Summary: You know the story. Brother's best friend? Yeah, well, add in the blogger—me, a jerk of a brother, an artist, a crazy person, and the best friend's brother who really should just upgrade his status to 'dude of my dreams', and you've got us. Also the irony of the Avengers does not escape us. A;lkdsjfa
At first, when I was writing the three people who talked to her, I was like "wait…what will those two have to do with this story?" then the ending started and I was like "Aaah brain you've done it again", so yes.
There is a bit of a...lime? between two girls in this-it's, like always, in first person, but it's really short, so...yeah. just thought i'd say that...and...it's 6:30am and i'm just finishing this and i've been writing it for days, and agh yes, 10,000+ words alkdjfa
"At least try to be normal?" Jace grumbled as we walked from our respective rooms, down to the foyer of our house. "I don't need any possible friends thinking I'm a weirdo, just because you are," he added as we stopped at the bottom of the stairs. We glared eye to eye, and I had to think Wow, he's like, 6'2. I'm a freaking giant. When did his eyes go green? We have brown eyes! Why is his hair red? FREAKING GINGER! We're brunettes, come on!
"Here's a better idea—how bout just acting like I don't exist?" He opened his mouth to retort.
"You two, stop it." We turned to watch our mom enter the house. She looked tired. Then again, she was still going through the messy divorce, and all that. Couldn't blame her. "Just…make sure to have a good first day?" she tried.
"You honestly think we'll have a good day at school?" I asked incredulously, but kissed her cheek and left the house, nonetheless. Jace did the same and followed me to our shared vehicle. I climbed into the driver's seat (because Jace is stupid, didn't study, and didn't practice, so he has to ride shotgun for the next year.)
We got to the school half an hour before it started, and he left me right away. Thankfully, we had gotten a tour the Friday before, and wouldn't have to walk around with the principal all over again. I hitched my bag onto my shoulder, pulled my phone out and began my long walk to the third floor. Fucking algebra.
At least I had time to look at my dash.
As per usual—new school or not—I sat alone outside my class until the teacher showed up and opened the door. It was uneventful, until class started and she clapped her hands together, silencing the rest of the class. "We have a new student with us."
I sunk down into my seat and waited for the inevitable.
She looked down at her notepad, glasses falling down her narrow nose and she looked up. "Stark—Ton…" she looked down again, "Tonya Stark?"
I try not to dwell too long on the fact that my dad accepted Tonya as a name.
I stood up, clasped my hands together, and looked at the teacher. "It's pronounced Tone-ya. Can I just answer questions? I don't know what to say…"
"Very well." She nodded to a boy in the back.
"Are you like, the female version of Tone-y Stark?" he asked, and his friends surrounding him laughed.
I smiled slightly. Not like I haven't heard that a billion times. "In the mechanical, science, and computer sense, I am, but in the billionaire-playboy-philanthropist way, I'm the opposite, considering I'm broke 90 percent of the time, I strike out and am plain old awkward around people I find attractive, and I generally hate people, so…?" I was completely sarcastic in all of that. I wasn't a genius, in any aspect. I sucked, to be honest. "Next question."
"Where'd you go to school last?"
"It's a small town—probably never heard of it before."
"Hipster!" someone called from the back.
I snorted. "Um, no, just a small town you've probably never heard of before," my eyebrows pulled together before I looked at the teacher. "I try not to be pretentious, but I suppose I come off as a hipster once in a while?"
A girl raised her hand. "Yeah?"
"Are you a lesbian?"
"Oh my god, you can't just ask people if they're lesbians," another girl hissed and I tried to fight back a smile because come on—Mean Girls, really?
"I am not." She seemed disappointed. Score, yo. "I am an equal opportunist though," I raised an eyebrow at her before catching myself.
And then I promptly went to sit at my desk again. Why did I do that? I don't…flirt…nor do I even talk in front of crowds very well—not to the extent of puking or anything, but I don't…do well…? Oh my god, this school is corrupting my introvert self.
"Uh…right." The teacher—what was her name? I looked at my time table for the 20th time in the last 40 minutes. Barns. Ms. Barns pushed her glasses up and pushed her hair back before turning to the board to start explaining the newest assignment.
I really hate coming to class when the semester already started.
In the entirety of the day, three people have tried talking to me. The first was the boy who asked if I was anything like Tony Stark—which, no. Said his name was Steve, though. That'd be fun, just with the names aspect. After I got a good look at him, I could say he was attractive—brunette, green eyed and tall. Not exactly my type, then again I didn't know my type, but I'm sure he wasn't actually my type. I think. I DON'T KNOW, GET OFF MY DICK.
The second was some dude who had a camera attached to his hand at all times—told me to call him Seth. He was cute—black hair that was streaked blue, a cute mole and smile, and he was taller than me, which wow—that was rare. He chattered about the various clubs—photography included—before taking a few pictures of me and racing off; I don't know if I should be worried, or not. And he won't be seeing me there—I am not artistic at all.
The third was the girl who asked if I was a lesbian, and that was during my last class—her name was Cassidy. The inner-Tumblrite in me wanted to ask if I could call her Cas, but I stopped myself and kind of ran away from her as soon as the bell rang. She was intimidating in the 'popular-girl' sense. She was pretty, petite, and a blond, with sparkling eyes and a killer smile. Yeah, she intimidated me. Yeah, I ran like a little bitch. So what?
"Hey, Tone-Deaf," I cringed at the 'nickname' Jace graced me with. "Steve's going to be coming over, and he'll need a ride home after."
I turned to glare at him but stopped when Steve—the Steve from my first class; the very same class I had without Jace because it was a year ahead—smiled at me. I resumed glaring but went to my car and opened the doors. Steve and Jace climbed in after me and we left the school.
When we got home, Jace told Steve to go to his room ("First door on the left—can't miss it, it's awesome, unlike her girly room!" Which, no. I'm not the one with a poster of a unicorn in their room…though I will admit I had it until he stole it) and turned to me. "Act normal, at the very least," he said before leaving me in the foyer.
I went to the kitchen to load up on snacks to hoard in my room while I did my homework. I could act normal, or I could just avoid them all together.
It really is too bad that the XBox is in my room, at the moment.
I glared daggers at them throughout their entire game of Modern Warfare, because Jesus Fucking Christ—you can't be that bad, Steve. Steve, no. No, Steve, no.
I gave him pointers after him losing two rounds to Jace, and he kind of grimaced and didn't respond, nor did he take my advice.
Figures—the girl can't know how to play Modern Warfare.
Or Resident Evil.
I went back to my homework, humming under my breath as I finished off the three assignments due the next day. Jace stretched, stole my soda, and went back to the game. Steve had the audacity to ask me to get him one, too, while I was going out the door to get myself a new one.
I came back and thrust the soda in front of his face, and went back to finishing the last of my homework.
"Can you go make us some sammiches?" he asked, in what I'm hoping is a joking manner. I stared at him. I stared until he looked back at the game, obvious uncomfortable. I smirked but went to make myself a sammich. Sandwich. Whatever.
Mind, I made them sandwiches too, considering I already had all the fixings for one. When I handed Jace the plate, he looked surprised—which is what I don't get, because I act like he's a baby 80 percent of the time, and cater to his every whim.
Unhealthy, I know.
"So, your sister is awesome."
I was not hearing this. Nope. Not at all. I walked by them in a quicker fashion than I was intentionally going to do. He—Steve—spotted me before I could make my escape to my room. He yelped my name. I sighed and turned to him, waiting.
"Hi!" he smiled brightly at me. I gave him an awkward twitch of my lips, waved, and was going to run to my room before he was right there, staring at me and making me shift under his gaze. I looked to Jace, who merely shook his head and stalked away.
Great fucking brothering there, Jace, really.
"So I know we've only known each other for a couple of weeks, but do you want to…hang out?"
"Hang out, or go on a date?" I asked blankly. Shit, I should have played dumb and stuck to hanging out. Shit-shit-shit.
He blinked before grinning. "A date!"
I looked to where Jace disappeared to and sighed. If I wasn't going to be rescued, I'd either have to accept, or make up a plausible lie.
I really wish I could actually lie.
"Wow, don't sound so excited," he grinned at me and I gave him a small smile for that. I started walking up the stairs, away from him. "I'll just tell Jace when and stuff!" he called after me. I waved.
Sitting at my laptop, I stared at the familiar blue dash, before opening a new text post.
Jace's friend just asked me out.
Colour me surprised, I accepted? Kind of wanting to bash my head against my keyboard, tho…
I'VE NEVER BEEN ON A DATE BEFORE WHAT THE HELL DO I DO?
His name is Steve. Ya'll know my name is Tonya—HE ASKED IF I WAS LIKE TONY STARK WHEN WE FIRST MET AND ADLK;FJA WHAT THE HELL? IS HE A SHIPPER, TOO? CAN I GET MY HOPES UP A LITTLE BIT?
I enabled 'answer' and went to read as I tried calming myself. I didn't do human interaction. Not well, at least.
I left my room to get a snack, when I heard Jace, very clearly state, "If you hurt her, and this is killing me to say because I don't actually like her all that much, but she's my sister, so if you hurt her, you will not see a shred of pity for what happens after."
Aw, he does care.
Date night, and I've already tried playing sick, saying my car was out of gas, and claiming I had too much homework. Jace called my bullshit on all of them, and mom totally didn't help when she said to have a good time.
I guess I have to hope that I don't awkward him to death?
I drove until I reached Steve's, walked to the door, and knocked. The door opened, and I blinked at the same green eyes, but entirely different face, and unruly mop of black hair covering most of said eyes.
He was adorable. I mean, not conventionally, but he was like a teddy bear, and he had curls and I love curls, and dimples, and Jesus fucking Christ, he looked so shy it kind of made me feel like I was all…outgoing and shit, oh my god. "Hi."
He gave me a half smile. "Hi," he shifted. "Steve's upstairs—not ready yet," he grimaced. "He'll be down in a few minutes—would you like to wait in here?"
Ah, a gentleman—how nice. "Sure!" I slipped passed him (it was cold, so sue me), and stood in their front hall.
"Uh—just a few minutes," he reiterated, and I nodded as I pulled out my phone. He stopped and peered at the screen. I pulled my screen away from him and he flushed. "Sorry—Tumblr?"
"Yeah," I shrugged and pulled up a text post.
So, at Steve's. He's not done getting ready. JFC I'M THE GIRL HERE. This isn't starting off too well, methinks…and his brother is adorable…I mean, not like—well, he is, but idek wat I was gonna say anymore tbh I wonder what his name is?
I looked up from my phone to him and squinted at him. "Let me guess, your name is Clint?" I was sarcastic, of course.
I gave him my best poker face, "You're shitting me?"
"No, honestly—my name is Bruce," he shrugged.
I sighed, went back to my phone.
HIS NAME IS BRUCE. WHAT KIND OF FREAKING NAMING DID THEIR PARENTS DO? DO THEY HAVE A SISTER NAMED NATASHA? SPOEIRWKPWOFLKSJD I—THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO—WHAT THE HELL DUDE?
I stuck my phone back into my pocket as Steve descended the stairs and I raised an eyebrow at the obvious attempt at grace.
I seriously feel like our roles are reversed, here. "M'lady," I said under my breath as he neared. Bruce choked back a snort and I bit back a smile. Steve dropped his arm over my shoulder and I made a face at all the Axe he was wearing. I have Axe—almost all the scents and he was drowning in it. "Nope," I ducked out from under his arm and sniffed my shoulder with a shake of my head. "You're going to go upstairs, wipe down and change your shirt and you'll bring your Axe down to me, because you're drowning me in the smell," I said.
I should be more surprised at myself, but seriously—I was not leaving his house with all that Axe on him. I pulled my phone back out.
So, an almost crisis was averted—Steve's the type to bathe in Axe. Is it a bitch move to make him go change and wipe himself down, and then tell him he couldn't put any on unless I did it for him?
I'm honestly surprised I didn't just let myself die of asphyxiation bec telling him to go change? Freaking honestly, I felt like I'd just go and pass out or something omg!
I posted the text post and went to my dash. After scrolling for a bit, I went to check my notifications and grinned at the positive response. Most were from two friends that lived entirely too far away, and the rest were random people who followed me, but still talked to me once in a while.
Bruce spoke up after I put my phone away. "You okay?"
I looked at him, blinked, and then nodded. "Okay as I'll ever be."
He nodded, went back to staring at his phone before walking away. I watched him, looked him up and down before pulling up a new text post.
I tagged it I'll never tell who I'm referring to!
Steve came back, new clothes on, and a spray of Axe Excite. I tugged it from his hand and gave him armpits a quick spray and then a light spray across his chest. He took the spray back and set it off to the side before dropping his arm around my shoulders again and leading us out to my car.
Seriously. We were taking my car. I had to close my eyes briefly as he got in. When we got to the diner he insisted we go to, it didn't take us long to get our food. It did take us long to get a good conversation going, however.
"So, your parents are Marvel fans?"
He shrugged, took a bite of his burger, "I guess," he said around said bite.
I cringed but nodded and picked up a fry. "Your brother? Is he-."
"He's an annoying dork." He took a sip of his Coke. "Always online—doesn't like sports, or even leaving the house, and especially doesn't like people—it's weird," he shrugged.
Sounded like my kinda guy, to be honest. I kept that thought to myself. "What kind of sports do you like?"
"Ah, you know—hockey, baseball, football—the us'," he tried for aloof. "What about you?"
I'd be lying if I said I hated sports. I didn't like them, but I didn't hate them, either. "I kind of like softball, gymnastics, and soccer?" I shrugged.
He frowned at me.
Was that the wrong thing to say? "Basketball, too," I added, and he nodded his head in approval.
This was not going too well.
"Are you planning on going up for any sports at school? Or willing to go cheer our teams on?" he seemed interested, and I couldn't just tell him that I rarely left my house, let alone my room, and sports bored me if I didn't know the team.
I sighed as I mumbled the words to a song I wasn't paying too much attention to. I should really watch Firefly, but my list of shows to watch is far too long at the moment to consider starting the show. I reblogged the photoset anyways. My phone buzzed and I looked at it, with the name Steve and then his message. I sighed, opened it, and was not surprised to see him telling me to come outside and to live a little.
This shit was getting old.
No, it's only been two weeks, but still.
I've been outside more than I have in the five months, in these last two weeks.
I'm going to die, I just know it. I went to a text post, sighed, and dropped my head onto my keyboard.
Steve's calling me to go outside again.
I AM NOT MADE TO LEAVE MY DOMAIN
OR MY COMPUTER
HE WANTS ME TO TURN MY PHONE OFF
I posted it before shutting my phone down and slipping it into my pocket.
He brought me to a not-frozen-enough lake and started walking on it, calling me and laughing, and generally being adorable. I waited for him to fall through the ice, because it was inevitable.
Ten minutes went by, and I was just going to step onto the ice when the sound of cracking and a yelp froze me to the edge. He was bobbing, and gasping, and I knew how it felt—icy shards seizing your muscles—from the time I did the polar bear dip-thing. I skidded towards him, thankful he was only a few meters out onto the lake, before dropping to my stomach and pulling him out.
We left and went back to his house. I turned my phone on to call ahead—Bruce answered and said the door would be open.
As I wrapped Steve up in warm blankets and laid beside him to hug the warmth back into him, I thought of my phone. He was snoring against my side. I opened a text post.
Steve fell through some ice, and now I'm cuddling him to get him warm again, while at his house
This is why I don't leave my house.
He's lucky he's growing on me or I'd have been like lolbye a long time ago omg
I posted it and went back to hugging him; my leg thrown over his and his head was tucked under my chin. Seriously, if he wasn't so damned adorable and attaching himself to me, I'd have ditched his ass the minute he tried bringing me on a hike a week and a half ago.
A hike! I'm not ashamed to admit I almost keeled over by the time we reached the top of Hungry Hill.
The door opened, and Bruce smiled at me slightly. "Hey," he waved and stepped in. After a few minutes of awkward, he slipped into the bed and wrapped Steve up in a hug, much like my own.
"So, how've you been?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Alright, you know, aside from my boyfriend falling into a semi-frozen lake, I'm pretty good," I gave him a sarcastic smile.
He snorted. "Have you seen the new Marvel movie yet?" he asked.
"No—I was going to see it with Steve yesterday, but Jace convinced him to bring me to a sappy romance movie and, ew, no," I crinkled my nose.
"Don't like romance?" he seemed more surprised than he should have.
"Ugh, I hate romance—like, the sappy kind…rom-coms are great, though." He nodded his agreement.
I left after another half hour of cuddling and talking to Bruce. He's much more vocal than I thought.
…And now my minds in the gutter. Thanks, mind, I really needed the mental image of Bruce in a compromising position…
I was scrolling my dash when a text post came up, someone I followed reblogged it, and it had a bunch of notes. I read it.
Had to warm my brother up because he's an idiot who goes onto lakes in early Nov.
He woke up trying to 'thank' me with a kiss.
No dude no.
I'm not your gf
He fell off the bed and hit his head.
Below, was attached a photo of some dude tangled in non-descript green blankets, with most of his face and body covered, but it was obvious he was on the floor.
I probably laughed far too hard and reblogged it with favourites, and always reblog as the tags.
My blog was a mix of different fandoms. Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Doctor Who, Merlin, Harry Potter—etcetera. I was a multifandom blog. I also posted a lot of personal shit—like my parents' divorce, and Jace's idiocy, as well as my relationship things, so when I got a text from Steve, and the content confused me, I had to share it with Tumblr.
Steve: yd bruce yell at me? I DIDN'T EVEN DO NETHIN
Me: why would I know?
Steve: IDK hes pissed tho…
Me: That's not weird at all. What did he yell about?
Steve: idk…s/t bout bein indecisive and a jerk
Me: that's weird
Steve: TELL ME BOUT IT!
Me: maybe it's cuz you are?
What does that even mean guys? I have a niggling thought but I don't want to assume because assuming is bad and yeah, BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN?
I posted as I thought over an answer. Bruce was angry, and I was ignoring the humor there, but about what?
I got an ask out of nowhere, anonymously.
Does Steve know you're posting about him? He doesn't seem like the type to want his love life broadcasted to…a lot of people…also, how many followers do you have?
My answer could've been more eloquent.
L O L
OMG AM I ACTUALLY GETTING THIS QUESTION? HAVE I SEMI MADE IT? UNDER 3000, MORE THAN 2000—I'VE HAD THIS BLOG FOR A WHILE
ALSO U CRAY CRAY?
HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW I RUN A BLOG, OR I'M A COMPLETE FANGIRL! TO HIM I'M…NORMAL, OR SOMETHING?
I finished it with a laughing gif and posted it with a snort.
Steve, finding my blog? Really?
My phone chirped and I picked it up. Unknown number, and a message from Steve.
You should stop posting about Steve.
I felt myself start panicking. Oh my god, do I have a stalker?
I posted as much, as well as rambled at long length about why that was a bad idea, considering I was actually a very boring person, who only really had Steve to 'thank' for making me leave my house. I posted a bunch of keyboard smashing and caps lock as I freaked out. Steven's message was a lot calmer, with an I –heart- you on facebook.
I scrubbed a hand over my face.
I'd get a text every now and then, saying something about Steve, or how I should stop posting things about him, or just how this mystery person's day was.
It was infuriating, because I felt like it was just on the tip of my tongue, on who it could be, but I could never just come out with it.
I've maybe posted about 15 different text posts with varying degrees of caps lock, and keyboard smashes since this entire move. Seriously—the only things in the text posts would be me caps locking and keyboard smashing until my frustrations were over.
It took me maybe five days after the second date to start hanging out with Bruce, because why not? Steve was hardly ever ready when I went to pick him up for a date every weekend—sometimes twice a weekend—and Bruce would talk to me about different things while I waited.
He turned to the people he and Steve was supposedly named after.
No, no way. That's far too coincidental. I said as much, "You've got to be shitting me," I put my hands on my hips. "You're telling me you aren't named after Captain America, and The Hulk?"
He gave me an odd look. "Are you telling me, you are named after Tony Stark?"
"My aunt named me," I huffed and crossed my arms, "She couldn't name Jace Tony, because my mom would've killed her for the copying of Iron Man, so she named me Tonya ," I left out the part where my aunt was clinically insane. Something I'd probably be in a few years, to be honest.
"Oh." He left it at that.
"Why don't I ever see you at school?" I asked, readily changing the subject.
He shrugged. "I tend to blend in with the crowd," he replied.
"Huh," I have to make it a point to search him out, even to just wave. It'll bug me if I don't, otherwise.
I did end up joining the school's play, which Seth thought was delightful. Not to actually…act…or anything, but I was helping with the costumes. He said there was no small part.
I'd have to disagree, but I was on wolf duty, and the muzzle was giving me a bit of trouble.
Freaking Little Red Riding Hood, with a twist of some sort—I'm not entirely sure what the twist is, but there is one.
Letting out a snarl as the muzzle collapsed in on itself for the fifth time since I started, I threw it on the ground and sulked.
Bruce fell beside me, picked up the muzzle and started shaping it again. "You're ridiculous," he said easily.
"I know, right?"
He grinned to himself and handed it back to me. "Try to keep your hand on the roof of it while you get the strips out—who cares if you get a little messy," he stands again and leaves me to glare at the wolf's muzzle.
I take his advice to heart, though, and ignore the mess I'm getting on my jeans and Captain America shirt.
I'm done the mask two days later, and am painting it to match our lead's hair color when Bruce returns, this time holding a piece of lumber that's probably meant for a set piece. "Nice," he comments and then is gone.
That makes me far happier than the director's comment on it.
I try not to dwell on that too much, because I've got to plan what Steve and I are doing on our officially-the-20th-date. His idea, not mine. So I really don't know why I'm planning it, but at least it's not going to be something that involves physical labor.
And ain't that a surprise? Twenty dates in, and I'm not running for the hills.
"So I can't help but notice that you and Bruce have gotten closer," Steve comments idly over the dinner I made us.
I shrug. "He's working on the play with me, and I usually have to wait ten minutes every time I come to pick you up, so…" I shrugged as I trailed off and bit into my pasta. "We talk," I added when he didn't say anything.
"And that's it?"
"Yeah?" I give him a confused look.
He grimaces as he takes a bite. I try to figure out if it's the food, or something he's thinking about. Probably the food. I'm a horrible cook. "We can order in, if you want," I'm already lowering my fork, because let's be honest—if I can tell its horrible, then so can he.
"No, no," he soldiers on and eats the rest of it.
I have to remind myself to throw away the rest of it and order a pizza when we're done our small plates.
I take a picture of my pasta and post it with I should be on America's Worst Cooks, except the Canadian version, or something…
He's giving me an odd look, "What are you doing?"
I put my phone back into my bra and shrug. "Nothing!" I try for cheerful but my voice rises with the lie. He raised an eyebrow before shrugging.
It's later, when he's mouthing at my neck when I snicker over the irony of our names. I don't even know why, but the thought of it strikes me randomly and I go off on a tangent in thought, and really, Tone, really? He pulls away to give me another odd look.
We were just getting to the good part. I pull him back in for another kiss and grin against his mouth.
So. Awkward. But I butt dialed my mom…with my boob…while Steve and I were making out.
She might have heard a lot more than a mother should.
Thus I was grounded.
No phone, no computer, and no TV. Unless the computer's used for school.
I'm so glad I have PanicButton.
Grounded so hard.
Um…long story short, boob dialed my mom while Steve was over.
Tagged it with Sorry I'm not sorry and got off Tumblr to finish my history homework.
I'm watching the actors of the play go through their lines, content on watching them screw up until they're not. They're actually decent actors, just…I don't know…lacking charisma?
That's how I got roped in on yelling at them on different things as they messed up, with the director.
I really don't know how, or why, considering this was me having to raise my voice at them. I think I made the wolf cry…
Ah, he'll live.
Still, though, I felt the need to apologize. I wasn't too surprised when Seth pulled off the mask. I was a bit surprised that he was surprised.
I walked away and took my phone out to go onto Tumblr. Bruce sidled up next to me as we left the theater. "So, the movie was awesome—did you ever get to see it?"
I sighed dramatically and used his neck as an anchor on our way out. "No."
He laughed but let me get myself dragged by him a few more feet before I was straightening. "Keep bringing you to romance movies?" he guessed.
"He brought me bowling on Saturday," I ran a hand through my hair. "Not that I don't like bowling, but I haven't been bowling since like, 6th grade, so I sucked," I pout, "I think he enjoyed it because he could give me 'pointers', and 'help me'," I did the air quotes and all.
"Well, any excuse to hold you, am I right?"
"You make it sound more romantic than it is," I nudged him with my shoulder.
He laughed. "I give him more romantic credit than due?"
"He's a stereotypical teenage boy," I counter. "Just because he's a year older than us, doesn't mean he's not any more mature," I stuffed my hands into my pocket to search for my car keys. "Anyways, tell him I'll be at the game this weekend, and for him to stop pestering me—I'll have a sign ready and everything." I grinned at him as I got into the car and left before he could say anything in return.
The sign turned out to be a glittery mess of We –Heart- Steve. I used red, white, and blue glitter.
I thought it was cute.
The play came and went. Steve was there with me opening night, and said the mask was great when prompted what he thought of the play.
He paid no attention to the play, I'm betting.
I sighed but smiled at him and asked Bruce, who decided to sit with us. He started a long ramble on the sets, the acting, and the story as we walked out of the school's theater, and sad to say, I forgot Steve was there until he pulled me towards him and away from Bruce.
Jace passed us, ruffled my hair condescendingly, and said through a stretch and yawn, "You did good on the mask," before leaving with a short girl with pink hair.
I clicked out of Chrome, intent on going to the kitchen to start decorating the gingerbread house I bought. I'd drag Jace to do it with me, like every other year, and maybe Steve if Jace felt so inclined. I dug my phone out to go through my tumblog, because I remembered I forgot to tag a post properly, when I heard them.
Steve and Jace were arguing.
Over something inane, I'm betting.
I listened and opened a chat post.
I can't believe you /slept/ with my sister! That's like, in direct violation of the bro code!
We're dating, if that helps—have been for two months now!
I stopped listening in to drop my head onto the wall next to me, and laugh until I cried. I only went back to put the correct names beside the dialogue.
An hour later, I still couldn't look at either of them without laughing. I decorated the gingerbread house by myself while they played video games in Jace's room.
It wasn't as fun as when Jace and I argued over where to put things.
Christmas left everyone a bit blue. Not a big deal—first Christmas without our dad and all that (mind, he sent presents, but the lack of him was disconcerting)—as well as my mom having to work on Christmas Eve, breaking our tradition of waiting until midnight to open the gifts, but what can you do about it?
Get angsty and blog said angst, of course.
I was not prepared for Bruce to come over, holding a plate of pie and cookies—my favourite desserts—and wish me a Merry Christmas.
Of course I couldn't just take the food and close the door, though I was sorely fond of the idea. I invited him in to have some with me. Jace had already passed out because he was a kid and decided if he wasn't getting presents tonight, he might as well go to sleep early and wake up early for them.
I was not so easily swayed from staying up. Mostly because I couldn't, even with the sleeping pills I took.
"Thanks—bit lonely right now," I said as I dunked a chocolate chip cookie into my milk.
"No problem," he copied me and ate the cookie with gusto. I grinned at him and together, we finished off the plate of food.
Then we tackled the gingerbread house I decorated the day before.
I was probably screwed.
No, well, I was—my dad was here. New Years and he was on the porch with a grin on his face. I, of course, tackle him. Jace keeps up a bit of distance but smiles politely nonetheless. Yeah, my dad's an ass for ditching us, but it's weird not having him around.
Steve comes around later in the day, greets me with a peck to the cheek and that's that. He leaves quickly as my dad's glare wears on throughout his short visit.
Bruce comes around to geek out with me over the present he got from his dad. A bit of salt in the wound, if you ask me, because the present my dad got was something I would never love. Or even want. Or buy myself. Or even glance twice at.
He announces he'll be there a week, at the most, because he misses us.
I'm fuming by the time dad leaves, because Oh yeah—that's why they got a divorce.
I swear I haven't heard that much passive-aggressive anger, and sniping, for a while now.
I've come to learn that no message I get should be considered great until I actually read it, because people can be assholes, and I've had those assholes around for a while.
I'm surfing tumblr when a little one appears by my inbox icon. I open it with baited breath.
that bruce guy sounds like a better match for you than steve
I can't even with this anon.
Meh I kind of ship Steve with Bruce tbh
And I leave it at that. I don't actually ship them, but maybe that'll distract anons from messaging me about the relationship.
It's starting to warm up—mind, we hardly had any snow as it was—but it was warming up by February ending, and Steve started with the sports, and the bothering me with said sports.
I think I'm turning into more of a bro, than a girlfriend, at this point.
I post it, then put my phone down and go up to the pitcher's mound. I'm not a fantastic pitcher, but he says it's okay, and he just wants to practice batting anyways.
I kind of wish he said he wasn't that great at it, otherwise I'd have worn a helmet and had not been left with a concussion and a black eye from the stray baseball.
Bruce drags me to an unfamiliar comic book store, and I'm flipping through older Deadpool comics, decidedly ignoring the population of male.
Whatever garnered their attention to me is probably just fetishized, considering I'm not all that attractive—I mean…I'm kind of homely, in fact.
I don't even notice the gawking, and the awkward way they're trying to get my attention.
Bruce apologizes for bringing me there, because Whoops another guy accidentally brushed my ass as he walked by.
I meet him in the food court after the third time, and me almost maiming someone using a Deadpool comic's edge.
Death by paper cut is kind of poetic justice, isn't it?
I've been drained emotionally, and physically, for the last few months. I'm completely tapped out, and can't be bothered to answer texts, or the phone, or the door, and I barely make it to school, much less talk to anyone.
My batteries need charging.
Steve breaks up with me twice by the time I'm back to being able to socialize without ripping my hair out.
After the fact of getting back together with him the second time, and being more aware of my surroundings than before, I notice that had I been in sound mind the two weeks I was out of it, I would not have even thought of saying yes.
I was very much ready to say Hasta la vista the day after I finished recharging, but I didn't, because I'm actually a very weak person.
Bruce left me well enough alone, except for a few texts.
The anonymous messages kept coming, telling me how much of a bad idea it was to blog about Steve, or to tell me that I should stop, or generally being a dick. I took the anonymous with a grain of salt.
At first, I laughed it off, but then I started getting twitchy and annoyed.
This lasted all of one month, when I got a text from Steve, asking me to come meet him at his house.
Why could he never come to my house?
Bruce met me at the door, looking slightly frenzied. "I'm sorry, I left my browser open, and he seen, and I was going to text you to tell you, but then he was angry and threw a book at my head and I had to run for my life, because he called me a stalker, even though I'm not, I just follow you on Tumblr, and was looking at your blog—that's not stalking, right?" he took a deep breath. "Point is, he knows about your blog."
I have to scrub a hand over my face, get ready to go into war—not literally, because come on, but still. Steve's sitting in Bruce's chair, as he scrolls through my blog.
I leave, and he comments, "Didn't know you were so…weird." He doesn't say we're over, but then again, I haven't blogged about him for a while, so maybe he doesn't see his tag.
Jace was the one to show Steve his tag, because Jace is an asshole, and because I left my phone around and it didn't take a genius to crack my code, and to browse my apps. I almost throttle him, but just not because he is my brother.
I throttle the teddy bear that he had stuffed in his closet.
I think that hurt him more than anything, because Pennyworth was not in on the plan! or something…?
Steve is furious, of course.
"If I was such a shit boyfriend, why stick around?!" he demands.
He wasn't a shit boyfriend. Sure, his dates were more his enjoyment than my own (because ew, exercise), and he opted to hang out with Jace and his other friends most of the time, and didn't really take anything I said seriously unless it had something to do with female-roled things…
But not a shit boyfriend, all around.
I did lose twenty pounds while with him—said as much, too—and for that I'm grateful, because my ass is fantastic now.
He didn't take it as well as I'd hoped.
That's when he does break up with me, for the third time (and the third time's the charm, right?)
Bruce is there, apologizing over the phone for what seems like hours, when it's really only 5 minutes.
Maybe I should just cut all ties and become a hermit.
I like that plan. That is a solid plan.
Damn, I have to finish school before I can make that plan happen.
It takes me all of two seconds to realize people are judging me, and another minute to realize why. I spot the black and white flyers and look at each one. They're all of things I've reblogged, with me photoshopped into the front of them, and words like 'loser', 'blogger', 'pervert', and 'bitch' splashed across them, along with my new URL (because I had to change my URL because Steve was a vindictive asshole, apparently.)
I may or may not punch Steve in the balls. Not his face, his balls. He goes down like a sack of potatoes, going, "Why?"
I've always wanted to say this, after watching What Happens In Vegas, "You know why!" and then I storm away.
It's an odd satisfaction.
Bruce comments on how my wrist should have been straighter. I reply that I didn't want to hurt him too bad.
Still contemplating the hermit-thing. "I could totally be a hermit."
"Same," sighs Bruce. I look at him with a frown. I still haven't figured out which follower he is, and he hasn't deigned to answer me when asked.
"Were you the one messaging me, saying I should stop blogging about Steve?" I asked Bruce one day, a week after Steve officially broke up with me, while we shared a large plate of nachos at the diner Steve brought me to.
"The first one, I was—the others? No so much," I nod, "I found it hilarious whenever you'd blog about Steve, and I'd try to help whenever I could," he shrugged.
"Aaah…so that's why you came and cuddled with us when he fell through the ice!" I snapped my fingers. "Are you the one who posted that 'my brother tried to kiss me but fell off the bed and hit his head' post?" he laughed and nodded. I joined him in laughing. "That was gold, oh my god." It was another half hour, while we were finishing off the last of the nachos when I remembered the texts. "Do you know who the person texting me is?"
He shook his head, hair swishing back and forth. "The texting obviously wasn't me," he said, because duh—I had his number. I opened my phone and looked at the number, showing him. "You should call them," he suggested.
And now I felt stupid, because I hadn't thought of that.
It was a girl—familiar sounding but not too familiar—and she was out of breath. I'm surprised she even answered, but she was probably distracted when she answered.
The muffled groan from someone else in the background clued me in as such. I hung up slowly while Bruce waited for me to explain.
"I think whoever this girl is, she's with Steve…" and wasn't that a kicker. I didn't feel anything like I should've—you know, jealousy, or anger, or anything. Well, maybe a bit of anger, considering this girl probably thought if I was out of the way, she could make her move.
Which she obviously did.
And maybe I should apologize to Steve for punching his dick, if he wasn't the one who put the flyers up… I never did get a confirmation or denial from him.
"Hey, Steve, just wanted to ask if you were the one who put those flyers up, and subsequently are the reason I get hate mail every day?" I shook my head at that. Nope, too accusatory. "Hey, are you the one who put those papers up? If not, sorry, if yes, you deserved the punch to the dick." I shook my head again. I'm almost certain I look as drained as I felt.
I've only really talked to Bruce in the last couple of weeks, but sleep is not my friend right now, nor is Tumblr, with all the hate I've been getting anonymously.
I ignore my inbox as I open my app on my phone.
So much hate lately amirite? Omg I'm so glad I haven't lost too many followers bec of it…
And that was that, I left tumblr again and went to Skype to talk to a couple of friends.
Jace entered my room, fell onto my bed and sighed dramatically. "I have no friends because of you," he starts conversationally. "Really, thanks," he adds sarcastically.
"No problem—the only person at school worth knowing is Bruce, anyhow."
"He's your friend," Jace points out.
"I really hate you sometimes."
"Yeah, you're manageable other times."
I snorted. Yeah, I was becoming a hermit when I finished school.
"So, I never actually asked if you were the one who put up those flyer-things," I said to Steve as I fell into the seat across from him. He looked up from his burger, looking tired and worn out. "Also, you look like shit, what's the matter?"
He lets out the longest, most put upon sigh he could muster, but Cassidy is there before he can talk, her arms circling around him, trapping his arms. He has a deer caught in headlights look and I'm worried. "I-."
"What are you talking about?" she asked sweetly, her voice higher and if possible, more menacing than before.
He shook his head and took a bite of his burger. "Nothing," his voice is devoid of emotion.
That didn't sit right with me. Neither did the sharp glare she was sending me. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" she asked, voice sharp as razors and not at all like the girl from my first day.
"You don't deserve the nickname Cas," I said as I stood and stomped away. I had to go back to get my lunch, but my point stands.
I sit by Bruce, who looks up from his phone and takes in my fuming. "What's the matter?"
"Cassidy and Steve."
"Ah," he nods and goes back to his phone before looking at me again with his eyebrows pulling together. "Wait, what's the matter with that?"
I bit my nail as I leaned against the table. "It's just-," I stop as Jace sits across from me, as well as Seth. I blink at them, in fact. After a moment's pause, I'm shaking myself and going back to saying, "It's just he looks so tired and weary, and he kind of closes up when she's nearby, and she's giving me these evil feels!" I wave my hand around.
"Evil feels?" Jace asks from across the table. He steals Seth's fries and waits for me to answer.
"Feels are the all encompassing feels I talk about when I watch TV, or read," I said, he nodded. "They are all the feelings there are—rage, angst, happiness, flailing, smiling like a loon, and the feeling of wanting to cry and cuddle at the same time—all smooshed together. Feels," I nod to myself.
Seth lets out an, "Oooh!"
I'll get back to the issue of Steve's imminent death by decapitation from this praying mantis, after I finish inquiring about Seth and Jace's sudden friendship.
"So what's the deal with you guys?"
Jace flushed while Seth grins. They're not helping with my shipper goggles.
When Jace shrugs, he's still eating fries off Seth's plate. "I figured, since I have no friends anymore," he glares at me for that, but I shrug and he goes back to chewing on a fry, "I might as well say 'fuck it' and ask out someone I liked, rather than someone my friends liked,"
"So…you're gay?" I had to grip the table to stop from doing anything I'd regret…and have to die from, because yeah, embarrassment would surely follow jumping up and screaming and doing a happy dance, because yes, my brother's being true to himself, or something.
Really, it's because he's gay. I've got no shame…
"I'm bisexual," he said firmly.
I nodded my head. "Same," his eyebrows raise. "Well, not same, but I'm not discriminatory to genders—I'm not sure that constitutes as pansexual, either, because looks do somewhat matter, but not really, but yeah—basically same?" I shrug.
He's rolling his eyes before Seth smacks his hand from taking any more fries. He looks sheepish and I have to stop from cooing at them, and getting back to the real issue at hand. "So, Cassidy and Steve," I wait for them to ply me with suggestions and answers.
"Just go up to them and tell Steve to leave her, because she's a poisonous bitch and needs to go," Seth tries.
"I'll save that as a last resort," I grin at him and then tap my fingers against the table top. "We could just…hmm…" I have no idea what we could do. Steve wasn't unreceptive to us, but he wasn't just going to ditch Cassidy because we say something…
Especially if Cassidy's got something on him, or something…
I snap my fingers, "She's blackmailing him!"
The three give me confused looks. "How do you get that?" Jace asked with a sighed.
"Not that she isn't attractive, but he's never looked twice at her before now—why would he now?"
"Rebounds can be harsh," Seth replied with a shrug as he bit into his burger.
I purse my lips but shake my head. "It's not that simple, though!" I wave my arms around and let them settle before I continue. "He told me himself—his type is tall, dark, and…I don't know, he didn't say handsome," Jace snorts at that, "But like—she's none of those, so why her?"
They shrug, and I make it my mission to become an excellent spy.
I'm tracking him through the halls, and Steve's got the haunted look going for him pretty well. I mean, I wouldn't want him to have the haunted look, but other than that, it's a look that works for him. I can already see girls sighing at him because they want to fix him.
It's kind of funny…
I run by him, into the boy's bathroom and wait until he's there to pull him in. Cassidy would not enter the boy's bathroom, I'm sure of it. He's looking mildly surprised. "What?"
"Spill!" I poked his chest and he cringed. "Why are you with Cassidy, why do you look like death warmed over, and also, what happened to your 'type'?" I'm vicious with the air quotes.
He makes a face at me, closes his eyes and makes a pained noise. "She likes you." I snort derisively. "She does, and she's making me help her, make you jealous," he sounds annoyed.
"How what? How does she like you? I don't-!"
"I mean, how is she blackmailing you into helping her? I mean, it'd be messed up if you were doing this willingly, since I am your ex and all," I lean against the wall with him, ignoring the dude still peeing in the urinal just out of my sight.
"I don't…" he sighed loudly and rubbed a hand over his face. He pulled out his phone and made a face at the text.
I know what you did last summer.
"How the shit is that bad?"
He glares at the dude who just finished using the urinal, to wash his hands and leave. He continues glaring until said dude bolts, sans washing hands. Note to self: Wash handle before leaving this bathroom. He checks all the stalls and then comes back to stand beside me. "I was gay last summer!"
I stop, because what? What? "How can you be gay for a summer?"
He pinches the bridge of his nose, backtracks, and said, "I mean I was gay for pay last summer."
What? I'm failing miserably at not laughing, but I have my phone open in safari and I look at him expectantly. "Porn name," I prompt.
He mumbles the name "Mike Ronson" I find some videos and click them, one after another. Not even going to lie, they're pretty hot.
I close out of them and stare at him. He shifts and I grin. "Oh my god," I tuck my phone away and then I'm laughing harder, nearly crying with mirth. He smacks the back of my head to shut me up but it only makes me laugh harder. When I'm done, and I've straightened up, I pat his shoulder with a nod. "We can make this better," I promise.
He doesn't look too hopeful. Probably because, at a later time, he confides that Cassidy is really…weird. Not my brand of weird, but the bad weird—the one where there's pictures of me on her phone and computer, and on her walls, and she gets too rough with him and she says my name, and yeah—it's out of hand.
"What?" Bruce, Seth, and Jace all exclaim, while Steve looks far too embarrassed and ashamed.
I fall beside him and hold him with reassuring pats to his back. "We're not judging you, they're just shocked." I glare at them and they pick their jaws up, off the floor. "Also, Seth and Jace probably want to see them, to be honest," I added, just to see if Steve would crack a smile. He does, and I congratulate myself on a job well done.
Jace refuses vehemently, but Seth sits beside me while I open safari and show him. He's looking impressed but doesn't comment, and Bruce had taken to covering his ears, humming loudly.
Steve wasn't a quiet one, is all I'll say.
"What do we do?" he asked quietly when Bruce stopped humming, and Jace stopped shifting (and hiding a boner, I mean come on, be more obvious).
I've thought about it, thought about it, and thought about it some more, before I was able to eliminate all possibilities, and have only come to the very simple conclusion. "Give her what she wants," I shrug and stand with a flourish. "Moi."
"No way—she's psycho!" Jace says loudly. I shrug. I've dealt with psychos before—mind, none of them were obsessed with me, nor were actually psychos (fangirls, is what I'm getting at here).
"I'll get it out of her system, and then she'll leave me alone, I'm sure of it!"
I'm not sure of it, and I'm most definitely not going to get rid of her that easily, but like I said—I've dealt with obsessive people before, and I can deal with Cassidy.
Plus, I'll be getting in real life experience with a girl soon, and I wanna see how I fair in that aspect of my life.
I wonder if I can make this into a science experiment.
How many times can a virgin-in-terms-of-girls make a girl orgasm in one night, type thing.
Yes, I did just realize how badly I'm sounding like a stereotypical boy. I thought that over, but shrugged because it wasn't important. The fact was, I was going to get Cassidy alone, seduce the hell out of her with my practiced seducing skills (Thanks Steve and Seth), and then screw her brains out for the rest of the night. At my place, of course, as mom is working the night shift, and Jace went to stay with Steve and Bruce (Who said he didn't have friends anymore? Psh.)
I found her at her locker, boxed her in and started talking in low, dulcet tones. I complimented her, did the whole lip-biting shtick, and then licked my lips, and put out every signal that Jace showed me to show her I was interested.
I'd like to point out, that while I finger fucked her, I talked and talked and growled.
It was strangely hot.
"You're going to leave Steve alone now, you're not even going to look at him," she whimpered her assent, and then I was kissing her and she was moaning into it as my fingers plunged into her, earning gasps and her slamming herself onto my fingers. What brought her off was me biting her neck.
I got her off 6 times, and by the time the very long night was over, she was far too sensitive for anything, and desperately needed a shower.
I don't mean to be cocky, but damn. Who knew that me—me—would be that good in bed?
I do call her, but only to tell her that I was sorely disappointed by my lack of orgasm, and it wouldn't work out.
I left out the fact that I've never orgasmed before, and wouldn't even be able to with a psycho like her.
I think she was far too ashamed to even look at any of us after that, and it was okay with me. At least she didn't go and start trying to latch onto me.
She did mope for all of two weeks, though.
Bruce pointed it out, otherwise I wouldn't have noticed.
Things went…sort of back to normal after that?
Okay, it wasn't normal at all. I mean, Bruce grew a pair and asked me out about a month after the fact (I said okay, and we sat beside each other, blogging away the night for our first date), Jace and Seth were dating very openly, and Steve was back to his old self, but with a new sense of "I can rock these friendships I have!" and has become the best of friends with Seth and Jace. I'd be jealous, if I actually cared enough to think it over. Cassidy even finished school without murdering someone with her obsession alone—I'm pretty sure she calmed her tits, too, after we screwed.
I mean, good, right? Yes, it's a good thing.
"You're seriously not coming?" Bruce sounded exasperated.
"Yes, I'm not," I'm in my PJs, have been all day. I have my laptop on my lap, and he seems more exasperated than annoyed. "Look, I'll be dressed and ready, but I've ordered in, and this date can continue, but you'll be the only one who's weird enough to bring their laptop to a restaurant."
He drops his head back with a sigh. He's off in Toronto for school, and I'm in my own apartment an hour away from my mom, being a hermit and taking online courses. We've got this date thing going on, where he brings his laptop to a restaurant of his choice, and I do the same. Except more than occasionally, I just order in and sit in my PJs as he sits in his little restaurant.
Like I always said, after school, I'd be a hermit. It's after school, and I'm a hermit. Mind, I'm still in college and soon to be university, but nonetheless, I'm not required to exit my house for these, so: hermit. He rubs his face, "What did you order?" And just like that, we're okay, and he's going to a restaurant that serves the same cuisine as the stuff I've ordered.
We finish the night with, "I love you." I'm a sap and he loves it.