Categories > Cartoons > Class of the Titans > A Series of Unfortunate Descendents

Chapter 3: Next Step is a Padlock

by Pink_Rapid 3 reviews

Archie has a recurring dream, and wakes up to an even more disconcerting reality.

Category: Class of the Titans - Rating: PG - Genres: Humor, Romance - Published: 2006-07-23 - Updated: 2006-07-23 - 2129 words

Author's Note: For the record, "Brien" is pronounce "Brian". Not... "Breen" or whatever you may have been thinking. :) It's basically a "Herry/Harry" situation. It's spelled with an E for the sake of the name "Briseis".

And just in advance, I have nothing against the homosexual community. Do not accuse me of stereotyping, this is merely the personality I chose for this character because I a) found it fitting and different, and b) it adds to the humor. I am not homophobic, and I'm sure neither is Archie, but he strikes me as the kind of person who'd be freaked out if someone who was homosexual happened to come onto him.


Archie lay silently in his bed, fast asleep. He was having the same dream he'd been having these past few nights, the same dream he loved while having it but hated when he woke up, realizing that, yet again, it was just another dream. Oh, but what a dream it was.

In his dream, he was sitting on a couch in the living room at night, watching some sappy romance movie that he normally wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near. He was wearing his everyday clothes, minus his hoody. In his dream, Archie had half a mind to turn off the television set and read a book, but decided to wait a few more minutes to see if something interesting would happen.

Soon, Atlanta walked in. He supposed she'd come down for a snack or something, but he'd never really know, nor did he ever really care. She gave him that objective, playful stare she so often gave him, and cocked her hip to the side, crossing her arms. She was speaking, he knew she was, but he didn't hear anything she said. But in the dream, he supposed that was normal, because it never seemed to bother him.

Then, without warning, - and this seemed to exhilarate him every time, even though he'd had the dream on dozens of occasions before - Atlanta's expression would change. It remained playful, in fact, it became a little more playful. And yet, no matter how many times the dream re-occurred, Archie never really saw it coming. Then Atlanta would walk towards him, a strut he'd never seen her do in real life. It was a sashay more common of Theresa, if any girl on the team, and more than a little reminiscent of the sensual way that Aphrodite swung her hips whenever she entered a room.

It was at this point in the dream that Archie supposed his face flushed pink, as Atlanta lowered herself onto the divan and began crawling over him, her face coming precariously close to his. It always filled him with shock and excitement, that look of affectionate lust she'd give him. Then, as per usual in this most unusual dream, she would close her eyes, and he his, and before he knew it, their lips were touching.

It was because of this - basically, his fantasy realized - that Archie relished the dream, but also detested it when he was in a conscious state. And it was always at this point in the dream, the most unfortunate point indeed, where Archie would awaken.

And so he did. But this time, the sensation continued. I must still be dreaming, he thought, but swore that he was in fact awake, and that he did in fact feel a rather unmistakable tingling against his lips. Archie's short lashes fluttered open, as did his mystery kisser's, and Archie's gray eyes looked into vivid green ones, all the while the kiss continuing.

I thought Atlanta's eyes were hazel... Archie's thoughts paused for a moment, before he came to his senses and pushed his aggressor off, eyes wide in horror.

"BRIEN?" Both were blushing madly, as Archie pulled his comforter up protectively around him, causing the curly haired boy to lose balance and fall onto the floor.

"I just... wanted to make sure you were sleeping all right... I mean, you worked really hard at training..." Brien went on, but Archie had no interest in what he was saying.

"Get out!" He interjected.

"But, I mean, you kissed ba-"

"OUT!" Archie bellowed, positive that by now he had woken up the whole dormitory. Brien blushed again, scrambling to his feet and rushing to the door. He stopped, turning around.

"Are you sure I can't get you anythi-"

"YOU CAN GET OUT!" Archie yelled again, and Brian meeped, exiting the dorm room and shutting the door hurriedly behind him.

Archie was quite sure that if he ever had that dream again, it'd be more of a nightmare.


Archie decided that trying to sleep was no use. He had spent three hours lying restlessly in bed, unable to shut his eyes for more than a minute without snapping them open again in fear of another unprecedented come on by the descendent of Briseis. He groaned, turning over and reading the bright red letters of his alarm clock. It was 3:17 AM, and his nerves still hadn't quelled.

So, he decided the only way to distract himself from his current, persistent case of heebie-jeebies was to get something in his stomach. And what a case of heebie-jeebies they were. It was like the feeling one would get after unknowingly standing on an ant hill, and looking down horrified to find they were all over oneself. Even after one has taken three or more showers, that jittery feeling is not easily extinguished. Indeed, Archie felt like he had been covered in the worst ants possible. Gay ants.

Getting up and stretching a bit, Archie unlocked his door, moved the chair barring it shut, and taking off the bells he placed on the doorknob, to wake him up just in case someone tried to get in. He was half glad that he hadn't had a hammer in the room at the time, or he would have taken a two by four from his bed frame and nailed the entrance to the room shut.

Exiting the room and locking the door, - he didn't want to be "surprised" when he returned, either - Archie made his way down to the kitchen, barely illuminated by the setting moonlight. He opened the fridge, not quite sure what he could stomach, and decided to just make himself some toast and jam.

"What are you doing?" He heard a voice behind him and spun around, bread knife in hand and holding it as if it were a deadly weapon. His nerves relaxed when he realized it was only Atlanta, but he tensed again, remembering his dream. Cautiously, he padded towards her, and looked her straight in the eyes.

Good, hazel, he thought and sighed in relief, heading back to continue spreading jam on his toast.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Trust me, you don't wanna know," Archie shuddered, placing the knife in the sink and taking a seat at the kitchen island. Atlanta took a seat at the opposite end.

"It's not like I've got anything better to do," the luminous haired girl reached across and grabbed a piece of toast, taking a bite and brushing the crumbs off the counter.

"I really don't want to talk about it," Archie muttered, looking away.

"Nightmare?" She took another bite.

"You could say that," he replied. Atlanta shrugged, finishing off the toast before reaching and commandeering the other piece, which Archie was obviously not that keen on eating after all. She took a bite of that one, wondering what it could possibly be.

"You're being really queer," she told him.

Archie twitched a bit. "Please don't say that word," he said bitterly, glaring at nothing in particular.

Atlanta stopped, about to bite, when she noticed the look on Archie's face. "Um... does this have something to do with Brien?" She asked innocently, and Archie's face (much to his discontent) turned a deep shade of red, giving him away instantly. Atlanta burst out laughing, placing the toast on the counter and holding her stomach.

"Oh, fine, laugh all you want! You don't know what it's like being sexually harassed in the middle of the night!" Archie hissed, which only made Atlanta laugh all the harder, until her eyes watered and tears nearly began rolling down her cheeks.

After a few good moments, she regained her posture, wiping the water from her eyes and smiling like a fool. "Oh, that's priceless."

"You can't tell anybody," Archie threatened, but sounded more pathetic than serious, "if the guys found out, I'd never live it down."

Atlanta saluted. "Your secret's safe with me, Elton John," she said, before bursting into laughter again. Archie glared, and she stopped her insane tittering, though it took a great deal of willpower. "Don't worry, Archie, I won't tell a soul."


"On the condition that you tell me exactly what happened," Atlanta cut in, grinning maliciously and giving him that pleasantly sinful, playful look. Only this time, Archie knew it wouldn't lead to such grand things.

"Over my dead body," Archie glared.

"Fine, then I'm just gonna go get Jay, Neil, Herry and Odie, and tell them all about your 'experimentation'. No sense making them wait for a story this good." Atlanta stood and began tucking in her chair, as an alarm sounded in Archie's head and he knew she wasn't kidding.

"No, wait!" He yelled. Atlanta turned around, smirking. She pulled out her stool, sat down, placed her elbows on the counter and her head in her hands, regarding him with a most inquisitive look.

So, without seeing any choice in the matter, Archie told her the story. He left her name out of it, merely saying he was having a dream of a girl. He also decided not to say that it was a recurring dream. Once he had gotten it all out, concluding with "and then I came down here and you ate my toast," Atlanta had one question left.

"So who's this girl?" She asked suggestively, but a hint of something else poked through her tone, which she was quick to mask by playfully punching him in the arm, though not quickly enough.

Archie decided to tell the truth. "This really amazing girl I know, but I'd have no chance with her in real life," he couldn't quite stop himself from sounding a bit disappointed.

"Oh, don't beat yourself up," Atlanta encouraged, "I'm sure she's crazy about you too, and you just don't know it yet."

"Why would I beat myself up? That's your job," Archie said, rubbing the spot she had just punched. Nonetheless, he shook his head and her obliviousness, which never failed to amaze him. If you only knew what you were saying, he muttered in his mind. He grinned at the irony, which she took as a sign of belief.

"Anyway, I don't know about you, Casanova, but I'm ready for bed again. Are you going back to sleep?"

"No, I'll stay up and watch T.V. or something, and I'll probably be hopped up on caffeine tomorrow. See ya!"

"Have a good night, you goof," Atlanta got up and mock punched him again, before scruffing his hair. She was about to leave, when she tripped over the leg of Archie's stool. She would have fallen rather painfully on her face, but Archie managed to get a hold of her just in time. He grabbed her waist, and without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck in an effort to balance herself. It took a moment before they realized the rather close, compromising position they were in, and then they both reacted accordingly and blushed the living daylights out of themselves.

Atlanta cleared her throat, the first to react after a few awkward seconds had blinked by, as she stood and removed her arms from their perch around Archie's shoulders. He too cleared his throat, letting go of her waist (despite the fact that he desperately wanted to hold on).

"Um... yeah, goodnight..." She muttered, exiting the room in quite a hurry.

Archie couldn't believe how close he had been to her, holding her like that with her arms around his neck. They had been so close he could almost feel her heart beating against his, the rise and fall of her chest, the cute gasp she made when she slipped and the warmth of her breath on his skin. Archie shook his head, but decided he'd hold onto the memory.

Archie put his plate in the sink and walked into the main room, clicking on the television and turning the volume down low, though his mind was most certainly on other things. He was quite sure that however short-lived and however one-sided it may have been, that one singular, real moment was ten times better than any dozens of dreams.
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