And You Can't Tell Anyone (Track Twelve: III) 2, chapter 20
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Wren leaned back on her bed, and closed her eyes. Could it be possible that the guys had an easy, instant, fix to her problem? What would happen if this all went to hell in a hand basket? She frowned as she heard the guys begin to practise. This coming summer, they were going to go on tour. Silently she counted out the months. There was no way she'd be able to come along. Alone, with a baby, in this house.
This is too hard. Why can't things just go back to the way they were? I should've never started dating him.....Can I actually say that? Do I mean it? Wren smiled as she recollected a collage of incidents. Of course not.
The creak of the door made her open her eyes. Mike craned his head around the corner, blue eyes twinkling. Wren gave him an inviting smile. He slunk over and plopped down on the bed, making her bounce. Watching her expectantly, he bobbed on the bed a bit more. Confused as to what he was waiting for, Wren raised an eyebrow. He struggled to remain solemn, but a smile broke across his face, softening its hard lines.
"What are you up to?" She inquired as she was bounced along.
"Nothing, just scheming. Now would be a perfect time." He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. "Did I mention I like you?"
Wren playfully stroked his hair, like she would a big dog. "I should hope you do. I don't know if we should prank them. Maybe we should show a little mercy, since they are helping us out."
"Just one little one?" He pleaded, "Just one? If you say yes I'll tell you a surprise."
"How about you tell me the prank and I'll decide from there."
"Well," he shifted so he was sitting beside her and could whisper in her ear. "Tonight, when we get back, wait 'till they're in bed and then we blockade the door with a sheet. I actually thought about dosing them with some sort of Ex-lax but I don't know how fast it works."
"A sheet? That's pretty anti-climatic."
"Have you never even heard of this? It's one of the oldest ones in the book. The sheet goes over the doorframe, and there's a bit of space between the door and the sheet. Then you stuff things down there. The victims open the door, and presto...instant avalanche."
Wren nodded, "Yeah, alright. As long as it's not as mean as the hair gel."
"No. I was just thinking we'd pile up Tré's cymbals and sticks so they'd make a bunch of noise when the door was opened."
Wren tilted her head as his breath tickled her neck. "Fine. Sounds good to me. Now what's the surprise?"
She giggled as he nosed her neck, "What's it worth to you?"
"C'mon," she tried pushing him away but he just caught her hands. "You gotta tell me."
He cocked his head, "Why? I've got the upper hand."
Deftly, Wren pinned down his legs with her own. "Really?"
He released her hands and planted a flurry of kisses all over her face. Wren squeaked, "Stop it; you're just trying to change the topic." She kissed him on the nose, and he halted.
"Fine, fine. Imetaguywho'sgonasellmeavanforcheap. Now..." The bassist resumed his attack, now moving to her neck.
It turned into a sort of game, to see who could kiss who the most in all the places they could, while preventing the other from doing the same. Play fighting, they tussled on the bed. Wren, in attempt to pin him down, wound up accidentally shoving Mike off onto the floor.
"Ouh. Ow." He rubbed the back of his head.
Wren tumbled off the bed in her haste to be by his side. Floundering through the discarded sheets, she made it over to him. "Are you alright? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...Mike? Mike?" His eyes had suddenly rolled up and then closed. She shook his bare shoulder. "Mike. Hey, don't do this. It isn't funny." He remained limp.
How hard did he hit the frigging floor? It didn't look as bad as this. Good job! You killed him! Wren lightly slapped his cheek, and his head lolled unresponsively. Panic started to ring a little bell in her mind. She got up, and headed for the door, intending to get the guys for help. Instead, a hand grabbed her ankle and she fell flat on the floor, face first. Panic immediately created a thousand hideous beasts that could be trying to eat her, all lead by that mysterious voice. Twisting around and freeing her foot, she saw Mike sitting up with mischief gleaming in his eyes.
"You stupid bastard," she spluttered, "I thought I killed you or put you in a coma or something! Not funny at all!"
He looked down at his fingers contritely. "I'm sorry. Kiss and make up?" Wren was still getting over her little scare and only snuggled for the first moment. "Fuck," he muttered, "Your heart's going a mile a fucking minute."
"No, it's alright. I'm fine," she said.
"The last time you said that was sometime today, when you were stressing."
She took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his long ones. "Well, now I'm trying to de-stress. You can help me with that."
Softly, Wren pressed her lips against his. His hand slid down to her back, while her free one caught on the back of his neck. They began to gently touch each other before falling back onto the comfortable heap of blankets.
This is too hard. Why can't things just go back to the way they were? I should've never started dating him.....Can I actually say that? Do I mean it? Wren smiled as she recollected a collage of incidents. Of course not.
The creak of the door made her open her eyes. Mike craned his head around the corner, blue eyes twinkling. Wren gave him an inviting smile. He slunk over and plopped down on the bed, making her bounce. Watching her expectantly, he bobbed on the bed a bit more. Confused as to what he was waiting for, Wren raised an eyebrow. He struggled to remain solemn, but a smile broke across his face, softening its hard lines.
"What are you up to?" She inquired as she was bounced along.
"Nothing, just scheming. Now would be a perfect time." He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. "Did I mention I like you?"
Wren playfully stroked his hair, like she would a big dog. "I should hope you do. I don't know if we should prank them. Maybe we should show a little mercy, since they are helping us out."
"Just one little one?" He pleaded, "Just one? If you say yes I'll tell you a surprise."
"How about you tell me the prank and I'll decide from there."
"Well," he shifted so he was sitting beside her and could whisper in her ear. "Tonight, when we get back, wait 'till they're in bed and then we blockade the door with a sheet. I actually thought about dosing them with some sort of Ex-lax but I don't know how fast it works."
"A sheet? That's pretty anti-climatic."
"Have you never even heard of this? It's one of the oldest ones in the book. The sheet goes over the doorframe, and there's a bit of space between the door and the sheet. Then you stuff things down there. The victims open the door, and presto...instant avalanche."
Wren nodded, "Yeah, alright. As long as it's not as mean as the hair gel."
"No. I was just thinking we'd pile up Tré's cymbals and sticks so they'd make a bunch of noise when the door was opened."
Wren tilted her head as his breath tickled her neck. "Fine. Sounds good to me. Now what's the surprise?"
She giggled as he nosed her neck, "What's it worth to you?"
"C'mon," she tried pushing him away but he just caught her hands. "You gotta tell me."
He cocked his head, "Why? I've got the upper hand."
Deftly, Wren pinned down his legs with her own. "Really?"
He released her hands and planted a flurry of kisses all over her face. Wren squeaked, "Stop it; you're just trying to change the topic." She kissed him on the nose, and he halted.
"Fine, fine. Imetaguywho'sgonasellmeavanforcheap. Now..." The bassist resumed his attack, now moving to her neck.
It turned into a sort of game, to see who could kiss who the most in all the places they could, while preventing the other from doing the same. Play fighting, they tussled on the bed. Wren, in attempt to pin him down, wound up accidentally shoving Mike off onto the floor.
"Ouh. Ow." He rubbed the back of his head.
Wren tumbled off the bed in her haste to be by his side. Floundering through the discarded sheets, she made it over to him. "Are you alright? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...Mike? Mike?" His eyes had suddenly rolled up and then closed. She shook his bare shoulder. "Mike. Hey, don't do this. It isn't funny." He remained limp.
How hard did he hit the frigging floor? It didn't look as bad as this. Good job! You killed him! Wren lightly slapped his cheek, and his head lolled unresponsively. Panic started to ring a little bell in her mind. She got up, and headed for the door, intending to get the guys for help. Instead, a hand grabbed her ankle and she fell flat on the floor, face first. Panic immediately created a thousand hideous beasts that could be trying to eat her, all lead by that mysterious voice. Twisting around and freeing her foot, she saw Mike sitting up with mischief gleaming in his eyes.
"You stupid bastard," she spluttered, "I thought I killed you or put you in a coma or something! Not funny at all!"
He looked down at his fingers contritely. "I'm sorry. Kiss and make up?" Wren was still getting over her little scare and only snuggled for the first moment. "Fuck," he muttered, "Your heart's going a mile a fucking minute."
"No, it's alright. I'm fine," she said.
"The last time you said that was sometime today, when you were stressing."
She took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his long ones. "Well, now I'm trying to de-stress. You can help me with that."
Softly, Wren pressed her lips against his. His hand slid down to her back, while her free one caught on the back of his neck. They began to gently touch each other before falling back onto the comfortable heap of blankets.
