Scents of Longing

[thatcheracejones]

Thatcher was in the 'zone', so to speak. The place where music went through his brain as easily as thoughts, the place where his fingers seemed to have a life of their own, running lovingly over his instruments to form wonderful melodies. He should not be bothered when he was in the zone and should his beloved roommate attempt to speak to him, Thatcher shushed him gently with an oustretched finger and eyes closed in exaggerated concentration.

"Shhh, don't speak." He murmured gently, lifting his nose in the air as if he could smell the music in the air. "I'm in the zone." The most unfortunate thing about Thatcher while he was in his self proclaimed 'zone', was that he often had no idea what he was writing down until it was too late. Thus, at the end of three hours, three cups of strawberry yogurt, a bag of carrots, two pieces of toast, and the last of their milk, he had composed something that went a little like this:

Everyday, Everyday, I find myself in need
Sour and sharp, delicious and tart, the sweetest type of greed
Always have acid on your tongue
Just the way you eat a lemon
You suck

Your love is like a kumquaaaat
Undeniably unsatisfying
Your love is like a kumquaaaat
Full of harsh and zesty zing

I could browse the produce aisles in search of melons
To wash away the taste of your kumquats
But I'd find myself searching for oranges
Just to have some citrus again
Being with you is like cutting onions
It makes me cry

Your love is like a kumquaaaaaaattt! KUMQUAAAAAATTT!!!

It was after he'd tortured his roommate with the early stages of the Kumquat Love Song when he realized that interesting growling sound on the track was not electric interference, but his stomach. He was hungry...again. Crawling out his chair, the blonde sophomore rubbed a hand through his messy hair and pouted, wandering towards the fridge wearing nothing but his flannel pajama bottoms that were covered with pastel colored ice cream cones.

"Jack?" Thatcher whined under his breath, looking the fridge over with a growing frown on his forehead. Where was all the food? WHO ATE ALL THEIR FOOD? Did he have to go grocery shopping again? "JAAAAACKIE!! The food's all gone!" He shut the fridge and darted eagerly over to his bed, attempting to shed his pajama bottoms at the same time. He ended up yelping like a kicked puppy and falling onto his bed awkwardly, pajamas twisted around his knees. "Brrmmghgh!! Jackie!" He rolled onto his back and kicked off his pajamas swiftly, grabbing jeans and throwing his legs up to shove himself into them, using momentum to swing himself off the bed and hop around getting his legs inside the jeans, zipping them up with one hand and rifling around for a clean shirt with the other. "I'm going to Beth's! I think she has lasagna because I can smell lasagna--you wanna come? Hey, where's my belt? Oh, there it is. .....Hey, where are my shoes?"

Jack certainly had his work cut out for him. If he didn't go with Thatcher...his roommate might end up halfway to New York instead of at Beth's front door looking like a starved stray puppy.

And that's how Beth would find Jack and Thatch on her doorstep, casually grinning and blinking in innocence. "Hey, Beth. Do I smell something good?" If you look very carefully...you can almost see his imaginary tail wagging.

[angie]

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Generally, Jack enjoyed rooming with Thatcher. In fact, most of the time he enjoyed it. He and Thatcher got along perfectly well most of the time. In fact, he and Thatcher probably got along quite a bit better than most of the other people in his hall. Sometimes, though, Jack just couldn’t understand what in the world Thatch was doing. Now, of course, Jack had some odd habits of his own (for instance, he couldn’t go to bed without vacuuming the entirety of room – his own and Thatch’s side – among other things). Thatcher, on the other hand, had some extremely strange habits, especially whenever he got into his “zone” or whatever it was that he called it. Jack had no idea what it was that went through his roommate’s mind during these times, but by now he’d learned to keep well enough away. Once, during the first week of school, he’d tried to vacuum during Thatch’s ‘zone’ time or whatever it was, and he’d almost gotten killed. Since then, he’d been quiet as a mouse whenever he heard random noises coming from their room. He tried to ignore it best he could, but sometimes it was just difficult to do so.

Today, for instance, Jack could have sworn that he heard the word “kumquats” multiple times. What in the world? Was Thatch writing a song about kumquats? What in the world was going on? Maybe Thatch was high, or something. Honestly, that would explain a lot of things – the kumquats, the intense, random munchies…. Unfortunately, Jack was distracted from his wonderings where a sudden whirlwind of activity hit the room. He was just glad that he’d kept a firm grip on his laptop, otherwise it would have joined his notepad on the floor. ”Jesus, Thatch!” he exclaimed, trying to figure out what in the world had just happened. ”First of all, you ate the food and if you don’t calm down you’re going to hurt yourself,” he added, laughing a little. Watching Thatch jump around like a rabbit, while amusing, probably wouldn’t be so amusing when he fell and hit his head on something. ”I don’t know where your belt is or your shoes are. Maybe if you’d let me organize your things I would,” he said pointedly. It was pretty obvious from one quick glance into their room that Jack was quite a bit more organized than Thatcher.

”Why are you—“ Jack started to ask, before he was cut off again. Lasagna? Of course if he smelled lasagna here that meant Beth had it. What in the world? ”Thatch, I—“ he was cut off again. After a few more seconds of this, Jack decided that he probably should go with his roommate, if only to prevent him from getting on the wrong bus and finding himself in Boston or something. ”Wait. I’ll come with you, so just relax, Thatchy.” It took Jack a bit longer to get ready, but he sped up the process a bit and they were soon on Beth’s doorstep. As Thatch asked Beth about the food, Jack just grinned and waved. ”Bethy!” he exclaimed.

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NOTES !?;; :3 sucky post sorry !?
STATUS !?;; finished !?
TAGGED !?;; reserved for thatchy and bethyyyy!?
WORDS !?;; 537 !?
OUTFIT !?;; here !?
CREDIT !?;; JADE !? @ caution 2.0

[beth]

IT WAS STRANGE , how certain people brought out certain personalities in Bethany. Some people brought out her deep thinking side. While others just made her feel more shy and awkward then usual. Thatcher and Jack? They tended to bring out the mothering side of her. Much like she felt at home, looking after and feeding her brother and father. Alright, so perhaps it was more so Thatch who brought out her nurturing herself to the forefront. The poor boy was rather like a lost puppy, in need of constant love and attention. Beth didn’t mind though. She actually liked feeding him, and finding his belongings for him. And making sure he didn’t end up in the complete wrong place. Oh the poor child, he was mess. She loved him though, that was never in question.

DESPITE WHAT NOSES may say, Bethany Tanner had not been cooking lasagne. In fact, she hadn’t made a home-cooked lasagne in a rather long time. A few months maybe. Not that it should be a surprise. There was no way anyone could smell her kitchen from Emerson campus. Not even the nose itself. Not that she expected Jack to explain that to Thatcher. It was a big ask of anyone. Sometimes it was just better to go along with their blonde friend and just make sure he didn’t get hurt. Also, she really didn’t mind at all that they had shown up on her door-step in search of food. Cooking for other people was something she thoroughly enjoyed to be perfectly honest. She’d have made the perfect house-wife if it was fifty years ago..

WHEN THE BOYS had shown up, Bethany hadn’t even been in her kitchen. In fact, she’d been sitting in the lounge room of the boarding house. A music theory text book in her hands. She loved music, sure, but sometimes the text books were just so dense that they were impossible to read. She’d been at it for half an hour or so, and barely read more then a few paragraphs. Maybe she just needed to go for a run to re-focus or something? Or—she could forget it all together and go and see who was at the door. Oh yes, she had been very thankful for the interruption. Not thinking twice about it she’d tossed the book on the coffee table and gone to the door rather quickly.

SHE REALLY WASN’T surprised at all to see Thatch and Jack on her door-step. Even less surprised to be asked about food before she could even open her mouth to greet them. Giggling to herself, she offered them both a huge grin. It was always lovely to see two of her favourite people. ”Well good afternoon boys..” she said, still trying to stifle a giggle, as she leaned in to give each of them a hug in turn. ”Actually, I wasn’t cooking, but let me guess? You’d like me to be?” Stepping aside, she shook her head a little. Ushering the boys inside. ”come on, in you go. I’ll make some pesto pasta or something. Also I think I have cupcakes left..”

COUNT. 522
TAG. the awesome trio of grandness
NOTES. I love, that song –flails-

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[thatcheracejones]

Just as Jack had his moments involving fashion, Thatcher had his moments with music. Though in Thatcher's case the moments were fairly frequent and more often than not ended up emptying out their fridge. Since Jack ate so little (something that still stumped Thatch to this day) almost all the grocery shopping and bills fell to Thatcher's lot. Which was fine, really, as his parents (having spent a good 18 years trying to feed him) were well aware of how much it cost to keep him comfortably fed. And yet somehow...the fridge was always empty when he most wanted it to be full.

As for organizing the blonde's things, Jack would have been welcomed to try. For some reason, they would never stay in place long...or Thatch would still never be able to find them. Short of putting up giant neon blinking signs pointing at his things, Jack would never be able to truly organize the chaos that was his roommate. He should at least be grateful that Thatcher could sleep through all the vacuuming in the world and not care that Jack liked to clean compulsively.

Thatcher was still humming that ridiculous Kumquat song under his breath when Beth opened the door and greeted them with grins. Brightly, Thatcher returned the hug and lifted her clear off the ground a few inches, giving her quite the squeeze before he had the decency to turn a bit pink in the cheeks and chuckle, shuffling into her room sheepishly. "Pasta and cupcakes!" He chirped automatically, thinking with his stomach instead of his brain. Making himself comfortable at Beth's place wasn't very hard at all...he came over so often (usually to eat and study with her) that the first thing he did was take off his shoes (habit), toss his jacket over the couch, and claim the spot next to her boring textbook.

"...Ew, theory." He wrinkled his nose and looked at it. Just looking at the densely packed paragraphs from afar made him itch for something more interesting. "I was in the zone earlier. Can you believe I ate everything in our fridge, Beth? So I thought, 'hey, Beth probably hasn't had dinner so we should have dinner together. Jackie hasn't eaten, either because Jackie just never eats," He leveled what he hoped was a stern look at his roommate before he wriggled and twisted around on the couch, resting his chin on the back of it to look innocently back at their temporary makeshift housewife. "I think I saw him nibbling on his finger for nutrients earlier, so he really needs some food. Do you have vanilla cupcakes?" His eyes darted around, as if he could spy the cupcakes and sniff them out.

Though Thatcher was always a bit of a handful, him talking himself blue in the face should be nothing new. He tended to ramble...a lot.

[angie]

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Jack was never entirely sure how he got roped into these strange trips with Thatcher. He had work to do! He’d been avoiding the thought of his math homework for days now, and it was suddenly due the day after tomorrow. He was just about to start it, too, when all of a sudden Thatcher decided that he smelled lasagna, which obviously meant that Beth – miles away – was making lasagna. The first time this had happened, Jack had tried to explain to him that the smell of food (which Jack rarely, if ever noticed) coming from down the hall generally meant that someone down the hall was making food, not that someone miles away in a completely different part of town was making it. Even though he’d tried to explain it – and had done a decent job, as far as he was concerned – Thatcher had still been insistent on running over to Beth’s. He’d tried occasionally to convince Thatch the same thing, but ever since then the attempts had been halfhearted. That was probably why he’d ended up at Bethany’s today. He’d long since given up on convincing his roommate to do anything that he didn’t want to do, but he knew that if Thatch went out into Philadelphia by himself in his current state he probably wouldn’t come back.

Okay, so it wasn’t that bad, honestly. Sure, he’d have to do his math homework when he got back, but there were worse things to be distracted by than Bethany and Thatcher. They were more interesting than statistics, anyway, and it wasn't like he was going to use statistics later in life anyway. He hugged Bethany after Thatch – a bit more delicately, for a multitude of reasons - and followed Thatch into the house. He let out a little noise of dismay when Bethy mentioned cupcakes and again when Thatcher tossed his jacket haphazardly onto the couch. ”I don’t need any pasta, thanks,” he told Bethany, waving his hand idly. ”I’m not that hungry, really. You know how much I appreciate it, though.” This was a familiar routine by now, and it helped distract Jack from the fact that Thatch’s jacket was just tossed over the couch, probably wrinkling like nobody’s business. Thatch was always good for a distraction, too – except when he started going on about food again.

”Oh my god, Thatcher Ace Jones,” he whined, multiple things finally getting the better of him. Walking over to the couch, he took Thatch’s jacket and folded it, promptly dropping it onto his roommate’s lap and shoving him lightly before continuing. ”Just because I don’t eat everything in the fridge every time I open it doesn’t mean I don’t eat,” he explained matter-of-factly, sitting in an armchair and crossing his legs.

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NOTES !?;; they're kind of awesome. !?
STATUS !?;; finished !?
TAGGED !?;; reserved for thatchy and bethyyyy!?
WORDS !?;; 480 !?
OUTFIT !?;; here !?
CREDIT !?;; JADE !? @ caution 2.0

[beth]

AT FIRST SHE had been rather awkward and un-comfortable with the way Thatcher hugged her. She wasn’t exactly used to boys tugging her off the ground when they hugged her. However she’d grown past her anxiety. Or at least, kept the fear of him dropping her from her features. She even enjoyed his bear hugs. They made her feel all warm and safe. Not that Jack’s hugs weren’t lovely too. It was just, Thatcher was so intense about everything, other people tended to get lost in the background. She often felt some what bad for Jack. Wondering if he ever felt like second fiddle to his over the top, puppy dog of a best friend. Though she was sure he got attention in his own right.

NOT REALLY WORRYING about what Thatcher was doing, Bethany closed the front door behind the boys and made her way into the kitchen. The house was so lovely and open planned that you could easily hold a conversation with someone who was sitting on the couch while preparing food. In fact, she could see Thatcher making himself at home on the couch as she opened the fridge. Getting out a bottle of soda, then ice trays from the fridge. Without even asking, she collected three classes and filled each one with soda and ice. As far as being a good hostess was, Bethany was definitely top of the class. Listening to the more out-spoken boy prattle on, Beth set about putting some pasta on the stove, while setting up a tray with the drinks, and a bowl of crisps to tide them over while she cooked.

CATCHING JACK’S EYE as she entered the lounge-room, tray in hand. She couldn’t help but smirk. It really didn’t surprise her that he’d eaten all the food in the fridge. It also made a whole lot of sense that they were here. Of course she’d be the first point of call when their own fridge is empty. Trying to stifle her own laugh, she set the tray down. Handing each boy a drink. ”It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest Thatchy, you always eat all the food.” She ruffled his hair affectionately before picking up her own drink. Taking a long sip. ”Eat your crisps, cupcakes are for after dinner okay?” She offered him a smile, before putting her glass down.

AT JACK’S COMMENT, Beth bit her lip. She worried about Jack. She really did. He hardily ever ate. Or at least, not often enough to make Bethany happy. Sure, he probably did eat when she wasn’t around, but still. She worried. Eyeing him slightly, she considered how to voice her concerns. It was really a delicate situation. She couldn’t just come out and ask him if he had an eating disorder or something. The thought had been bugging her for a while though. ”You sure Jackie?” she asked gently, tilting her head. ”I can make you something else?

COUNT. 492
TAG. the awesome trio of grandness
NOTES. I’m so falling in love with these three..

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[thatcheracejones]

The jacket was going to get wrinkled, Jack might as well accept that Thatcher would never fold his clothes unless Jack was doing laundry and folded it for him (which had been happening more and more since their freshman year until Thatcher no longer remembered where, exactly, the laundry room was). The sound of dismay that greeted the news of cupcakes was given quite the dirty look. Shhh, Jack! The cupcakes might hear you! Don't hurt their feelings... "You're just moody that we're going to stay up doing math again and then I'm going to convince you to play Scrabble and we won't get it done till even later because math sucks and we're both really bad at it anyways." He smiled innocently and even fluttered his eyelashes at Jack, being completely honest about his dirty procrastinating intentions.

The arrival of soda and crisps was met with the blonde wriggling happily place, grin broadly stretched across his face. "Yeeeess, Ma'am." He said obediently, reaching for his soda (beloved, blissful root beer), laughing under his breath when her hand messed up his hair, making it stick up a little in the back. He was stuffing his face with crisps when Jack began whining at him about food, using full name. Bright eyes widened and Thatcher made an undignified sound, his cheek puffed out with crisps, his index finger pointed accusingly at Jack. Once he'd swallowed his mouthful, with a crumb or two sticking to the side of his mouth, he continued to wag that finger at Jack. "Hey, hey, hey! You have Mom Voice! Don't you use the Mom Voice on me..." Only his mother used his full name like that! It was a right reserved by your parents, he felt.

The light shove and the freshly folded jacket that was tossed at him were taken with a soft noise in his throat, but no complaint. He knew that Jack needed to compulsively fold things. Why, sometimes Thatch would leave out clothes just for Jack to fold! Wasn't he kind?

Getting more comfy, Thatch tucked up his long legs underneath him and cradled his cold root beer lovingly, eying Beth and Jack shrewdly. He knew that Beth worried (honestly, sometimes he did too), but it wasn't as if Thatch was letting Jack starve! Oh no...he often made the effort to buy exactly the type of foods that Jack liked in abundance to tempt him to eat more. Thatcher also had the habit of making things like salads and smoothies and just 'leaving' them in the fridge to be found.

"I'm going to pretend like you didn't just backwardsly call me FAT, Jackie." He said very seriously and then took up a crisp, gesturing with it at his stick-figure roommate. "It's all those fashion models he hangs out with! They're a bad influence on him. I mean, there are only so many cheeseburgers I can eat in front of him to counteract their influence." He complained and then wrinkled his nose. "Beth, you can make him a salad and cut him some fruit, it's the only thing he's gonna eat! I swear," This he directed at Jackie, waving another crisp at him. "Sometimes you remind me of those really skinny, loooong vegetarian dinosaurs...or a rabbit. And with the way your hair looks in the morning, I feel completely justified in calling you Thumper." He declared and munched the crisp with relish, enjoying the 'crunch crunch' sound it made.

[angie]

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For the life of him, Jack was never entirely sure how Thatcher could manage to live life with his clothes unfolded all the time. It drove Jack crazy just looking at it. In fact, half the time Thatcher would leave his room and come back to his clothes neatly folded on his bed. At this point, Jack wasn’t entirely sure whether or not Thatcher did it on purpose so he didn’t have to fold or whether it was just a habit. One thing was fur sure, though – Thatcher certainly didn't leave his clothes unfolded because he wasn’t aware of how much it bothered Jack. Jack had no problems making his feelings about unfolded clothes or other similar messes known. It wasn’t terrible, though – even though Jack complained, folding and cleaning helped him calm down. It was his way of de-stressing, in a way, and when he had a roommate bound and determined to make his life as stressful as possible via late night Scrabble games and procrastination. When Thatcher even brought up the subject of math, Jack visibly deflated. Slumping a little (even the little was noticeable compared to his normally impeccable posture). ”Don’t talk to me about math,” he whined, wrinkling his nose. ”And I’m terrible at Scrabble, too. I always end up with, like, two x’s and a q. I think you cheat,” he said, perfectly insincere.

He shrugged at Beth when she came back into the room, rolling his eyes. He knew that she was hardly surprised; it wasn’t like Thatcher showing up on her doorstep was an uncommon occurrence, after all. It happened all the time, even when they weren’t actually out of food. He took the soda with a quick ”Thank you” and took a small sip, putting the rest of the glass on a nearby coaster, he sighed and arched an eyebrow at Thatcher’s accusation. ”Thatch, I’m not your mother, even though I feel like it sometimes, what with all the laundry you make me do,” he teased gently, before putting on an even more accented “mom voice” as his roommate called it. ”And if you’d just fold your clothes you wouldn’t hear it anyway,” he finished, grinning. He knew Thatch hated it, but that was part of the fun. After all, if Thatcher could leave his clothes and whatnot strewn about the room, Jack was entitled to have a bit of fun every now and then too.

He couldn’t help but sigh again when Beth offered to make him something else. In a way, he could understand why she worried, but at the same time, she really did have nothing to worry about. He did watch what he ate, but it was nowhere near as extreme as she seemed to think it was. He was just used to it – after eight years of intensive ballet, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt whenever he ate something that he knew was bad for him. Jack just didn’t eat that often; it was as simple as that. ”I’m fine, Beth, really. I don’t want to put you to any more trouble,” he said, waving his hand to try and divert her concerns. His eyes widened at Thatcher’s accusations, though. ”Thatch, if I thought you were fat, I’d tell you straight out and you wouldn’t be eating those chips,” he said matter-of-factly, picking at his cuticles idly. He suddenly became all business when Thatch continued, however, sitting up a bit straighter and leaning forward. ”Thatch. We are not bringing the way I look in the morning into this. I don’t even have my face on in the morning. There’s a reason I get up earlier than you do. Not all of us consider “bedhead” a style,” he said, frowning. ”And I don’t even know what I’ll do if you start calling me Thumper.”

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NOTES !?;; they're kind of awesome. !?
STATUS !?;; finished !?
TAGGED !?;; reserved for thatchy and bethyyyy!?
WORDS !?;; 664 !?
OUTFIT !?;; here !?
CREDIT !?;; JADE !? @ caution 2.0

[beth]

TAKING A SIP of her own drink, Beth fell silent for a moment. Just listening to the boys banter about folding clothes. It was something she was all too familiar with, sadly. It baffled her, even still, how two boys so very different could actually co-exist, let alone be such close friends. They could set up a camera in the dorm room and sell it as ‘the odd couple go to college’ if they wanted. Though she had to admit to herself that if Thatch lived in the boarding house (besides not getting any work done) she’d probably fold his clothes too. And wash them and put them away. Her reason’s for doing such were a little different to Jack’s though. She was more mothering and nurturing then just somewhat OCD about clothes folding. That and Thatcher was rather useless. Lovable but useless.

CASTING THATCHER A FROWN, She let out a soft tutting noise. ”Calm down sweetness, he didn’t call you fat at all okay? So no need to be mean to him in return.” Quite honestly, she felt like a mother when she was around the two boys. Between feeding Thatcher, worrying about not feeding Jack, and fielding fights between them. Though if she were there mother, she’d feel rather proud. As far as she was concerned they were both wonderful, including all their little idiosyncrasies. Smiling, she took another sip of her drink. Really, what more could she have expected from the pair? At least some things were stable in life, and she could count on her favourite boys to disagree.

FROM HER SPOT on the couch, she could see into the kitchen. Putting her glass down beside Jack’s, Beth craned her neck. Attempting to keep her eyes on the stove. Water over-boiling and spilling out and over the sides of the pot was not what she wanted. Biting her lip, she sighed. She should really go attend to the pasta and perhaps cut up some chicken and make the pesto sauce. Though she wasn’t fond of the idea of getting up. She liked just being in her friend’s company. Though she had offered to cook for them both, and that did require a certain amount of cooking now didn’t it? It was a good thing she had chosen a quickly cooked dish.

STANDING UP, Beth leant down and pressed a soft kiss to Thatcher’s cheek. ”I’m going into the kitchen to cook you dinner, now be a good boy to Jacky or you don’t get desert mister.” She smiled at him for a moment, before picking up her glass and moving away from her friends, ruffling Jack’s hair as she went. ”And you.. should just eat to humour me.” She knew he probably wouldn’t, but she thought she’d at least try to use emotional guilt to get him to eat something. Even a mouth-full would please her. Well, at least for the short term. An hour at least.

ONCE IN THE KITCHEN, Beth’s first point of call was to check the pasta. It still needed some more time. Turning the stove down, she replaced the lid to let the pasta cook a little longer. She then went to the fridge and collected the chicken she had removed from the freezer earlier that day. She had been planning to cook the exact dish for herself and Phoebe that night, so it worked out well now didn’t it? Except for the fact Phoebe wasn’t home yet. It was okay, she’d just have to make sure she saved Phoebe’s serving from Thatch the bottomless-pit Jones. Getting a cutting board and a knife, she situated herself on the bench facing her friends, so she could cut and socialise. She was good at multi-tasking.

COUNT. 623
TAG. the awesome trio of grandness
NOTES. –flails-

[thatcheracejones]

He only left things out some of the time to purposely bother Jack. Honestly, watching his roommate bustle around and blow air out of his mouth in frustration was pretty funny. It was like watching a huffy, fluffy bird peck around its nest, making sure every twig was in place. If not for Thatcher, Jack would wander the halls of their dorm, lost without clothes to fold and iron into perfection. He was helping Jack out! "I don't cheat," He said cheerfully, deflating just a bit at the thought of math as well. The bane of his existence...what good was math anyways?! ...Aside from the obvious, that is... "The God of the Alphabet just hates you." He added helpfully and snickered to himself. "Don't worry about the math. I'm sure we can...pull it off somehow. I mean, between us we've at least got half of a brain." They were going to have to get tutors at this rate, they were both dismal at math.

"Heeeey! You like laundry. Besides, after I used too much detergent that one time you won't let me do it anyways." He sheepishly recalled a laundry room full of bubbles, rubbing the back of his neck. Hah, those were good times... The mom voice made him pout and shrink down like a scolded puppy, his nose all wrinkled up. "I don't see the point of folding clothes when you're going to wear them and they'll just end up wrinkled anyways. Besides, you said I fold things weird." He did not know how to fold shirts properly...he usually thought that if it ended up in a mildly square shape, the job was done.

Even if Jack was protesting Beth getting him a salad or something, the blonde nodded seriously at her. Cut some fruit up and he was sure Jack would eat it! Even if Jack tried to avoid it, the combined guilt trips of him and Beth's big blue eyes would surely be enough to convince him otherwise. "I am calm! ....He started it." He said childishly, even if he was grinning at his roommate brightly. "Oh man, Beth...Jackie's hair is so impressive when he first wakes up. It sticks all straight up and is poofy.." He demonstrated with his hands, laughing and rolling around on the couch. "Ohhh come on, I think you're beautiful in the morning. And remember? You tried styling my hair, but your devil goo that smells like rotting fruit got in my eyes and it was, like, burning out my retinas--"

His soda glass was balanced in his lap between his hands while Beth checked on the water boiling in the kitchen for the pasta. When she got up, Thatcher turned his face towards her mid-sentence and blinked when she kissed him on the cheek. For a moment it seemed like his brain had stopped, but his lips twitched upwards in a crooked grin and his cheeks, unknown to him, flushed a warm and dull pink. He followed her path to the kitchen with his eyes, turning his cheek against the couch to watch her for a moment, still half-smiling. "I'll be good!" Still, his gaze lingered until he blinked and came back to himself, looking over at his roommate.

"What was I saying? Oh....style! Right! Next time we go out or go to a party...you can dress me. I'll be good and won't complain about anything, scouts honor."

[angie]

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Jack picked up his cup absentmindedly, looking down at the root beer in his hand. He didn’t drink soda that often, to be perfectly honest, and he wasn’t sure if Beth was somehow testing him or if she’d just forgotten. He swirled the drink around in his hand, listening to the ice chink against the glass. Anything was better than thinking about the math homework that awaited him and Thatcher (not to mention the game of Scrabble that he would inevitably lose. It wasn’t that his vocabulary was as terrible as the game made it seem, honestly – it was just that he always ended up with seven consonants and was forced to resort to adding the letter ‘s’ onto any noun someone else made. Jack hated Scrabble). ”Of course you don’t cheat,” Jack said, waving off the statement with his hand. ”It just happens that every tile I happen to pick up is something no normal person uses…” he teased good-naturedly. Jack wasn’t bitter about Scrabble, even though he did complain about it more than was necessary. There were some things that he’d accepted: his friendship with Thatcher meant that he had to fold the clothes that his roommate left everywhere, accompany him to the boarding house, and lose to him in Scrabble. There were worse things, as far as Jack was concerned.

”Seriously, let’s not think about math right now…” he said, trailing off and sighing. There was so much that he had to do, and all those numbers loomed over him enough as it was. ”Numbers are stupid,” he added, very maturely, putting the glass back down onto the coaster and leaning back into the chair again. ”And I don’t like laundry,” he protested feebly. ”But I don’t like walking into the laundry room to find everything covered in bubbles, either,” he added accusingly. ”And folding clothes is important because it’s a different type of wrinkle. Jesus, Thatch, I know you’re oblivious sometimes, but honestly, even you must have noticed that. There’s a difference between normal wrinkling that happens when you wear it and wrinkles that happen when you don’t dry your clothes all the way and leave in the hamper until you want to wear them,” he said, sighing. Jack would probably never be able to understand how Thatcher was able to just leave his clothes that way. ”You’re right about one thing, though – the way you fold clothes, it hardly makes a difference.” Thatch had to be used to this kind of abuse right now, considering the subject came up every Monday.

Thankfully, Beth was there to change the subject from laundry. Sometimes Jack wasn’t sure how he and Thatcher managed to get along without killing each other when she wasn’t around. ”Thank you, Beth,” he exclaimed. ”I did not start it,” he said to Thatcher this time. ”But if you don’t shut it about my hair in the morning, I will start something,” he threatened vaguely, though it wasn’t much of a threat at all. Jack wasn’t an intimidating person to begin with, and Thatcher was practically his brother; he was pretty sure he couldn’t hurt him if he tried, and thatch knew that. ”We aren’t talking about it,” he said finally. ”And if you would have just kept still, it wouldn’t—“ Jack stopped short when Thatcher did, consciously averting his eyes. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure how his two friends could be so oblivious. Unfortunately, since he had busied himself with swirling his cup again, he wasn’t prepared when Beth came behind him and ruffled his hair. ”Beth! he protested loudly, his hands immediately going to his head to assess the damage. ”Really?” he whined, frowning at her and sulking. Even Thatcher’s promise didn’t help that much – he’d heard that before. ”You always say that and five minutes later you’re bored and ready to go, you liar,” he told Thatch, though he was unable to keep himself from smiling. This was a familiar routine by now.

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NOTES !?;; biology kills my muse, sorry. !?
STATUS !?;; finished !?
TAGGED !?;; reserved for thatchy and bethyyyy!?
WORDS !?;; 690 !?
OUTFIT !?;; here !?
CREDIT !?;; JADE !? @ caution 2.0

[beth]

BETH WASN’T SURE why Thatcher seemed so stunned at her kiss, or why Jack looked so snug. It was just a kiss on the cheek. A sign of friendly affection. That was all, wasn’t it? She was sure she’d kissed the boy’s cheek before. It was nothing. So, why were her lips still buzzing slightly from the contact? She paused in her food preparation to contemplate this. Bringing her finger up to touch her lip softly. She was being silly. Silly little Bethy over-thinking things. Shaking her head slightly, she looked back down at the chicken she was chopping. Trying to clear her mind. Was it just her, or had things shifted slightly? Feelings had shifted over the summer. Without the girl even realising it. All she knew was that she had been far too excited to see him at the beginning of the school year.

SILLY BETHT! getting herself carried away with thoughts again. If she wasn’t careful, being so distracted she was going to—Ouch! Bethany has been so busy glancing up at Jack and Thatcher, listening to them squabble (not to mention her thoughts kept dancing around the little cheek kiss she’d shared with one of the boys moments ago), that she’d not noticed where her thumb was on the chicken breast. Slicing her own flesh instead of the chicken breast. Wincing, the girl instinctively dropped the knife onto the cutting board with a clatter. Retracting her hand in pain. She normally wasn’t so clumsy. Silly distractions. If she didn’t love those two so much she’d be upset at her boys for distracting her so much.

TRYING NOT TO CRY, The brunette moved to the sink. Turning on the cool water and holding her sliced finger under the flow. She really didn’t do well with blood. At all. In fact it often made her feel really queasy and in some instances she even fainted. She’d just stand here and let the water run over her finger till the blood stopped. Well, that wasn’t the smartest plan, considering water didn’t have the best track record in stemming the flow of blood. It was just, she wasn’t sure what else to do. Eyes searching she spotted a tea towel. Turning off the water, she picked it up with her none injured hand. She shoved her finger into the folds, making sure not to glance down.

DOING HER BEST to hide the fact she’d cut herself and was now doing all she could not to faint or throw up, Beth leaned against the bench. Trying to focus on the thread of conversation. A slight smile tugged at her lips. That would actually be something she’d want to see. Jackie dressing Thatcher up. He’d make the other boy look really good actually. She always thought Jackie had good fashion sense. Which, of course. Considering what he was studying. ”You should let Jackie dress you. You’d look really cute…” She called from the kitchen, pressing down hard on the towel. Hoping to stop the blood.

COUNT. 503
TAG. the awesome trio of grandness
NOTES. baaad pooost, sorry my dearies

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[thatcheracejones]

The blonde only smiled mysteriously, as if he could somehow control the way the Scrabble tiles fell to their owners. "I think we should all embrace words that make use of the letters K, Q, X, and Z because they are so underappreciated." He flushed when Jack brought up the Laundry Incident, jabbing his finger in the air at his roommate indignantly. "That was one time! And it's not like it was that bad...the bubbles only reached your knees..." He muttered and then threw up his hands in frustration at Jack's ranting over the types of wrinkles. "A wrinkle is a wrinkle!" He sagely declared, chopping his hand down against his hand several times to emphasize each word. "Using the closet space is overrated, I mean...moving the clothes here to there...agh, it's just so time consuming." Now he was just being childish on purpose to annoy poor Jack.

The kiss momentarily arrested all brain function for him, but he did not stop very long to analyze the strange feeling. Wasn't it sort of like...brain freeze? Only without the intense headache and numb tongue from too much ice cream? Oh, hey...ice cream, he could go for some ice cream... It was that easy to derail his mind from the seriousness at hand. He just scoffed at Jack's description of his behaviour (which was spot on). "I can't help it if those parties are boring. Everybody wants to get drunk and then make out and then have some sort of communal orgy on the dancefloor, that's like...the biggest waste of time ever. And that last party..." He wrinkled his nose unhappily. "That girl tried to lick my eyeball, she was so drunk. BUT...I will let my eyeballs be licked for your benefit. I will go to a party and stay the whole time that you're there." It was big of him to be so generous, really.

The clatter of the knife from the kitchen distracted him and he turned in his seat to peer over the back of the couch. "Beth? Something wrong?" He would exchange a glance with Jack before he vaulted himself over the back of the couch and strode into the kitchen in concern, his mind having switched tracks completely. "Hey, you look really pale, let me see that..." He murmured and stepped forward to tug her hand free of the towel. When he saw the damage he hissed in sympathy and pressed the towel back to her finger, pulling her from the kitchen. "You, Miss Beth, are going to leave the meat cutting to the MEN. Sit down, I got this!" Did she really want to let him into the kitchen with a knife? Probably not, but he was already stripping her of her apron and putting it on himself. "I totally got this. I can cut stuff! Hey, Jack, get a band-aid!"

Thatcher whistled and took up the knife, beginning to chop at the chicken breast a little haphazardly. He was almost using the tool as a butcher knife...and each 'thwack' of the blade against the cutting board was sure to make Beth flinch. It was only a matter of time before the blonde would make a tiny yip sound and yank his hand back from the knife, shaking it out and then jamming it into his mouth. "I'm goof, I'm goof!" He would assure Beth with his finger still his mouth, resuming the cutting.

Every few minutes, Jack and Beth would hear this: "OW! Oooh! Owowowowoooo!!!" followed by vengeful hacking of poultry. By the end of it Thatcher had four fingers jammed into his mouth and the chicken was cut up into misshapen, uneven chunks for the pasta. But he was grinning proudly around his nicked fingers, looking for approval from Beth.

"I look good in an apron, right?"