Now It's a Party!

>Be Becky.
>Y’know, Becky!
>...
>Lori’s friend, the redhead?
>Yeah, her.
>Anyway, shit’s getting reeeeeeeal good son.
>You’re at a party, and not one of Lori’s usual boring-ass-shit parties either.
>Girl finally learned to take a chill pill and stop being such a fucking buzzkill all the time.
>Which is good news for you, because otherwise you’d look like a real fucking asshole right now, what with the fact that you’re completely blitzed.
>I mean, you’re still an asshole, but then so is everyone else so who gives a shit.
>But yeah, life’s pretty good right now.
>Friends are mingling, Lori’s parents and kid sisters are mostly out of the house right now except for the rocker chick -- but she passed out after a beer or two so it’s all good -- and you’re pretty sure Carol’s keeping Lori distracted with a joint so she won’t freak out.
>Meanwhile here you are, sitting by the snack table nursing some good ol’ Russian cough syrup.
>You’ve got a pretty good buzz going and what’s more you’re well on your way to forgetting all about fucking Tad and his cheating ass for the night, so all the more power to you.
>You look around the basement Lori’s stuffed you all down into and glare a bit at all the stumbling blurs.
>...okay so maybe you went a bit too far.
>Groaning you put your drink back on the table and haul yourself to your feet, hand on your rumbling gut and your other arm held straight out as you stumble towards the stairs.
>Just gonna... just gonna go upstairs for a bit.
>Yeah, that’ll do the trick, get some fresh air.
>Maybe barf on Lori’s sofa some.
>Yeah, let’s do it! Fuckin’ Lori and her... her... her fuckin’ face!
>Crawling up the basement stairs you push open the door with your head and hiss and wave one your arms in front of your face as the waaaaay too bright fluorescent lights invade your personal space.
>When your vision stops swimming you look up and blink owlishly at the sight of Leni pinning Chaz to the fridge and violently making out with him while her friends Mandee and Jackie cheer her on.
>...alright then.
>Grabbing the counter-top, you haul yourself to your feet, slur out a cheer for Leni, and half-stomp half-waddle your way towards the sofa.
>You stand there for a second, contemplating whether or not you might actually throw up on it, but the indigestion passes, and you pull yourself over the edge and scramble around for a minute before righting yourself and all but draping yourself over the furniture.
>For a moment you sit there, the sounds of the party washing over you as the colors in the room collide into funny little shapes.
>It suddenly occurs to you that you’re not alone.
>This shouldn’t be all that surprising, this is a party after all! But you can’t help but feel that the stranger sitting next to you is oddly... familiar.
>Which is strange because you’re pretty sure you would’ve noticed a hottie like him before.
>You sidle on up to the handsome stranger and hang your arm around his shoulders all casual like.
“Hey there hot shtuff,” you purr, your words coming out like you’ve been gargling molasses.
>You give the hunk a wink and, oh! Would you look at that, somehow your hand has found its way to his crotch. Now how did that happen~
>The little cutie stiffens up at your side and actually honest to God squeaks when you give him a squeeze!
>Oh yeah, that’s a keeper right there.
“Ummmmmm...” he mumbles, fidgeting his in his seat and trying to scooch away.
>You ain’t having it though and quickly pull him in.
“Sho... sho what’re you’sh doin’ here all by yershelf?” you slur like the drunk you are.
“...I live here.”
>You throw your head back and laugh at that.
>Momma always said you gotta laugh at a boy’s jokes, even if they aren’t all that funny.
>But this one was, because last time you checked Lori didn’t have any hot older brothers lying around.
“Thash funny... yer funny...” you chuckled, all but draping yourself over the increasingly handsomer the more you look him stranger.
>In fact, you’re starting to wonder if maybe he even is a stranger.
>You don’t think you’ve seen him before, but something about him looks so familiar...
>You lean in and rub your face into his snow-white hair, breathing in deep and sighing as he trembles below you.
>Mmmm, so soft~
“Yer hair smellsh sho clean, dude!” you giggle, rubbing your face all up in the softness.
“Omigod, omigod, omigod, omigod...”
>He takes a quick, sharp breath as your hand starts massaging his southern hemispheres.
“Tell’s ya... whatsh... sinsh you’sh live’sh here ‘n all... why don’tsh we’sh go up to yer room? Have a little... *urp*... fun!”
“Oh? Oh. Um, I... a-alright, ma’am.”
>That gets another laugh out of you.
“Ma’am? Wow... keep calling me that~”
“...O-okay, Ma’am.
>You laugh again and scoop him up in your arms then immediately start heading for the stairs, giggling to yourself with every step.
>Looks like Lori’s parties aren’t so shit after all!
>You get to the stairs but no sooner as you put one foot on those steps a sudden pressure exerts itself on your shoulder and fingers as cold and hard as steel tighten their grip
>Whatever good vibes you may have been feeling were all but shot as that iron grip latches on and forces you back.
>You stumble a bit, then turn to give this prick a piece of your mind—
>The intensity of Lori’s gaze, wrathful in its countenance, pierces through the drunken haze of your mind and you can’t help but tremble as she leans in, her lips contorted into a snarl.
“What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing!?”
>Each word was practically oozing with venom and even in your inebriated state you realize it’d be best to tread with caution.
“...Gonna get laid. Want in?”
>Nailed it.
>Or maybe not seeing as how Lori’s face has started running the gamut of the color spectrum.
>Huffing and sputtering in indignation Lori wheezes out a snarl and raises her hand.
>Expecting a slap, you wince, but instead of hitting you she just points one damning finger down at your newfound boo.
“You... you... disgusting freak! Lincoln’s only eleven you FUCKING PERVERT!”
>The music stops and people all around turn to look at you.
>Your blood runs cold.
>You look down at your arms where, cradled tight against you body, all red-faced and breathing up a storm, Lori’s little snowflake of a brother is hanging in your grasp.
>He looks at you.
>He looks at his sister.
>He looks back at you.
“...She’s lying. I’m eighteen.”
>The world begins to spin and the last thing you remember before your head hits the floor was the sight of Lori’s snarling face inches from your own as Dana and Whitney try desperately to pry her hands off your throat.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>You sigh as the memories of that fateful day swirl around in your head.
>All in all, you got off pretty light.
>Most everyone who saw the whole thing could tell you were drunk as a skunk, and most of them were too drunk to remember anything themselves.
>The cops weren’t called, nobody was arrested, and since Dana pulled you out of there and took you home you didn’t even get a concussion from Lori beating your ass.
>...there were still rumors, of course.
>The odd sneer in the hall, whispers as you walked by, stares that lingered a bit too long.
>You endured it as best you could, but it was clear as day your social life was all but shot.
>It hurt.
>It hurt real bad.
>But nothing hurt as much as losing your best friend.
>From that day on Lori wanted nothing to do with you.
>She couldn’t trust you; she didn’t care about your excuses; she wouldn’t even hear you out while you pleaded on your knees for her to forgive you.
>As much as Lori loved you, she loved her baby bro more, and so long as she thought you were a threat to him then you were as good as dead to her.
>The fact that he was apparently – according to Dana – asking Lori about you back at home wasn’t helping your case much.
>It’s been months since that party, a whole school year gone by and you’ve never been more miserable in your whole life.
>But all that was about to change...
“Trust me,” Dana had told you as she pulled you out of your house, “this will work, you’ll see!”
>You’d tried to resist at first, but months of sitting around depressed and shit have pretty much doused whatever willpower you might’ve once had.
>And so, you let her drag you along, only half-paying attention to her ramblings as you retreated inwards.
>A part of you was, dare you say it, excited, hopeful even!
>If there was a chance you could make it up with Lori, you’d take it, the pair of you had been thick as thieves since Kindergarten and you couldn’t imagine losing her forever.
>Another altogether more realistic part of you, however, was very much worried that you stood a very good chance of being maimed or otherwise permanently crippled.
“It took some doing,” Dana continued, pulling you along the street, “but I think she’s finally ready to listen to you. Just, y’know act casual, tell her you’re sorry, and... um...”
“Don’t talk to Lincoln,” you finished for her, glaring at her when her face went beet red and she looked away.
“...Yeah... that...”
>Sometimes you wondered if Dana really did believe you were innocent...
>You could hear it a block away, the telltale sounds of a good, honest rager.
>The Loud House was just that, loud.
>In fact, it was legally considered the single largest source of noise pollution this side of Detroit.
>At first it was annoying, but nowadays most folks considered a source of pride in a way.
>You think you’ve got annoying neighbors? Folks from all around the state came to Royal Woods just to get a gander at the infamous Loud House!
>There were, however, special occasions were even the House of Loud got especially so, and none of them more evident than a good party.
>You stood in front of that imposing building, small and meek and for the first time in your whole life actually a little afraid of the place.
>The lights streaming from every window, the music that permeated the air, the sheer noise that radiated from the place enough to rattle your bones...
>Y’know, maybe you should wait until tomorrow to apologize?
>You’re about voice your concerns when Dana’s grip tightens on your hand and she starts pulling you up the driveway.
“C’mon Becky, the sooner you apologize the sooner everything can get back to normal around here,” Dana said, dragging you every inch of the way.
>Your eyes scan the lawn full of partygoers in various states of undress and inebriation and a part of you is horrified that it’s already like this while the other half is just impressed.
>Looks like Lori really stepped up her party-throwing game.
>You wouldn’t know… having not been invited to any parties in while...
>Luckily everyone seems too blitzed to really notice you and they let you pass without incident.
>You make it about halfway up the steps and flinch when the window next to you explodes in a shower of glass and loud noise as Miguel (one of Leni’s work-friends, you recognize) comes flying out.
>He sails through the window, over the porch, and lands with a grunt in Mrs. Loud’s new rose bushes.
>You and Dana stare a bit at the groaning boy before she turns to you and wiggles her eyebrows.
“Lori’s really stepped up her party game,” she explains, noticing the blank look on your face, and then opens the door.
>You’re greeted with pandemonium as a literal wall of sound smacks you in the face.
>The first thing you see is none other than Mr. Loud, snoring away and propped up n the coatrack by his jacket.
>Below him is Mrs. Loud, snoring away on the floor with an empty bottle of hooch in her hands.
>...well alright then.
>You glance to the side ad blanche at the sight of Leni doing jello shots off Chaz’s fat, naked stomach.
>What the fuck Leni!?
>Girl got a type.
>Off to the side Mandee and Jackie are cheering her on and Fiona is angrily shouting out of the broken window, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up past the elbow as she shakes her fist.
>As your eyes sweep the room, you’re greeted the sights and sounds and all-around general chaos that only a group of drunken young adults can cause.
>Not gonna lie, still impressed.
>Lamps were broken, teens were stumbling around and drunkenly screaming, a geek was face-down in the punch bowl, somebody had smashed the coffee table down the middle, and you were pretty sure those holes in the wall were new.
>While you inspected the damage, Dana led you off to the side, traipsing around the still fuming Fiona and a headbanging Luna with her head stuck in a lampshade.
>Once you reach the wall Dana all but sets you there, patting you on the head before pointing into the kitchen.
“Alright, you stay here Becky. I’ll go check up on Lori and tell her you’re here, Carol and Whitney have been talking to her all day so it shouldn’t take long. Just sit tight and don’t do anything that might piss her off.”
>Having said her peace Dana turned on her heels and practically skipped into the kitchen, leaving you all alone in a room full of your intoxicated peers.
>Yep, all alone in the Loud House.
>With Lori...
>...
>Oh Christ you can’t do this.
>As the sudden weight of what was going on fell on you it very quickly became hard to breath.
>Your eyes glance around the room, each face a familiar stranger.
>The people who laughed with you, cried with you, celebrated with you.
>The same people who shunned you, spread rumors abut you, regarded you with suspicious eyes.
>No suspicion this time, it was like you were invisible in the crowd, and as the thought grew in your mind it gave you a strange sense of comfort.
>For the first time in a long time it felt like nobody was watching your every move, silently judging you.
>It was... it was nice.
>It was nice to be around people and not be hated for once.
>You’d almost forgotten what that was like.
>As your breath evened out and your heartbeat slowed a sense of calmness enveloped you.
>You can do this, you totally got this.
>Dana was going to go in there, she was going to come back with Lori, and then you were going to apologize, and she was going to forgive you, and everything was going to be better than ever!
“Hello ma’am~”
>Oh goddamnit...
>Your head swivels down and your heart stops when you see a head of white hair and blue eyes staring back at you.
>Lincoln Loud was, by all accounts, adorable.
>You’d always loved playing with him when he was a little kid and of all Lori’s siblings, he was probably your favorite.
>That opinion went through some revising in the past few months.
>Your body goes ramrod and you stare straight ahead, keeping your arms stiff and your hands firmly in your pockets.
“...How’s it going?” Lincoln squeaks, his voice in that odd range of no longer child but not quite adult.
>Clearly puberty is upon him; and now that you mention it, he’s definitely taller now.
>Pretty sure he’s twelve now actually.
>You give a noncommittal grunt and immediately regret it.
>Idiot! Don’t give him any attention!
“Cool, cool,” Lincoln squeaks, in what he no doubt thinks is some kind of suave, manly inflection as he puts up a hand next to you and leans against the wall.
>You try to keep your eyes straight but when he doesn’t say anything for half a minute you can’t help yourself but to glance.
>...is he... is he flexing?
>Oh yeah, he’s flexing alright, and when he notices you mirin’ he looks back up at you and wiggles his eyebrows.
>Is that, no, can’t be.
>When did he get muscles!?
>Well, muscle, as in singular, but at least he’s getting somewhere.
“Yep,” Lincoln says, trying to force his voice down an octave or two as he pumps his arm, “been hittin’ the gym, working out, pumping iron. Gotta free the beast, y’know?”
>Oh shit.
>Lori’s little bro is a Casanova.
>You tear your eyes away and a tremor runs down your spine.
>Shit. SHIT! Shit, shit, shitty, shit!!!
>Okay, no, calm down. This is fine, you’re fine, you are most certainly not attracted to this little dork and everything’s fine.
>You take a deep breath...
>...and immediately regret it as a familiar fragrance fills your nostrils.
>Your eyes flick back and Lincoln’s wearing a full-on grin. He flips his hair and you cringe as you realize he smells exactly like he did that night.
“I used the same shampoo,” he says, and it seems that the façade he’s been putting up fades as his face goes red and he sinks in on himself.
>And like this it occurs to you that Lincoln’s not some kind of incubus, or an evil little gremlin that ruined your social life, he’s just a kid with a crush, and that it’s up to you as the adult here to set him straight.
>You nod your head, take a deep breath, and steel yourself.
>It’s not a conversation you want to make, but you got no choice.
>You turn to look at him and immediately deflate like a balloon when Lori comes around the corner out of the dining room, followed by Dana, Whitney, and Carol.
>For a moment you’re frozen in time.
>She looks almost exactly like you remember, and it’s those small niggling differences that stand out the most to you.
>She’s a little taller now, a little more filled out, her hair’s a little longer, almost nothing but you notice all the same.
>And though it’s only been a few months you feel the sting of your best friends absent more acutely in this one moment now more than ever.
>And for a moment you wonder if she feels the same, when she looks at you with shining eyes and a soft smile on her face.
>Then her eyes drift to your side and she notices her little brother standing next to you.
>Like a switch that’s been flipped Lori’s face goes from serene to ‘I’m-gonna-tear-your-face-off-bitch’ in a flat second, and with a downright feral snarl she lunges at you with fire in her eyes and nails poised.
>Luckily for your pretty face Carol and Whitney are there to hook her into a headlock and body hold, and though she thrashes wildly they somehow manage to drag the hissing she-demon back into the dining room.
>Can’t help but notice the dirty looks Carol and Whitney gave you.
>Dana looks hurt, glancing between you and a decidedly nonplussed Lincoln before mouthing, ‘What happened?’
>’He won’t leave me alone,’ you mouth back, and her brow quirks up in confusion.
>’You met the pope?’
>OMG Dana I’m going to slap you.
>You turn you head away from the boy and take a few steps away and sure enough he follows you like a puppy, eyes trained on you and a dorky smile as he tried to get your attention.
>You look back at Dana and throw your hands out and thankfully she seems to get the memo.
>Her face scrunches up in thought for a moment before her eyes brighten as she reaches into the throng of partygoers and pulls out a purple-clad lass with a lampshade on her head.
>Dana pulls the shade off Luna and whispers in her ear for a few seconds before pointing at Lincoln, who’s been watching all this happen and doesn’t seem to be smiling anymore.
>Luna looks at the pair of you for a moment before turning back to Dana with a smile and a thumb’s up, and as she makes her way towards you Dana signals at you to just wait there as she disappears in pursuit of Lori.
>A few drunken stumbles later Luna stands – well, sways really – before you, but her eyes are focused solely on her little brother.
“Heeeeey bro,” she mumbles, shooting him the ol’ finger guns, “how’s it been?”
“Piss off Luna.”
“Okay,” she chirps, spinning on her heels. She takes three steps and then stumbles to the ground where she immediately falls limp and starts snoring.
>You’re not sure what to focus on, the fact that Lincoln just told one of his sisters to piss off, that she actually listened, or that you’re a little impressed.
>...wait no! Not what you meant!
>By the time you notice Lincoln’s fingers entwining around your own it’s too late.
“I want to introduce you to my friends,” he says, dragging you into the dining room.
>No, you fool! There’s only death that way!
>You struggle a bit but your hand ain’t going anywhere.
>You plant your feet into the carpet and while that does slow things down measurably, he just starts dragging you.
>Fuck! This kid’s got a grip! What the heck is this?
“Did you notice my shampoo?” he asks, blissfully unaware of the way you cringe at that. “I make extra sure to keep my hair all clean the way you like~”
“Oh God...”
“Like I cleaned... down there too...”
“Jesus Christ Lincoln!”
“I’m super clean.”
>You wince at the way he tries to be all suave, but you can’t blame him for it, you must’ve really messed him up that night.
>You just hope that maybe if Lori accepts your apology the two of you can sit this boy down and set things straight, you owe him that at least.
>Truth be told you’re not even all that mad at him anymore, it’s a little flattering in some ways, as wrong as it is. He’s just such a little cutie—
>No! Bad Becky! BAD!
>You shake your had and twitch a little bit. Where the hell did that come from!?
>As you cross the threshold into the dining room you cast a fearful glance about the room, but the stars align, and good fortune comes your way as you notice Lori the Destroyer of Worlds isn’t here.
>Must be in the kitchen, but you don’t want to risk being seen.
“Lincoln I really don’t think—"
“There they are,” he interrupts, pointing at a group of unflattering dweebs around his age milling around the snack table.
>The first is Clyde, the neurotic little geek with a thing for older girls. Lori hates his guts but he’s Lincoln’s bestie so she tolerates him.
>You don’t know the others, but you quickly identify them as: Forehead, Slackjawed Hick, Circus Midget, and Freakishly Tall for Her Age Asian girl.
>You know that feel.
>The tall thing, not the Asian thing, obviously.
“Hey guys,” Lincoln calls, dragging you over to the group, “this is my girlfriend. Y’know, the one I’ve told you about.”
>Your eyes widen at that at you glance around the room, but it doesn’t seem like anybody’s noticed yet.
>The kids turn to look at you and Forehead does a double take.
“Holy shit she’s real!?” he shouts, looking between you and an incredibly, adorably smug Lincoln.
>No! Not adorable!
“Yep,” he boasts, puffy his scrawny chest out as far as he can.
>...okay, maybe a little adorable...
“Well land sakes pardner, how’s about that,” Hick drawls, giving his buddy a slap on the back and a handshake before looking at you with half-lidded eyes.
>The fuck you looking at?
>He takes your free hand and actually gives it a smooch.
“Now young lady if it ain’t impertinent of me to say, but you’re ‘bout as purdy as mayonnaise leaking out the sides of a spam sandwich!”
>You think you’re going to hurl.
>You snatch your hand back and look to the next kid but all he does is wheeze and stare wide-eyed at you.
>...freak
“Aren’t you a little old for him,” Asian says, arms crossed and oh wow that is one hell of a stink-eye she’s giving you.
>You raise a brow, the hell’s her problem— oooooooooooohhhh she got fiendzoned H A R D didn’t she?
>...that’s actually kinda funny.
>Still, you glare right on back and stand up straight.
>You might not like Lincoln that way – AND YOU TOTALLY DON’T! – but you’re not about to let her muscle in on you like that!
“Why do you care?” Clyde asks her and gets a slug in the arm for his troubles.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Lincoln says good-naturedly, holding out his free hand as he massages the top of your palm with his thumb.
>...that kinda feels nice not gonna lie.
>He looks at Stella and gives her a genuine smile.
“It’s alright Stella, I’m fine. But thank you so much for caring about me, really. You’re a true...
>OH SHIT!
“...F R I E N D.”
>If you pause it right here you can pinpoint the exact moment her heart breaks.
“Y-y-you t-t-too,” she stammers back with a thumb’s up and a strained smile, little shimmering pearls building up in the corners of her eyes.
>Yo, I’mma need a medic over here!
>You glance over to the side to spare the girl some shame and notice a dour looking goth girl staring at you from the living room.
>Or, more accurately, staring at yours and Lincoln’s conjoined hands.
>Goddammit
“Did you do it yet,” Midget wheezes, his face bright red and hair… twitching? The fuck!?
>You glare at him for a bit and so does everyone else, but in leu of answering you glance back off to the side.
>Goth girl is now pointing at you and whispering in Luan’s ear, sour looks on both their faces.
>Goddammit
“No,” Lincoln responds to his pal’s question, “but she did touch me... down there...”
>The boys cheer but the girl looks like she popped a blood vessel.
>God. Fucking. Dammit.
“Oh, hey, I think your sister is waving me over. Hi Luan!”
>You smile and wave at her and the mousy little Loud flips you off.
“I think she needs me for something, Linc,” you say, trying to keep your cool as you pull away, “I should probably—"
“Forget Luan,” he says somewhat flippantly. “She...”
>His voice drops down to a whisper as he leans up as close to your ear as he can reach.
“...sucks!”
>Aw hell, he’s totally hitting that teenage rebellious phase, isn’t he? You almost pity the girls for what’s about to come.
>Still, you try and pull away all the same, patently aware of the way Luan and her friend are glaring daggers at you.
“I-I think it might be pretty important Linc. I better just go—”
“I’ll get you some punch,” Lincoln chirped, and just like that your hand was free as Lincoln practically skipped to the snack-laden countertop.
>You watch him for a second and then turn back to his friends.
>Forehead and Hick were giving you sly grins and Clyde was still rubbing his arm while Midget wheezed up a storm.
>Stella had murder in her eyes but hey, you snooze you lose...
>Wait, what’s that supposed to—
“Did you stick it in your mouth?” Forehead asks with a shit-eating grin.
“Yo!”
“Did ya jerk his willy ‘round?” Hick quips.
“What the fuck!”
“D-did you put a finger up his butt?” Midget wheezes, face beet red as he wrings his shirt.
“Whut in tarnation!?”
>Hick and all the others do a double take.
>You ever hear something and then think about it before the horror of it all settles in?
>Yeah, Barkeep? Serve me up a round of bleach please, I’d like to forget that mental image.
“Jesus! No, I was drunk, and I thought he was, like, short or something! Midgets and shit, y’know!?”
“Here you go!”
“Thanks, hun,” you reply, taking the offered drink from Lincoln’s hands.
>You give the plastic cup a good shake, swirling the contents.
>It suddenly occurs to you the whole time he was getting you a drink you could’ve run.
>With a scowl you bring it up to your lips but just as you’re about to down it you stop.
>Sumthin’ ain’t right...
>You give the cup a sniff and flinch.
>Yep, this ain’t age appropriate.
“Uh, Lincoln, don’t drink this, somebody spiked the—”
>Lincoln be chuggin’ that shit.
“Lincoln no!”
>You want to grab him but your fears of causing a scene override your good intentions so you just wag a finger.
“Lincoln you better stop! You’re too young!”
“I’m eighteen.”
“No, you’re not! Boys talk some sense into—”
>The Ginger Patrol plus Clyde had vanished. Stella was still there but you didn’t want to talk to her.
>You look around and quickly spy the crew all crowding around the punch bowl to the delight of the drunken louses cheering them on.
>Great. No, I mean that’s just… fan-fucking-tastic!
“Oh, hey look,” you say to Lincoln, “There’s your pals, maybe you should join them actually.”
“Or... maybe we should go up to my room~”
“That’s it!” Stella suddenly snaps. “I’m going to go find Lori!”
>She stomps off and a million disaster scenarios run through your mind, each of them ending in your immediate demise.
>You do what you have to do, which is really just a fancy way of saying you stick your leg out and trip the bitch.
>Her head bounces off the linoleum and you flinch.
>Lincoln giggles a bit and chugs not only the rest of his drink but two more cups just sitting around.
>Ew dude, backwash.
“L-let’s go upstairs,” he says, and starts trying to pull you into the den.
“No! I mean... why go up? Perfectly good party down here! Full of friends and witnesses and an exit just a few feet away...”
>He blinks owlishly at you and sways a bit.
“But... there’s a party... in my thingy...”
“Lincoln I just think we should—”
“MAKE ME A MAN!”
“NO LINCOLN!”
“I’M EIGHTEEEEEEEN!”
>He snatches your drink and chugs that too. A few frat boys by the counter cheer him on and you flip ‘em off.
>You hear a gasp behind you and turn to see Luan staring at the sordid scene, hands on her mouth.
“Oh, thank God. Look, the punch’s been spiked, could you help me—”
“Oh, I get it! Can’t fuck my brother until he’s nice and drunk huh!? I’M GETTING LORI!”
>Shit!
“Lori’s a bitch, right sweetheart?” Lincoln asks you out of the blue.
>Shit he drunk.
“Lori’s a bitch that... that needs to quit sucking on so many things!”
>Luan scowls at you and you shrug back.
>What? Like that’s my fault.
>Evidently it is as she just shakes her head reproachfully and turns to walk into the kitchen proper.
“H-hey, Luan. Tell her... tell her to quit SUCKING! Quit SUCKING on BOY’S THINGS!”
>Your leg shoots out and catches Luan in the knee mid-stride and she stumbles like a drunk whore in high heels, landing right on top of Stella.
>It ain’t that girls’ night.
>Lincoln starts tugging on your arm again.
“C’mon, it’s... it’s upstairs time now.”
>You glance into the living room and notice that most of the furniture has been pushed aside and people are gyrating all over the place.
>lightbulb.jpg
“Hey wait,” you say, wrapping your arm around his, “don’t you want to dace with your girlfriend first?”
>He blinks, frowns in thought, then his face lights up with a smile when he looks at all the drunken shambling going on the next room.
“Yeah, let’s dance! And then... uh... then we become men!”
“Then we become men, yes.”
>With a roll of your eyes you drag him partially into the living room and stand next to the stairs, away from potentially less intoxicated eyes.
>Now the plan was simple, let him do his thing until he gets tired, then take him upstairs and make your escape.
>There’s no way you’re going to be getting back in Lori’s good graces tonight, but maybe you can at least live to see another day.
>Of course, you know what the say about the best laid plans...
>Lincoln, as it turns out, despite being drunk of his preteen ass, had energy to spare.
>And so, you spent the next ten or so minutes awkwardly shuffling while Lincoln danced his little heart out.
>You’ll say this though, that boy could dance.
>While Linc tried his best rendition of a slow dance, his lithe body pressed tight against yours, he looked up at you and smiled, his blue eyes sparkling as he said:
“I’m eighteen!”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” you replied, eyeing the front door.
“He’s not eighteen.”
>Your heart leaps into your throat and you look to see that strange goth girl from earlier standing next to you.
“He’s twelve,” she says, eyeing you with a deadpan expression.
“I know.”
>Her eyes narrow a smidge.
“Wait, look, the punch was spiked and I’m—”
“Please don’t act on your urges.”
“WHAT!?”
“I understand you can’t help what you feel, but...”
“You’ve got me all wrong! See, I was a little drunk at the last party and I accidentally flirted with him.”
“Are you grooming him?” she asks, and that cool mask of indifference on her face cracks as a note of genuine anger creeps into her voice and her fists clench.
“No! No, no, no, no!”
>A sudden pressure on your leg catches your attention and you look down—
“OH GODDAMMIT!”
>Lincoln’s basically humping your leg now.
>You look back at Goth Girl and gesture to him, hoping to get your point across.
>You see this shit!?
>She does, and after staring at him or a few seconds she looks back up at you.
“I’m getting Lori.”
>She takes a step, you flex your leg, and she hits the ground.
“G’night Maggie,” Lincoln chirps, waving at the unconscious girl.
>Maggie huh? Well, there’s one more person who thinks you’re a pedophile.
“Ma’am, I don’t feel good.”
“Then go to the bathroo—”
>Lincoln looks down, opens his mouth, and a thin stream of vomit cascades down the front of his shirt and over his crotch.
>--shit.
“S-sorry ma’am,” he mutters, looking absolutely miserable.
>It isn’t a good look you decide, and you quickly glance around the living room.
>You spy some paper towels near Leni and Chaz doing the horizontal tango (or trying to at least, seems like she can't find it) and quickly make your way over, stepping over a most assuredly comatose Luna on your way back.
“Here,” you mutter, tearing off a few squares, “let me help.”
>Shit’s nasty, but so is the sight of your little man all covered in puke.
>The shirt’s easy, but the jeans a bit harder.
>A loud cheer catches your ear and you look over to see Linc’s friends, all of them red-faced and drunk off their collective asses, staring at the sight with wide grins.
>You raise a brow, look back, and quite suddenly realize you’ve got your hand on his crotch.
“Wait, no!”
>Forehead gives a whistle while Hick and Midget just laugh.
>Clyde takes a step forward and actually gives his buddy a clap on the shoulder and a firm handshake.
“Congratulations man!” he says, and Lincoln just sways in place, his face caught between confusion and joy.
>Yeah, he ain’t all there.
>Hell, none of them are! Who even let in a bunch of kids here anyway!?
“I was just cleaning him up!” you cry, stumbling to your feet.
>Your hand reaches out and errantly brushes against his crotch and Lincoln ‘eeps’ and perks right up while you flinch away.
>That... that was... well, let’s just say he might not much look like his old man but he sure as hell inherited something.
>Or at least you assume so, there must be a reason Mrs. Loud was willing to have eleven kids.
>Of course, Clyde and the boys all start cheering again and now quite a few more party goers are joining in, unaware of what’s happening but not needing a reason at all.
>Right, enough of this...
>You reach out, grab up Lincoln, and sling him over your shoulder.
>You're about halfway up the stairs when—
“HEY!”
>—you stop and look over your shoulder to see both Luan and Maggie glaring up at you, their noses bleeding and the both of them looking more than a little put-off.
“I’m just taking him up to his room,” your cry, your voice almost lost in the music being played, “I’m not going to molest him!”
>The boys cheer and Luan’s face scrunches up and she turns and stomps back into the dining room, Maggie hot on her heels.
>Shit.
>SHIT!
>Stomping your way up the stairs you take a right and kick the door at the end of the hall open.
>Lincoln’s room never struck you as much of a room. For one it was just a little bit bigger than most closets, with just enough room for a bed on one side and a dresser on the other and a desk at the end.
>You took three steps in and that was it, barely enough room to breathe in here, but he never seemed unhappy with it.
>You toss the boy onto the bed and shut the door behind you, then turn to him and snap your fingers in his bewildered face.
“Take off your clothes,” you say, looking him in the eye.
>He seems confused at first, then surprised, then his smile turns sultry and he flutters his eyelashes.
“Well, whatever you say ma’am—”
>You cut him off with a smack.
>He stares at you, wide-eyed and hurt, and you turn away so he can’t see how miserable you look.
>You shuffle through the drawers and find what you need in short order, fresh shirt, pants, undergarments, ow all you have to do is drop them on his bed and get the hell out of dodge.
>You nod your head, turn around, and stop dead when you see Lincoln, shirtless and pantsless, sitting on his bed and absolutely crying his little heart out.
>Lori always said Lincoln was one of those quiet criers, but you didn’t really understand what she meant until now.
>She also said he was an ugly crier and she’s a bit right there too, but Lori was the loud, annoying kind of crier you didn’t feel she had any room to judge.
>You were there in an instant, sweeping him into a hug and massaging the top of his head as he sobbed into your breast.
>You stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head with a sigh.
“I’m sorry Linc, I’m so sorry.”
>You pull away and cup his chin with your hand, forcing him to look at you.
>You wince and hiss at the sight of his cheek, a glowing red handprint to advertise your handiwork.
>You give it a kiss and he looks at you, no longer crying but still a tear-stained mess.
“I’m sorry buddy, I shouldn’t have done that...”
“No,” he mumbles, wiping at his eyes. “’S my fault. Sorry I was bothering you.”
“No, no,” you argue with a sigh, “I shouldn’t have gotten so frustrated with you. You’re just... you’re just a kid Lincoln.”
>He flinches at that, but nods his head all the same, his face scrunching up in anguish.
“...’M not eighteen.”
>You roll your eyes at his ‘confession’.
“Yeah, no shit,” you chuckle, and that gets a quick smile out of him but nothing else as he wipes at his eyes and looks down at the floor.
>You frown and cup his chin again.
“Lincoln... you’re a great kid. Like, really, you’re the best. But... but Lincoln you gotta realize I’m too old for you, right?”
>He sobs again and nods his head and you lean down to place your forehead against his.
“What happened at that last party was my fault. I got drunk and didn’t realize what I was doing. And not setting you straight the next day was my fault too, I let this get out of control because I was too afraid of Lori. And I’m flattered Lincoln, I really am, but... well, why me anyway?”
>Lincoln’s eyes glace away and he sniffles.
“...B-because you’re nice. You’ve always been nice to me, a-and you like comics ‘n stuff, and I like you. And y-you’re really pretty. And it was nice, thinking that a nice, pretty girl like you might like someone like me.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“W-well look at me,” he suddenly snaps, holding his arms out, “My hair’s all white and I’m skinny and I’ve got stupid buck teeth and one of them’s chipped and I look like a little old man and I’m ugly and I’m just stupid—”
“You’re not stupid,” you cut him off, “you’re just a kid with a crush. And it’s sweet, you’re sweet Lincoln. And you are most certainly not ugly. I don’t know who told you that, but they were wrong, and if I find them, I’m going to knock them out because you are a special kid Lincoln, I mean that. You mean a lot to me, you’re my little buddy.”
>He looks back at you and there’s hurt in his eyes even as he tries to offer you a smile.
“But I’m too young...”
>You nod and both of your smiles die away.
“You’re too young,” you say, and you let go.
>He looks away and takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, and lets it out in a great big sigh.
>You pat him on the back and the two of you sit there for a bit.
>And then before you’re even aware of what you’re doing, and against any and all better judgement you might’ve once possessed, you lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek.
>He looks at you, shocked, and you give him a smile.
>He falters a bit, but then, slowly, smiles back.
>It’s a melancholic smile, but in your humble opinion any smile from Lincoln Loud is one worth cherishing.
>You pull him in for a side hug and wiggle your eyebrows.
“And just so you know... if you weren’t a kid, I’d totally be all over you.”
>His face lights up like a Christmas light and he sinks into himself, trying to cover his blushing face and his crooked little smile.
>You chuckle at that and turn him around for a proper real hug, one which he gladly accepts.
>He looks up at you with those bright, blue eyes of his and smiles.
“Thanks, Becky.”
>You smile back and kiss his nose and hug him tight as you like as the pair of your rock back and forth in each other’s arms.
>And the two of you sit there for a while, a moment frozen in time, completely and totally at peace with yourselves and with each other.
“LINCOLN LOUD!”
>You shriek and leap off the bed as you hear Lori’s voice reverberate through the walls.
>On the other side of the door you can hear the telltale stomping of a battle-axe on the march, a veritable march of doom.
“I SWEAR TO GOD BECKY IF YOU’RE IN THERE!”
>You ‘bout damn near piss yourself as the stomping echoes down the hall, growing ever closer.
>Suddenly Lincoln leaps off the bed and throws himself against the door.
>A second later it bulges but Lincoln puts his weight on it and closes it.
“LINCOLN!? WHAT ON EARTH—”
“Nothing’s going on!” he shouts, trying desperately to keep the door closed. “Everything’s fine, go away please!”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? OPEN THIS DOOR!”
“Nothing! Not doing anything!”
“BECKY I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”
“We’re all wearing clothes in here!” he shouts.
>You desperately look around but remember you’re in a glorified line closet.
>Trapped like a rat in a cage, despite all your rage.
>Grandma always said you were going to die like this.
>Fucking witch.
“In fact, I think I’ll put some more clothes on!”
>You look back at Lincoln, fear in your eyes, but he’s not looking at you. Rather, his gaze seems to be fixed somewhere behind you.
>His eyes, wide and shining, flicker between you and over your shoulder several times before the realization hits you like a lightning bolt.
>You spin around and almost cry in joy when you spy the tiny window just above his dresser.
>It’ll be a tight squeeze, but between that and having all of your joints violently rendered the opposite direction, it’s not exactly a hard choice to make.
>You leap forward and swipe all of Lincoln stuff off the desk just as the door behind you is thrown open and Lincoln is sent sprawling to the floor.
“OH MY GOD! LINCOLN, WHAT HAS SHE DONE TO YOU!?!”
“Nothing! Get out!”
“YOU PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”
“OH, I’M SORRY, I THOUGHT THIS WAS AMERICA!”
“You tell her Lincoln!” you hear Clyde cheer in the background, and the scandalized gasps from Dana and Whitney (not to mention a conspicuous wolf whistle courteous of Carol) ring out just after.
“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” you scream.
>With a growl Lori strides forward—
“FOR THE LAND OF THE FREE AND THE HOME OF THE– OOF!”
>—swipes Lincoln aside and reaches out, murder in her eyes and foam leaking from her maw.
“I’M GOING TO LITERALLY TEAR OFF YOUR—”
>You spin around, take a step forward, and camel punt her.
>Lori squeaks, and a shudder crawls across her entire body. Her eyes roll up back into her head, and she falls onto Lincoln’s bed, her knees curled up to her chest and her hands planted firmly on her crotch as she whimpers in pain.
>You look at your handiwork, and glace back to your erstwhile friends, who are all looking at you with a healthy mix of disgust, shame, shock and... envy? Something you wanna share with the class Carol?
“You’ll never catch me alive Chris Hansen!”
>Having said your peace you turn around, flex your knees, and leap right through the small window in a shower of broken glass and shattered dreams.
>For a second there’s that almost weightless sensation of falling, that rising pit in your stomach as gravity begins to exert itself, and then the unceremonious pain of a sudden stop.
>Good thing this rose bush was here to break your fall!
>Extricating yourself from this prickly situation you stumble forward on what you hope is only a sprained ankle and hobble your way across the lawn, sobbing to yourself.
“HEY!”
>You flinch and glance back up at the window, where you can see Lori’s red face sticking out.
>Your former friend waves a fist at you and spittle flies from her mouth as she screams.
“AND DON’T EVER COME BACK! YOU HEAR ME!”
“I didn’t do anything!” you scream back.
>Crying as you make your way down the driveway, stepping over and top of listless drunks on your way to the street, you idly wonder how much a plane ticket to Russia costs.
>All the while Lori still eyes you, shaking her fist at your retreating figure.
“YEAH, YOU BETTER RUN! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!”
>A shock of white hair and blue eyes pokes up into the window between her breasts and Lincoln throws his own arm out towards the horizon...
“CALL ME!”
{The End}