I Drank The Poison and I Passed The Fuck Out.

Hold My Heart, It's Beating For You Anyway.

"Vic!"

We both sat up and looked around.

Mike stood in the doorway, coffee mug in hand, grinning at us.

"Mike, what are you doing here?" Michelle groaned, shoving her messy, tangled hair out of her face.

"Your sister invited me, What about you loverboy?" he asked, nodding at me.

"Michelle asked me to stay over last night. And no, before you blow it out of proportion, we did not-" "I know." He inturrupted. "I didn't either." He replied with a shrug.

Michelle had stumbled out of bed and was digging through her closet for clothes.

I hoped that Mike, although I doubted it, hadn't noticed the thin silk and lace nightgown Michelle was wearing.

"Love your tat." Mike pointed out.

My head turned in Michelle's direction.

Through the thin lace, I could see the outline of a small tattoo on her ribs.

I'd seen the girl naked twice and I hadn't noticed that before.

"Thank you. It's a sparrow holding a rose. I got it for my 21st birthday." Michelle said.

Then it hit me. And Mike.

We'd been all over these girls, and we didn't know how old they were.

If these girls were too young this would-

I stopped myself in mid-thought, and some of my own lyrics rang out in my head, and I wasn't worried about it anymore.

Mike beat me to the punch.

"How old are you?" He asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

Michelle turned, with a sour look on her face, "Don't you know you're never supposed to ask a woman her age?" She asked.

Mike shrugged, "A gentleman is never supposed to ask. I however, am not a gentleman dear." Mike reminded.

I nearly gave myself a migraine trying not to roll my eyes.

Michelle smiled, and her entire face softened, her smile lighting up the room.

"27." She said.

I was 28, not that mattered.

"When's your birthday?" Mike asked.

She shot him a glare, "Whats with the 3rd degree Sherlock Holmes?" She teased.

Mike laughed, "Just a few questions my dear Watson." He said.

"He never actually said that you know." I put in.

Mike ignored me, "So when is it?" He asked.

Michelle sighed, "December 26, 1984." She replied with a nod.

"And Sarah's?" He asked.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" I snapped bitterly.

"Because she's asleep, and I don't want to wake her." Mike replied, smiling dreamily.

"But you'll come in here and wake us up. You're an ass." I remarked, throwing the covers off and stretching.

"You're too kind, really. Now when?" He asked Michelle.

Michelle sighed, "November 6, 1986." She said.

"Mine's December 14." Mike bragged, beaming.

"And mine is February 10, now can you leave us alone and go bug someone else?" I growled, annoyed.