Angst in My Pants
Summary: Boy likes girl. Boy can't get Girl. Solution for Boy? Steal Girl's pants. How to get them back for Girl? Right off Boy's body. Insert Boy's victory dance here.
A/N: I love this story. It was made for purely selfish reasons. The feeling of writing this is akin to eating an ice cream sundae in the morning. Chocolate. So enjoy or whatever.
1. That Pretty Little Thing Called Action
Good pants were supposed to fit. Not as good as the Lululemon ones, but then again that's another story. Good pants were made to be put on one leg at a time, over the hips, and up goes the button/zipper, and/or.
So called good pants that didn't fit were a travesty, a dark spot on the unblemished wall of honors of their soul brother and sister pants everywhere. They just didn't make any sense.
Evangeline looked at the pants in her hands and grimaced. She had been lying on her bed for the previous hour, trying to put them on without luck. She looked over at the neon glare of her alarm clock, signaling that the time was now half past eight. Her math homework was off in a pile on her desk, waiting to be completed as she wrestled herself into the contraption that was brought on one of her most successful Boxing Day adventures.
"It was only a year ago, how can it not fit?"
Her brow furrowed in concentration as she walked up to the mirror to the left side of her small room. There was no taunting mirror-mirror to tell her what was wrong with her. There was nothing different about her body, aside from the fact that she had gained a few possible pounds in that time. She breathed out roughly, and then rubbed her face while she walked over to the dresser to get out a pair of gray slacks. The New Year's Day that followed the adventure, echoed how the rest of her three hundred and sixty five days were going to turn out. Her mother and father had gone to London for their six month routine migration, leaving her and her brother to stay with family friends.
In her eight year old mind, she had thought of her new babysitters as robotic: a pair of perfect but emotionally detached pseudo parents for her and her younger brother. People that did their job in providing food and making sure that homework was finished before sleeping at night. But dreams were sometimes too realistic for life. At least Evangeline felt that way when she found herself stuck with an artist mother named Wendy Coyne, Seth Barrett her chef husband, and their super tall and skinny son, Syd. It gave her Decembers to May lots of interest.
Both Seth and Wendy were freestyle when it came to parenting. This proved to be down right confusing when her parents returned and ice cream was thrown out as a fundamental meal starter. Their son, however, was very… unique. He made buddy-friends with her during the first few years, offering to beat up boys who gave her a hard time. But then again… one night during some of that hearty ice cream he had an Usher confession moment and told her that he was thinking of a truthful way to play house with her when they were older, wedding bells and all.
After that he flipped on her, becoming Denis the Menace's biggest rival as he plotted you-sunk-my-battle-ship moves against her like returning her shampoo with a new blending of purple dye added as an excuse to walk in on her in the bathroom.
"He's not going to get me to marry him in the future by annoying me," she started. "He might as well sing the 'No Life, Without Wife' song for the rest of his life."
Her voice drip-dropped with lime bitterness, she dropped her pants into the garbage beside her desk. Guitar strings and a drum beat played in her head. It was a fair battle but the pants won, she sang inwardly.
"Talking to yourself? I knew it! You are completely insane," her worst nightmare said, in the flesh.
His sudden voice made her challenge the world high jump record. Turning around she wondered if she would be able to hear his voice anywhere: land, in the air, in the sea; with him doing some drowning, of course…
"How did you get past my dad, Barrett?" she asked, suddenly curious.
Syd strutted into the room, all Captain Jack Sparrow swagger, with a smirk in place. Her desire for him to be out of her room (even though he thought that he firmly belonged there or at least near her bed) had become just words that rolled off him like a loose t-shirt. She had given up trying to get him out physically, when he had filled into to his tall frame. He guessed that if she tried now, she would have just been enveloped into a hug. The sudden thought of missed caressing opportunities made his smirk falter.
"Secrets are between lovers," he stated, smirk returning. "And anyway I remember when I was up here last time. You were all hot and flustered in that towel, trying to feel me up. Touching my chest—"
"I was trying to push you out of the door. Don't make it sound dirty," she told him, with a glare.
He shrugged before walking over to her computer chair. He sat on it, long skinny jean clad legs extended out obscenely in her direction.
"Don't be mad at me, sweetheart. Your mom, recognizing my strong physique, called me over here to help with the luggage. Early time to get in, thusly, less anal searches to go through," he explained.
Evangeline nodded absently, moving to the bedroom door to check if her offending parents were in sight.
"You're lucky you get to call me by my first name, kid, so leave the babies out of it. I, never on this planet, will accept the displeasure to be called your baby."
She didn't criticize his reasons for coming, even though it was both offensive and defensive to her, but there was no reason for him to be in her room. In her room where there was a bed, and where he was suggestively looking at when he knew that she was looking back. Well there was no reason other than the fact that it annoyed her and he loved doing anything he could to annoy her.
She tried the ole 'stare at anything besides him' tactic that worked most of the time for her, but found herself locked in a staring contest with him. She crossed her arms over her chest once she saw his light blue's straying towards her chest.
"You should get use to the love-sounds, baby. I don't want Barkley to think that her mommy and daddy are fighting," he remarked while rising from his seat.
Barkley could make Paris' Tinkerbell look like an overfed rat in comparison. The black miniature pinscher had been singled out through glass during a 'family trip' to the mall with the Barrett's. She remembered promising herself that she would be able to buy something like the cute glass licking dog, even though her mother seemed to have a phobia to all living creatures and would die before allowing her to have it. A week later she had been introduced to the dog at the house by Syd. Calling the dog their love child seemed to fill him with great pride and joy.
The closet romantic stood in front of her, stretching to his full height. He grinned at her sour face, knowing that she hated being in positions where she had to hurt her neck looking up when insulting him. Then of course, the hatred for his post-leaving hug appeared. Evangeline side stepped him quickly. On aside she noticed the newly bleached bottom of his otherwise curly black hair and two new piercings on his left helix and his cheek to add to his growing collection.
On top of a love of irritating Evangeline, Syd accepted his original Pink Floyd member name sake by following local band scenes (with a heavy emphasis on old school punk rock and anyone who listed the Ramones as a musical influence). She was surprised to find him only wearing a belt with his idol group's name on it instead of the usual head to toe outfit.
"I could take off my pants for a better view," he offered quietly.
His eyes were intense and focused on her face as he waited for the answer, leaning on her doorframe. The gears of her mind clicked into place, allowing her eyes to roll expertly at him.
"Stop asking me that," she answered back coldly.
He could be sweet at times but most of the time he played the perverted boy who always skipped asking her out and went straight to the nitty-gritty. Didn't he think she was worth the flower money? Not that she would say yes to him but still.
It's dating ethics.
"Why?" he asked with a growing smile, "One day when the frustration finally makes you crack you're going to say yes."
She gave him her best smirk.
"And what will you do about it? You're all talk Barrett and none of that pretty little thing called action," she informed him.
She left him in the dust of her words, brushing past him roughly then traveling down the corridor to argue with her mother over the idea of a helper. He held onto the doorframe with an arm, eyes glued to her lady hump as she traveled into another room. He let out a martyred sigh. He enjoyed the times when her parents went away since that was the only time she actually gave him any notice, even with all the 'I hate you so much right now' hostility.
He went back into her room, giving himself a tour of everything that was hers. There were added pictures of school trips, new books, a Pirates of the Caribbean poser, and some school academic awards she had collected. Then he looked down into her trash bin since he read on the internet that it was where the real story about a person could be found. The only thing in hers was a piece of paper and a pair of black pants.
He reached in to take a closer look at the pants, snapping his hand back immediately afterwards when the sound of footsteps came from the open door.
"Syd! Can you do me a favor, son? Take out the trash."
Evangeline's father had paused in front of the room with his brown hands around his neck to fit his tie.
Close call, Syd thought.
As most times on the departure day, Mr. Ferrera was too busy with last minute travel plans to worry about something like his neighbor son, alone, in his daughter's room. Either that or without the threat of premarital sex, he couldn't care less. He figured it was probably the latter.
"I'll take the one under Gel's desk too," he called to the pacing man, using other one of his nicknames for her—nicknames other than the tried and true Baby, Wife, or Lover.
"Yeah, go ahead!" Mr. Ferrera called out too loudly.
Syd looked around himself, McSpy mode at red alert. With all the Ferreras out of sight he went down the stairs with the small bin and traveled onto that white wooden area outside the house called the back porch. His mission was almost completed when he untied one of the bigger bags and positioned Evangeline's bin on top of it.
"You're all talk Barrett and none of that pretty little thing called action."
Evangeline's words flit-fluttered into his mind like the smile of the Cheshire cat as his eyes snapped back to the pants. He inspected the size then held them up to his body. It looked like a good enough fit, tight for rock god status, and loose so he would be able to have children in the future—but he would be certain later.
He dashed up to his white Volvo, the third love of his life, and stashed the jeans in a hole at the back of his driver's seat. It had been made by an evil ex during one of her moments, now it was covered with material that his mom had sewn up. However, she had left it unfilled, by his request, for delicate times such as these. He edged it back enough to show the zipper, that he had also requested, before stuffing the pants inside and closing the hole.
Boring channel, super boring channel, and way too boring to be on TV channel.
Even though his thoughts were dim, he smiled to himself as he sat on the couch in the Ferrera living room. He was pleased with the recent success. He looked up faintly, and then smiled wider as Evangeline came downstairs. She didn't return his greeting, instead opted to sit away from him on an opposite couch.
He looked back towards the TV, seeing nothing but attempting to ignore the heart-clench feeling that came from the memory of the days when she would sit beside him, instead of away from him. He saw one of those gap jeans commercials and smiled when his mind returned to the pants.
"What's making you so happy?" she asked dryly.
The boy was full of unbalance, doing a 180 switch on her from showing up in her bedroom and calling her baby to ignoring her in the living room.
He changed the channel to some kind of police force movie then looked her straight in the eye.
"Because I like action," he started calmly. "The kind that can be found in the movies where the bad guys go bang-bang when the cops are trying to arrest them—the ones that end in those big, sexy, explosions."
She didn't even bat an eyelash, already use to his antics and therefore not needing to comment.
"Fine whatever, but you're being redundant. I already know that you like action movies," she said, pointed to the TV screen where a big, sexy, explosion was about to happen.
He stared at her in shock, all that lovely-dove, and 'you really know me!' stuff clouding his eyes and making her regret speaking.
"What? You tell everyone your crap," she half-yelled, hoping that her coarseness would make him forget.
He gave her a shrug before turning back to the TV.
"Language, baby," he scolded playfully. "And you're missing an important detail. I don't just like action, I do action too."
She overlooked his double entendre, (the pervert prevails) and turned her face back to the screen. He had changed the channel after the explosion, since that was the ending of the movie to him, at least at far as his interest goes.
Finally, something good, she thought, leaning in her seat to watch the show. Syd's smirk turned sweet as he reached for the remote and changed the channel with a deafening—click!
I hope she gets physical for this, he thought.
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-love like chucks.