Inspired by snappleducated's 'A Century of Sleep' on fanfiction and Whitedog1's fan-comics.

For The Ridiculously Overrated

She sits a little too comfortably next to me, legs crossed in that primarily bitchy fashion. Her clothes are tight, psuedo-emo, black and white with just the right amount of red to compliment the highlights in her hair. The effect is ruined as soon as the eye reaches her face, covered as it is in half melted orange slushy. A bright pink tongue snakes out, licking away a perfect circle around her mouth and leaving only a dripping goatee.

Her feet are already resting up on the dashboard, MY dashboard. I consider knocking them down for a second and decide against it. She's wearing heels and they look like they would cause copious amounts of pain if I tried anything.

As if she senses my discomfort with her, she makes eve worse, shifting carefully so that she's curled in the seat, her skirt riding high and displaying her Tickle Me Emo panties as if they are the spoils of some horrifically disturbing panty war.

"I don't see why we can't hang out every once and awhile," She mutters darkly into her drink.

"I can't go outside in the daytime," I snap at her, wondering if she really was this stupid or if she just acted that way to annoy me. Probably a little bit of both, knowing her.

She waves her hand dismissively, "Minor details."

"For you maybe."

She huffs at me and the car is silent.

The eggshell thin façade of tranquility is broken by her hand, grappling at my wrist, twisting the car wheel hard and making us swerve sharply into the next lane.

"What the fucking hell!," I cry, jerking at the steering wheel as cars screech on their breaks to avoid us.

She ignores whatever obscene comment I'm making, poking at my hand. She looks up, slightly shocked. "Yo-You're all warm!"

I scowl at her. "Yes, you dumb ass, I'm not dead you know."

She sighs, dropping my hand and huffing a little bit more. "But that totally defeats the point! Do you at least drink blood?"

I nod, sighing inwardly. "Yes, sometimes, and I don't do that vegetarian woodsman thing either, if that's what you're wondering."

Her eyes are saucer wide now and she stares up at me with some nerdy, cat-girl-like reverence. "How do you get it? Do you only drink it from virgins? Do you kill the virgins after? Because that's not very nice, they ARE virgins after all!"

I turn the corner and glare at her. "Shut up, I get it from the fucking blood bank okay. I work a night shift there on Tuesdays and that's when I eat."

"Do you let it dribble onto your marble six pack and have your half-vampire concubine love-slaves lick it off?"

My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. "NO. It comes in a plastic bag and I suck it out, all very clean really, and why would I need concubine love-slaves?"

She doesn't answer my question but instead stares at me, accusing and disappointed.

"You're the shitiest vampire ever!" She whines, and I find myself uncharacteristically insulted by the comment.

"Good to know!"

The silence from her is sweet and beautifully peaceful and so engagingly short.

"I guess that means you don't have a cold hard sparkly cock either?"

I break, hard, and it takes some speedy maneuvering from the drivers behind us to keep from getting in a twelve car pileup. Ignoring the honks and the odd middle finger I turn to her.

"WHAT?!?" I shriek at her, shocked and offended and mortified at the idea.

She just screws up her face a bit, puzzled at my furious fury and too preoccupied with drinking her goddamn slurppy to give a shit.

"I'm just saying, if you don't sparkle in the sun, and you're not cold, the-"

I cut her off before that sentence can get any worse. "Yeah, yeah I get it, please just tell me where you're getting all of this utter bullshit from?"

"Twilight of course."

Off course, I'm never letting her use my library card for anything ever again. Which reminds me…

"Hey, did you ever give that book back to them?"

She looks sheepish for a second, tugging down her skirt a little and twiddling her thumbs in a very guilty looking sort of way. I sigh, knowing what's going to come next.

"How much do you owe them."

"Not much," she says placatingly, eyes wide and too bambi-esque for comfort.

I roll my eyes and level my best menacing stare at her. "How much?"

"Only about forty dollars," she mumbles into her chest.

Forty fucking dollars.

I would have stepped on the breaks again if we weren't already parked.

"Seriously!," I yell at her. She cringes, but only a little.

"Yes."

"I can't just pull money out of my ass y'know!"

She nods, looking a teensy bit guilty. That soon gives way to curiosity as she asks me. "What do you do for a living anyway?"

I stare at her for a second before my mouth forms the only real word that comes to mind at that moment. "What?"

"You heard me," she says, all traces of guilt gone as she reclines back in her seat, "You have a job don't you? I assume that because you're such a dismal failure at being a vampire you should probably have a job."

I nod a little, dumbstruck. "Yeah, I do."

She claps her hands happily and turns to me. "Oh goody! What is it?"

"I'm a night manager at 7-11."

For exactly three seconds I live in the beauteous dream that maybe, just maybe she wouldn't laugh at me.

"BWUHAHAHAHAH OH GOD!? SERIOUSLY!?"

Sigh.

I flush, staring straight ahead at the road even thought the car is completely stationary.

"Shut up, it's an honest living and the entire vampire thing makes it incredibly hard to find a job."

She grins at me, ruffling my hair in that infuriating way that she does whenever I'm embarrassed. "Dude, I think my shit job at Starbucks is better than yours."

"Shuthefuckup!"

She continues, unperturbed by my epic shrill screeching.

"And here I was thinking that you were in the vampire mafia or something, ha, to think! I was actually a little bit afraid that you were going to sick your badass cronies on me!"

"Yes, HILARIOUSE." I manage to bite out, my fingers digging into the fake leather of the steering wheel as I begin to drive once again.

We go in relative peace for the rest of the trip. She fiddles with the dials of the radio and tunes it to some horrific alternative station that can be classified as only barely survivable. Every once and awhile she glances at me and snickers, whispering "7-11" under her breath and snorting in the most unladylike (pig) manner.

When we pull up at her place, she thanks me hurriedly, jumping out of the car, seat belt already unbuckled.

"Thanks so much for this again Liam, you have no idea how much I owe you for this." She glances at the clock, frowning, "Jesus! Fuck it's late." She turns back to me, hazel eyes hopeful, "So, I'll see you again?"

I don't answer her, instead, I stare out at the bright yellow lines that split the road. It had just occurred to me that she's seventeen now. Seventeen and three months to be exact, and still going, on and on.

And I. I'm around twenty something, I'm always around twenty something.

When I speak my throat feels tight and I can't figure out why. "You know Meg, I'm never gonna get any older than this, that's one thing that I know for sure." When I look back at her, her head is tilted just a little, and she stares at me attentively. "What happens when your some old crone and I'm still-"

She cuts me off, knocking slightly against the side of my head.

"Like I said already, minor details."

The grin she wears is so manic and happy it's almost painful. She tugs on my ear, tacking a step away from the car.

"Don't worry so much, okay?"

Knocking on the side of the car two times, she begins to run up the stairs of her big brick apartment building.

I roll my eyes as I watch her go, trying to imagine her at eighty. She'll probably be old and gray and more than a little bit senile.

She'll probably own some sort of granny-fied motorcycle too.

Ha! No one can make vampires quite as uncool as I can!