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spending the night at scout's place (1)

1 .

Every repost is a repost repost. By Owl Tiem.


(inspired by the third panel of the meme posted here: )

Taking Scout up on that "open invitation to come chill with the guys any time, man" was probably not really that great an idea, but when it's a choice between that and being homeless during the season break (going back to my parents' house was NOT an option, and no, I would not like to elaborate), it's not really all that tough.

It was a Beta Nu frat house, of course, the kind of place everybody calls a brotel (or a brothel, depending on who's speaking and what, exactly, they think of Scouts), and you could tell that before you even got inside. There were three or four cars in the driveway - a surprisingly high number, honestly, but they all LOOKED like Scoutmobiles, with the "or" being necessary because the minivan in the back didn't seem to have wheels on it. It was two stories with a wraparound porch; red and blue paintball splotches covered the once-white siding, and one of the gutters swung crazily below a second-floor window - they'd probably been climbing in and out that way. The yard was decorated with piles of empty beer cans and a half-erected volleyball net; I had to pick my way around the windswept dunes of Pabst and Natural Ice to reach the door.

It was yanked open while my finger was still hovering above the doorbell button, and three faces appeared in the crack between door and frame - one after another, like some sort of extremely unruly totem pole.

"Oh hey! You must be - "

"Devin's friend, right?"

"He said you might be coming over."

"Yeah, we were waiting for you! Is that your car?"

"Does it have gas in it?"

"Are you over 21?"

"Can you take us to the liquor store?"

"We're out of Natty."

"We'll pay you back for it!"

"Maybe we should let him come inside first."

"Oh yeah, sorry."

"Haha, yeah, sorry about that. C'mon in!"

Huey, Dewey and Louie pulled back, although the door didn't swing open any further; I had to pass my suitcase through on its own and then follow, my shirt catching on the latch.

"Sorry, it's busted. It was like that when we got it."

"No, somebody broke it trying to put a screen door on last summer, remember?"

"No way, it's from that time that kid from India tried to park a motorcycle in the living room."

They continued squabbling as I looked around the room. It actually wasn't quite as bad inside as I'd been expecting; apparently they were in the habit of throwing their empty cans out the window, because the living room only had half a dozen or so lying around, compared to the piles outside. The hardwood floors were dented and scarred, there was a three-foot-tall stack of pizza boxes next to the door, and someone appeared to be passed out in the hallway, but it didn't smell of anything worse than too much body spray and stale booze, and nobody's underwear was hanging from the light fixtures, so it exceeded my expectations.

The trio seemed to forget me after that, and I wasn't sure I wanted to touch anything in the house, so I stayed where I was until someone pushed the door open into the small of my back.

"Fucking goddamn, bitchtits, can't you fags get the hell out of the way? People try to come IN this door, assface - "

I immediately stepped to one side, murmuring an apology that got swept away by an impatient wave of the new arrival's hand. "Ah, whatever, fag, didn't know we had guests. Still, not too bright, are ya? Standin' in a fuckin' door."

Four more people piled in after him, and I recognized my team's Scout among them with relief.

Saying "Scout!", under the circumstances, was kind of stupid of me, but making all of them look at me meant making him look at me, too, and HE knew which one I meant. I tried to ask if there were someplace I could put my suitcase, but he was too busy loudly introducing me to everyone.

"Ok, guys, this is that friend I was telling you about. He's never stayed at a brotel before - "

A lot of snickers, and a loud "ROOKIE!" from the back of the group.

" - so try not to scare him too much, you big loud jackasses, alright?" He ran down a list of names, pointing each individual out to me, and I tried my best to keep them straight as they milled around me, offering high-fives, "respect knuckles" and a single unexpected handshake, moving me with them toward the living room as inexorably as the tide.

As the only guest, and therefore the guest of honour by default, I was shown to the sofa and allowed first pick of the seats. Most of the stains on the upholstery didn't LOOK biological, so I decided I had nothing to lose and carefully perched myself upon the cleanest spot. Immediately five of the Scouts piled themselves around me, with one of them - the one who'd done all the cursing about the door earlier - flinging his legs up and stretching out across the rest, with his feet in my lap.

"You've got pretty good timing. We only just got the couch back downstairs yesterday."

"Yeah, we were tryin' to put it upstairs last month 'cause we're kinda puttin' in a rec room, we got, like, a fuckin' foosball table somebody found and shit - "

" - but it got stuck halfway up the stairs and we couldn't move it - "

" - but somebody got a Demoman out here and he got it loose for us - "

" - so don't try taking the back stairs - "

" - 'cause there AIN'T no fuckin' back stairs no more!"

Someone who hadn't gotten a spot on the sofa headed toward the kitchen and came back with a case of beer. He climbed up to sit on the back of the sofa (the one in front of him complained about having to wear his legs as a seatbelt, but was pacified by getting two cans) and passed the brew around. I'd never had any actual interest in drinking Milwaukee's Best, but it felt like it would've been rude to refuse, so I cracked my can open and took a speculative sip that served only to confirm my previous bias. Meanwhile the Scouts were debating whether to watch a movie ("NonCon at SpyCon" and "Bushwacking with the Snipette Twins" were two of the titles being put forth) or just try and see if there were anything on TV.

"Hey, what's our guest say? We're bein' bad hosts here."

Suddenly eight pairs of eyes were trained on me in an eerie silence.

"TV would be fine," I said lamely.

"I bet he's already seen all the porno we got."

"He shoulda brought us some more, then. Like payin' rent or some shit. I mean, we all already seen everything we got like six times."

"We ain't a hotel, we don't charge."

"Yeah, we're just sluts, not WHORES."

"I think he's blushing."

"I told you guys not to scare him!"

I was already wishing I'd gone to stay at Engineers'. He'd seemed sort of reticent about making the offer, and I hadn't wanted to impose upon him, but this... was just overwhelming.

And I was supposed to be here for three weeks!
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2 .

About that van:

I eventually asked about it over dinner (someone made surprisingly-edible tacos), as part of a general automotive discussion triggered by Huey, Dewey and Louie asking again if I would go buy liquor for them.

"It's somebody's mom's."

"I don't know why the wheels are missing."

"They're not MISSING, they're just OFF it. They're in the back of the garage."

"No they ain't, I was back there yesterday - "

"Huffing gasoline again?"

"Fuck you, anyway the wheels ain't there no more."

"Oh yeah, I had to move 'em, they're out behind the house now."


"They were in the way!"

"I mean, you know, it's not like we STOLE them. We're not gonna steal the wheels off somebody's mom's minivan."

"Why don't we put 'em back on and use it? We could, like, ALL fit in there."

"Why didn't he just take it with him when he left?"

"Because he's WORKING. What's he gonna do with a minivan at work?"

"That'd just make you look like some kinda low-rent SNIPER, for Chrissake."

"I mean, no offense if you like Snipers - "

"Don't give me that look!"

"I'm not judging you just 'cause you're a perv who's into watersports."

"Fuck you, man."

"So are you gonna buy us some beer or not?"
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