl or crossover she executed felt to him as if it was happening in slow motion, the song she was dancing to barely audible over the blood pounding in his ears. And when she locked eyes with him across the room, he's pretty sure he stopped breathing altogether.

"Are you shitting me right now? You're still not over that stupid crush on her?" Butchy hissed.

"Wait, you've got a crush on Carrie, Miles?! How am I only just finding out about this now?" Lela squealed as Miles' eyes flew wide in terror.

"I do not have a crush on her!" he insisted. But his scarlet cheeks told a different story.

"Mhm, keep trying, I almost believed you that time," Mick sarcastically fired back, prompting him to roll his eyes in defeat.

"I thought I told you to stay away from her, Miles; those rich, popular kids are bad news," Butchy chastised.

"How am I supposed to stay away from her when we work together?"

"Well, in case you forgot, I work with her too, and, by some crazy miracle, I've managed to refrain from staring at her ass at every opportunity possible - so I guess it can be done," Mick said with a dry intonation and a wicked smirk. "You know, if you put in even the tiniest bit of effort."

"Mick, I don't-!" But Miles' horrified protests were cut short when he saw a haze of turquoise and magenta approaching in his periphery. Daring a glance to his right, sure enough, he saw Carrie effortlessly rock onto her toe-stops and hop off the rink as she made a beeline for the food counter. "Holy shit, why is she coming over here?" he breathed as he quickly averted his eyes.

"Beats me," Mick replied with a shrug.

"Jesus Christ, just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse," Butchy muttered.

"Don't worry, she's not going to stay long."

"How do you know? What the hell are you going to do?" Miles asked worriedly.

"Easy, Romeo, don't pop a blood vessel. She's probably just out of water or something," Mick chuckled before her attention was snatched away by the cheerleader on wheels.

"Hey, Mi-kana," Carrie called once she was within earshot of the group, catching herself midway through the girl's nickname and trying to correct herself. "Could I get a refill?" she finished as she reached the bar and held out her water bottle to the brunette with a sheepish smile, courtesy of her verbal faux pas.

"Sure, Carrie," Mick said as she mustered a tight grin and shot Miles a knowing look on her way to the tap behind her. In all honesty, Mick was rather impressed that Carrie had taken any notice of her remark at school at all, let alone that she'd cared enough to remember and take the criticism on board. It almost made her smile feel…genuine. Almost.

"Thanks," Carrie beamed. Ever the chatterbox, the silence that had fallen over the group upon her arrival didn't last long. "So…pretty slow night tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, it, uh, it makes a change from last week," Miles noted, praying that he didn't sound as nervous as he felt thanks to Butchy's steely glare boring holes into his skull.

"A welcome one though," Mick added with a snort.

Again, silence - awkward silence.

"…How did you guys find being back at school? Did you have a good first day?" Carrie continued after the momentary pause.

"Does anyone ever?" came Miles' reply.

"Touché," she chuckled in response, before the sound of her metal water bottle being slammed down onto the counter made her flinch.

"There you go," Mick said, plastering one last false smile to her face as she held the girl's gaze for a beat. But just as quickly as their eyes met, they separated again with Mick beginning to turn away, optimistically thinking that their interaction was over. Before she could stray too far though, Carrie jumped in to prove otherwise.

"Wait, Makana!"

It seemed as though Mick just couldn't get away from her today. "What?" she asked. The impatient sigh she let out wasn't intentional (well, not entirely), but Carrie didn't seem too deterred by it.

"About earlier today at school…"

Even at the very mention of the confrontation, Mick found herself defensively crossing her arms over her chest again. "What about it?"

Eyebrows furrowed with concern, Carrie toyed with the lid of her water bottle as she tried to find the right words to say. "...Are we, like, okay?"

Mick rolled her eyes before she could stop herself and let out another, weary sigh. "We're fine, Carrie. I just wish your douchebag friends would stay out of my way."

"You're not lumping me in with that 'douchebag' label, are you?" she asked. Her expression and tone told Mick that she was just joking around, but there was something about the look in her eyes - the worry swimming amongst the ocean blue - that softened her frown. Maybe she wasn't such a stone-cold bitch after all. Maybe she did actually care about things other than herself. And maybe Mick, in all her 'dorky surfer girl' glory, was one of them.

To her surprise, Mick's scowl eased all the way into a smile. "No, Carrie. You're good," she reassured, even going so far as to let out a little chuckle as she watched the relief wash over the girl. There was something oddly endearing about how earnestly she meant what she said. "Just try to keep your bitchy friends on a tighter leash," she said, only half-joking.

"Noted," Carrie nodded before getting brave and attempting to push her luck that little bit further. "And as far as the whole name thing goes…"

Affectionately rolling her eyes at her co-worker's persistence, Mick said, "You can call me 'Mick'."

"So does that mean we are friends after all?" Carrie asked with a hopeful grin that began to twist its way into a smirk.

"Yeah, I guess we can be friends," Mick replied with a teasing reluctance that still held at least some sincerity - although Mick wasn't sure the ditzy blonde could pick up on that. "Work friends," she went on to emphasise.

"What? So the invitation isn't valid outside the building?" Carrie scoffed, clearly thinking the junior must be joking.

"No," Mick deadpanned, prompting Carrie's easygoing grin to fall right off her face. "Not until the outside-you starts acting like the All-Skate-you."

Carrie was stunned into silence. Eyes locked onto Mick's look of exasperation, her eyebrows furrowed - at first in confusion, but then in anger as Mick watched her transform into the bitchy cheerleader caricature she'd grown to loathe over the years in a matter of seconds. Her eyes flashed with momentary outrage as Mick's words finally sunk in, and part of the brunette began to worry as she noticed Carrie's grip on her water bottle tightening. Anticipating the worst, Mick caught herself holding her breath as she waited for Carrie to rear up and start hurling every poisonous insult in her no-doubt extensive arsenal at her. But to her surprise, the blonde didn't progress beyond opening her glossed lips.

Feeling her temper starting to catch light, Carrie scrambled to hit the brakes before the countless, catty remarks the little devil on her shoulder was whispering in her ear could slip from her tongue. And just as suddenly as it had appeared, the sinister glint in her eye vanished, as did all traces of the vain, bitter monster Mick's unsolicited reality check drew out of her. In its place: a rather unnerved roller rink DJ, sporting a gaudy outfit and a perplexed frown that was swiftly replaced with a lopsided grin once she remembered where she was. She let out an awkward chuckle, that would have been a lot more convincing had Mick not caught her temporary image slip, as she tried to figure out how she should respond. "Alright, well, I guess I'll take what I can get," she eventually settled on, attempting the comedy route with a jokey grin as she hopefully extended her arms. "Wanna hug it out?"

Mick's tight smile should have said it all. "...Let's not push it."

"Okay, I get it - baby steps," Carrie said, rolling a few feet back from the counter with her hands raised in surrender, which, to her delight, drew a chuckle from her co-worker's lips. "Catch you later, Mick," she finished with a giggle and a peppy wave as she hopped onto one of her toe stops and turned to leave.

"Alright, don't let it get to your head," Mick said with another affectionate eye-roll at the girl's cheesy grin.

"See you, M-"

But Carrie's farewell to her other co-worker was cut short when she noticed a certain young man perched on one of the barstools to her left. And despite her best efforts to take the high road during her conversation with Mick, the opportunity presenting itself in front of her was just too tempting to pass up.

"You're seriously here again, Biagio? Don't you have somewhere better to be now that you've graduated?" Carrie scoffed as her smile warped into its signature, wicked smirk.

If looks could kill, Carrie would have keeled over on the spot.

But when Butchy saw the beastly delight glittering in her eyes, he lost all the integrity he'd built up in their time apart, along with his ability to rise above her petty mocking. Spurred on by her gleeful spite, he too fixed a smirk to his face as he gave in and did exactly what he promised himself he wouldn't: stoop to her level.

"I could say the same about you, Cole. Wasn't this just supposed to be a summer job?"

Carrie didn't even flinch. "That's what they hired me for," she confirmed with a smug nod.

"Oh yeah? Then how come you're still here?" he spat. With Butchy holding a spot on the Hawkins High football team for the last two years of his high school career, and Carrie practically picking up a pair of pompoms as soon as she walked through the doors in her freshman year, the pair had a lengthy history of unfortunate run-ins. No one was entirely sure what went down to spark such a rivalry, but their distaste for one another ran deep, and showed no signs of shifting any time soon.

"Why do you care? You trying to see if we've got an opening? Because we're not hiring, but if you're that desperate for the money I could totally get you one of those cute little maid outfits and make you the janitor. It'd make my job a hell of a lot easier."

Ignoring her mocking remarks, Butchy focused on the one part of Carrie's spiel that piqued his interest. "Ahh, so that's why you're here. Because you're desperate for money," Butchy claimed with a smug grin of his own, continuing with his tirade before the blonde could object. "Damn, I never thought I'd see the day Caroline Cole was strapped for cash. What happened, princess? Did you bleed your parents' bank account dry with all your dumb shopping trips? Or, even better, did Daddy finally cut you off from the trust fund after you and your little friends got busted for underage drinking?"

The look that flashed in Carrie's eyes was downright murderous, and Butchy relished it for all it was worth. He could practically see the steam rising from the top of her head as his words settled in, leaving her a seething bundle of lycra and hairspray. But all good things must come to an end, and as quickly as she'd lost her temper, she found a way to retaliate. After all, talking shit was high on her list of talents, as was inflating her ego. So why not combine the two?

"Neither," she said as she plastered a sickeningly sweet smile across her face. "I'm just so good at my job they couldn't bear to let me go."

Disgruntled that he hadn't landed the K.O. shot, Butchy rolled his eyes in response to her ill-warranted self-flattery. "Yeah, 'cause pressing 'play' on a stereo is a job," he scoffed.

"Hey, at least I have a job," Carrie fired back.

But before Butchy could continue the embittered bickering, Lela jumped in with a response that made him want the ground to swallow him whole.

"Well, as of today, so does he," she said, bearing a proud smile that only grew as Butchy turned to shoot daggers at her. Letting out a mischievous giggle, she added in a quieter tone: "What? You do."

"Oh yeah? What?" Carrie taunted with a sceptical raise of her eyebrow. Crossing her arms over her chest, that infamous smirk of hers crawled its way back onto her face as Butchy finally turned back to her, ready to fight back. But something stuck to his chest caught her attention before he could open his mouth. Although it did draw a snort of scornful laughter from hers. "Oh don't tell me that badge is serious."

Any sort of counterattack was hopeless and he knew it, instead just closing his eyes and letting out a pained sigh of despair as he tried his best to keep his cool.

Cackling laughter spilled from the glittery lips of the blonde as she turned to her co-worker behind the bar to confirm her suspicions. "Mick, I didn't know you had a thing for pigs."

The fist that slammed down on the counter was all the evidence Mick needed to know that her boyfriend was fed up. He couldn't bear to spend any time with Carrie at the best of times, let alone after a disappointing day at work, which evidently he was now being ridiculed for.

"Is that seriously how you're going to talk to someone who's gonna be risking their life to keep our town safe?"

"Pfft, if handing out parking tickets and narking on their neighbours is what you call 'keeping our town safe', then yeah, I guess it is," Carrie said.

"So if the police chief walked in here right now, you'd walk up to him and call him a 'pig' to his face?" Butchy challenged, calling her bluff.

"Well, no; I wouldn't walk, I'd have to roll," she explained with an exaggerated wiggle of her skate that made him want to rip it off her foot and hurl it at her. "Look, it's nothing personal-"

"Could have fooled me," Butchy muttered, rolling his eyes so far back into his skull he thought they might never come back down again.

"I just think all cops are overblown scumbags," she finished. "I've never met one that's a genuinely good guy in my life."

"So you're just gonna disrespect them all then? That's your tactic?" Butchy asked.

"Yeah, fuck the authority!" Carrie exclaimed, just doing it to piss him off now.

"Hey, right on, Carrie-oke!" Ethan hollered, bursting through the kitchen doors with a stack of cardboard food boxes just in time to show his support. "Don't let The Man bring you down!"

"Oh I won't, Ethan, don't you worry," Carrie chuckled, shooting her co-worker an appreciative grin before turning her attention back to Butchy. Rolling over to him, she let that wicked smirk of hers twist her lips one last time as she leant forwards and said in a quiet, almost sultry voice that made bile rise in the back of his throat. "He knows he's no match for me anyway."

She held his gaze for a few seconds and almost broke a sweat thanks to the heat the anger boiling beneath his skin was generating. For the sake of saving her makeup from sliding off her face, or perhaps in a fleeting moment of generosity, she showed the boy mercy and pushed herself off on her skates - once again rolling away from the group by the food counter, offering them a range of waves and farewells as she went. Ethan, thanks to his rebellious stance on the law, earned himself another of the salutes Carrie had been dealing out to him of late, which he was all too pleased to receive. But Butchy gave her a salute of her own as she headed back to the dancefloor - a one finger one. She just feigned a heartbroken sob in response though that turned into a smug grin right as the coloured lights above her flashed an apt shade of green.

As usual, Carrie's departure left the teens speechless.

However, as oblivious to social cues as ever, Ethan was the first to break the silence with a chuckle and a thump on Miles' arm. "Dude, I still can't get over the fact that she actually talks to us."

"I wish she fucking wouldn't," Butchy grumbled, staring down at his plate as if he was willing it to shatter into a thousand pieces.

"It's hella freaky," Ethan continued, totally unphased by Butchy's remark.

"That's one way to put it," Mick noted with a snort as she leant over and reassuringly rubbed her boyfriend's shoulder, immediately feeling him relax at her touch, even if just a little.

"I mean come on, she's like one of the most popular girls in school and she just willingly talks to us, and is super freaking cool? It doesn't make sense, man."

"Ethan, you do realise she's spending time with us because she works here, right?" Mick said.

"Well, she'll be spending even more time with us if Miles asks her out," Lela said with a mischievous grin.

Miles almost choked on his own breath. "What the-? Who said anything about asking her out?!"

"Well if you've got a crush on her then that's sort of the next step," Lela reasoned. "It's pretty standard stuff, Miles."

"Miles acting on his feelings? That's a good one, Lela," Mick scoffed.

"Yeah, that is a total bust; he's never gonna do that," Ethan chuckled. For once, he and Mick could agree on something.

"Oh come on, Miles. What have you got to lose?" Lela said.

"Nothing, because nothing's going to happen, because we're just friends," Miles emphasised with an almost frantic urgency.

"You're going to have to do a lot more than that to convince me, buddy," Mick chuckled.

"Yeah, there's literally no way you two are 'just friends' after the shit that went down last night," said Ethan.

…Fuck.

"Oh my god, what happened last night?!" Lela exclaimed.

Miles just turned to Ethan in utter horror. He wanted nothing more than to grab him by the shoulders, shake him until his curls dropped out of his hair and scream: "What the hell are you doing?! Are you trying to get me killed?!" But instead, he pulled his lips into a tight grin and said: "Don't you have somewhere to be, Ethan?"

"Nah, I'm good, I-" But his rambling was cut short when Miles shot him a warning look and smacked the bottom of the stack of food boxes in his arms, jostling them about in his grip so much he nearly dropped them all over the floor. Dopey grin wiped from his face, Ethan finally caught on. "Oh shit, yeah. Right. Delivery."

Miles gave a pointed nod and ushered the boy past him, desperate to get rid of the stoner so that he could salvage what was left of this shambles of an excuse. "Uhh, Ethan doesn't know what he's talking about. He was probably high out of his mind last night and-" Miles began to ramble once his friend was out of earshot.

But Mick was quick to shut him down with a knowing smirk. "That may be, but I think you're forgetting about the other, sober witness to these events."

"I swear to God, Miles. If you've done anything with her-" Butchy began.

"I haven't done anything! I don't know what the hell everyone is talking about! I don't even like her like that!"

"Oh Jesus, I can smell the bullshit from here," Mick laughed, pulling her t-shirt up to cover her nose.

Miles just rolled his eyes at her teasing though, frowning at her as Butchy rattled on with the same warnings about Carrie he'd heard at least a hundred times over the past few months, only tuning in to the latter third of the spiel.

"-I don't get it. What the hell do you see in her? She doesn't have one redeeming quality, unless you're a jock with two brain cells who just wants someone to treat like a trophy wife. I mean seriously, Miles? Going after the airhead, bitchy cheerleader just because half the school thinks she's pretty? I didn't realise you were so shallow. You never care about that shit normally. What's going on with you? I thought-"

"Nothing's going on with me, Butch. And that's not why I like her," Miles cut in with an exasperated sigh. "I just like talking to her at the end of my shift, is that such a crime?"

"It is if it involves her," Butchy countered.

"Don't listen to him, Miles. I think it's sweet," Lela encouraged.

"I don't know about 'sweet', 'crazy' seems more fitting," Mick said.

"Try 'fucking insane'," Butchy added, drawing a laugh from his girlfriend's lips.

But before Miles could attempt to defend himself further, a group of freshmen approached the skate rentals counter and rang the bell, reminding Miles that he was actually there to work after all. Thankful for the break from the uncomfortable conversation, he excused himself and went to deal with the eager customers. But even whilst scanning the shelves of skates, he found his mind drifting back to what his friends had said - what they'd said about him, what they'd said about last night. And as he stood there, trying not to break down coughing in response to the pine-scented deodorizer spray, his mind kept wandering back to her…wandering back to how she'd made him feel…

Staring down into the puddle of heinously coloured, birthday cake vomit, slap-bang in the middle of the roller rink, Miles felt tears begin to prick his eyes. It's not that he was upset, or that the rancid stench was making his eyes water; it was simply because he had realised, in that moment, that he'd reached his breaking point, and that this pool of sprinkle-littered puke was the thing had finally pushed him over the edge. He was exhausted beyond belief; his entire body ached, his eyelids burned from lack of sleep, his feet were covered in blisters thanks to the fact that his sneakers were practically falling apart on him, his midnight blue All-Skate t-shirt was damp with a day's worth of stress-sweat and the skin of his hands stung from the chemical-soaked rag he was using to wipe up the mess. And to make matters worse, there was no end in sight. In fact, things were only going to go downhill once schoolwork was factored back into this nightmare of an equation he called his life. He loved his little brothers with everything he had, and he'd do anything for them (which should have been evident considering his current situation)... But looking after them on his own was proving to be both the thing that was driving him towards doing the unthinkable and the only thing keeping him hanging on.

His breath caught in his throat as he swallowed down a sob that could have been a scream if he'd dared let it out - both felt warranted in that moment. And as he screwed his eyes shut, trying to regain his composure, he felt his shoulders slump in defeat. The silence of the roller rink was suffocating, even the familiar clatter of Mick and Ethan cleaning up the kitchen couldn't bring him any comfort. But the sound of scuffed, plastic wheels approaching on the sticky, vinyl floor pried his eyelids open again. Once the mist cleared from his vision, he watched in amazement as two, holographic, silver roller skates rolled into his line of sight. Panning up from the skates and the hot pink leg warmers, over the lime green dolphin shorts and white All-Skate t-shirt (which was now sporting an unfortunate mustard stain on the sleeve, thanks to one particularly persistent little brat's extreme efforts to request a song), his eyes eventually settled on the sympathetic grin of a certain roller rink DJ.

"I thought you might want an upgrade," she said, presenting him with a mop and bucket of soapy water.

The bout of relief that flooded through him was almost enough to warrant another sob. But instead he just shook his head in disbelief and let out a laugh that breathed air back into his lungs. "Not all heroes wear capes."

"Sometimes we just wear shiny roller skates," she confirmed with a cheeky grin as she kicked her foot out to the side to show off the footwear in question.

Pulling himself to his feet, Miles accepted the mop and soapy bucket with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Carrie."

"Well, I thought it would be a little more effective than a dirty rag," she chuckled as she went to grab a mop of her own from where she'd stashed the cleaning supplies at the edge of the rink. "And besides, at least this way we can stay a safe distance away from Jeremy's little 'accident'." But when she returned to Miles' side, the putrid smell hit her like a ton of bricks. Gagging, she very nearly added to the pool herself, before reaching to cover her nose and mouth with the neckline of her shirt. "Then again, even this might be too close."

"You good?" Miles asked, unable to stop himself from fondly chuckling at her dramatic display.

"I'll be fine," she promised. "I just need a couple of seconds to get used to it."

"It helps if you breathe through your mouth," Miles offered.

Cautiously pulling her t-shirt down, she followed his advice, only to recoil in horror. "No it doesn't! I feel like I can taste it now!" she exclaimed, again gagging into the cotton she quickly covered her mouth and nose with again as Miles set off to laugh. "Jesus Christ, how were you kneeling down next to it? My eyes feel like they're about to melt out of my head."

"I guess you're not the only superhero around here."

"What's your superpower? Nostrils of steel?" Carrie teased.

"The ability to put up with superhuman levels of bullshit," Miles explained with a wry smile.

"I can't argue with that one," she sighed, momentarily moving her t-shirt down again to offer him her second sympathetic grin of this conversation - her twentieth of the day so far. It had been a rough shift.

Holding her gaze for a beat, a warmth spread throughout Miles' chest that he couldn't have put into words if he'd tried. But, terrified of what that meant for him, he didn't let the moment linger for long - and neither did the nagging stench coming from the pool of vomit at their feet. So, before the blush he could feel starting to warm his cheeks rose too close to the surface, he plunged his mop into the bucket of soapy water and set to work cleaning up the mess. As soon as he began pushing the puke around though, a fresh cloud of stink wafted in the pair's direction. Miles admittedly scrunched his nose in disgust, but Carrie jerked her entire head away from the offensive smell so forcefully she almost knocked herself clean off her feet, once again exclaiming her revulsion, much to Miles' amusement.

"Come on, pull yourself together. Are you here to help me or what?" he jokingly chastised.

"I'm here to help, I'm here to help," Carrie promised, trying to convince herself as much as Miles as she inched a little closer to the chunky puddle. She took a few seconds to mumble some affirmations under her breath to sike herself up, but, true to her word, she did eventually join the clean-up effort - evidently even less thrilled about the task than her co-worker. "I swear to God, if I ever see Jeremy Green walk through those doors again, I'm shoving this mop down his throat."

"Don't you dare, he doesn't need another excuse to up-chuck all over the rink."

The pair bantered back and forth as they cleaned up the puke, laughing and joking as though they'd been friends for years, rather than a matter of months. And once the mess was gone, as Miles was finishing rinsing off his mop, Carrie clapped her hands together and turned to him with a mischievous grin.

"Right, now we can start with the real fun."

Miles snorted. "What? Cleaning up everything else?"

"No, dummy," Carrie said, affectionately whacking his arm. "Selecting our soundtrack for the evening."

Chuckling, Miles watched her speed off to the edge of the rink as he grabbed the bucket and strolled after her. "And then cleaning everything else?" he clarified, raising his eyebrow at her as she ducked into the skate rentals booth.

"Yeah, don't sound so excited," she sarcastically fired back as she searched under the counter, eventually finding what she was looking for with a murmured: "Bingo."

As Miles finished dumping out the last of the dirty water from the mop bucket, a pair of roller skates were pushed into his chest, wheels clattering together and electric blue laces becoming tangled in his fingers as he fumbled to keep a hold on them.

"Suit up; we've got a rink to clean!" Carrie beamed, lopsided pigtails (courtesy of a seven-year-old yanking at her hair until she played The Loco-Motion) bouncing as she bounded across to All-Skate's arcade section. As Miles trudged after her, she screeched to a halt in front of the hammer-hit game, eyes lighting up in sync with the flashing bulbs surrounding the score panel. Spinning on her toe-stop, she bowed and proudly presented Miles with the over-sized sponge mallet, attached to the machine by a fraying length of rope. "Your weapon, good sir," she announced with a flourish and a giggle as she straightened up to face him.

"You're letting me pick?" he asked.

She nodded proudly in response.

"And to what do I owe this honour?" he chuckled, spinning the mallet in his grip.

"I thought you could do with a little cheering up after the day you've had," she explained, referencing the disastrous birthday party Miles had been in charge of monitoring, but all four staff members had been roped into dealing with. "Well, the day we've had," she corrected herself. "But I still feel like you earned it more."

The sentiment touched Miles, but he found himself wearily frowning at the strength-test game rather than smiling back at Carrie. "Do we really have to bother with this thing? It doesn't even work, it just gives out a random score every time."

"That's the whole point - it randomises our song selection. Now get smashing, buster."

Miles just sighed and stifled a yawn though as, instead of wielding the foam and rubber mallet, he limply kicked the side of the machine. As expected, the jostle alone was enough to set-off the game's program. Both teens watched as the score panel lit up, rocketing all the way to a hefty 852, which prompted a grating, pre-recorded voice to praise Miles' 'impressive display'.

"Oh come on, you've gotta give it more effort than that," Carrie said, disappointed he wasn't playing along.

"Why? Ivan thought it was impressive," Miles joked, pointing to the cartoon strong man painted on the front of the metal casing with the head of the hammer. But when Carrie just frowned in response, he caved with a fond roll of his eyes. Readying the mallet in his grip, he centred himself in front of the raised, rubber scoring cylinder.

"Right, now imagine that's Jeremy Green's head," Carrie said - mischievous grin jumping back into action now that Miles was cooperating.

"I'm not going to hit a kid, Carrie."

"That's why I said 'imagine'," she clarified. But Miles' disapproving look wasn't shifting. "Fine, pretend it's Jeremy Green's mom," she tried again.

Miles took a second to ponder the suggestion, but even one second thinking about that unbearable woman, who had allowed, if not encouraged, her kid and his friends to blatantly disobey every ground rule Miles had laid out for them, was enough to make him swing the mallet down with such force he nearly split the thing in two. Watching on in anticipation, Miles and Carrie followed the climbing tower of light until it stopped at a whopping…344.

"Boo! My grandma could do better!" Ivan heckled as Miles tossed the mallet down in defeat.

"That's more like it!" Carrie giggled as Miles just rolled his eyes. "344 it is."

And so, they fell into their usual routine as if it was any other old closing shift. Miles trudged over to the nearest chair and began lacing up the skates he kept aside for himself under the counter (complete with his own, blue laces a certain blonde had gifted him), whilst Carrie raced over to her rink-side kiosk and began sifting through the numerous folders of song titles in her repertoire.

By the time she'd selected the song and had wound the cassette tape to the right spot, Miles had donned his skates and re-filled the mop bucket with fresh, bleach-laced water. "You ready?" he called to her as he gingerly stepped over the lip where the vinyl rink met the admittedly filthy carpet.

"Oh yeah," Carrie grinned. "You've done it again, my friend; you've picked a good one tonight."

"Oh yeah? How come?" Miles chuckled.

"It just feels like the right kind of vibe, you know?"

"Well I don't know what it is yet, so no, I don't."

"Just trust me, this is gonna be the perfect way for us to blow off some steam after what was arguably the worst work shift known to man," Carrie smirked as she pressed play and the opening guitar chords to Led Zeppelin's 'Immigrant Song' came blasting through the roller rink's speakers.

Miles couldn't have even wiped the grin from his face if he'd tried. A classic rock song that was basically a battle cry, after he'd pretty much spent his entire day at war with third graders? It really was a good choice. The universe must have finally taken his side again. Well, that or the whole song-randomiser thing was a big charade and Carrie was just picking the songs herself based on what she thought he'd like. Neither felt like a bad option though, so he didn't care to dwell on it - especially not when he could be watching the blonde in question mime along to Robert Plant's opening, wailing vocals with the same conviction as the man himself.

"Okay, now I get it," Miles laughed as Carrie shot him a playful grin and launched herself out from behind her DJ deck.

As the lyrics finally kicked in, Carrie fully committed herself to singing along as she slalomed across the dancefloor with all the grace of an ice hockey player, skates swishing in time with the drum beat. And Miles just laughed more as she grabbed a mop on her way over to him and lunged into a dramatic knee slide, skidding to a halt at his feet just in time to use it as a microphone and sing: "The hammer of the gods." Scrambling to her feet again, by the time that Robert Plant was talking about 'fighting the horde', she was steady enough to jab her mop at Miles, and all too pleased to find him playing along and blocking her attack with a mop of his own before skating off to continue her comedic little dance routine. 'On we sweep' brought forth a wonderful opportunity for Carrie to dance around with her mop as if it were a broom, whereas 'our only goal will be the Western shore' brought her slamming back into Miles' side, sticking her mop out in front of them both to the opposite side of the rink.

Done with her singing (for now), Carrie dazzled him with that infectious grin of hers. "First one to finish gets to feed Barney?" she prepositioned, referencing the scrawny, old stray bulldog who frequented the skating rink's back entrance.

"Oh you are so on," Miles said, matching that mischievous grin with an ease that felt almost second nature around her. And as Robert Plant's battle cry sounded for the second time, the two teens dunked their mops into the soapy bucket of water and raced off to their respective ends of the roller rink to start cleaning.

The second verse had barely begun though when a head of messy, brown hair came crashing through the kitchen doors. "Who the hell is playing Led Zeppelin without me?"

"We are your overlords," was all Carrie replied with though, swerving to face Ethan as she raised her hand and continued theatrically singing along.

"You're a Led Head, Coleslaw?" Ethan exclaimed, bloodshot brown eyes bugging out of his head in astonishment.

"Am I a fan of rock music or am I a shitty side dish? Make up your mind," she fired back with a teasing roll of her eyes. But when Ethan couldn't even find the words to respond, she just chuckled and said, "What? You didn't just think I listened to cheesy pop songs, did you?"

"Well that's all you ever play."

"At the rink. You don't know what I get up to off the clock."

"...Dude, I swear you get cooler every time I see you," Ethan marvelled.

"What can I say? It's a gift," she said with a smug grin.

"I didn't know you even had this kind of stuff on hand. This is fucking sick! What other albums have you got hidden back there? You got any Iron-"

But just as Ethan was beginning to approach the side of the rink Carrie had stopped at, Miles skated up behind her and said: "Oh I have got this in the bag."

"Fuck, Ethan, stop distracting me!" Carrie then exclaimed, realising how much precious cleaning time she'd wasted as she chased after a cackling Miles, flicking soapy water from her mop at him as she went.

"You're never going to catch up now, the damage has already been done," Miles smirked.

As predicted, Miles finished mopping down his side of the rink first. Carrie graciously admitted defeat, but still finished her share of the work like the good sport she was before they set about wiping down the handful of tables and booths encircling the dancefloor. Once relieved of their cleaning duties, the pair raided the kitchen for the last few food items that never quite made it out to the diners. Miles bagged himself a basket of chicken tenders, Carrie scrounged together a measly portion of fries and sweet-talked Mick into pouring her a milkshake, and they both fished out a lop-sided, heavily burnt burger patty from the back of the grill for their beloved stray pooch. After setting down their food at one of the booths, Miles and Carrie returned to the kitchen and headed to the very back cabinet, where they stashed the cans of dog food and accompanying bowls Carrie had shelled out for a couple of weeks ago. Miles handled the food whilst Carrie filled up a fresh water bowl, then the pair of them snuck out the back door to greet the crusty-eyed, drooling excuse of a hound, whom both of them had become unreasonably attached to. Carrie still had her reservations about the bulldog, mostly because of how much he slobbered and how badly he could smell. But Miles was just besotted with him regardless - after all, if he could put up with Ethan smelling like pot 24/7, he could handle anything. And besides, they had managed to hose him off a couple of times if shifts were particularly slow that day, so the smell wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. As always, Miles' eyes had lit up as soon as the elderly dog came lumbering into view. And as he and Carrie crouched in the orange glow of the security light, setting down Barney's food and water for the night, Miles was all-too-pleased to present the beef patty to the dog, who hungrily tugged it from his grasp and began chomping his way through it, spraying crumbs all over the tarmac beneath him.

"I think he likes it," Miles said, shooting Carrie an excited grin that she couldn't help but reciprocate.

"I think he'd probably try to eat a shoe like that if you gave it to him," she chuckled, but let him enjoy the moment nonetheless.

With Barney fed and watered, the pair retreated to their booth to finish their long-cold, but well-deserved kitchen spoils. And as they ate, the conversation naturally turned to the looming start of their senior year.

"I can't believe we're spending the last night of our summer vacation in this dump," Carrie snorted, absent-mindedly dunking one of her fries in her peanut butter milkshake. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like I don't like the company," she continued, shooting Miles a knowing smile from across the table. "It's just trippy to think that whilst everyone else is partying away their last hours of freedom, we're stuck mopping up puke and taking inventory of condiment bottles."

"The beauty of minimum wage, eh?" Miles dryly chuckled before licking the crumbs from his fingers and leaning back in his seat.

"With the amount of crap we've had to deal with this summer we deserve at least double what we've actually been paid," Carrie continued. "In fact, make that triple because I still can't believe I gave up my vacation to keep this damn place afloat."

Sighing, Miles pressed his back against the wall of the rink and swung his legs up onto the booth seat in front of him. He leant his head back against the plastic guard and stared up at the ceiling, letting the dim, fluorescent bulbs dance in his tired eyes. As he listened to Carrie chatter away to herself, as she often did to fill the silence, his mind began to wander, and with that came an overwhelming sense of dread that washed over him without a warning, leaving his chest tight and eyebrows furrowed as he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. "God, I really don't want it to end," he quietly admitted in one of the fleeting lulls in Carrie's almost single-sided conversation.

"What? Summer vacation?" she smirked, not quite grasping the sincerity of his confession due to her preoccupation with ensuring her french fry was fully coated in soupy ice cream. "Why? Do you have like unfinished plans for a water balloon fight or something?"

"No, I just really don't want to have to go back to school."

Noting the sincerity of his tone, Carrie glanced up from her drink and felt her easygoing grin wilt into a commiserating frown once she saw how truly broken the boy looked. "...Everyone feels like that before the start of the school year. You'll get used to it again in no time, trust me. By the end of third period it'll feel like you never left at all."

"I know, I know," Miles sighed. "...I just don't know if I'm ready to deal with teachers, and homework, and all the other bullshit that comes with school on top of looking after my brothers, you know?"

"You've handled it this far, what's another ten months?" Carrie said with an encouragingly optimistic grin.

"Yeah but I wasn't doing it on my own before," Miles explained with a weary exhale. "I didn't know how hard it was going to be."

"Even if you did, you wouldn't have changed your mind."

It was unnerving how well Carrie knew him considering they had only stepped up from acquaintances a matter of months ago. Sometimes he felt like she understood how his brain worked more than he did.

"...Yeah, I know," he mumbled. "It's just…I don't know. I already feel like I've got too much on my plate as it is with taking care of them and coming into work. Between figuring out bills and what we can afford to eat, I feel like I don't even have the space in my brain for the fun stuff anymore, let alone senior year."

More often than not, these little post-work chats felt more like group therapy sessions. That night, apparently, was no exception.

"Well, you never know, going back to school might force you to make that space available again. I mean, it's not like you get a say in the matter, right? You're going to have to go back regardless, so you might as well at least try to enjoy it."

"Is there anything to enjoy about school?" Miles asked, managing a sarcastic chuckle.

"Oh come on, it's senior year, Miles. There's everything to enjoy about it. And you're only gonna get one, so you've gotta make the most of it," Carrie said.

"That's not guaranteed," he countered - visions of report cards littered with 'F's swimming in his head, courtesy of the back-breaking work schedule their boss had pinned to the break room notice board a few days ago.

"It is with your grades," Carrie fired back with a certainty that could only have come from someone who'd been in the same class as him since kindergarten. She shot him a knowing smirk as she finally managed to drag his forlorn gaze away from the water-stained ceiling. And to her delight, he managed a half-hearted smile in response. "Look, Miles," she continued as that caring smile of hers, which made Miles' heart skip a beat at the best of times, let alone when it was directed towards him, swept across her face. "I know you like to worry about the world collapsing around you as if the whole of Hawkins is balancing on your shoulders, but you're not nearly as alone in this as you think you are. From what you've told me, your brothers seem like good kids; I'm sure they'd step up to help with stuff around the house if you needed them to. And there's no way you can convince me that Mick and Ethan wouldn't jump at the chance to help you out if things got tough, because I know for a fact they would. I mean, don't know how much help Ethan would be, because, you know, he's Ethan, but he'd give it a damn good try - both of them would. I see how much they care about you, Miles. You're like gold dust to them. Hell, Ethan downright worships you. And you're always talking about your neighbours as if they're your extended family - surely they'd step up to help out too. I know I've got my problems with Biagio, but you must be doing something right because he treats you like a brother; I see it every time he stops by to visit you. And I don't know much about his sister but she seems sweet - I'm sure she's had babysitting gigs before, so I doubt watching your little brothers every once in a while would be much of a challenge. If anything it'd probably be a walk in the park if those seven-year-olds we dealt with today are anything like her normal clients. Anyway, I'm rambling, I know. But what I'm trying to say is: you've got plenty of people in your life, Miles - good people - who care about you too much to watch you struggle through this alone - myself included. So stop agonising over hypothetical problems and start sharing all that bullshit on your plate with the rest of us; you're starting to look greedy," she said - as always, finishing with a little joke to help cushion the sincerity of her words.

Miles had to laugh, he couldn't seem to do much else to be honest. And he certainly couldn't find a way to put everything he was feeling into words. "...Well when you put it like that you make it sound easy," he eventually managed to weakly joke.

"It is easy, all you've gotta do is ask," Carrie promised. "Watch, I'll make it even easier for you. You don't even need to ask me, here's me offering my services, no questions asked. I'll do whatever you want. I can pick your brothers up from school; I already do that with Molly's little sister anyway. I can cook you guys dinner if you need help with that. Hey, I'll even come over and fold your laundry if you need a break from that for-"

"Carrie, I can't ask you to do that. And besides, you barely know my brothers-"

"So what? That means I can't do nice things for them?" Carrie asked. She raised an eyebrow at Miles, challenging him to respond, but he knew that any dispute would have been futile; she could be dangerously stubborn if she had her heart set on something. Still, she could tell he wasn't entirely convinced by her argument. "Come on, Miles. I'm trying to be a good person here, give me something to work with."

With a chuckle, Miles shifted his gaze back to the ceiling, but the lazy grin tugging at his lips remained. "You are a good person," he promised. "...Well, to me, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Carrie scoffed with a look of incredulous intrigue.

"Oh come on, you do have a bit of a reputation for being bitch," Miles said with a teasing smirk.

"I do not!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge," Miles laughed.

"No, but seriously, you didn't actually think I was a bitch, did you?" Carrie continued, still under the impression that he was just joking.

"...Not really; you were always pretty nice to me. But pretty much everyone else was scared shitless of you."

"Of me?"

"Oh yeah."

"I was scary?"

"Terrifying," Miles confirmed, having to bite back a laugh at her look of amazement. "You still are."

"Alright, good to know," she mumbled to herself with an unreadable expression. Miles couldn't tell whether she thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. But her next comment gave him a clue. "Well, if you ever have a run-in with one of the big, scary mean kids then I guess you know who to call now," she smirked.

"Oh yeah? And what if you're the big, scary mean kid?" Miles fired back with a hearty laugh Carrie was all too pleased to have drawn out of him.

"Then you'd better start digging your grave," she snarkily quipped before joining in with the brunet's laughter. Once their giggles had died down though, she slouched further into her side of the booth and hit him with that tender, heart-melting grin of hers again. "Oh, who am I kidding? I'd never let anything happen to you; you mean too much to me."

Miles' heart jumped into his throat. "Yeah?"

"Totally. I'll always have your back."

"Seriously?"

Carrie fondly rolled her eyes at his disbelief. "Yes, seriously. What are best-work-friends for?"

Friends? Miles felt like throwing up.

Hold on. No. Wait. Why did it feel so bad when she said that? They were just friends. And that's all he wanted them to be…right? They couldn't be anything more. They wouldn't be anything more. And besides, she was off-

"Earth to Miles."

"Huh?"

"Woah, you totally spaced out on me there for a second," Carrie chuckled. "I thought Ethan might have slipped you a weed brownie or something and it was just starting to hit you."

"No, I'm sober - just thinking," Miles somewhat confessed, trying to cover up his awkwardness by copying her chuckles… It didn't really work.

"Still worrying about school?" she asked with a knowing, comforting look from beneath her lashes.

Miles let out a heavy sigh. "No, not really - not anymore," he said, shooting her a grateful smile before elaborating. "Like you said, I'm sure I'll adapt to it all again once I'm there."

"Exactly," she grinned. "It's like that evolution thing Mrs Galespi's always talking about. What's it called again? Endurance of the -? No, wait, the strongest of the-"

"Survival of the fittest?" Miles offered with an amused smirk.

"That's it! See? I told you you were only going to have one senior year. I was never going to remember that, but I'm still on track to graduate - and I've been rocking solid Cs since seventh grade."

"Hmm, well, I only remembered it because I've got personal experience," Miles said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I feel like my life's just been one big game of 'survival of the fittest' - one big test to see how much I can handle before I…you know."

"Well you've coped better than most would have, that's for sure," Carrie said with another of her sympathetic smiles.

"You think?"

"I know."

"Yeah, well, I still have my bad days," Miles sighed, but his grin was all the thanks Carrie needed to know she'd succeeded in getting through to him.

"Don't we all?"

"I guess… God, wouldn't it be great to just run away and forget about everything? Leave all the crap in Hawkins behind - all the bad memories, all the shitty people… Don't you want to just, I don't know, break free from it all?"

Carrie couldn't help the smirk that curled at her lips. "How very Freddie Mercury of you."

Miles fondly rolled his eyes. "I really walked into that one, didn't I?"

"Like a blind man in a mirror maze," Carrie chuckled.

"I can't believe I keep doing that, and I can't believe you keep catching me. I've never even heard of the songs half of the time. It's like you've got a jukebox where your brain should be," Miles said, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

"Well duh, how else would I be so good at my job?"

"Good point," Miles softly laughed to himself as Carrie set off to happily babble away to herself again.

"I'm telling you, there's no way you could get any sort of famous song title or lyric past me without me noticing; my taste in music is too good, and too extensive to not-"

But the more she talked, the less he listened - losing himself in the constellation of freckles playing hide and seek in the shadows the dim, overhead lights cast over her face. A fresh smile tugged at her lips as she spoke that pulled Miles' attention even further away, leading it down a path of, at the time mediocre, but now bittersweet, memories of the past summer. The first time he'd really noticed that infectious grin of hers, when he bumped into her coming out of the break room on her first day, being one of them. Before he knew it, he was spiralling down a rabbit hole of inside jokes and joyous laughter, remembering when life felt simpler - or at least a little less like it was teetering on the brink of disaster. There was the time he and Ethan screwed the wheels from the old desk chair in the break room to one of the wooden pallets the food got delivered on, and then attempted to surf down the hill leading from from the main road to the parking lot - heavily depleting the first aid kit's bandage supply and earning the pair an earful from Mick, although mostly it was just about their poor technique. Speaking of Mick, there was that time she got her arm stuck in the, now defunct, vending machine for three hours that had Miles laughing so hard he couldn't even speak, let alone help free her - and just when he thought he'd managed to calm himself down, having to try not to laugh whilst he called the manufacturers for help broke him all over again. There were entire afternoons where the four employees pledged to only communicate with one another via elaborate hand signals, or donned accents from the far corners of the globe (some with more success than others). And, of course, there was the infamous truth or dare game - complete with a borderline criminal group-skate routine; a family who had not one, not two, but six drinks spilled on them, and a miniature fire in the skate rentals booth - which almost got ¾ of the staff fired on the spot.

The realisation that that was all coming to an end - that his days would be filled with pop quizzes and study halls, rather than post-it note prank wars and 'lunch break roulette' - made his chest ache with a longing he couldn't quite bring himself to come to terms with yet, but felt painfully familiar all the same. It crept up on him every year, this late-summer dread. The new school year was an exciting event for most, but for Miles it signalled the start of a whole new year's worth of challenges: classes of ever-growing difficulty, grades of ever-growing importance and, now more than ever, an ever-growing list of scary, new responsibilities. Every year that passed, the further he and his loved ones strayed from what had grown to be familiar. Just when he felt as though he was starting to adjust to their routine, a new school year would come along and shake everything up again - ripping away the comfort blanket he'd just painstakingly finished constructing. His brothers would be getting older - hell, Bentley was starting middle school now - his friends would all be starting to make plans to move away for college (and probably for good), and his hopes of a bright future for himself would be inching ever closer to dying out for good. If only time could just stop and hold everything where it was for another month or so - or even just cut the month out altogether so that they could jump straight to Halloween, with their new routine already estab-

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"

Miles' was rendered a sheepish, spluttering mess thanks to Carrie's knowing smirk. "I am, I totally am, I was just-"

"Let me guess, thinking again?" she offered, prompting him to bashfully drop her gaze and turn his attention back to the ceiling. "What about this time?"

Miles sighed and let out a weary chuckle. "How much I hate September," he admitted. Expecting Carrie to launch into another pep talk, he readied himself to turn her offer down in favour of a lighter, more enjoyable conversation topic. However, when he realised he'd rendered her speechless (something he could rarely achieve), he curiously turned his gaze to her, finding her staring back at him as though he'd just handed Barney's head to her on a plate. "What?" he asked, catching himself laughing at her expression.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What? Am I not allowed to have an opinion all of a sudden?"

"Not about this! Miles, it's like one of my favourite songs of all time - if not one of the best ever written! If pure happiness was concentrated into a song, this would be that song. What's there not to like about it?!"

Miles just looked at her in disbelief for a few seconds before bursting out laughing - that kind of full-bodied, belly-shaking laughter that made your cheeks ache from smiling so hard. "I meant the month, Carrie," he eventually managed, wiping a rogue tear from his eye.

"Oh my god, I thought we'd moved on to music. I didn't realise we were going back to the whole school debate again," she said with a roll of her eyes as she too set off to laugh at the ridiculousness of the confusion. "Jeez, don't scare me like that again, you were making me doubt why I ever bothered talking to you."

"Well, don't worry, I wasn't bashing your music taste, I was just moping about my sad little life again," Miles teased with another chuckle, before going on to admit: "I don't think I've heard it anyway, so you're not gonna hear any bad reviews from me."

"What?! Holy shit, I don't know what's worse: you not liking the song, or the fact that you've never even heard it!"

Miles didn't get to laugh at her horrified expression for long though, because in the blink of an eye she'd disappeared from her spot in the booth across from him. Confused, he scanned his surroundings, only to find her racing over to her DJ stand like her life depended on it.

"What are you doing?" he called across to her, again unable to stop the stray chuckles tumbling from his lips.

"Fixing one of life's cruellest mistakes," she replied as she did a little spin to stop behind her desk and began shuffling through the numerous cassette tapes she left scattered atop it. It didn't take her long to find the right case; she practically had the album art tattooed on her brain. And when she did, she raised it up in the air like she was accepting a trophy. "Behold!"

"Oh I'm beholding," Miles laughed.

"Come on, out of your seat, lazy bones; this is important. You're about to witness the magic of Earth, Wind & Fire for the first time in your sad, boring little life, you can't be sitting down for this," Carrie teased.

"Hey, I never said 'boring'."

"I know, I took a little creative liberty," she smirked, prompting Miles to, yet again, fondly roll his eyes at her. "Now move your ass; this is about to change your life!"

"Can't I just listen from here?" Miles asked with a begrudging sigh.

Now it was Carrie's turn to roll her eyes. "Technically, yes," she began as she inserted the cassette tape into the stereo system. "But physically, there's no way you can stay sitting down when this song is playing. It's just impossible!"

"You want me to test that theory?" Miles smirked.

"Be my guest; I stand by what I said," Carrie fired back as the opening notes began to drift through the speakers.

As soon as the brass instruments kicked in, Carrie let out a cry of delight and let that ridiculously infectious grin of hers completely envelope her face. Without wasting a second, she began strutting her way onto the rink, gliding across the floor as though she'd been born with wheels strapped to her feet. Miles couldn't hide his grin either, especially when he noticed she'd cued up a lighting package to accompany the song too, despite them having the room to themselves. Watching her effortlessly dance and groove along to the laidback disco song, all the while speckled in rainbow squares of light, thanks to the overhead disco ball, he couldn't deny that she was succeeding in selling the song to him; he did find it awfully catchy. And it turns out that her smile wasn't the only infectious thing there that evening, because all it took was Carrie calling out: "Oh come on, are you coming to join me or what?" for Miles to push himself out of the booth and onto the roller rink after her. "See? Impossible!" she grinned victoriously as she did an impressive toe spin to a trumpet solo.

"It is fun, I'll give you that," Miles chuckled, dragging his toe-stop along the floor to bring him to a halt.

"Well come and have some fun then!" she cried, skating over to him and grabbing him by the hands to pull him into the centre of the rink. "Stop stressing about school and just let loose - have a little boogie!" But when she dropped his hands and started doing her bouncy, backwards crossovers and saw that he was just watching her with a doubtful smirk, she realised he wasn't going to be so easy to win over. "Oh what? Are you scared or something?"

"I'm not scared, I'm just tired, and-"

"And a total chicken?" Carrie suggested with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, we're playing that game now?" Miles asked with a raise of his eyebrow - to which Carrie responded by skating around him backwards in a big circle, folding her arms into fake wings and clucking at him. He genuinely had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing; who knew that all of Carrie's years in theatre would make her so good at animal impressions? "Fine, come on, Cole, let's put that mop of hair of yours to good use."

"Yeah?" Carrie asked, with a hopeful, knowing smile as she started dribbling - moving her skates back and forth but staying in place a few feet in front of him.

"Yeah, 'cause I'm gonna wipe the floor with you!" Miles exclaimed before striking a pose and skating off across to the opposite side of the rink, leaving his challenger giggling like a hyena in his wake.

The pair laughed and danced their way through the song, and several replays, each time trying their best to impress the other more with their increasingly ridiculous dance moves. Carrie helped Miles work on his spins, Miles invented some new tricks all on his own (although only some were on purpose), and just when Miles thought Carrie's skating abilities couldn't get any more impressive, she pushed the now-empty mop bucket onto the rink to show off her jumps - clearing the obstacle on her first try every time, and still managing to keep singing along. Although they wouldn't have admitted it had anyone asked, they totally let themselves go in that moment - pushing all their worries to the back of their minds so that they could take a couple of minutes to just goof around and dance like no one was watching. Well, no one other than their two co-workers, spying on them by the food counter.

"You're seeing this too, right?" Ethan asked, watching the scene unfold before him through furrowed brows and bleary eyes. "Or am I hallucinating?"

"Nope, this is really happening," Mick sighed. But the certainty of her statement didn't make her feel any less betrayed by her eyes than her dopey clean-up buddy. At least hers weren't clouded by cheap psychedelics though.

"Woah, trippy," Ethan breathed, ruminating over Mick's words for a second before shovelling a handful of stale, tortilla chips into his mouth from the open bag he'd found in the kitchen.

Mick glanced his way and let out a huff of despair through her nostrils, deciding that he was going to be as much help in her deliberations as he looked. Still, her morbid curiosity got the better of her. After all, he did know Miles as well as she did, even better in some departments. Maybe he could offer a new perspective. "You don't think she's messing with him, do you?"

"What makes you say that?" he mumbled through a mouthful of chips.

"She's Caroline Cole, Ethan. She's a cheerleader, she's got rich parents, she's one of the most popular girls in school - she's got everything…"

"...So?"

"So, why, all of a sudden, is she interested in Miles?" Mick snapped, unsure where her exasperation was aimed. Ethan deserved it for being so oblivious, Carrie deserved it for being a spoiled brat, and Miles deserved it for being stupid enough to fall for her tricks.

"I don't know," Ethan mumbled with a shrug as he shook the bag of chips and rooted around for a viable, whole triangle. "I don't think she'd even spoken to him up until a couple months ago."

"That's exactly my point," Mick jumped in. "What made her have a change of heart after all these years of knowing him? That sort of thing doesn't just happen overnight. She's got to be planning something."

Unsurprisingly, when Ethan looked up from his tortilla chips long enough to reassess the situation between Miles and Carrie, he didn't share the same disdain as the brunette beside him. "Or," he slowly began. "They could just be work friends trying to make their piece of shit job a little less shitty."

Mick scoffed at the suggestion, and the boy's naivety. "You're seriously going to give her the benefit of the doubt here? After everything she's done?"

"Well…yeah," Ethan admitted with an infuriating nonchalance. "If she's making Miles happy then I've got nothing to complain about."

"You're not at all worried about her ruining his life?"

Ethan properly turned to Mick, and for once, she saw the dopey haze clear from his eyes, leaving behind an honest sincerity that rarely ever surfaced. "If anything, at the moment, I think she's improving it," he began to explain. "I mean look at him, Mick. I haven't seen him smile like that in weeks. You know better than anyone how much stress he's been under; he always goes to you for stuff like that - don't you think he deserves a break from it all?"

Mick's concerned silence spoke volumes, especially over the blaring speakers positioned around the rink.

"And if that break means putting up with him hopelessly flirting with some dumb cheerleader then that's cool with me," Ethan finished with a chuckle. "Whatever keeps him happy."

She hated to admit it, but Mick knew Ethan was right. Typical moronic behaviour aside, his smoking habit might not be such a hindrance to him after all. It did make him rather philosophical. And even though she cared about Miles like a brother, and wanted to keep him as far away from prissy, popular snobs as possible, she also knew that she had to give him the time and space to handle this on his own. And she owed it to him to trust that he knew what he was doing. After all, no one their age could have handled everything he had without a good head on their shoulders. So Mick just had to believe that head of his was strong enough to withstand Carrie's corruption techniques. "He's just asking to get his heart broken with this one," she eventually sighed, sporting a worried frown as she glanced across at the pair on the rink. But when she dragged it over to Ethan again, she was just met with an easygoing, lop-sided grin.

"Probably, but who'll be the best friends there to pick up all the pieces?" he smirked, achieving the impossible; he actually got Mick to let out a laugh.

"So? What did you think? Is it one of the best songs ever, or what?" Carrie chuckled as she finally let the fourth replay play out to a close.

"Okay, I wouldn't go that far, but it's definitely up there," Miles acknowledged. "And it did get me out of my seat."

"Hell yeah it did! You were really throwing some shapes too," she exclaimed with a playful giggle.

"Yeah, you'd better watch out, Carrie; I'm coming for your job," Miles teased. "I'll be leading the group skates in no time."

"Hmm, I think I'd better hold off on teaching you any more tricks for now then; I don't want you spinning me out of a paycheck," she said, grinning as she did a one-footed twirl to punctuate her little joke.

"I don't know about that, I think the damage has already been done," Miles smirked as he pushed himself a few feet away from her and steadied himself on his skates. Stretching his arms out for balance, he tried to back up his statement with a spin of his own. However, his desire to impress Carrie meant that he launched into the trick way too fast, and lost his balance almost immediately. His right skate rolled forwards, his left skate rolled backwards, and just before they could leave the floor entirely, he grabbed at thin air, only to find Carrie's forearms beneath his fingertips. Wide-eyed, he stumbled and tried to regain his balance, heart already hammering from the little scare. But when Carrie's soft, gentle hands settled on his hips, it stopped altogether. He knew it was just to steady him - her teasing chuckles were more than enough evidence of that - but that knowledge did nothing to settle the hoard of butterflies that had been unleashed in his stomach. Breathless, and caught off-guard by frankly terrifying feelings he knew for a fact he should not be feeling, he attempted a joke to ease the tension. "Or, you know, it's about to be done."

"Easy, tiger, you'll get it with more practice," Carrie promised, affectionately patting him on the shoulder. "It took me a while to get my jumps down, but now I could do them in my sleep."

"Well if I can't even spin then I'll have no hope of jumping," Miles chuckled.

"Not with that attitude," Carrie said with a playful roll of her eyes as she backed up to give him more space. "Come on, just give it a try, it might come really easily to you."

"Are you insane? If I try to jump I'm going to break my ankles," Miles fired back.

"No you won't, you'll be fine," Carrie brushed off with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "Just keep your knees soft and try a little hop like this."

Her demonstration did nothing to convince Miles, but that encouraging grin of hers was like kryptonite. "...I swear to God, if I fall and break something-"

"Then I'll take full responsibility…and give you a ride to the emergency room," she promised. "Scout's honour."

"You know that doesn't mean anything if you weren't actually a scout," Miles retorted, again finding himself having to bite back a laugh.

Carrie's impatience seemed to be getting the better of her though, because Miles' stalling made her stick her hands on her hips and raise a challenging eyebrow. "Dude, come on. Do I really have to break out the chicken noises again?"

"Alright, alright, I'll try," he chuckled.

He took a second to collect himself but, true to his word, he took the plunge and attempted a simple bunny hop. To both his and Carrie's amazement, he landed the jump with no problems. It had just been a little one, but it was a jump nonetheless.

"Holy shit!" Miles exclaimed as Carrie gleefully applauded from opposite him. Still in disbelief that it had actually happened, and emboldened with fresh confidence, he then claimed: "I'm gonna try another one." And before Carrie could talk him out of it, he was launching himself off the floor again, tucking his knees even tighter into his chest than before.

With bigger risk comes bigger reward. Just…not the reward he'd been anticipating.

Miraculously, he managed to land that jump too. The only problem was that he was so surprised to still be upright that he forgot about the wheels strapped to his feet. All it took was one, momentary lapse in judgement for Miles to forget all about keeping his balance, sending him stumbling into his sole audience member. Limbs flailing and wheels spinning out of control, he tumbled to the floor, taking a startled Carrie down with him. Their bodies thudded against the freshly mopped vinyl floor, knocking the air clean out of both of their chests, only to be replaced with hearty laughter the second they locked eyes and realised what had happened. They were a tangle of roller skates, cheap cotton and sweaty skin - and in a situation neither could ever have foreseen.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I-" Miles floundered, stuck between laughing along with her and dying on the spot from embarrassment upon realising that she had taken the brunt of his fall.

"Hey, a good captain goes down with her ship," Carrie quipped, letting out another breathless laugh as Miles tried to shift some of his weight off her.

"Are you okay?" he checked. "You're not hurt are you?"

"No, I'm fine, just a little winded," she chuckled as Miles finally managed to push himself up on his forearms. Their legs were still splayed out on the rink together though, and his face still hovered a few inches above hers. It took everything in her not to reach a hand up to wipe the sweat beading on his brow for fear of it dropping onto her forehead. "You liking the view from up there?"

Miles felt completely frozen, as though he was living in some bizarre photograph. A cheeky grin played at Carrie's lips as he stared down at her, utterly lost for words. His heart thudded in his chest, his breath caught in his throat, and his hands almost slipped out from beneath him thanks to how slick they suddenly were with sweat. The rink's neon lights had to be broken, because there was no other explanation for the insane buzzing in his ears - well, other than the fact that his entire body felt like it had been shocked with electricity. Carrie's curls were splayed out on the ground around her head like a halo in one of those old renaissance paintings, her makeup was smudged around her eyes since she'd likely sweated half of it off several hours ago, and, despite the stench of bleach and old pizza punching him in the face, as it always did when he came to work, the scent of her sweet, musky perfume still managed to tickle his nostrils in a way that he could only describe as intoxicating. He felt like a piece of glass about to shatter - one move and he'd implode. And suddenly, what had all felt like innocent fun before, now became desperately unnerving. Feelings he most definitely should not have been feeling started flooding his brain, warping every thought that tried to intervene into something completely unrecognisable. This fleeting fantasy he'd already been loath to indulge was now staring straight into his soul, putting him under a dangerously tempting spell he already knew would consume him before the night was out. And still, he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"I've not got any complaints," he eventually grinned. And whilst he knew he should have been making an attempt to pull himself to his feet, he felt himself being pulled closer to her instead. Closer to those rosy cheeks, that smattering of freckles across her nose, those plump-

"So, new method of cleaning the rink, guys?"

The introduction of a new voice almost gave Miles a heart attack. Turning to follow it, he locked eyes with a familiar pair of brown ones, sitting beneath a raised brow and above a knowing smirk that made his stomach plummet to his feet.

"Just, uh, just checking to see if the floor's still slippery after we tried out that new cleaning stuff," he stammered, cowering under Mick's accusatory stare. His cheeks started to flush scarlet and he couldn't bring himself to hold her gaze for long, not that holding Carrie's was any kinder on his senses. But when neither girl appeared to be making an effort to fill the awkward silence that now hung over the three of them, his mouth started to run away from him. "…It's not. Well, kind of, because we're…you know, but it's- uh, it's…it'll be dry by tomorrow, I'm sure," he finished with a forced smile he hoped could at least convince Mick enough to not press the issue any further.

"Quality control, you know?" Carrie added dryly with a giggle Miles was far too nervous to reciprocate.

Mick didn't believe a word of what they'd said (and not only because she'd watched the entire thing happen), but for the sake of saving herself from a no doubt painfully uncomfortable conversation that could very easily turn all her future work shifts with them a living hell, she settled for a fashionably sarcastic: "...Right."

Before any of them could comment on the situation further though, a car horn sounded from the parking lot that snapped their attention to the glass doors behind them.

"Shit. Is it ten already?" Miles asked, frantically checking the clock on the wall for confirmation.

"Yep, come on, let's go," Mick replied, already turning to head for the door as Miles clumsily scrambled to his feet behind her. "Ethan bailed like five minutes ago, don't make me wish that I'd joined him."

"But I still need to finish wiping down the-"

"Don't worry, I can handle it if you need to go," Carrie cut in, getting to her feet much more gracefully than he had. "Or I could give you a ride home myself if you need it." she added with a hopeful grin.

"I-"

But before Miles could get his hopes up, the car horn sounded again, severing his hopes of spending any more time with the blonde bombshell beside him.

"Miles, come on, you know Butchy doesn't like to be kept waiting," Mick called from the doorway, just as sympathetic to his situation as their driver.

Miles let out a defeated sigh as he turned back to Carrie. "I'd better go," he reluctantly began, trying not to focus on the disappointment he could see pooling in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, I promise I'll pick up the slack tomorrow and-"

"Don't sweat it, it'll take me like two minutes," Carrie reassured him with a warm smile. "Now get moving; I don't want to be blamed for keeping your precious driver waiting."

Miles raced to pull off his skates and grab his sneakers from behind the skate rentals counter, meeting Mick by the door and offering her a sheepish grin as she just teasingly shook her head and strolled over to the black station wagon waiting outside. Before he joined her though, he spared Carrie one last glance over his shoulder. He knew he should have just followed in Mick's footsteps and called out a quick 'bye' on his way out the door, but something held him back.

"Carrie?"

Looking up from the table she was wiping down in surprise, she uttered a soft: "Yeah?"

"Thanks for…everything tonight," he said, finally letting his nervousness melt into a grateful sigh.

"My pleasure," Carrie grinned. "It's all in a day's work!" But the warmth in her smile told him she appreciated the sentiment more than her jokey words were letting on. He knew he was only just starting to peel back the picture-perfect curtain she hung out around herself for the sake of maintaining her image, but he could already tell there was much more to Caroline Cole than the popular-girl caricature everyone pinned her down to. There had to be. Maybe if he had a bit more time with her then he could-

"Miles!"

It was Butchy's voice this time, shouting through the driver's window and sounding less than pleased about his neighbour loitering in the doorway. If only he knew the reason why…

With another sigh, Miles turned back to Carrie with a sheepish, lop-sided smile she acknowledged with a nod, as if to say that he was excused. Taking a deep breath, he took one last look at her, committing the sight to memory since he knew he'd no doubt be up half the night, torturing himself thinking about it. Then, still reeling from the night's events, he murmured his final farewells before trudging out into the crisp, night air, carrying his thread-bare jacket with him…and an entirely new feeling in the pit of his stomach that he just couldn't seem to shake.

"Night."

"Night, Miles."

"Hey, are you going to hand over our shoes or what?" a particularly forward freshman barked, shaking Miles back to reality. Mumbling a quick apology, he collected the various pairs of sneakers together and dumped them down onto the counter - all the while trying, and failing, to push a certain blonde out of his mind. After all, the last thing he wanted was to head back over to his friends and subject himself to more painful ribbing.

To his relief, once the teens had been dealt with and he had returned to the bar, the trio's conversation had moved on - just not as far as he'd have hoped…

"Jesus Christ, Lays, you're as bad as Claire."

"No I'm not! I would never go and camp outside his house."

"But you'd bribe Nathan Turner with homework answers so that you could be his locker neighbour?" Mick smirked as Miles settled into position behind the food counter beside her.

"What's this I missed?" he chuckled, glad to see someone else taking the heat for a change.

"Lela's massive crush on Tanner Cole," Mick informed with a teasing grin.

"That dopey kid on the track team?" Miles asked, biting back a fond chuckle when he saw how defensive Lela got. "What's so special about him?"

"He's not dopey! He's just…sensitive, and nice-"

"You're basing all of this insanity off of 'nice'?" Mick scoffed, having heard far more about the extent of Lela's crush on this guy than the other contributors to the conversation.

"No! He's just…I don't know, he's just different, okay? He cares about stuff more than most guys, like when he talks to me it's like he actually cares about what I have to say. And then he's got this freaking adorable smile that just-"

"Oh my god, do you even hear yourself, sis? This is insane!"

"Oh don't pretend like you weren't all over Mick like this when you first started liking her," Lela fired back.

"It's not about that it's just- I just can't believe that out of everyone in this town, you and Miles have picked the fucking Cole twins to start crushing on," he exclaimed with an exasperate sigh. "Does the phrase: 'those rich kids are all assholes' mean nothing to you both? Or was I speaking in Chinese that day?"

"Maybe they're the exception," Lela suggested, to which Butchy just rolled his eyes in despair.

"Have I taken crazy pills or something? What the hell is going on today?" he asked, looking to Mick for some sort of answer. But all she could offer was an equally baffled shrug as the opening notes of Whitney Houston's 'How Will I Know' sounded through the speakers.

Taking the opportunity with Butchy distracted, Miles leaned forward to quiz the girl further. After all, if she had her feelings figured out about one of the Coles, maybe she could help him figure out his feelings about the other. "How long have you kept me in the dark about this one then, Lay?" he chuckled as he watched her scrawl another love heart down in the open notebook in front of her.

"It's only been a thing for a couple of months," Lela confessed with a shy smile. "But I'm not getting my hopes up or anything; it's not like it's going to go anywhere - not when he's a senior and I'm just a sophomore. And besides, I don't think he even likes me like that - I mean, what would a guy like him want to be with a girl like me for? He's got girls hanging around with him all the time, super pretty girls too. I bet he barely even notices me," she trailed off - a dejected frown moving in to replace the shy smile she began with.

But Mick soon leaned in to offer a knowing gin of her own to the mix. "Oh I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"What do you-?"

Lela's confused murmurings were cut off though when she and Miles followed Mick's eyeline, finding a certain track athlete, with a dopey smile, weaving amongst the skaters on the rink.

"Oh my god, why is he here?!" Lela panicked, hurriedly staring back at Mick and Miles with eyes the size of soccer balls.

"He's probably just hanging out with some friends," Miles offered.

"Or he's here to see his sister," Mick countered, once again drawing the trio's attention to the rink as they watched Carrie skate over to greet him.

"What do I do? Should I go over and say something? Or is that super weird and forward? Maybe I should just wait for him to make the first move. That's the safest option, right? Oh, who am I kidding? There isn't even going to be a first move. I'm being ridiculous; I'm like totally invisible to him."

"I don't know about that, Lela; he sure seems like he can see you now," Mick chuckled, watching Lela's brows furrow before she turned and found the golden haired boy in question aiming that beaming smile of his directly at her.

Lela couldn't help the gasp that left her lips, or the rosiness flooding to her cheeks. But as much as the eye contact had startled her, she couldn't find it in herself to look away, absolutely rooted to the spot with adoration. In fact, she was so frozen in place she couldn't even raise her arm to wave back at him, earning herself a chuckle from the pair behind her.

Whitney seemed just as clueless about love as Lela if her lyrics were anything to go by. And as she asked the fateful question: 'how will I know if he really loves me?' Mick couldn't resist nudging Lela's arm and saying: "Well, a wave's a start" in response.

"What do I do?" Lela hissed to the pair behind her, unable to drag her eyes away from the boy in front of her.

"Wave back," Miles prompted, nudging her other arm in the hopes that she'd pluck up enough courage to actually do something with it.

Lela plastered an awkward grin to her face that she hoped looked far more genuine than it felt and gingerly raised her hand back, melting into a giddy giggle of relief once she saw it was received with a grin even broader than the last. And just like that, Lela was rendered too lovestruck to speak.

Mick fondly shook her head at the girl, pleased to see that her mostly fantastical relationship with this boy was progressing to at least a real-life interaction. When she turned her head to see Miles' take on the situation though, she found herself shaking her head all over again though, because whilst Lela's eyes were glued to the wannabe George Michael, Miles' were, once again, longingly tracking their blonde co-worker's every move. She'd never known either of them crush this hard before, especially not at the same time, and definitely not on such similar people. But the hopeless romantic hiding away inside her tough, sarcastic shell was secretly jumping up and down for joy at the sight of her friends so besotted. She knew the likelihood of the relationships becoming anything more than fleeting fever dreams was low, but it wasn't every day that her two best friends developed such strong crushes, so she was going to enjoy it for all it was worth, even if she did find their taste in partners rather…questionable. I mean, Tanner and Carrie? The twins who not only shared a set of DNA but one brain cell between the pair of them? …Seriously?

"What the hell are you wearing?"

Tanner rolled his eyes as a familiar voice cut through the cheesy pop music. He knew it was his sister sidling up to him without even having to look in her direction.

"I can't believe you, of all people, need me to explain fashion trends," he fired back.

"You look like an extra in a Wham music video," Carrie jeered, pointing out his short shorts and brightly coloured jacket with a teasing smirk.

Sparing a disgruntled glance across at his twin, he found that she was faring no better in the fashion department. "You're one to talk, you look like Great Shape Barbie."

Now it was Carrie's turn to frown. "Look, are you here for my help or not?"

"Do you even have anything that's going to help me?" Tanner asked with an exasperated sigh.

"That depends," Carrie began, promptly replacing her frown with that classic mischievous smirk of hers. "Do you want me to set you up with her or her brother?"

Tanner's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he frantically tried to shush her. "Carrie-!"

"Pfft. Would you relax?" she chuckled, rolling her eyes and moving to skate backwards in front of him rather than beside him. "It's not like anyone's listening."

"You don't know that," he hissed, but Carrie showed no signs of remorse as she once again teasingly rolled her eyes and continued regardless.

"Well, if it is the sister you're after then you're golden. But if it's the brother then I'm afraid I'm gonna have to disown you - and it's not because I'm homophobic, it's just because I think he's a piece of shit."

Deciding to ignore her latter comments, Tanner focused on the only piece of information he really cared about. "You really think she likes me?"

"Dude she's got your name doodled all over her notebook in little hearts over there. It's like something straight out of a Tiger Beat," Carrie scoffed with an amused grin.

"You think I've got a shot with her then?"

"A shot with her? She'll be all over you! Just do whatever crap you normally do to get the girls flocking around you like you're Tom Cruise and you'll be at second base in no time, trust me."

"I don't want to just 'get to second base' with her, I wanna try to take it seriously this time."

"Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that?"

"How am I supposed to know? I haven't tried yet," Tanner deadpanned with a brainlessness Carrie would have rolled her eyes at had she not been so distracted by something in the distance.

"Well you'd better get thinking, Casanova; you've got an audience," she smirked, nodding in the direction of the food counter, where Mick, Miles and Lela were stood and sat around collectively gawping at them.

All it took was one look in Lela's direction for Tanner to chuckle and say: "Gee, I guess she has got it pretty bad, huh?"

"Downright criminal," Carrie giggled as she watched her brother offer the girl a friendly wave. "Now come on, I played this song for a reason. Get your ass over there and do what Whitney's man couldn't," she continued, giving her brother a nudge towards the edge of the rink as the song's bridge began to blare out through the surrounding speakers.

"What?" he squeaked, as oblivious as ever.

"Just get over there and talk to her," Carrie sighed.

"Okay, I'm gonna go over there and talk to her," Tanner confirmed with another of his blinding, dopey grins.

"Go get 'em, tiger!" Carrie called after him, watching gleefully as he dazzled Lela with a Ken-like smile and made a beeline for the food counter.

Satisfied with her match-making efforts for the evening, she finally let herself relax and enjoy skating to one of her all-time favourite songs. Flipping her headset microphone down, she let her head fall back as she belted the iconic "how will I knooooooow?" out over the speaker system: a luxury she rarely indulged herself in since she knew the patrons probably wouldn't appreciate her turning their skating sessions into a karaoke party. Boy did it feel good though! Almost as good as the impressed smile she caught Miles firing across at her in response to the impromptu singing. She locked eyes with him for a beat and shot him a little wink in return that made his eyes widen and a giggle slip from her lips as she launched herself into an elaborate twirl. Before she could turn back to face the food counter to continue their little silent exchange though, a voice to her right snatched her attention.

"Would surprising you at work give you a clue?"

Following the voice, her eyes lit up like a Roman candle on the 4th of July as they settled on a familiar head of immaculately styled, wheat-blond hair and a charming grin that made her stomach do a backflip. The fireworks didn't stop there though; her entire body felt like it was crackling with energy as she raced over to the edge of the rink to greet him.

"What are you doing here?!" she gushed, her smile so bright that, had it been caught in the path of the disco ball, it would have blinded him.

"I was driving by on my way back from practice, so I thought I'd drop in and see my favourite girl."

"I'm your favourite girl?" she giggled with a flirty quirk of her eyebrow.

"Course you are, baby."

"Oh yeah? And how does your mom feel about being bumped down to second place?" she teased.

"Are you kidding me? I think you're already her favourite child," he chuckled. "You know, she always wanted a daughter. I guess she'll just have to settle for an in-law."

"Are you saying I'm going to be an 'in-law' one day?"

"You'd better be; I'm not falling in love with anyone else," he grinned, reaching a big, paw-like hand up to cup her face. "We're endgame, baby. We both know that."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Carrie said, with another giddy giggle as her smirk melted into a blissful grin as soon as he leant forwards and pressed his lips to hers. They lingered in the kiss for a few seconds, drinking in the scent of one another before breaking apart and letting those same, airheaded grins run rampant across their faces. "Besides, Caroline Brennan has a pretty good ring to it, don't you think?"

"Oh yeah, that's gonna look real nice on your driver's licence," Eric smirked as the pair shared a laugh, both getting temporarily lost in daydreams of their future lives together. He was swift to push it to the back of his mind for the sake of leading the conversation elsewhere though. "Speaking of looking nice…"

"Go on," Carrie giggled, as eager as ever to receive a little ego boost.

"You are looking so fine tonight."

"You think?" she grinned, doing a spin to show off the outfit in full.

"Hell yeah. The fact that those leggings aren't on the ground, and your legs aren't behind your head right now is a goddamn miracle."

"Eric! I'm at work!" Carrie chastised, trying to hold at least some professional integrity. The flirty glint in her eyes betrayed her though.

"What? It's not my fault they make your ass look so good," he replied, holding his hands up in surrender as a cocky smirk curled at his lips.

"Well looking is all you're gonna get to do, I'm afraid," Carrie said, pushing forward to rest her hands on the rink's barrier again. "Until my shift's over, that is."

"...And what about your break?" Eric prepositioned in a hushed voice that sent a shiver up Carrie's spine.

"What about it?" she retorted, matching his amorous smirk.

"Seems like a pretty perfect opportunity to take it, if you ask me," he grinned.

"Eric, I need to get back to-"

"Oh come on, baby, please," he pressed, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving. He could see the disinterest starting to bubble up dangerously close to the surface, and knew that was his cue to turn on the charm - hitting her square in the face with a tender smile he knew she just couldn't resist. "I've missed you."

Rolling her eyes, Carrie fondly chuckled, "It's been like four hours, tops."

"Yeah, tell me about it," he smouldered, grinning like an idiot as he pulled her towards him and swept her up in another kiss.

Helpless to resist, Carrie went limp in his embrace, body totally numb with lust as a delicious warmth spread throughout her chest. The feeling of those strong, muscular arms around her waist, the feeling of his spearmint and Gatorade laced breath on her skin, the feeling of his silky, blond hair beneath her fingertips…It all just felt right. This was exactly how it was supposed to be. She was a cheerleader, she was dating the quarterback, she was popular beyond her wildest dreams… It was everything she'd ever wanted; the picture-perfect life she'd always envisioned for herself finally felt as though it was all coming together. And as a blissful smile stretched across her lips, and Toto's Africa played softly in the background, she let herself relish everything she'd worked so hard to get. After all, being the it-girl took a lot of effort, but it certainly did have its rewards - and hers just so happened to be tall, handsome and very well-endowed.

Miles should have known that it was too good to be true. And yet, he let himself be fooled anyway.

He already knew their warm smiles were treading a dangerous line in his head, blurring the line for where they stood with each other, but he ploughed ahead regardless. And besides, how could he have not reacted to that singing? He'd never heard anything like it: that effortless power and clarity. It warranted much more than a smile, but given the barriers between them (both physical and metaphorical), it was all he could offer.

He thought he'd imagined the wink at first; it certainly made him feel like he was dreaming anyway. But no, it had been real. And he was quick to feel the effects since he had to grip onto the food counter to keep himself upright; his legs feeling as though they'd been turned to jelly. Still, he couldn't look away. The way her curls framed her face, the way her smile lit up her eyes, the way the disco ball bathed her skin in a painfully apt, pink light…it was breathtaking. She was a living piece of art.

And then he had to waltz in and ruin it.

Eric Brennan was everything Miles wasn't. He was confident, he was popular…he was mentally stable. And that's why he had Carrie; it just made sense. They were made for each other: two, tanned high school deities, carved out from the same hunk of polished gold - destined to fall into one another's arms and stay there 'til death do them part. They were Hawkins high royalty, sitting on a mountain of wealth in party invites and looks of adoration, and Miles was a lowly peasant, scrounging for passing glances in the hall. That's why it was Eric's embrace Carrie always ran back too. That's why Miles could never compare. That's just the way it was - the way it would always be.

And yet, that didn't make the truth sting any less.

"Why the hell is Carrie playing this crap? No one's even dancing to it," Mick grumbled as she aimlessly wandered over to Miles' end of the food counter. With Lela nervously babbling away to Tanner, and Butchy occupied with watching them like a hawk (from a semi-respectable distance), Mick had no other option but to pester her honorary big brother for a conversation, even though he wasn't even a full year older than her. "She's usually pretty on the ball with changing up songs to keep everyone entertained."

"I, uh, think she's a little busy," Miles miserably mumbled, eyes still glued to the couple at the edge of the rink, grinding to the beat of the music - unable to look away, no matter how sick it made him feel.

"...Oh…shit," Mick trailed off, sparing the boy a concerned glance. "I didn't realise, sorry."

"What are you sorry for? It's not like it's anything new; it happens pretty much every other day," he scoffed, finally managing to drag his gaze down to the scratched, metal countertop and the bloodied hands atop them, thanks to a new, nervous habit of picking at the skin on his fingers.

"I know, it's just…I didn't mean to draw your attention to it given…well, you know," she said, showing a consideration for his feelings all her previous teasing had made Miles believe didn't even exist. Trying to cheer him up a bit, she gently nudged his arm and attempted a joke with a wry smile. "Hey, just be glad you haven't heard them going at it in the break room."

"Thanks for that image, Mick," Miles fired back with a dejected sigh, but when he turned and caught her gaze, he did allow himself to let out a little chuckle. After all, it was a laughably terrible situation to be in in the first place - might as well make the most of it.

"Oh come on, Miles. You must have known that your thing with Carrie was never going to go anywhere," Mick said. "She's been dating Eric since the start of junior year, I think it'd take something pretty major to break them up."

"Of course I knew, but…I don't know, I don't know why she makes me feel the way she does - I can't even understand it myself," he said. "There's just something about her, something - ugh, I don't know, I can't explain it."

"Wow, you're feeling particularly articulate tonight," Mick snarkily chuckled.

"I think my brain's stopped working," Miles said sarcastically. "That's the only logical reason for me ever entertaining these feelings in the first place."

Laying a reassuring hand on his arm, Mick offered him a smile. "It's alright, buddy, you'll get over her, just give it a couple of weeks. We'll bring you back to your senses in no time."

"Thanks, I need all the help I can get," he snorted before running a hand through his hair and letting out a huff of despair. "Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? First time in months a girl shows me any attention and I crumble like a block of feta."

"I don't know, I think it's kind of sweet," Mick said with an endearing smirk.

"It's embarrassing," Miles corrected before sparing a glance over at his little brothers and letting a chuckle slip past his lips. "At this rate Royce is going to get into a relationship before I do."

Watching from the safety of the food counter, Miles clocked every time Royce would glance across at Vivien as she piloted Frogger so passionately she almost ripped the joystick clean out of the machine. Every look was fuelled with a shy adoration that never came through in his cries of encouragement, and, sadly, were never caught by the competitive brunette. But the way they kept inching closer together without realising, and then blushing when their hands would accidentally brush beside the 'start' button, told Miles that before the year was out they'd be holding hands on the school bus and passing cheesy love notes to one another in home room - as all respectable middle school couples do.

As Miles watched the kindlings of young love flicker to life before his very eyes with a fond smile though, something in the corner of his vision drew his focus elsewhere. Standing at the machine across from Royce and Vivien, Bentley stood with his back to them, concentrating on his Pac-Man game as though his life depended on it. It wasn't Bentley's gaming tactics that caught his attention though, it was the single bulb in the light fixture above his head, flickering like it was about to fuse. And yet, it never did.

"Hey," Miles said, gently bumping Mick's arm. "Do you see that light bulb?"

It took her a second or two to locate the bulb in question, but when she did, she squinted, watching it dim and flash back on as though someone was messing with the switch through furrowed brows. "Yeah, weird," she murmured. "Big Ralph had better not try to turn any of us into handymen for the sake of saving a few bucks to get it fixed," she added with a sarcastic snort of laughter.

A few seconds later, a puzzled Bentley turned his gaze to the ceiling to inspect the flickering bulb. Annoyed that it had distracted him, and caused him to lose his rhythm, he scowled up at the faulty light, only to find it glowing brighter than ever before back at him. Having to squint to keep watching it, he knew he probably should have looked away, but something compelled him to stay focused on it, despite the bursts of colour starting to invade the corners of vision.

And then, as suddenly as the flickering had begun, it stopped all together. Sputtering out into the regular, dim glow that kept the arcade area in a constant, near darkness.

"Or, you know, it could fix itself," Mick noted with a chuckle, having to do a double take to actually make sure that it had stopped for good. "Hmm, weird."

"Yeah," Miles trailed off, sparing his little brother one, last glance as he watched him back to playing his game as though nothing had happened. "Strange…"

#this isn't fully edited #but i ran out of time so it'll just have to do #hope you enjoy it!

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cherrygorilla · 2 years

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The Mixtape Mysteries - Prologue (Part 1)

September - Earth, Wind & Fire - 3:35

You have no idea how excited I am to finally start sharing the story that has completely taken over my brain for the past two months with you. Inspired by a TV show I’m unhealthily obsessed with, fuelled by a love of 80s music, and packed with characters I adore... Let the investigation begin!

Listen along with the gang here.

Also, side note, I’ll be using songs throughout this series that are released later than when it’s set. For the sake of the story, just pretend they aren’t though because they work too well for me not to include them lol. It’s nothing crazy though; they’re all still released in the confines of the decade, just maybe a couple of years out. And if you can suspend your disbelief for long enough to believe these guys are going to be fighting monsters in suburban Indiana, then you can believe Madonna released Into the Groove in 1984.

Monday - September 3rd, 1984

The scratchy cotton of a poorly dried pillowcase brushed against ruddy skin as the boy stretched and rolled to face the window. Soft, orange sunlight bathed his side of the room in light thanks to how haphazardly he'd closed the curtains the night before, but a lazy smile stretched across his face, nonetheless. The early morning air was thick and stuffy, due to the residual summer heat clinging to the September breeze, and the dust he could see caked on the windowpane and floating through the rogue sunbeam certainly weren’t helping matters. But as Royce rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grabbed his dog-eared journal from his bedside table, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything but content. After all, his dad was finally out of the picture, Miles was finally in a good enough position money-wise to support all three of them without any help from Uncle Tommy (even if it did mean him having to work every night of the week), and his best friend was finally coming back from her month-long vacation. This year was going to be a good one, he could feel it. It had to be.

By the time he’d scrawled out a full page in his journal, the sky outside had brightened to a sunny yellow, streaked with powder blue. But just before he could turn to a blank one, a familiar knocking drew his gaze to his bedroom door.

“Come on, guys, up and at ‘em. We’ve got thirty minutes, tops, before we need to leave,” Miles announced, using what energy he wasn’t pouring into keeping himself upright to make sure his words didn’t come out as the incoherent mumble they were in his head.

"Yeah, ‘cause I'm the one that needs the wake-up call," Royce cheekily drawled back as he rolled his eyes and tossed his journal back to its home on his nightstand.

"It's too early for your sarcasm, Royce. Get some breakfast," Miles huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut and let his weight fall against the doorframe. Clearly having to be up this early wasn't nearly as pleasant for him as it was for his younger brother.

With a chuckle, Royce threw his comforter off him and bounced out of bed, grabbing a hoodie from the floor as he went.

Letting out a yawn that looked as though it sapped more energy than Miles could muster, the eldest Murphy brother shook his head in a further attempt to wake himself up enough to keep his eyes open for more than five seconds at a time. When he did eventually open his eyes again, he noted that Royce was already on his feet, but Bentley was still snuggled under his duvet. Although now, the younger boy's pillow was being held over his head, rather than resting under it.

"Let's go, Benny," Miles said a little more forcefully this time, punctuating the coaxing with a few claps to chivvy the boy along. "We've not got all morning; we need to be out the door by 7:30am. Don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

"It's too early," came the mumbled response from beneath the old, plaid pillowcase.

"Yeah, you're preaching to the choir, buddy," Miles sighed as a ghost of a wry smile drifted across his face. It was soon replaced by another yawn though as he stepped back out of the doorway and disappeared out of view. "Get dressed then come have some breakfast. I'm not having you go to school hungry," he ordered as he traipsed down the hall, feet shuffling along the floorboards the whole way.

When Bentley made no attempt to move, Royce had to bite back a chuckle as he grabbed the pillow from over his little brother's head and lightly thumped him with it.

"Hey!" the blond squeaked.

"Come on, Benny, you've gotta get up. You've got a big day ahead of you; you only start middle school once," Royce said with a mischievous grin.

"I don't want to go," Benny grumbled, grabbing his pillow back.

"Why not?"

"Middle school sucks."

"No it doesn't."

"It does. Literally everyone says so," Bentley huffed with a scowl.

"It's really no big deal, Benny. It's just like elementary school, but with different classes."

"That's not what they say in the movies."

"So what? You're going to listen to some bogus movies over your super smart big brother?" Royce teased.

"...Maybe," the boy stubbornly murmured, but Royce just chuckled in response.

"You'll be fine, Benny. And besides, it's not like you're going through it alone; your friends are all in the same boat. You can figure everything out together. And if you need anything, Viv and I will be there to help too. It's not going to be hard to find us; it's a pretty small school."

"Really?" A hint of hope edged into his tone.

"Sure thing," the brunet grinned. "Now get up, lazy bones. You're already last in line to use the bathroom," he added, causing his little brother to let out another groan of frustration that only made him laugh more as he made his way out of their shared bedroom.

Cleaned, dressed, and ready for some breakfast, Royce later found himself joining his older brother in the kitchen, shooting him a smile as he approached their rickety, splintering dining table. Miles was sat absentmindedly watching the news on the shitty little TV they had balanced on the countertop - well, listening to it really if the fact that he could still barely keep his eyes open was anything to go by. He had one hand wrapped around a cup of coffee that was sitting atop a faded coaster from an ancient family vacation to Michigan, and the other held a half-eaten slice of burnt toast. Needless to say, their toaster worked about as well as their TV did. When Miles cracked his eyes open to take another bite, he finally took notice of his guest, although his brow furrowed at the realisation that the younger boy was holding back a laugh.

"You want me to get you a plate for that?" Royce chuckled as he watched stray toast crumbs tumble into the mug below.

"No, it'll just mean more dishes to wash later," Miles sighed. "And besides, I like my coffee crunchy," he mumbled, attempting a joke despite his energy deficit.

"Suit yourself," Royce said with another chuckle as he turned to grab a clean bowl from the drying rack.

"You seem to be in a good mood," Miles noted after a pause, watching his brother curiously as the thirteen-year-old weighed up their extensive cereal collection: a mostly empty box of Crispix, a box of stale Cocoa Pebbles dust, and an untouched box of Raisin Bran.

"Is that a bad thing?" Royce asked, opting for the Crispix.

"No, just a little odd," Miles replied before taking a swig of his coffee. "You do know it's the first day back at school, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"And that's something you're pleased about?"

"He's not pleased about going to school," Bentley piped up as he entered the kitchen, wearing a teasing smile and a wrinkled, striped t-shirt. "He's just excited to see his girlfriend again."

"Ahh," Miles said as an amused grin spread across his face, in sync with the furious blush raging across Royce's.

"She is not my girlfriend," Royce insisted, tweaking the TV's antennas so that it would stop buzzing so loudly.

"Tell that to your face," Bentley snorted, prodding his brother's cheek before he dodged around him and began to explore the available breakfast options.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Royce. You and Vivien are really sweet together," Miles said. His amused grin showed no signs of shifting, and neither did the topic of conversation, much to Royce's dismay.

"We're just friends, stop making things weird."

"If you're 'just friends' then why are you always following her around like you're her shadow? That's what's weird," Bentley snickered as he took one look in the Cocoa Pebbles box and replaced it in defeat.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to hang out with your best friend. I don't say it's weird every time I see you hanging out with Zack, do I?"

"Oh so she's your best friend now?" Miles asked, raising his eyebrow as his grin broadened.

"Don't you start too!" Royce protested. "I'm just looking forward to hearing about her vacation, okay?"

"Okay, I believe you," Miles chuckled through a mouthful of toast.

"You're not one to talk anyway. You spend your whole work shift drooling over that spawn of Satan at the DJ booth," Royce snapped as he angrily stirred his cereal.

Miles opened his mouth to protest, hoping his burning cheeks weren't as noticeable as they felt, but Bentley, thankfully, butted in to provide a distraction. "Hey! Since when did we have Eggos?" he exclaimed, eyes alight with glee.

"Since I spent my lunch break yesterday at the grocery store," Miles chuckled.

"But we never get Eggos," Royce said, shooting Miles a puzzled look as Bentley tore open the box.

"Yeah, well, I thought you guys could use a treat. It's not the first day of school every day, you know? It's a big deal," he said with a smile as he watched Bentley excitedly load up the toaster. But when Royce didn’t seem to be convinced by his generosity alone, he went on to admit: "And they were on clearance.”

"Thanks, Miles! This totally beats Raisin Bran," Bentley grinned, eagerly watching the filaments of the toaster glow an ever-brighter red.

"I think anything beats Raisin Bran," Royce snickered.

"Keep an eye on them, Benny. That thing will turn them into charcoal if you're not careful," Miles said, shooting the machine a dirty look as he finished his burnt slice of toast. "And I am not about to waste my hard-earned money on food for the raccoons that live in our trash can."

"They don't live there, they just play in it," Royce clarified with a chuckle.

"Yeah, we went out to clean up after them yesterday and they'd left little muddy paw prints all over one of the drawings I threw out," Bentley chimed in just as the toaster pinged beside him, causing him to jump. He hungrily grabbed for one of the waffles but snatched his hand back and hissed in pain when he realised how hot they still were.

"Why'd you throw out one of your drawings?" Miles asked as his eyebrows furrowed once more, completely unphased by his little brother's burned fingers. After all, Bentley's impatience was well-established in their household. "You didn't even give me a chance to put it on the refrigerator."

"It wasn't a finished one. It just wasn't going right, and I'd erased it so many times I'd made a hole in the paper," he explained, before adding with a laugh. "I think the raccoons walking all over it made it better, actually."

"I can go and fish it out of the trash can if you want, Miles. I think it would make a great addition to the fridge," Royce said with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, I can't think of a more appropriate way to decorate this dump than by sticking literal garbage to the walls," Miles mused as he took another swig of his coffee. That swig turned into several gulps though as a car horn blared over the droning voices of the news anchors, and he raced to finish the mug's contents. "Come on, guys. Grab your things, we've gotta motor," he announced, hurriedly dumping the last dregs of coffee down the drain.

"Wait, I haven't even had my Eggos!" Bentley protested, still preoccupied with rescuing the waffles from the faulty toaster.

"Just take them 'to-go'," Miles said as he ushered his little brother towards the front door. "We can't be late."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want to miss any precious learning time, would we?" Royce sarcastically chuckled as he precariously balanced his empty cereal bowl atop the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“No, actually, we wouldn’t, because if we do it’s my ass on the line. And I have enough to deal with already without CPS kicking down our door. So, if you want to keep living here, then I suggest you show a little hustle,” Miles barked back as he swung open their front door. Royce and Bentley weren’t fazed by the snappiness of his tone though; Miles was always his grumpiest on a morning, and they knew his heart was in the right place. They would probably have been more concerned if he hadn't retaliated to be honest; at least this showed he cared.

All the Murphy brothers needed to do was tug on their sneakers, sling their backpacks over their shoulders and bound out the front door before their driver got impatient enough to sound his horn again. And thanks to the fact that Miles had had the foresight to tell his brothers to pack their bags the night before, the black station wagon parked in their neighbours' driveway remained silent. The same couldn't be said for the driver though, who was leaning against the car's open door, sporting a lazy grin, a pair of aviators and a vintage leather jacket. "That was fast," he noted with a chuckle.

“I’ve got them trained well,” Miles jokingly called back, letting Royce and Bentley run ahead as he locked up the house.

“Hey Butchy!” the boys chorused as they hopped the trench of flower beds that separated their house from the Bandonis'.

"Hey guys," he greeted with a warm smile. "You guys riding in the back again, or shall I shove Miles back there?"

"We'll take it," Royce chuckled as Bentley threw open the back door to the station wagon.

"I don't even think Miles would fit in here anyway," Bentley laughed as he wriggled into his usual spot.

"You sure you don't mind doing this?" Miles checked as he lumbered across the lawn to Butchy's car, still looking half-asleep. "I don't want to make you late."

"Oh come on, Miles. I've driven you guys to school for the past three years, you think I'm going to stop now just because I graduated?" Butchy replied with a reassuring grin. "And besides, you guys are my best passengers. You even beat Lela out here. At this rate, if anyone's gonna make me late, it'll be her," he continued as he leant on the horn again with a frustrated huff. "Lela, come on! How long does it take to find a damn jacket?"

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" his little sister trilled back as she hurried down the front steps of the house. Funnily enough, there was no jacket in sight - just a fuzzy sweater, pristine white sneakers, and shimmering eyeshadow and lip gloss: as bright and pink as the scrunchie holding up half of her hair.

"Where's the jacket?" Butchy asked incredulously.

"It didn't go with my outfit," Lela replied as though it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"You’re unbelievable," Butchy breathed with a lengthy roll of his eyes.

"Thanks," she cheekily beamed before opening the passenger door and poking her head into the car. "Hi boys!"

"Hi Lela," the three Murphy brothers chorused back with varying levels of enthusiasm.

Just as Butchy was about to join his little sister though, fondly shaking his head at his passengers' antics, a voice caught his attention.

"I don’t suppose you’ve got room for one more, do you?"

Glancing over his shoulder, he set eyes on a girl standing at the end of the driveway. Her shaggy, chestnut hair was blowing around her face thanks to the brisk, morning wind, and a pair of headphones hung around her neck, attached to the Walkman she had hooked into one of her belt loops. Her hands were shoved deep into the pockets of her baggy denim jacket, which hung open to reveal a ringer t-shirt emblazoned with a funky graphic of a beach skyline, and a pair of blue jeans with the cuffs rolled up. Her most prominent feature though was the mischievous smirk that stretched across her face and made her chocolate brown eyes twinkle.

"What are you doing here?" Butchy asked. His brows were furrowed in confusion, but he couldn't help the grin that jumped to his face as soon as he caught sight of her.

"My mom and dad had to leave early for work, so they told me to get the bus," Mick began with an affectionate eye roll at their expense as she made her way towards him. "But why would I wait around for that gym locker on wheels when I could come and wish you luck on your first day instead, Officer Bandoni?" she finished with a teasing grin as he looped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

"You're the best," he smiled as they broke apart, chuckling at the choruses of: "Gross!" echoing from the back of the station wagon.

"So we can wait for you guys to make out, but we can’t wait for me to finish my Eggos?!" Bentley cried.

Fresh laughter rippled through the group as Butchy and Mick reluctantly broke apart and took up their positions in the car.

"Hey guys," Mick sing-songed as she slid into the seat beside Miles and listened to their mutual greetings. "Nice breakfast choice, Benny," she chuckled, acknowledging the half-eaten Eggo in his hand - i.e. the reason her make-out session was cut short.

"I know, right?!" he exclaimed, spraying crumbs all over his brothers. Clearly the fact that he was having to eat it in the car wasn’t affecting how much he was enjoying it.

"You look refreshed," she then teasingly added as she turned to the older boy beside her, whose head was resting against the window, eyes barely managing to stay open.

"Thanks for noticing," Miles sarcastically replied.

"That shift yesterday really took it out of you, huh?"

"I think I cleaned up enough vomit to fill a swimming pool," Miles huffed. "Whoever thought that cutting the birthday cake before those kids went skating needs locking up."

"I know someone who could get that arranged," Mick chuckled, flashing their driver another mischievous grin as he started the car and adjusted the stereo.

"Everyone ready to go?" Butchy checked with a quick glance over his shoulder. As the group nodded and droned their agreements, he revved his engine and pushed the cassette tape into its designated slot. The machine clicked and whirred for a few seconds before a familiar guitar riff blasted through the car's speakers.

"What's this?" Lela asked, scrunching her nose at the rock music as Butchy pulled out onto the road. "We normally just listen to the radio."

This time it was his turn for a smirk to tug at his lips as he lazily leant against the driver's window and shot his passengers a knowing look in his rearview mirror. "I just thought this was a little more appropriate for your first day back at school."

Lela, Royce and Bentley all looked as confused as each other, but Mick and Miles had shared an eye roll and a chuckle as soon as the song began to play. It wasn't until the chorus of AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' started that the others eventually caught on - each sharing their own little teasing complaints to the driver once they noted the lyrics. All Butchy could say was that he didn't pity them one bit. As daunting as starting a new job was, nothing was worse than going back to school.

"Ah, yes, Bandoni. Here we go," a portly lady with large, tortoiseshell glasses and a garish blouse sighed. Rifling through a file of paperwork, the lady hummed and frowned until she pulled out a document folder, looking as though it only held a handful of papers. She licked the pad of her thumb and flicked through the pages, then let out another heavy sigh once she found what she'd been looking for. "Looks like you'll be in room six. I'll have to go and get the key for the filing cabinets from the office. Wait here."

She made no effort to display any sort of urgency as she rose from the desk, but the young man standing behind it was quick to stop her anyway.

"Hold on, I think there's been a mistake," Butchy began.

"Are you implying I can't read, son?" the woman drawled, sticking her hands on her hips and arching one of her eyebrows.

"No, no, of course not, ma'am. It's just, I was hired as a trainee police officer-"

"Exactly," she replied flatly as she waddled into the adjoining room and plucked a key off a hook on the wall. "A trainee, meaning you need to complete said 'training' before you can join the force."

"And the training involves sitting around in a room of filing cabinets all day?" Butchy queried.

"What? Did you think you'd be doing an assault course out in the parking lot?" she snorted as she slid a cardboard box off her desk and held it out to Butchy, practically dropping it into his outstretched arms. "Follow me," she continued as he stumbled to accommodate the unexpected extra weight.

"What's this?" he asked as he began to follow the lady down the corridor that stretched from the main office. Looking down into the cardboard box he saw page after page of typed text - some were squashed into folders, but most were just loose, and almost all of them were stamped with a red 'closed' label.

"Those are all the case notes from last month," the lady explained as she came to a stop outside a door with a golden '6' screwed to it. Her pursed magenta lips curled into a smirk as she opened the door and gestured to the row of filing cabinets that lined one of the walls. "And those are all the case notes from the last three years."

"The last three years?!" Butchy exclaimed before he could stop himself, swallowing thickly as he took in the sheer number of metal cases.

"Well, the three nearest the door are - one for each year," she clarified as Butchy took a step into the room. It was small by anyone's standards - even with just the two of them in there it felt a little claustrophobic. There was a desk facing one wall, which held a tiered letter tray, a stapler, and a pen pot, which was empty save for one, chewed pencil. A swivel chair, with a torn leather seat was pushed beneath it, and a mostly dead yucca plant stood lamely in the corner, cowering away from the shred of sunlight that seeped its way into the room through the thick foliage of the tree that took up the entirety of the view from the room's only window. Besides that, the only other things in the room were the filing cabinets pushed against the opposite wall, and the plain, silver clock that hung above them. Even the shabby, bald carpet looked as though it didn't want to be there judging by the fact it was ripped up in at least two corners. "Your job is to copy out all of the records from the last three years so that we can archive them."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, boy. Don't make me repeat myself," she grumbled with a disapproving frown as she bustled past him. "Now let me go and find Terry, he'll be able to set you up with a computer in here so that you can get started."

"With all due respect, ma'am, I don't think I can do this," Butchy began, hardly able to process what this lady was proposing. "I mean, I took this job because I wanted to work with people, because I wanted to make a difference - but mostly because I didn't want to get stuck working a dead-end desk job. And typing out copies of police records? Seriously? Aren't there secretaries to do that sort of thing?"

"Nope, just cocky new recruits," she said with a wicked chuckle. When Butchy's dismay showed no signs of dissipating though, she sighed and placed her hands on her hips again as she went on to explain: "It might not seem like it to you now, but this is an important job that needs to be done. The officers can't do it because they need to be ready in case a call comes in, and the girls in the office can't do it because the institute doesn't trust them with the documents. We had the old chief handling all this stuff before, but he retired for good back in '81 and it's just been building up ever since. You'll still get your hour of training every day at two o'clock, but until then, you're on record duty, I'm afraid."

Butchy was stunned into silence as she turned and disappeared down the hall, muttering to herself the whole way. This was beyond a joke. He couldn't really just be made to type out old paperwork all day, could he?

The sound of hearty laughter broke him out of his cloud of thoughts as he leaned out of the doorway, searching for its source. And when he caught sight of the real police officers strolling out of view, chortling into their steaming coffee mugs as their badges shone under the hideous fluorescent lighting, an angry lump caught at the base of his throat.

"Terry will be along in a couple of minutes with a computer for you to use," the lady's voice called out from behind him. "He'll give you a walkthrough of the software too if you need it," she added as she reached him. When she saw him longingly looking after the retreating police officers though, she sighed again - this time with a definite tinge of pity in her tone. "Everyone's got to climb their way up the ladder, kid. You can't just jump straight to the top, it doesn't work like that. And besides, if you plan on staying around here, you might want to get used to this whole 'sitting around doing nothing' feeling; if it's excitement you want then you're in the wrong place, pal. Hell, the wrong town. This is Hawkins, after all - we're as painfully mediocre as it gets," she said with a chuckle as she gave the young man's shoulder a squeeze and went on her way back to the front desk. "But I'm sure those case files will tell you that much."

With a defeated sigh, Butchy set the box of papers down on the scratched, wooden desk. This was not how his first day was supposed to go. He was supposed to be getting his uniform and getting assigned to a training officer - not sorting through almost half a decade's worth of paperwork. God, this was going to be such a boring story to recount to everyone later. He just hoped they were having a better time than he was - although at that moment, he felt as though it was impossible for them not to.

"I fucking hate this school," Miles growled as he launched his biology textbook into his locker and slammed it shut behind him.

"Yo, chill, dog. It's only 11am. You've gotta pace yourself, man," the guy beside him chuckled, sporting a dazed smile and forehead littered with acne scars.

"How do you expect me to 'chill', Ethan, when Mrs Galespi just set us an assignment worth twenty percent of our grade that's due next week?" Miles snapped. "I mean it's the first day back for christ's sake. Who the hell does she think she is? Does she not realise that some of us actually have lives outside of this place? Or does she genuinely think that I have nothing better to do with my time than read about the fucking life cycle of the American bulltoad?"

"I thought it was a bullfrog," Ethan countered as Miles let out a frustrated sigh.

"Whatever, man. The whole thing's a bull idea if you ask me," he huffed as he leant against his locker and let his head fall back against it in despair. "God, there's no way I'm going to be able to get it done in time. I might as well just go and ask for an extension now."

"Don't say that, man. We've got a whole week. How much can you even look up about bullfrogs anyway? They're green and slimy. Case closed. We'll get it done in no time."

"I'm working until ten every night, Ethan. Even if I knew every fact under the sun about bullfrogs, I'm not gonna be able to find the time to write a whole essay about them."

"Sure you will. The rink will be dead now that school's back in session. And no one ever comes in on a Wednesday anyway because that's half-price movie night. We're gonna have a bunch of down time, trust me. We can just work on it together - it'll be a breeze," Ethan said with a nonchalant confidence Miles could only dream of having.

"Oh yeah, and what happens when we turn in identical essays and she fails us both?" Miles smirked.

"Pfft, I don't know, man. I'll probably just do what I always do - we'll work on yours together to make sure it's good, then I'll smoke a few, see what I remember and write out my version the night before."

"Last time you did that you got a D minus."

"And a D minus is still a pass, my friend," Ethan fired back with a smug grin.

"I can't let you do that again, Ethan. It just feels like I'm taking credit for your work," Miles sighed.

"Are you kidding, Miles? I barely ever contribute when we work on projects together. I pretty much just show up for morale support," Ethan snorted.

"Yeah, well, with how my life's going at the moment, I need a lot of it," Miles chuckled as he shot the guy a grateful smile.

Ethan had been Miles' best friend for as long as he could remember. Sure, he had Mick, and Butchy, and Lela too, but they were practically family at this point - Ethan was more like the crazy stray dog that kept showing up on his doorstep, begging for food. He didn't look too dissimilar to a stray dog either, to be honest, with his lank, scraggly hair hanging down by his shoulders and the wild glint in his otherwise vacant, brown eyes. A black beanie tamed his frizzy mane of hair, but the rest of his wardrobe was so bright Miles couldn't usually bear to look at him before 10am. Today's outfit choice proved no different; his oversized, rainbow tie-dye t-shirt was partially hidden beneath a hideous, paisley overshirt that was, again, at least three sizes too big for him - and his self-patched, and dubiously stained, brown corduroys were an entire spectacle of their own. He looked as though he'd just woken up in a thrift store's dumpster - and if Ethan's unpredictable behaviour was anything to go by, Miles wouldn't have been surprised to find out that he had. The boy's eccentric style choices were enough reason in and of themselves to render him a social outcast, but he was loyal to a fault and had a heart of gold, so Miles was more than willing to put up with the constant stench of weed and dumb wisecracks for the sake of keeping him around, even if it did render the both of them painfully unpopular among their peers.

"What's this you need a lot of?" a voice sounded to his right. Turns out his locker neighbour needed to swap over their books at the same time he did. "I know school can be a drag, but I didn't think you'd be turning to drugs this early on in the semester. I thought you'd at least have made it to Wednesday."

"Glad to know you think so highly of me, Mick," Miles said with an affectionate roll of his eyes.

"Ayy, waddup, Mickey Mouse?" Ethan greeted with a sloth-like wave.

"That's still not gotten old for you yet, huh?" Mick chuckled with an affectionate eyeroll of her own.

"Nope. Never has. Never will. It's too damn clever."

"Not a phrase I'd often use to describe you, Ethan, but I'll let you have this one," Mick snarkily fired back, earning herself a laugh from Miles as she busied herself with sorting through the textbooks in her locker. "How have your mornings been then, boys?"

"Tight," came Ethan's optimistic response. Whilst Miles' "Shit," proved a little more accurate given their current workload dilemma.

"Hmm, sounds about right," Mick smirked.

"It's Mrs fucking Galespi. I can't stand that woman," Miles snapped as he ran a hand through his mop of tawny brown hair. "God, I can't wait to graduate."

"I'm with you on that one, buddy," Mick sighed as she crossed her arms across her chest and joined Miles by leaning against her locker. "At least you guys only have one more year left, I've got another two years of suffering to get through."

"I thought you loved school. Aren't you like top of all your classes?" Ethan asked.

"Sure, I can get good grades, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it - especially when I'm surrounded by total morons the whole time," Mick grumbled just as two sophomore boys tore through the halls, tossing a football to one another. Incidentally, it hit a junior girl square in the face and sent up a chorus of 'oooooh's from the teens huddled around them. "My point exactly."

"You guys are such buzzkills," Lela sighed as she popped up beside them with an armful of textbooks clutched to her chest and a beaming smile fixed on her face. "High school's a blast if you keep yourself busy enough. I've already signed up to like four new clubs just this morning!"

"Being busy is my problem, Lela. I don't need anything else on my plate," Miles sighed. "I barely even have time to go to my classes, let alone clubs."

"Speaking of classes, we'd better make tracks if we want to make it to Calc on time," Ethan piped up, making Miles groan in despair.

"Hey, it'll be June before you know it," Mick chuckled, attempting to reassure him with a gentle bump to the arm.

"It had better be," Miles huffed as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and offered his farewells to the two girls.

Begrudgingly, he trailed behind Ethan, weaving his way through the hallway traffic with a firm scowl scrunching up his features. As he lifted his gaze from the scuffed linoleum floor though, the sight of someone almost made him stop completely in his tracks. Fluffy, golden blonde curls tumbled from a high ponytail, held in place with a green scrunchie; a slouchy cream hoodie, decorated with their school logo and a loopy, embroidered version of her name, framed her freshly pressed cheerleading uniform; and a smattering of freckles dusted the bridge of her nose, drifted across her cheeks and floated up onto her forehead. Their blue eyes locked, and the radiant smile she shot him as they passed in the hall made it feel as though the bustling crowds around them were moving in slow motion. His breath hitched in his throat and his heart hammered in his chest as he tried to think of an appropriate way to react, but by the time he'd processed the gesture, she had disappeared from view, and Ethan was grabbing him by the arm to pull him in the opposite direction. Still, as fleeting as it was, that smile might have just been the best part of Miles' day - or at least a little pick-me-up that got him through until the final bell rang.

Whilst Lela babbled away to Mick about the student council, the marching band, and everything in between, the trio of cheerleaders Miles and Ethan had just passed, along with their complementary trio of football players, parked themselves by the cluster of lockers on the opposite wall. Shrieking, and undoubtedly fake, laughter erupted from the six seniors as the shortest boy of the group barked a jokey insult at a passing sophomore. He threw his head back to laugh along with the rest of his friends and banged his fist against a locker, causing the blushing girl to jump and scurry away, much to the entertainment of her peers.

Mick couldn't help but glare at them; she, and the majority of her classmates, had been on the receiving end of their teasing remarks more times than she cared to recall. And the thought of having to see their stupid, smug faces for another whole year made her blood boil. "God, I can't wait to get out of this stupid town," she huffed as Lela turned to her with a puzzled frown. "The sooner I get away from those pretentious idiots the better."

"Just ignore them, Mick. They're all bozos. I think they've run into each other so many times on the football field that their brains have stopped developing," Lela snorted.

"Oh yeah, and what's the cheerleaders' excuse?" Mick asked with a raised eyebrow, eyeing each of the girls in turn. One was using a compact mirror to reapply cherry red lip gloss to her vicious sneer (how it wasn't getting stuck to her glossy, auburn locks, Mick had no idea); another was idly twirling the end of one of her bottle blonde braids around her finger as she stared into space; and the final one was wearing a blissful grin as she leant against the tallest football player's chest, draping his arms over her shoulders like a muscley feather boa and squashing her fluffy, golden curls against his pecs.

"Nothing. I think they were just born total airheads," Lela said as she and Mick shared a giggle at the girls' expense.

"Hey ladies," a husky voice boomed. Their gazes snapped to the football player holding his latest plaything captive. His wheat blond hair was immaculately styled and his jawline looked as though it could slice through wood like butter. The hideous smirk curling at his lips was what made Mick's stomach turn most of all though. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Mick clenched her jaw as snickers rippled throughout his group of friends. "We've seen more than enough, thanks," she spat as she defensively crossed her arms over her chest and Lela let out a weary sigh beside her.

More 'oooooh's bubbled up from the crowd of jocks, and even some passers-by as a consequence of the remark, but before the six foot three bozo could respond, the blonde in his arms piped up with a lazy smirk. "Lighten up, Mick. He was only joking."

Her glare returned with a vengeance as her gaze fell to the blonde. "It's Makana," she corrected with bitter emphasis. "Only my friends get to call me Mick."

Carrie let out an incredulous scoff as she straightened up in the football player’s embrace and turned to properly face the brunette. "Are we not friends?" she asked with an expectant quirk of her perfectly plucked eyebrow as the teens behind her tried to muffle their giggles.

Mick's silence was deafening as she grabbed Lela by the wrist and furiously marched away, leaving the rest of the cheerleaders cackling and the jocks jeering at her expense.

"Looks like your little prom queen scheme isn't working, Carrie. The freaks still don't like you," Molly, the girl with the cherry lip gloss, snickered. "Guess I'm gonna win after all," she finished with a smirk as she snapped her compact shut.

"Would you chill out? She's got the whole year to campaign yet," Eric chuckled as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pulled her to his chest again, stopping her from staring after Mick in disbelief. "And besides, we don't need every loser in town to like us to get our crowns - just the majority."

"You should have just told her you'd forgotten how to pronounce her dumbass name," the short football player from before, teased. "I sure would have."

"Yeah, you seem to have a real problem with names, don't you, Adam? What was it you called Sarah last week again? Jennifer? Or was it Becky this time?" Carrie retorted, wiping the wicked smirk off the football player's face so that she could fix it on her own as the teens around her all broke out into jeering laughter once more. The look on the retreating brunette's face still plagued her mind though, and her words played on repeat in her head, despite her obnoxious friends' best attempts to drown them out.

"Why does she always act like such a bitch around her friends?" Mick growled once the jocks were out of earshot and Lela could finally fall back into stride beside her.

"They just act like idiots to try to impress each other, don't take it to heart," Lela tried.

"She's so fake, I hate her," Mick angrily huffed.

"Don't say that, just last week you were saying she was cool to work with. I thought you guys were getting kind of close."

"Well I thought we were too, but every time her stupid, popular friends show up she turns into a totally different person. And all of a sudden, I go from being in on the joke to being the butt of it."

"Don't let them get to you, Mick. They're not worth it. And if Carrie can't see that you're a better friend than all five of those numbskulls put together then it's her loss, okay?" Lela said with an optimistic smile Mick reluctantly returned.

"You are in far too good of a mood for the first day back at school," Mick fondly chuckled. "Any reason why?"

"I'm just excited about my new classes, that's all," Lela said as she dropped her gaze to the notebook in her hands. But Mick noticed the blush creeping onto her face anyway.

"Mhm. You sure it's got nothing to do with that senior boy you were crushing on all summer being your new locker neighbour?" Mick asked with a cheeky, knowing grin.

Lela's eyes went wide as she turned to Mick in a mixture of horror and amazement. The school bell ringing stopped her from attempting to argue the point though.

"Damn, saved by the bell," Mick laughed as a flustered Lela adjusted the books in her arms and desperately tried to hide her burning cheeks from the students bustling around her. "You'd better give me an update at lunch time."

"There's nothing to update you on!" Lela insisted. "He doesn't even know I exist."

"Not for long," Mick sing-songed as Lela rolled her eyes.

"I need to get to English lit," she sighed as they reached a hallway junction. "I'll see you later. Don't get into any more fights without me."

"I'll try my best," Mick chuckled with a fond roll of her eyes as she picked her headphones up from around her neck and slipped them over her ears. "Come on, Stevie, if anyone can drown out these idiots, you can," she mumbled to herself as she pressed play on her Walkman and trudged down the hall to her next class, finally letting a relaxed smile unfold on her face as Fleetwood Mac's 'The Chain' blared through the speakers. If nothing else, at least she had her music to keep her sane.

“Beemer!”

The blond eleven-year-old lifted his gaze from his tray of soggy fish sticks to meet one hidden behind a pair of round glasses. The girl’s hair was pulled into a messy, low ponytail and her arms were covered by a baggy, green and purple ¾ zip fleece that made her bright, likely brand new, blue sneakers pop against the tacky cafeteria linoleum.

“Hey Vivi!” Bentley greeted, before leaning forward and smirking once he noted the thirteen-year-old was not alone. “Hey Royce.”

“Hi Benny,” Royce sighed with an affectionate eye roll as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his burgundy hoodie.

“Hey guys,” Vivien added once she reached the lunch table and could address the rest of its occupants properly. “How’ve you found your first day?”

“Pretty good actually,” Bentley replied with an optimistic grin his brother was relieved to see.

“Yeah, we’ve got the same schedule for pretty much all our classes, so we’ve just been able to stick together like it’s elementary school all over again,” a girl with a curly blonde ponytail spilling out of the side of her head grinned.

“Only with bigger kids and meaner teachers,” a young boy with warm brown eyes hidden behind thick rimmed, square glasses interjected.

“Yeah, Miss Mills is a bitch,” the last member of the table, with warm, bronzed skin and tight, cropped curls, exclaimed. “No wonder she never got married.”

Vivien and Royce exchanged a look of amused disbelief at the sixth grader’s outburst but couldn’t help but chuckle as they shared their agreements about the grumpy world geography teacher.

As much as Royce cared for his little brother, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of Bentley’s tight-knit group of friends. Yes, he had Vivien, and she was worth all the friends in the world, but that was kind of it. Vivien had her other friends that she’d hang out with, and sure, Royce would tag along sometimes, but he never actually felt like he belonged there with them – he always just ended up feeling like a spare part, which wasn’t helped by his shyness and overall reluctance to contribute to group conversations. Whereas Bentley was a chatterbox by nature and had never struggled to communicate with his peers - instantly earning the approval of his classmates as soon as he walked into the room and offered them a smile. That kind of innocent confidence had meant Bentley could have chosen any of the kids in his grade to be his friends. But, in typical Bentley fashion, he followed his heart and landed at the table of misfits, who, back in the first grade, had been scribbling out crayon drawings of dinosaurs like their lives depended on it, or had been sitting with their noses buried in storybooks the other kids were too hyperactive to care about – qualities which, upon reflection, Bentley had probably gravitated towards because they reminded him of his brothers.

First, there had been Zack, who had outstretched a grubby hand, decorated with colourful marker smudges and the sticky residue from the box of raisins, to Bentley the second that he had tried to take a seat beside him. The pair had hit it off immediately thanks to Bentley’s inherent friendliness and Zack’s burning desire to impress someone new with his extensive knowledge of prehistoric carnivores. And to this day, Bentley still considered the self-admitted smartass his best friend – luckily, they’d progressed to having conversations about more than just theropods now though. August was a little more reluctant to befriend the newcomer, but he was always wary to open up to people – Bentley believed that was the boy’s older brother’s doing though; if Miles treated him the way he’d seen Eric treat Gus then he’d flinch at the first sign of danger too. August had been sitting on the same table as Zack back in first grade, but had been much more engrossed in the storybook in front of him than the dinosaur facts his classmate had been spewing into his ear. Bentley still remembered their teacher telling August to go and pick out a different book since the one he was reading was ‘too advanced’, mostly because when August had nearly started crying, Bentley was the first to stick up for him, earning him the first smile he’d seen August wear all morning. Well, and because Zack, as loyal to his new friend as he was now, had backed Bentley up without hesitation – and, even at six years old, had taken a leaf out of his older sister's book and had cussed the teacher out, earning him a spot by her desk for the duration of that day’s recess break. Still, the endeavour meant August could keep his beloved storybook, and had earned him two firm friends in the process. The three were inseparable. Well, until they arrived at school one day in the fourth grade and found a new girl sitting at their table…

A vibrant, flowery bandana was tied in a bow around her head, keeping her wavy, blonde hair from falling in her eyes, and a t-shirt decorated with butterflies peeked out from beneath her pair of teal overalls. With her tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration, the girl sat in Zack's favourite chair, surrounded by tangled strands of cotton in a rainbow of colours she was attempting to weave together.

"Hey, that's my seat!" Zack had exclaimed, marching over to the girl with a vengeful frown as soon as he set eyes on her.

"I don't see your name on it," the girl shot back without even looking up from what she was doing. "Go find another one."

"You go find another one! I always sit here," Zack protested.

"Too bad, finders’ keepers," she retorted with a smirk as she used a pair of safety scissors to cut the strands of cotton she'd been working with.

Before Zack could step in to retaliate, steam already pouring out of his ears, Bentley spoke up from beside him with a curious grin. "Hey, what are you making?"

Zack and August both looked at him in horror, absolutely floored that he was even speaking to her, let alone smiling at her. But Bentley didn't seem to care one bit, especially when he noted a hopeful glint flash in the girl's mossy, green eyes.

"Keychains," she replied simply, holding up the fruit of her labours to display to the three boys. Blue, purple, pink and green threads were interlocked in a funky, striped pattern which tapered down to a point, where four beads spelled out a name: Kona.

"Woah, neat!" Bentley exclaimed. "Did you seriously just make that?"

"Yeah, you want me to make you one?"

"Sure!" Bentley replied with an enthusiasm his friends were quick to try to shut down.

"Ew, no, you can't sit with a girl!" Zack cried, grabbing Bentley by the shoulders just before his butt could land on the seat.

"Why not?" a bewildered Bentley asked.

"It's gross! She's probably got cooties!"

"I can hear you, you know," Kona shot back with a scowl.

"See?! She's not even denying it!" Zack exclaimed with a terror Bentley found laughable.

"Let's just go find another table," August huffed. "I don't want some stupid girl ruining our plans."

"Stupid girl? You'd better not be talking about me, Brennan," Kona scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh yeah? So what if he is?" Zack jumped in, throwing a protective arm out in front of the other boy before he could speak up himself. If anyone was going to turn this into an argument, of course it would be Zack - his fuse was shorter than a matchstick, and his temper was just as flammable.

"Well, for one, I'm pretty sure I scored better than both of you on last week's spelling test - so if anyone around here is 'stupid', it's definitely not me," Kona retorted with a smug grin that only fuelled Zack's rage more.

"Yeah well, who the hell knows how to spell 'neighbour' anyway? 'I before E except after C' my ass," Zack fumed as Kona just rolled her eyes again.

"Look, if you guys don't want a keychain then you don't have to have one," she grumbled, beginning to throw all her coloured threads back into the small cardboard box she'd brought with her. "No one else does anyway," she added in a quieter, dejected tone that pulled Bentley's lips into a frown. "And here, have your dumb table back. I was only using it because that crack in the wood helped keep all my string together," she finished, angrily pushing her chair back and beginning to stand.

But Bentley stepped around his friends and caught her arm before she could leave. "Wait, I still want one."

"...Seriously?" Kona asked with a dubious raise of her eyebrow.

"Yeah, seriously?" Zack demanded, clearly for other reasons.

"Yeah, yours looks awesome!" Bentley grinned as he took a seat back at the table.

Kona cautiously sat down beside him and set her box of threads back down on the desk. "Okay…" she said slowly, trying to hide the hopeful, excited smile tugging at her lips. "Well, what colours do you want then?"

"Well, my favourite colour's yellow, so definitely yellow," Bentley began whilst his friends watched on in dismay. As Bentley rooted through the box of threads though, he found himself getting overwhelmed by the array of different shades. If only his box of coloured pencils at home was this varied. "Uh…how many others do I have to pick?"

"If you want it to look like mine then you're gonna have to pick four," Kona said with a shy giggle as she watched him expectantly.

"Okay…well, uh, what's your favourite colour?"

"Mine? Uh, blue."

"You can't like blue; that's a boy's colour," August interrupted as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"So first you tell me I can’t sit here, and now you're telling me what colours I can and can't like? Is there anything I'm free to do?" Kona asked with an exasperated sigh.

"Yeah, leave," Zack barked.

"Chill out, guys, she can like whatever colour she wants," Bentley groaned at his friends' childish behaviour.

"Boys like blue and girls like pink, that's just facts," August said, clearly not ready to let the topic go.

"Well what's your favourite colour then?" Kona asked.

"Green."

"Not blue?" she challenged with a look that made August squirm under her gaze.

"...No," he admitted, bowing his head in embarrassment.

"Okay, well I guess it's not 'just facts' then, is it?" Kona fired back.

"What about you, Zack? What's your favourite colour?" Bentley then asked, turning to the boy sporting a firm frown.

"...Red," he reluctantly confessed. Bentley couldn't say that he was surprised; with how often Zack let his temper get the better of him, he must see a lot of it.

"Okay then, that settles it. Yellow, blue, green and red it is," Bentley said as he plucked the threads from the box and presented them to Kona with a smile. "One colour for each of us. Four strings for four friends."

At first the other three nine-year-olds seemed horrified at the idea of them all being friends, but once Bentley got Kona talking as she worked away on his keychain, and once Zack and August realised that Bentley wasn't going to let this go, they all sat around the cracked, wooden table and started to warm up to each other. And sure enough, by the time that the week was over, the four of them were as close as could be. They'd goof off in class, ride their bikes around neighbourhood forest trails every weekend, and they'd spend their recesses creating fantastical make-believe stories around the weirdest bugs they could find on the playground - all the while with multi-coloured, cotton keychains swinging from their backpacks - cotton keychains which would come to be some of their most prized possessions. After all, how many important things can an eleven-year-old own?

"Well, at least you guys are settling in okay," Vivien summed up after her and Royce's lengthy discussion about the school's various run-down facilities and grumpy staff members with the table of pre-teens. "If you guys need anything then you know where to find us."

"Wait, aren't you guys going to have lunch with us?" Bentley asked, surprised to see the pair turning to leave.

"With a bunch of sixth graders? No way; we can't have you little kids cramping our style," Vivien affectionately teased.

"Oh please, if anyone's cramping anyone's style, you're cramping ours," Zack fired back with a cheeky grin. "You guys are like major nerds."

"No we're not," Royce protested as his eyebrows knit together.

"Yeah, and that's a bold claim coming from you, buddy," Vivien chuckled. "I know for a fact you've got just as many comic books stuffed in your backpack as I do."

"Okay, one: comic books are cool as shit," Zack began, causing both Royce and Vivien to burst out laughing again. "And two: you guys are nerds because you treat the library like it's your second home."

"What's wrong with that?" Royce asked.

"Yeah, what's wrong with going to the library? We go there all the time," August hissed out of the corner of his mouth, nervously edging his ghost story book off the lunch table.

"There's nothing wrong with going to the library," Zack explained. "It's just weird how much time you guys spend there," he went on to tell the pair of eighth graders. "You go there like every day. It's like you've got nothing better to do."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," a sickeningly sweet voice snickered from behind them.

Royce and Vivien slowly turned around and each let out an irritated sigh when they found themselves face to face with a certain redhead they'd been avoiding all morning. Her lips were curled into a menacing smirk and a pink jacket with puffy sleeves she'd likely stolen from her older sister creased around the arms she had folded across her chest, emphasising that it was still too big for her to wear properly, not that the girl seemed to care.

"What do you want, Serena?" Royce huffed, digging his hands further into his hoodie's pockets as he scowled at her.

"Nothing, I just couldn't help but agree with the little pipsqueak over there," she said with a nod in Zack's direction, who all but erupted in response to being termed a 'little pipsqueak'. Thankfully, Kona was there to hold him back and calm him down. The last thing the new kids needed was to anger one of the popular girls; even they knew that was social suicide.

"Okay, well great, you've agreed with him, now leave us alone," Vivien snapped, evidently tired of the girl's persistent need to pick on her.

"Ouch, O'Brian. Did I touch a nerve or something?" Serena asked with mock dismay.

"No, I just can't believe you've got nothing better to do with your time than waste it talking to us," Vivien scoffed, squaring up to the redhead and folding her arms across her chest to match her stance.

"Are you kidding? I always make time to check in with you guys," Serena simpered as she squeezed Royce's arm in a way that should have been reassuring, if it weren't for her nails digging into his skin.

"I wish she wouldn't," Bentley mumbled to his friends at the table, who were all trying their best to keep out of the bigger kids' tense exchange.

"Since when?" Royce asked, shrugging off her grip.

"Oh come on, Roycey, don't act like we're not friends," Serena tittered.

"We're not," Vivien cut in with an annoyed glare. "You were just making fun of us a minute ago."

"Hmm, are you sure? That doesn't sound like something I'd do," Serena said with a false sweetness that made Vivien roll her eyes as the redhead pondered the notion.

"Look, can you just get whatever lame joke you're going to make over and done with?" Vivien huffed. "I'm bored."

"Lame? If anything around here is lame, O'Brian, it's you," Serena taunted.

"Come on, Serena, is that really necessary?" Royce sighed.

"You're siding with her, Roycey?" Serena asked with a horrified stare.

"Why would I ever side with you?" he shot back with an incredulous inflection that only angered the girl more.

Serena scoffed in disbelief and shook her head at the pair as she set her jaw with determination. "You're both as bad as each other," she sneered. "No wonder you spend so much time at the library, the only people you can get to like you are fictional."

"Is that the best insult you've got?" Vivien chuckled. "Because I'd take fictional people over real people any day."

"Oh you want insults, O'Brian?" Serena fumed, taking a step towards the brunette.

"No," Royce stepped in, sticking his arm out to keep the two girls separate. "Just drop it, Serena. You've made your point, now go."

"Oh I'm not done yet," she smirked. "In fact, I'm just getting started."

Royce and Vivien dared a glance at each other, both praying that they didn't look as nervous about the girl's statement as they felt. When their stony stares settled on Serena again though, the menacing twinkle in her eye made that nervousness turn to dread.

"This year's going to be a fun one, I can tell," she finished with what Royce could only describe as an evil grin. "Later losers!" she then trilled, tossing her hair over her shoulder and sauntering away without a care in the world.

"Where did she go on vacation over summer? Hell?" Vivien snorted to Royce as they watched the girl make her way back over to her gossipy entourage.

"You'd think she'd at least have come back with a tan," he quipped, glad to have Vivien there to lighten up the mood.

The grin they shared at the wannabe mean girl's expense made their chests bubble with warmth. And as sinister as Serena's warning had been, knowing that they would have each other to rely on if things went pear-shaped made her words feel much less threatening. As long as Royce had Vivien by his side, he felt like he could take on anything. Little did he know though, that would be put to the test as soon as the end of the school day...

"Mr Dunkley might as well have written that algebra question in morse code, I think it would have made just about as much sense as it did in English," Royce grumbled as he and Vivien made their way over to the long line of waiting school buses.

"You don't know morse code?" Vivien said. "Damn, I'm surprised; I thought you'd have been all over that."

"When would I have ever needed to learn morse code?" he chuckled.

"I don't know, I don't know what you get up to when I'm gone," Vivien laughed. "I'll have to teach you this weekend. We might need it at this rate if we want to make it through the school year in one piece now that Serena's got some crazy vendetta against us."

"I don't get why she can't just mind her own business," Royce muttered. "If we're such 'losers' then why does she care what we do?"

"Maybe she's got a crush on you," Vivien proposed with a teasing grin that only grew as Royce's eyes flew wide.

"You don't actually think that, do you?" he hissed as Vivien just chuckled and fondly rolled her eyes.

"Serena liking someone that isn't her own reflection? I think that's impossible," she said as Royce let out a relieved sigh and they both dissolved into childish giggles.

A grating, venomous voice was quick to slice through their easy-going laughter though. "You know, you two, you should really be more careful about what you say about your friends; you don't know who might be listening."

Royce and Vivien both stopped in their tracks. Their eyes darted to the side to meet each other's gaze before their bodies slowly turned to face Serena, no doubt looking far more sheepish than they wanted to. After all, if she felt she was entitled to be rude to them, they had every right to be rude back to her.

"Oh I'd never badmouth my friends," Vivien retaliated with a confidence Royce wished he shared. "But we're not friends, so I'm pretty sure I'm free to say whatever I want. Why? Hear something you didn't like?"

"Oh please, you think I'm bothered what a couple of nobodies think of me?" Serena scoffed. "Your opinions are just as worthless as you are, freaks. You're barely a step up from Zombie Boy Byers."

"Hey, leave Will out of this," Royce said, quickly jumping to the boy's defence. Sure, Royce and Vivien weren't particularly close with him, and they only shared a handful of classes, but he seemed nice enough - and he definitely didn't seem like he deserved all the ruthless name-calling he had to endure from his peers. He just seemed like a normal, quiet kid with a difficult past - a feeling Royce was all too familiar with. "He's been through enough already."

"Would you relax? Everyone calls him that, it's no big deal," Serena said with a bored eye roll.

"That doesn't make it okay," Vivien said.

"Yeah, just 'cause everyone else does it doesn't mean you should too," Royce agreed as he defensively crossed his arms across his chest. "He just got lost in the woods. I don't get why everyone's still so hung up on it. Can't you just let him move on?"

"He doesn't mind, it's just harmless fun. Right?" Serena cackled.

"I don't think anything you say can be classed as 'harmless' or 'fun', so no. But if that's what helps you sleep at night then, sure, knock yourself out," Royce huffed, starting to turn away from her.

But something about that comment made Serena's composure snap and fury flash before her eyes, making the outline of Royce in her vision buzz like television static. "You know, if you're so worried about what Zombie Boy thinks then you should go and ask him yourself," she snarled as she felt her heart start hammering in her chest and her grip on her self-control slipping further. "You never know, if he actually did come back from the dead, he might know a thing or two about your mom."

Royce's blood ran cold. Vivien's boiled beneath her skin. Serena's momentarily stood still as her eyes grew wide - it seemed as though even she couldn't believe that those words had just come out of her mouth.

Royce's eyes burned with angry tears that were threatening to spill down his cheeks as he just stared, open-mouthed, at Serena, trying to keep his breathing as steady as he could manage. Vivien was not so easily controlled though, protectively pushing Royce behind her as she marched the few paces separating her from the redhead and shoved her face so close to hers that Serena's breath started fogging up her glasses.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed.

"I- I didn't mean it to come out like that," Serena stammered, left floundering without her false confidence keeping her afloat.

"Oh but you did mean to say it?" Vivien clarified.

"No, well,I- it was just, it was just supposed to be a joke," Serena tried, but the outraged scoff Vivien let out told her she wasn't buying that excuse.

"I don't see anyone laughing, Sullivan," Vivien spat.

"Come on, Roycey, you know I didn't really mean it to sound bad, right?" Serena said, daring a glance around Vivien. But the dejected, steely glare she was met with made her gulp as nervous tears began to prick her eyes.

"Don't call me that," Royce said quietly.

Unnerved, Serena stiffened, pulled her gaze from Royce back to Vivien and set her jaw as she straightened up and matched her scowl. "Look, I've said it was a joke. You two need to stop taking everything so personally. No wonder no one wants to be your friend."

"If all these 'friends' I'm missing out on act like you, then I'm glad I don't have any," said Vivien, feeling herself beginning to well and truly lose her temper with this girl.

"Oh yeah? Then why am I the most popular girl in school?"

"Because you're a stuck-up bitch who ruins the lives of anyone who tries to get in your way!" Yep. Temper = lost.

"You take that back now, O'Sullivan, or I swear to god-"

Serena's threat was cut short though when a blue BMW pulled into the bustling parking lot a few feet away from the trio and a girl with the same glossy, red hair stuck her head out of the back window. "Sis, do you want a ride home or not? We've been waiting for you for like five minutes over there."

"Just gimme a second, Molly," Serena called before grumbling something to herself and turning back to face her latest victims. "You two had better think very carefully about what you say next. One wrong word and you're outcasts until you graduate," she taunted.

"Are we outcasts or nobodies? Make up your damn mind," Vivien said with another eye roll that just wound Serena up more.

"You're finished," she replied with a wicked smirk. "Come tomorrow, everyone's going to see you for what you really are. So, O'Brian, you'd better keep your friends close while you still can. And tell Roycey he'd better grow a thicker skin if he wants to make it through the day without crying for his mommy."

Before Vivien could open her mouth to retaliate though, the driver of the blue BMW laid on their horn and shouted to the pair of girls through the open window. "Rena, four-eyes, wrap it up; I've got a shift that starts in ten minutes and I am not about to let two kindergarteners make me late for it," she said without even glancing in their direction - too busy adjusting her fluffy, golden curls in her rear-view mirror.

Serena just sighed as she fixed Royce and Vivien with one last glare before spitting her signature farewell in their direction, this time laced with significantly more venom than earlier in the day. "Later, losers." And with another toss of her fiery locks, she was gone, leaving Royce and Vivien still reeling from the whole encounter.

Vivien turned to check on Royce, but as soon as he felt her worried gaze settle on him he felt fresh, angry tears of despair welling in his eyes, so he hurriedly tried to hide his face by ploughing ahead onto the school bus behind them. It took mere seconds for Vivien to track him down and slide into the seat beside him, but coaxing his gaze away from the dusty, rain-weathered window took significantly longer.

"You can't let her get to you, Royce," she tried for the fourth time. "She has no idea what she's even talking about. She only said it to try to make you mad."

"Yeah, well, it worked," he eventually responded with a choked, self-pitying laugh.

"You've gotta just rise above it. I know it's not easy - believe me, I did a pretty terrible job of it there - but if you don't engage with her then she'll just get bored and move on to someone else."

"That's the problem though, Viv. That's the problem with all these bullies: they never stop. If they can't make one person's life miserable, they'll just turn around and do it for someone else. Why can't they just get like a normal hobby or something? Why is treating people like shit the only thing they seem to know how to do?" Royce fumed.

"Because they're just trying to make themselves feel less insecure. I'm not saying it's a good method, but you saw Serena when we caught her going too far - she looked like I could have shattered her with one shove," Vivien reasoned before adding with a disgruntled mumble. "I should have tested that theory while I had the chance."

"Oh yeah, then what's Carrie's excuse, huh? I doubt she was feeling insecure driving her friends around after school," Royce snapped. "She was just being a bitch and calling you names for fun."

"Oh come on, that was no big deal, Royce."

"No, it is a big deal, Viv. She barely even knows your name, she's like four years older than you, and she was just making fun of you right to your face…for literally no reason! How are you not mad about this?" he exclaimed.

"I just don't care," Vivien chuckled to Royce's amazement.

"How?"

"Why would I care about what she says about me? I barely even know who she is. I only got mad at Serena because she was targeting you. If she was saying that stuff about me, I'd have just ignored her. I don't care if you mess with me, but if you mess with the people I care about then you'd better watch out," she said with a devious twinkle in her eye that drew a smile to Royce's lips.

"...Thanks for sticking up for me, Viv."

"Any time," she said, matching his fond grin. "I might not be able to help you if you try to start anything with Carrie tonight though; I don't know if I'm much of a match for a senior."

"Don't worry, I'll stay as far away from her as possible," Royce said, chuckling at her teasing remark. "The last thing we need is for her to start hurling insults again."

"Hopefully she'll be too distracted to notice we're there if Miles keeps her busy," Vivien giggled. "Did he make any moves while I was gone?"

"No, he still just stares at her like a lovesick puppy," Royce said as he rolled his eyes. "God, I don't know what the hell he sees in her. She's like the total opposite of him."

"Hey, you heard what Mr Clarke said: 'opposite poles of a magnet attract'," Vivien said with a smirk that just made Royce frown.

"Yeah well they're not magnets, Viv. Miles is my brother and Carrie is the devil disguised as a disco ball."

"Maybe he's a magpie then," Vivien suggested with a chuckle as the engine of the school bus rumbled to life. "They're attracted to shiny things."

"That would explain why he's such a bird brain," Royce said, finally allowing himself to laugh along at the joke with her as the bus pulled out onto the road and all negative thoughts about mean girls and doomed relationships fell out of his head - drowned out by the girl sat in front of them blasting Into the Groove obnoxiously loudly on her Walkman. All that mattered now was that he had Vivien back at his side, and with that knowledge he could take on anything.

To be continued...

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