Where: Street, and Damien's apartment
What: Brent wakes up in the middle of the night, Vincent mistakes him for a burglar or... something. Yelling and spazzing occur.
Vincent woke up slowly - it was still the middle of the night, and he felt like shit. He gently slid Del off his lap - what the hell? - then stumbled into the kitchen, intending to get a glass of water.
Huge couch is huge and Brent had taken up residency on the other end of the sectional. Snoring lightly, the blanket twisted around his waist, his sleeping mind didn't think twice about the movement happening in the rest of the living room.
Vincent moved back into the room, then stopped dead and SCREAMED as he saw the random person on the other side of the couch. How much did he drink?!?!! Who the hell WAS that?!!
The loud scream startled Del, waking him up. He flailed, grabbed the nearest pillow as he fell ungracefully off the couch and threw the pillow in the general direction of the noise.
Damien snapped into wakefulness, falling off his bed. "GODFUCKING DAMNIT, WHO THE FUCK SCREAMED?"
No matter how asleep he was, Brent could not ever sleep through that. He jerked awake, yelling, convinced that someone had a gun or the world was being attacked by zombies. "HUZZAHFRICKIN'HELL IT WASN'T ME!"
Vincent grabbed the pillow - frowned - and chucked it at Brent.
Dude! Where were you!? You totally missed the midterm! Did you drop that class...? ...Wait. When did you get here?"
Throwing his bedroom door open, Damien stomped into the living room and looked at the three people who had ganked his living room. "Ok. Guys, what the hell. Seriously, guys."
Dell: "It wasn't me!"
He pointed at Delmar angrily, an DX look on his face. "THAT'S WHAT THEY ALL SAY!"
Pillow in face! "Oof!" Brent fell over sideways in the mass confusion of waking from a dead sleep to find people yelling in his face.
Vincent crossed his arms, royally pissed off. "Who the FUCK is that?"
"...that's Brent. Our number twoooooo~ Who also missed his midterm...wait. were you even there for the final? Dude, how did you pass that class? Er, wait. Did you pass that class?"
Damien massaged his temples, indicating Brent. "Vincent, this is Brent. Brent, this is Vincent. And you're not allowed to be SO angry about someone sleeping in MY apartment."
"Well… technically he could have saved us all if Brent happened to be some crazy rapist serial killer."
Vincent flushed absolutely crimson. "...he made me scream like a girl," he muttered angrily.
"...." Damien blinked, staring at Vincent. "You're angry because he made you scream? And how, pray tell, did he accomplish this?"
". . .screaming like a girl is normal though. I mean, I scream like a girl alllll the timeee~ ...well not all the time. Just like. When I'm scared. Or... something."
"... Delmar, I find it particularly easy to imagine you screaming like a girl."
"I got up. I got a drink. I came back into the room. And there was someone on the couch I had just so previously occupied." The glass of water in his hands had now frozen solid.
"Woah. Brent! Are you a ninja?! Omgomgomgomg, teach me how to flip out and kill people!"
".... Delmar, go back to sleep."
Brent blinked, blinked again, then said in a high and indignant voice. "I was ASLEEP! I wasn't raping anyone!"
"You very well could have been!!!"
"Because people regularly break in with the intention of rape and then go 'Hm! I think I'll take a nap first!'"
Damien pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. "Vincent, stop being paranoid. I'm sorry that I forgot to tell you someone else is staying here, but I assure you that he's not a rapist, and he's not a serial murderer. Just... Sit. Go. On the couch." He pointed at the sectional.
Del climbed back up on the couch, pulling the blanket around him and making a cocoon for himself. "They do?! Holy crap! Who were you going to rape first?"
"..." Del paused to consider this, "...oh. Well. 'Least 'm not a virgin! AND I can't get preggos! ...Go me."
"I just... You're.... Goddamnit, Del." face + Palm = otp
"...Date rape," was all that Vincent said in response to Brent.
Damien turned and faced the wall, slamming his head against it over. and over. and over. and over.
"…You’re all insane. I'm tired and you're insane and I'm going back to sleep." He fell down into the couch with a 'whumph!', back to the room.
"...Wait. How...," Del looked at the front door, "...did we leave the door unlocked?"
Vincent growled and folded his arms. He was pissed off for no good reason whatsoever; he hadn't even begun to process the fact that Del had said Brent was number two. He irritably kicked the couch, right under where Brent was sleeping.
Damien was about to answer Del when there was a loud knocking at the front door. "Shit." He said, sighing. There was a high-pitched yell, followed by a few more knocks. "Shit, that's my landlord. Pearl." He answered the door, looking down at the tiny old lady. "Hi there, Pearl. How're you?"
The woman looked up at him, glaring. "WHAT'RE YOU DOING YOU LITTLE BITCH. IT'S 3AM."
Damien stared down at her, sighing. "I'm not a bitch, Pearl. Can I help you with something?"
"DON'T YELL SO LOUD IN THE MORNING." Pearl waggled a finger at him, holding an empty beer bottle in her other hand.
Del squeaked slightly, hiding in the blanket surrounding him, feeling horribly awkward.
"I need to get my drink on... do you have any beers?"
You're an alcoholic, Pearl."
Brent flipped Vincent the bird without even looking at him.
"But I need to get my drink on..."
Vincent stuck his tongue out at him, even though he couldn't see it.
Damien sighed, leaving the living room and getting a six pack from the kitchen and handing it to pearl. "Here. take that...and... have a good day." With that, Pearl departed, waving the six-pack as she went.
With that, Pearl departed, waving the six-pack as she went.
"..." Damien closed the door, slamming his head against it one last time. "God she's mean."
"…Well. That was epicly stupid," Brent muttered under his breath, still trying to ignore them but failing.
"Your face is epicly stupid," Vincent growled.
Your mom is epicly stupid!"
"... I'm going back to bed."
"I have had enough of all your shenanigans. Don't ever. EVER. Call me that again, or I will hit you."
"But it's cute~!," Del whined.
He frowned, staring at Delmar. "Do I look cute to you?"
". . .yes?"
"Delmar, don't make me hurt you. It's very early, and I'm very tired and verging on hung over."
"You'd really hurt me? I thought we were friends~!"
Damien fixed Del with an evil stare, before turning and walking into his room. "Goodnight."
Brent was tired. Brent was very tired. And irritable. "Fuck, take me with you. I don't think if you leave us in this room together anyone will survive until morning, especially with Mr. Frosty Ass there." He jabbed a thumb at the blond who looked like he was about to spontaneously combust.
Vincent kicked at him. "Shut the fuck up, Braig!"
"'Night 'night!" Del waved to Damien before blinking at the two arguing, "...Do you guys know each other... er. Well. Of course you know each other, but like. Now knowing each other. Like here. With the stuff. And the doings."
He had almost made it into his room. ALMOST made it to sleep again. But that had been the last straw. "EVEN. You. Sleep in the bedroom. GO."
Vincent stomped off to the room in a huff, not even caring that that WASN'T his name, and why the hell was he so worked up about nothing anyway? He flopped on the bed, scooched under the covers, and curled up in a ball.
"…Who the fuck is Braig?"
"He's... Confusing you for someone else." Damien muttered. "Just cool down for a minute, ok?" It hurt Damien to say that.... He didn't know why, but... it did.
Del giggled, "Vexy could help him cool down."
There was a growl and a loud bang from Damien's room.
Brent physically pulled back, confused by the signals he was reading in Damien's stance, and cast a sideways glance at Del. "You… are a very strange little person, did you know that?"
"..... Ok, I'm going to make sure he doesn't kill my room. I'll be back in a minute." He headed to his room, closing the door behind him. "... Vincent? You ok?"
"No," Vincent muttered, feeling wretched. "Sorry I threw your book," he added.
"Eh? I am? ...but. it made sense. OH~~~~ You don't remember either, do you?," Del pouted slightly, "that kinda sucks...You should get on that."
"It's fine." He sat down next to Vincent and set a hand on his back, sighing. "Wanna talk about it?"
"I don't even know. I just felt so... angry." He swallowed shakily. "What's happening to me, Damien? What the fuck is happening to me?"
He was silent for a minute, and then he picked up the lump of blanked that was Vincent, holding him close. "You're remembering." Damien muttered, shutting his eyes.
…Great, they were going to get into that, were they? "There's nothing to remember." And even if there was, Brent'd deny it until his face turned blue.
"There's a lot of things to remember! You just don't remember them so it seems like there's nothing to remember~! But jeez, I dunno why you wouldn't wanna remember Xiggy. Your powers were pretty awesome. Well...aside from getting footprints on the ceiling."
Vincent fumbled in the blankets, and finally found the edge and pushed the blanket away. He slipped his arms around Damien's neck and buried his head in his shoulder. "I'm scared," he whispered. "This isn't just about remembering anymore. I'm changing, and I'm... afraid of what I'm turning into."
Brent frowned. "I'm not 'Xiggy'," he lifted his hands up an mimed quotations in the air, "and I don't have powers and you need to not bug me about it."
Del angry!pouted at this. "Fine then! I'll show you~!" Del hopped up off the couch and went into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and returning, sitting on the floor in front of Brent. "Ready?"
He didn't want to be "shown." He wanted to go to sleep. And wake up and leave before anyone else got up. "Del," he warned, sitting up straighter on the couch. "I don't want to be Xigbar."
Del's face fell, ". . .but..." He looked down at his glass of water, "I....wanted to show you."
Vincent nodded, pressing his face in Damien's neck. "Why are you so understanding?"
"Whatever you have to show me won't convince me that I'm this 'Xigbar' that you so desperately want me to be for reasons beyond my comprehension." Brent shifted and pulled his knees up to his chest, unconsciously trying to cut himself off from the situation.
"I don't know. I guess I just am..." he shrugged, hugging Vincent a bit tighter. "I don't want you to hurt. Promise me you won't forget that."
"...Fine then!," Del slammed the glass of water down on the floor, "If you're going to be all grumpy about everything then you don't get to see my super awesome amazing neat trick!" He grabbed the discarded blanket from the couch and climbed into the chair at the other side of the room.
Vincent nodded. He knew, in the deepest part of his soul, that those words were true - that Damien, Dilan, whoever he was, was someone he could count on. "I promise."
"If you need anything, you can come and see me, ok?" Something about Vincent triggered the protective instinct in Damien... something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"Thanks." He felt much more relaxed now. "Um..." he really, really didn't want to go back down there. "Could I..."
"Of course." He nodded, smiling a little. "I can crash on the couch with the others. Hopefully, Brent hasn't face-shanked Delmar...."
"Hopefully..." Then Vincent frowned, confused. "...What did I call him?"
"You called him Braig." Damien said quietly, looking down at the carpet. His heart hurt.
Brent just kind of sat there for a moment. Struck dumb, thank you. He forcefully plopped back down on the couch and went back to his previous plan to ignored the blond across the room.
Del fidgeted around on the chair, which was considerably less comfortable than the couch, but eventually he found a decently comfortable position and attempted to sleep.
He pressed a kiss against Vincent's temple, tucking him back under the covers. "Sleep well, Vincent." Damien said, before exiting to the living room. "Are you both all right?" He asked Brent and Del.
"Besides jerky mcjerk face over there being a big meanie, yes."
"Del, don't be immature."
"'m not! He's mean! I jus' want'd ta show 'im my trick I can do with water but he was all being grumpy n' stuff!"
"I wasn't doin' anything…" Brent muttered. "I told him I wasn't Xigbar and he got all pissy."
Damien sat down next to Del, looking at him carefully. "Brent's right. He's not Xigbar. You're not Demyx. I'm not Xaldin. Just because we happen to share their memories, doesn't mean that we want to be them. You can't force Brent to be Xigbar, so please don't try." He turned to Brent, sighing. "And next time.... Just let him show you the goddamn water trick!"
"Ya well, denying everything isn't gonna get 'im anywhere," Del mumbled quietly, pouting stubbornly.
"Del, what did I say?"
"I didn't say he couldn't, I said that whatever he had to show me wouldn't convince me I'm that… other guy. Damn, can we not talk about this anymore? It's like spinning in circles." He curled up tighter, still staring at the patterns in the cloth of the couch he was currently taking up residence on.
Del contemplated sticking his tongue out Damien but thought better of it and pulled the blanket over his head.
"Ok, so... Delmar, Brent wants you to stop talking about this. So I think it's a good idea if we stop talking about it and get some sleep." At this point, Damien just kind of felt like turning things into fleas and putting the fleas in a box and putting the box into another box and then mailing the box to himself and SMASHING IT WITH A HAMMER.
((And then we just sort of stopped... Basically they all ended up passing out in various places, I believe the consensus was.))