Set Backs. || PURPLEPHONE

Sibling Love.

(( I mean seriously, who puts a sofa on top of a cliff?))

Scott laughed, walking inside and peeling off his snow jacket. "I don't suppose you have spare clothes, so I'll just put my pyjamas back on."

"Sounds like an excuse to wear pyjamas all day," Vincent said, taking off his own jacket and closing the door. He walked over to the kitchen and picked up the air-con remote, turning the heater on. "I'll go get changed and I'll meet you back down here."

"Great," Scott skipped past Vincent and up the stairs, walking into his own room and shutting the door.

Vincent walked upstairs and went to his own room. He stripped off the wet clothes and pulled out dry, warm ones. Comfy grey trousers and a black shirt with a skull. He smoothed some snow out of his hair and looked himself in the mirror. Lady killer, Scott killer, and everyday killer.

He walked back out and downstairs, pulling out a saucepan, starting up the stove and pouring on some milk.

Mike walked in the front door, "Woah now. Careful you don't set your kitchen on fire. We'd all have to move into Scott's house. He and I can share the bed and you can be on the couch."

"What now?" Scott came bouncing down the stairs in his pyjamas from before, "Oh, hey Mike!"

"Hey Scott. How'd it go while I was gone?" He looked at Vincent, "You get a home run?"

"Eh. Second base," Vincent shrugged, "And a tickle fight."

"Ooh. Kinky," Mike said, nodding approvingly.

"Shut up, the both of you," Scott blushed, consciously putting the collar up on his pyjamas.

"Oooh ho, what's this?" Mike narrowed his eyes at Scott, "Why'd ya put your collar up, Scott?"

Scott blinked, "No reason. I mean, my neck is cold."

"Mhm. So it wouldn't be to hide, say, any embarrassing bruises?" Mike walked over and tugged the collar back down.

Scott slapped his hand away, stepping back, "None of your business!"

Mike laughed, "Ha. You really are into necking, aren'tcha, Scott? Did it feel as good when Vincent did it as you expected?"

"Woah, wait," Vincent looked from Scott to Mike, "Scott was talking about how good sleeping with me would feel?"

Scott blushed darkly, he glared at Mike. But he was saved by the bell - or more, the smell coming from the stove - "Vincent, the milk's burning."

"Oh, chiz," Vincent turned back around to the stove, pouring in the chocolate powder and stirring so the milk wouldn't burn any further, "They're almost done anyway."

"I'll leave it to you both," Mike said, "I'm late for a Call of Duty tournament with my friends."

"Seeya," Scott said, then he turned to Vincent, "I'll go lie on the couch and make sure it's comfortable enough. It's an important job."

"I'm sure it is," Vincent chuckled, "I'll only be a few minutes longer."

Scott walked off into Vincent's living room, and Vincent was left behind, idly stirring at the milk while the chocolate dissolved. Reaching up, he pulled out two mugs from the kitchen cupboard. When the hot chocolate had warmed up, he took it off the stove, pouring it into the mugs.

He walked out into the living room, a mug of steaming hot chocolate in each hand.

Scott was sprawled on the couch. He opened one eye lazily, "Just pour it into my mouth."