Current mood:	bouncy
Current music:	jamison parker

Chapter two.
Title: High School Journals

Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, never happened, permission less.

Rating/pairing: Jere/Matt, whoever else I want. PG 13.

FYI: Tony’s POV. Still just introducing characters here. Yep. Mm.

Chapter One

----

“I’m home!” I announce loudly, slamming the back door after me. It’s warmer then it’s been lately, but that doesn’t mean much. It’s like in the lower forties out side, and I kick my shoes off by the door, squirming out of my jacket.

“Shut up, no one cares!” My brother is cranky because he’s got bronchitis. He gets it practically every year around this time, so my opinion is that he should be used to it, but apparently he’s not.

I head for the cupboard, getting out a mug and switching on the hot tap. “Where’s Dad?” I call. I’m not sure where Steve’s lurking, because I didn’t really pay attention to where his voice was coming from. I just know he’s somewhere, so I’m not talking to myself.

“At work, stupid. That’s what he does.”

I fill the mug half way with hot water before turning the tap off again, moving to the pantry to get out the box of instant hot chocolate. “Well I thought he might be off. It’s Sunday, isn’t it?”

When I turn back around, Steve’s in the kitchen, standing in the entrance way looking pitiful. He’s got a blanket around his shoulders, still in his pyjamas, his dark hair haphazard.

He coughs into his hand, his shoulders raking forward, and I raise the cardboard box in my hand, shaking it. “Want some?”

He nods slightly, his cheeks flushed, heaving up another cough. “Fuck, I can hardly talk. It’s Monday.”

“Damn, Monday? I missed the Simpsons…”

“Oh, poor you.”

“What, you’re the only one allowed to get any sympathy?” I go to empty a pack of hot chocolate into the mug, getting out a spoon to stir the concoction.

“I’m dying,” he says placidly, rubbing his forehead.

“You missed Scott fucking…pummelling Jere into the ground, dude, it was rad.”

“…the sheer mechanics of it are mind boggling. Oh, the fun I miss while lying on the couch watching shitty soaps and other day time trash TV, high on Nyquil.”

“It was great! We thought he was dead. Jere, I mean, not Scott. Like it happened, and Nick and I were like, fuck, do we just run? Cos twenty five to life for being accomplices or something. You know?”

“…you know what, I think I’m better off with my cough syrup addiction; some how it seems like a more plausible move then hanging out with complete retards.” Steve shuffles to the kitchen table, carefully sitting down, acting like every bone in his body is working against him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Gee, I don’t know, was my comment too subtle for you? I thought it was pretty evident that I was calling you retarded; excuse me for being vague. I would hate to be misinterpreted.”

I nod my head, getting out another mug and leaning over the sink to fill it with hot water. “You’re forgiven!”

“Well, thank god, my life is now complete and I can go ahead and hack up my lungs. With your forgiveness, I can leave this world in peace knowing I have finished all business and aspirations.”

“It’s good to see you optimistic again!” I say, finishing up the second mug of hot chocolate and bringing both to the table. I sit down across from him, handing him one of the cups.

“Thanks,” he nodded slightly, moving his fingers around the warmed mug carefully, the blanket drooping around his thin shoulders. “So, besides participating in a botch murder attempt, what else did you fuck up today?”

“Well, Nick and I got really stoned-“

“There’s a shocker,” he rolls his eyes, taking a sip. “You guys are all about being spontaneous, right?”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Me? My dear baby brother, why would I ever be sarcastic? What have you done to deserve such cruel, heartless treatment? I would never be sarcastic with you!”

“Okay, stop being a dick and listen to my story, it’ll be really enlightening and stuff, you’ll love it.”

“Enlightened like Buddhism or sex?”

“Stop talking. Why do you talk so much? Jeez, I hope you go into another coughing fit just so you won’t interrupt me.”

“Okay, now that really was cruel and heartless. Cough cough, hack hack, I’m sick here, you have to be nice.”

“You’re the one calling me mean names!”

“Well! Not directly! And anyway, I fucking apologised, did I not?”

“Okay. So we’re really stoned, and there’s this dead squirrel, and Nick gets a stick-“

“Where’d the squirrel come from?”

“Is this a deep, philosophical question about the meaning of life?”

Steve looks at me like I’m crazy. “No…No, I mean, where did this squirrel come from?”

“Oh…I thought you meant like, in the whole scheme of things. Okay, this is just some random squirrel rotting in a gutter.”

“Oh. That’s disgusting.”

“I know. So anyway. Nick gets a stick and pokes it. And it’s fucking frozen stiff, you know? Cos it’s cold. So he picks it up-“

“The squirrel?”

“No, the ladder.”

“What ladder!?”

“Fuck, he picks up the dead squirrel Steve, what else would he be picking up! You call me retarded…”

“You’re the one that started talking about a ladder!”

“Because you’re looking stupid like, the squirrel!? Damn…okay, so he picks up the squirrel, and it’s stiff as a bored, and it’s not just Riga-mortis, it’s…you know, frozen stiff. So we were like, how do we defrost this squirrel?”

“Why did you want to defrost it?”

“There’s two answers for that. One, we were high. Two, we decided we couldn’t bury it stiff.”

“But the ground’s frozen, how would you burry it?”

“We figured that out pretty fast, so instead, we stuck it in someone’s mailbox. But we tried to defrost it with our lighters.”

“…you roasted a squirrel?”

“Well, no, we singed its fur a bit and it smelled awful, and the tail part went…POOF! And like, blew up in my face, and I got really frustrated, so I threw the damn thing up a tree.”

“Why did you…How’d you get it down?”

“It didn’t get caught on anything. Anyway, I wasn’t trying to disrespect the dead, I was trying to return the body to the grieving family to bury. Then Nick threw it on his roof and I had to go get it. He was just being mean though, I was being cool. You know, to the squirrel’s family.”

“Thank god Jere didn’t really die- his body would end up a flag pool or something with his clothes burned off, soaked in beer and piss.”

“Finally, we stuck it in a mailbox because it was really starting to defrost with all that handling and it was getting squishy and I had squirrel goo on me.”

“Tony…how was that enlightening?”

“I don’t know, it wasn’t really, I just wanted to share my adventures with you. How was your morning?”

“You know, I can’t compete with your morning, so I won’t even try. I’m a cop out.”

“Again. I forgive you.”

He nods and has more of a distant look on his face, looking down into the contents of his mug with his fingers wrapped tightly around the outside. It’s silent for a few moments, not exactly uncomfortable, but critical.

“Um…I got a call,” he basically blurts it out, not lifting his eyes at all.

“Telemarketers? You know what Dad said about that…he doesn’t care if Tom Mabe is your hero, if you keep fucking with those people, he’s gonna hit the-“

“No, no, it wasn’t…telemarketers…that would’ve been fun. It was Kimmy actually and…we’ve got a small problem…” it’s like he has to force every word out, which isn’t exactly his style. He’s nothing short of a loud mouth, and he’s well known for his wit and his rapping.

“What kind of small problem?”

“The kind that gets bigger and cost lots of money.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you were with Leslie.”

“I am. And I know she said not to talk to her? But she called? And I answered because I didn’t have the caller ID phone, I had the other portable one? And I was on this great cough syrup buzz and it was totally blown.”

“Okay…so what’s the problem?”

“She’s pregnant.”

I swallow and sort of shift in my seat, because I can’t think up anything to say to a bomb like that. “Okay…and…”

“And she says I’m the only one she ever slept with.”

“Oh.”

“And she doesn’t believe in abortion.”

“What about adoption?”

“She was adopted, so I don’t think she’d go for that. It’s one of those…adoption things, you know? Like…she says she could never put her own…child…through that.”

“Oh, but she could have a kid at seventeen when she’s got no money or father for it and-“

“I’m the father.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“So you’re going to…dump Leslie and get with her and do a family? Because I don’t think that-“

“I didn’t say that. I didn’t…I just said that I was the father, and I can make money, that’s not an issue.”

“You don’t make that much money legally though.”

“I know that, but I’d…do anything to support…my kid, you know? And it’s…I don’t know. I don’t know, I’m too tired and sick to deal with this right now.”

“Well…how far along is she?”

“Like. Three months, I think she said. Some where around there.”

“Why didn’t she tell you sooner?”

“It wouldn’t’ve changed anything.”

I sigh. “I know that, but it would’ve been some kind of common courtesy.”

He shrugs almost mildly, like it doesn’t matter, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I was trying to remember when it was, you know? Like which time did we screw up, and I can’t remember…never using protection, and I can’t remember ever noticing a broken condom, and I can’t figure out…what to do next. Like I know there’s a million things I need to be doing, but I can’t think of any. Like…idle, or something. Like I’m wasting valuable time.”

“Stevie…you just found out and you’re sick. You’re not wasting time.”

He nods and sits back, coughing for a moment. “I’ve gotta tell Dad and Leslie. That’s first. And then…I think I’m still going to petition for abortion, but I don’t know when the limit is.”

“What limit?”

“For how far along you can be and they’ll still do it.”

“Okay. I think it’s about three months unless it’s dangerous to the mother to have a baby or something like that. Look, we’ll figure something out.”

“It’s not like my whole life is going to be ruined. I don’t have that much going for me right now, anyway. And…Dad had me when he was still in high school, and he doesn’t have that bad of a life. He’s got a house and a job and kids and…well, you get the idea.”

“I never looked at you and saw you as the kind of guy to want anything to do with the American dream.”

“It just hasn’t sunk in yet. It’s a lot to take.”

“You’re…good with kids.”

He looks up finally and smiles slightly, with the blue eyes and tousled hair. “Thanks.”

I shrug and smile back a bit for comfort reasons. “Anytime.”

He coughs again and nods, moving his hands to the edge of the table, scooting back his chair. “So come play Halo with me.”

“I’ll be in there in a minute,” I tell him, standing up when he does and reaching for his half drank hot chocolate. “Gotta wash these first.”

“Okay…and, look, hey, don’t tell anyone about this. Not anyone. I will when…I’m ready to, you know?”

“Okay,” I straighten myself up, watching him rearrange the blanket around his shoulders, looking withered and tired, shuffling back into the living room.

I just stand there for a moment, holding both mugs against my chest, half staring off into space. I can’t think of anything to think right now. My mind’s gone blank.

This is probably really bad. Steve’s right. It’s a lot to take in.