The pie is in the oven and Chowder and Lardo are drinking coffee and eating slices of quiche when Ransom and Holster come downstairs, looking bleary. Lardo peers at the oven clock, and when that's not helpful, she checks her phone. "Up before ten after a kegster? Shitty will be so disappointed in you."
"We live with an uncanny and eldritch force," Holster says, gesturing to Bitty.
"True," Kent says, not looking up from Twitter.
"I smelled bacon," Ransom says, moving to turn the griddle back on. "Want more bacon."
"Bitty," Chowder says suddenly, like he's just remembered something that made him anxious, "was your room locked up okay last night? I didn't see anybody but I went up for a bit and it sounded like someone was having sex up there."
Lardo chokes slightly on her coffee.
The art of a well-delivered lie, something Bitty has exquisite practice with as a provider of Southern hospitality, is refusing to hesitate or give an opening. "Nah, mine was locked tight the whole time. I did have to shoo Whiskey off the roof, though. He climbed up the tree."
"I saw," Lardo says, smirking. "He was showing some fucking lax bro how to do it, the fucking frog."
"Fine," Holster announces, clutching his hockey.
"Oh yeah, I saw him!" Chowder says. "Six-five, orange hair, grim reaper cloak?" Then kind of shrinks, like he's not sure he should be saying the next part. "Hooked up on the back porch?"
"No," Lardo says, slowly, "that's not the lax bro I saw him hooking up with."
"Super fine," Ransom mumbles. He's joined the Shade Brigade and is trying to open a new package of bacon. Bitty gets the kitchen scissors out of the drawer to help him.
"Hey, your bylaws do say 'fuck the lax bros'," Parson interjects, smiling over his phone. "Maybe he's just trying his best."
This causes serious, profound questions to fly through the air between Ransom and Holster. Bitty passes back the bacon and gets the pie out of the oven ten seconds before the timer goes.
"Chow," Holster says, turning his bleary gaze, "just what did you see--"
"Meeting Caitlin!" Chow blurts, delivering his plate to the sink with one of those sudden movements that reminds you how incredibly lanky he is. "Sorrybye!" Five steps later, the front door slams behind him.
"Pie looks great," Kent says, presumably to Bitty. "Gonna go shower," he says, presumably to the room. Then he goes upstairs.
"Not really in the spirit of the--" Ransom is saying, and, "I know, dude, but--" Holster is saying, and Lardo just smirks at her coffee and mutters to Bitty, "Well, did he sign your hockey card or what?"
"Well, I just--" Bitty tries. Then he takes a deep breath. "It was epic?"
"It's probably some new Haus record." She mock-fans herself, adopting a Southern air. "I mean, a Stanley Cup winner...!"
"Sorry, what?" Ransom says, head swivelling from the debate on the bylaws. Holster resettles his glasses.
Lardo looks consideringly at Bitty, who shrugs and is torn between embarrassment and some kind of fizzy sense of accomplishment and pride. Then she says, "Bits just stole the title of 'most epic hookup' out from under us."
"This does not," Bitty says, blushing furiously and sweeping his finger across all of them, "leave this room. Not in group chat. Y'want me to tell, let me tell. It's not just my secret, hey?"
Holster is opening and shutting his mouth like a fish, but Ransom puts up his shades and looks at Bitty with a kind of awe. "You fucked Parson?" he says, voice barely audible. "Can I--can I just touch you now, bro?" And he does, reverently laying his fingertips on Bitty's chest. Eyes wide, he whispers, "Wow."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2016-04-19 08:57 am (UTC)"We live with an uncanny and eldritch force," Holster says, gesturing to Bitty.
"True," Kent says, not looking up from Twitter.
"I smelled bacon," Ransom says, moving to turn the griddle back on. "Want more bacon."
"Bitty," Chowder says suddenly, like he's just remembered something that made him anxious,
"was your room locked up okay last night? I didn't see anybody but I went up for a bit and it sounded like someone was having sex up there."
Lardo chokes slightly on her coffee.
The art of a well-delivered lie, something Bitty has exquisite practice with as a provider of Southern hospitality, is refusing to hesitate or give an opening. "Nah, mine was locked tight the whole time. I did have to shoo Whiskey off the roof, though. He climbed up the tree."
"I saw," Lardo says, smirking. "He was showing some fucking lax bro how to do it, the fucking frog."
"Fine," Holster announces, clutching his hockey.
"Oh yeah, I saw him!" Chowder says. "Six-five, orange hair, grim reaper cloak?" Then kind of shrinks, like he's not sure he should be saying the next part. "Hooked up on the back porch?"
"No," Lardo says, slowly, "that's not the lax bro I saw him hooking up with."
"Super fine," Ransom mumbles. He's joined the Shade Brigade and is trying to open a new package of bacon. Bitty gets the kitchen scissors out of the drawer to help him.
"Hey, your bylaws do say 'fuck the lax bros'," Parson interjects, smiling over his phone. "Maybe he's just trying his best."
This causes serious, profound questions to fly through the air between Ransom and Holster. Bitty passes back the bacon and gets the pie out of the oven ten seconds before the timer goes.
"Chow," Holster says, turning his bleary gaze, "just what did you see--"
"Meeting Caitlin!" Chow blurts, delivering his plate to the sink with one of those sudden movements that reminds you how incredibly lanky he is. "Sorrybye!" Five steps later, the front door slams behind him.
"Aw, bless," Lardo drawls. "He's learned self-preservation."
"Pie looks great," Kent says, presumably to Bitty. "Gonna go shower," he says, presumably to the room. Then he goes upstairs.
"Not really in the spirit of the--" Ransom is saying, and, "I know, dude, but--" Holster is saying, and Lardo just smirks at her coffee and mutters to Bitty, "Well, did he sign your hockey card or what?"
"Well, I just--" Bitty tries. Then he takes a deep breath. "It was epic?"
"It's probably some new Haus record." She mock-fans herself, adopting a Southern air. "I mean, a Stanley Cup winner...!"
"Sorry, what?" Ransom says, head swivelling from the debate on the bylaws. Holster resettles his glasses.
Lardo looks consideringly at Bitty, who shrugs and is torn between embarrassment and some kind of fizzy sense of accomplishment and pride. Then she says, "Bits just stole the title of 'most epic hookup' out from under us."
"This does not," Bitty says, blushing furiously and sweeping his finger across all of them, "leave this room. Not in group chat. Y'want me to tell, let me tell. It's not just my secret, hey?"
Holster is opening and shutting his mouth like a fish, but Ransom puts up his shades and looks at Bitty with a kind of awe. "You fucked Parson?" he says, voice barely audible. "Can I--can I just touch you now, bro?" And he does, reverently laying his fingertips on Bitty's chest. Eyes wide, he whispers, "Wow."