FicWad

At that moment my mind flashed back- back to when we were all kids. Joe and I had always been so close, always being more like brother and sister than me and Patrick. When we were sometimes thinking each other's thoughts and could complete each other's sentences. When the only time we would fight was when we were rough housing. When we kept each other's secrets, telling each other the things we wouldn't tell anyone else.

But then again, we were all like that. Whenever I would cry or be mad or upset, they would be there to comfort me. Whenever one of us got into a fight, we would help them, and we often spent our suspensions together. When someone got in trouble for something one of us- or all of us- would take partial blame to make it easier on him.

"Want me to kick his ass?" Pete asked me. He tried to look serious but his tone told me he wasn't.

"No, I can kick his ass cause I know he won't hit me back," I replied, in almost the same tone.

But Andy took it seriously. "Why would you wanna hurt me? I just pushed you into the floor!"

I began to say something but Joe covered my mouth. We all remained silent until Pat spoke up.

"I think you dented my floor, Sis."

"Since when is it 'your floor'?" I asked, a little smartly.

"Since when I'm the only one who actually LIVES HERE and has a job," he replied, not looking at me.

"Pete has a job, and so does Joe," I said skeptically.

"Notice how I said 'who lives here', dingdong." He pushed his glasses back up on his face.

I took my shoes and jacket off and flung them in the floor by the chair.

"You're picking those up," Andy muttered.

"It isn't your house," Joe and I said at the same time.

"You go girls," Pete said.

I rolled my eyes at him as I stood up, picked up my things, and went to my room. I threw them in a corner and flopped down on my bed, picking up the album and opening it to where it had been before I left with Pete.

I had put all of our eighth grade graduation photos on two pages. Man, we looked so weird then. We were all about four inches shorter and dressed all formal or something- although there was no significant difference in Pat. I had graduated a year behind him- there, I had been wearing a pair of black pinstripe pants, a long-sleeved button up, and Converse. I could see the loathing in the principal's eyes as I walked up and got my certificate. Although she always picked on Patrick for being such a smart, good-looking young man. I was asked many more times than once why I couldn't be like my brother. And I would always answer 'Cause I'm not a guy' and get sent to ISS or something. Ha, those were the days.

Joe stood at my door, watching me. I pretended not to see him. He walked in, sat on my bed, and grabbed one of my smaller pillows.

"Those are some old pictures," he said, glancing at the book in my lap.

"Yeah, eighth grade," I said, flipping the page- photos from summer vacation and our freshman years at high school. Joe pointed at a picture of the five of us that was in a corner. On the left edge was him piggybacking me, to the right of us was Andy, Pat was in the center, and Pete was in the far right. He was wearing an olive green hoodie and eyeliner, and his hair was kind of spiked. My hair was still its natural red- it was a few weeks before I dyed it.

"Remember that?" he muttered, still holding his finger on the picture. He pointed at me. "You were so beautiful then. That was before you got the piercings or colored your hair."

I ran my tongue over my lip ring. "I've never been beautiful," I replied, lifting his hand and turning the page.

"You've always been beautiful. We all think that."

"Hmm... how?" I just had to hear what he would say.

"Your eyes and your smile, they're contagious, they can light up a room... and your laugh... even the way you walk into a room is beautiful. And the way you're yourself and not afraid to be different..."

"Mm-hmm..." I said in a 'yeah right' tone.

"...Although Pat would probably say you're beautiful cause you look like him."

"Hmph, yeah." I swept my hair out of my face and turned the page- it was all pictures of Pat, from when he was a baby til the current time. His looks never changed.

"Aw, lil panda bear Pat," he muttered, laughing softly. I saw his smile out of the corner of my eye.

My finger rested on a picture of me and my brother. We looked almost exactly alike, except I was a little bit smaller. In one picture, we were at a table eating cereal.

I closed the book and rested it in my lap. "How in the HELL do you work that one out?" I asked, grinning at him.

"He's just... he looks so cuddly and soft, you could just hug him all day. He looks like something that could sit around and chew on bamboo all day."

"Live with him and see if you could 'hug him all day'. You'd wanna bash his face in all day til he didn't have a face."

"We all practically live here, we're here more than we are at our own houses."

"Andy doesn't have a house, he lives with his parents, and you live here."

"Riiiight..." he said, rubbing his chin and shooting me a mischievous look. "Well, I don't live here. I guess you feel that way cause he's your brother. He tries to act like your dad sometimes- I know, I've witnessed it."

"I'm more mature than he'll ever be."

"You know he's just trying to take care of you, Dee. We all are. Who would watch after you if we weren't here?"

I shrugged. "I dunno."

"Cause we all know you'd never get a job or anything."

I softly punched his arm. "Yeah I would, I've just got the rest of you working and taking care of me."

"Lazy bum," he laughed, lying down on my bed. I scooted back to my pillows and leaned against my headboard.

Pete walked in and plopped down on the bed. "What's goin on up in here?" he boomed. I shook with silent laughter.

"N-nothing," I managed to get out. I began laughing loud.

"Oh my God," he said, laughing a little. "Fucking concrete would be funny to you." He smiled at me- he had pretty teeth, but his smile got on my nerves.

"Concrete is funny," I said stupidly, laughing harder. My hair was all in my face, and I was laughing so hard I was crying.

"Whatever," he laughed, rolling his eyes. He got up and left.

With effort, I stopped laughing. Joe patted my leg.

"It's okay, we all laugh at odd things."

I smiled and slid down beside him. He put his arm around my shoulder.

"You can't help being a special girl," he whispered.

"Hmm..." was all I said. I silently disagreed with him. I grabbed the remote to my stereo and turned it on. Green Day started playing.

"I wanna be the minority, I don't need your authority"

I tapped my hand on Joe's knee to the beat of the song, leaning my head on his shoulder and falling asleep.

My eyes flung open. I looked around my room- it was morning, and my alarm clock read 7:19. Man, this is early, I thought. Joe wasn't there with me- I guessed he got up after I went to sleep. Unable to doze off again, I changed clothes- an AFI hoodie and worn blue jeans- and went downstairs. Pete was on the couch and Joe was on the floor. I laughed silently at them as I went to the kithchen and mixed batter for pancakes.

They hissed as I flipped them over on the flat skillet. I had gotten so good at cooking ever since I graduated high school. I let them cook until they got brown, and i was sure they were done- then I put them on a plate, covered them, and sat in the living room.

I looked at the slumbering Pete. God, he looked just like a baby when he slept. His back moved up and down gently as he breathed, and his hair was all messed up. His hoodie was coming up and I could see his red shirt and a little of his stomach.

My eyes then darted down to Joe. He looked so... peaceful when he slept. He also moved a lot- one foot was on the loveseat next to me and the other was flat on the ground, because he was bending his knee. I got butterflies in my stomach watching him.

I walked back into the kithchen, contradicting myself. No. You don't like him like that. He's your best friend.

"G' mornin," I heard Joe mutter.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," I said, smiling at him. I held up the plate. "Want some pancakes?"

"Sure," he yawned, stretching. I grinned. He always ate my cooking. I put three on a plate with some butter and syrup and put it on the table.

"Order up," I said as I walked back to the counter to make myself a plate. I carried it to the table and sat by him. "Are they good?" I asked him.

"Ovcorse," he said, his mouth full. He swallowed and took a drink of milk. "Delicious."

"You better not be lying to me, mister Trohman," I laughed, putting some more in my mouth. it wasn't really bad- or maybe I just thought that because I cooked it.

"I'm not," he said. I couldn't help but believe him. He had such a cute, innocent look on his face. "You cook way better than the rest of us. Hell, all I can cook is ramen!"

I giggled softly. He was good at making me laugh, with his little jokes and antics, and the way he would sometimes put or say things.

I saw Pete stumble into the kitchen, apparently half-asleep. He held up his hand then threw the fridge open.

"Whatcha been cookin'?" he mumbled.

"Pancakes, they're on the stove," I said, still facing Joe. Normally I would have thought he was drunk, but I knew it was just a side-effect of his sleepiness which wore off slowly when he woke up.

"I saw you two. Yes'erday," Pete slurred as he sat down at the table. "A lil close, dontcha think?"

"We were just talking," I said in a contradicting tone as I leaned my head on my arm, resting my elbow on the table. Pete gave Joe and indescribable look but said nothing.

"What's up with guys lately?" I asked as I put my plate in the sink.

"Uh.... I dunno," Joe said, shrugging. I left and went back to my room, flopping on the bed and going back to sleep.

"Ugh.... GAH!!"

I arose quickly, never being more pissed in my life- the guys surrounded my bed, and Pat held a bucket. Water was dripping from it. I brushed my bangs away from my face, and realized I was soaking wet.

"Patrick Stump, you are going to PAY!!" I roared, springing up and chasing after him. he threw the bucket down and ran out the door and down the stairs. As I ran through the living room, I tripped over a chair, and, throwing my right arm down for support, landed on it, putting all my weight on it. Pain seered from my arm through my body.

"Oh, shit, I think she broke it," Pete muttered from the top of the stairs.