Positively Shocking. {{Luci&Peter&Donny

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The day had been remarkably uneventful. Maybe that was a small blessing, since she was currently sprawled haphazardly on the couch and making decent progress on her assigned reading for once. The Silent Spring, it was this time. Not a bad book, per se, but infinitely less interesting than the new movie she'd recently downloaded, which was sitting in her laptop and providing a tempting call to diversion. If only she weren't already three chapters behind.

Peter was also being exceptionally quiet, which might have something to do with the fact that he'd retreated into his room for the past hour. Usually they spent the large part of her time in World's End together, whether channel surfing or planning some board- or cardgame of sorts, and the tranquility of that particular day was a bit of a oddity. She wasn't sure what Peter could be doing to occupy him for so long, but it wasn't all too strange an idea that they could use a little time of separation on the rarest occasions. Though in all honesty, she'd currently more than welcome an excuse for further procrastination.

She groaned and dropped the book, which landed squarely on her face. She closed her eyes and stared at the backs of her eyelids for awhile. It was rather boring. She tried to convince herself to keep reading—it wasn't a bad book, after all—but the more she laid on the couch with the book over her eyes, the more restless she felt. She was never good at sitting still and concentrating on one task for more than a set amount of time, a trait of hers which annoyed Ada on no end. She always needed to get up after thirty minutes, pace around their room, maybe dawdle on her computer for a short (or long) time. As Lucille considered her situation at the moment, she figured that perhaps what she needed was food. Some food to enhance her reading experience—that was always a good option, no?

With that in mind, she dragged The Silent Spring off her face and dumped it on the coffee table, then jumped off the couch. She made her way into the kitchen, which Arthur had kindly allowed her to use to make basic foods for Peter and herself. She was intent on getting herself a banana sandwich with Nutella, and that was precisely what she was doing when she heard a few knocks at the door. Preoccupied with a half-sliced banana on one hand and a half-coated piece of bread with Nutella in the other, she experienced a small moment of distress before deciding that she didn't have to be the one to deal with this interruption at that specific moment. Instead, she called up the stairs for Peter to "get the door, please!" If he refused, she could always tempt him with a sandwich but the dear tended to do as she asked anyway. Upon hearing a small commotion on the staircase, she resumed her task of making a procrastination-snack for herself, assured that their visitor would be taken care of.

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So what exactly was Peter doing up in his room all alone? Well, what else would a thirteen-year-old boy be doing up in his room alone?

VIDEO GAMES, OF COURSE.

Peter's computer was a powerhouse of awesomeness, which could handle just about any game he could possibly want with ease. Bought for him as a reward for keeping a promise for good grades and behavior (and also because Arthur was tired of Peter commandeering the computer in his home office,) Peter sat in his room, slaying dragons and absorbing their souls like a good little Dovahkiin.

It was no secret that Peter's antics on Skyrim were a point of interest for the family when they all decided to invade their favorite suntopped little brother's house. In fact, Donald and Iain were so amused by the game that the two of them learned the theme song, resulting in three arguably tone-deaf individuals (or maybe at least one of them was capable of actually singing, it's usually hard to tell when the three of them together sound like utter crap,) yelling "DOVAHKIIN, DOVAHKIIN, NAAL OK ZIN LOS VAHRIIN."

At that moment, the three would laugh, and the adults would likely feel this pervading sense of shame in the fact they had the lyrics to a song sung entirely in a fake language completely ingrained into their brains. Unlike Peter, however, they didn't know what those lyrics meant.

He was alone today, though, with only his favorite babysitter whom he had graciously decided to leave alone, after her claim of having homework she was behind on. Knowing the feeling all too well, himself being a skilled procrastinator, he retreated into the far reaches of the upstairs bedrooms and decided it would be best to leave her alone until he felt hungry enough to traipse back downstairs.

Peter didn't hear the knocks at the door, but he did hear Lucille's melodious voice call up the stairs to him, telling him to answer the door. He frowned. Who would dare to interrupt his gaming!?

He slipped a little on the wood floor (wearing socks!) as he plodded his way down the stairs. Who the crap could be at the door? He unlocked the door and opened it a smidgen, and caught a glimpse of familiar orange hair. "Donald!"

And then the door flew open.

[Donald Finn O'Neill-Kirkland]

There was always time to go and visit Arthur's house. Rather, Donald was more inclined to want to see Peter over Arthur. Either way, that chap was never home since he had politician, right-left-middle wing things to do. Of course, the more successful tended to not have time for much things, and when they did, in the case of Arthur, he would usually elope with more work. That was how Donald knew him and frankly, he had no qualms about it. It just kind of sucked that Donald didn't have too many chances to see the guy, even if he wanted to.

Peter was the next best thing. Not only did he resembled Arthur from the hair down to those bushy eyebrows, Peter was also much more fun to hang around. He was still a kid, yeah, but Donald had always enjoyed being around sources of energy and vigor. Although he was approaching his tender thirties in a couple of years, the ginger was lively of spirit and youthful of heart--most of the time. The pretense was the only way to move on from the past. However, as they say, the brighter the light that leads, the longer the shadows stretch from behind. He shoved that thought to the back of his head as he knocked on the door. Three knocks with his fist was how he always did it. He didn't really know why, but he just noticed that there was a pattern.

The door swung open, and there was the little cousin with the golden hair. "Donald!," he greeted.

A sprightly grin formed on his lips. "Heya, Squirrel! How are ye?"

Donald reached over and gave that hair a good and affectionate tousle. After that, he leaned through the door to take a quick glance, almost expecting Arthur to be inside. Once he saw no one, he removed his shoes and then stepped in to feel the plush of the carpet underneath his feet. Damn, these carpets would feel nice every time he had walked in.

"Just here visiting! Seeing how ye are and grades and shmagle," he announced, cheerfully waving his arms as he spoke. "Don't tell me he left ye here alone? Someone else's around yea?"

[Deleted]

No.

Ooooh nononono.

That hand came down upon Peter’s hair and rummaged through the locks like a ravenous, masticating beast who had been starving for weeks. Every Kirkland knew how much Peter hated having his hair messed up like that, and yet each of them insisted on doing it the moment they ran into him. He considered himself lucky that family reunions were damn near impossible to organize. God forbid the lot of them decide to stand in line and take a shot at Peter’s poor hair.

Peter’s response to Donald’s greeting was incomprehensible, muttered gibberish and a desperate attempt to smooth down his ruined hair. His blue eyes attempted to emulate ice as they glared up at the Irishman with dislike, lower lip protruding slightly in a very forced faux pout. Donald, you asshole!

"Just here visiting! Seeing how ye are and grades and shmagle," The way Donald waved his arms for emphasis on his words, it looked as if he were attempting to make lift-off from the ground like a space shuttle or, probably a gull seeing as Donald loved the water so much. "Don't tell me he left ye here alone? Someone else's around yea?"

Peter suddenly had images in his head of a seagull with Donald’s face and was immediately repulsed. That was… creepy. Yes, no more of that. Begone, foul images!

“What, no!” Peter was very much offended by this accusation of Arthur. “He’d never do that! Even if he did, you know, I can take care of myself, right.” He casually stepped aside to invite his cousin in. “No, Luci’s here.”

Luci, who might end up being upset at Peter if he just randomly invited his cousin in. From past experience Peter was convinced eventually they’d head up to Peter’s room to do stupid things and Donald’s motormouth was going to piss her off eventually.