Endgame (Scömìche)

23. Messages

"God, you are so fucking annoying sometimes! Just fucking tell me!" Mitch says, slapping the magazine he was holding down on the kitchen counter.

Scott, who's sat a few feet away, thumb dragging across his phone, grins broadly but keeps his eyes down, his attention focussed on whatever is currently displayed on the screen infront of him. "Nope," he says indifferently.

Mitch screams in frustration and Scott huffs lightly, "You're cute when you're mad," he sticks his tongue out at Mitch.

"You...you... ugh. Now you're just being rude," Mitch says, folding his arms.

"Oh, I'm the rude one now...?!" Scott responds, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated expression of surprise, "Me?! I'm not the one who was 'too busy' to talk earlier," he says in a slightly mocking tone, making quotation marks in the air, "Now I'm 'busy'."

Mitch moves round and glares at Scott's phone screen, "You're on twitter, that doesn't count!" he shrieks.

"I'm sure you're aware, dear, but social media platforms are one of our most import...."Scott starts, haughtily, before he's cut off by Mitch.

"Are you serious?!" he yells, "God, you're insufferable sometimes! You make me want to do violent things," he says through gritted teeth.

"Play nice, babe," says Scott in a calm tone, "Daddy's concentrating."

Mitch is dimly aware that Scott is just playing with him, and in usual circumstances he would easily flip the game to regain power and have fun doing so, but right now he's just had enough and he wishes Scott could see that. He's so frustrated he could almost cry but Scott just thinks it's funny.

"I'm not in the mood," Mitch says seriously, "Please just tell me what she said."

Scott just smirks, still staring at his phone. Mitch gives up and leaves the room. "Ugh. Fine. Call me when your ready to leave," he yells over his shoulder.

----

"Are you sure you're okay?" Scott says, looking into the rear view mirror as they leave the freeway.

"I'm fine," replies Mitch, tersely, arms hugging himself in the passenger seat. Scott glances over briefly but Mitch is staring straight ahead.

"That's eleven 'fines' since we left the house, do you have any other words?"

"Asshole; there's a word," Mitch snarks, raising an eyebrow fractionally.

"I think I liked 'fine' better," says Scott, a little exasperated, his head moving to check his mirrors as he changes lane.

"Fine," says Mitch, again.

"Mitch, c'mon, talk to me. I said I was sorry."

"No you didn't"

Scott opens his mouth to object but he's cut off.

"No: you said you were just teasing, you told me to 'chill the fuck out' but you did not say sorry."

"Well, I'm saying it now okay? I'm sorry; I was just teasing and I didn't realise you weren't playing along. I'm sorry."

"I was actually worried we'd offended her or something."

"No, babe, you think I'd let you stew on something like that?" Scott says turning his head quickly to catch a somewhat conciliatory expression on Mitch's face, "Kirst just wanted us to keep the Scömìche moments to a minimum; at least the ones that get snapped, and just for tonight. It is her engagement party. She's just worried Jeremy will get upset if he sees the fans melting down over us at their bash. She was really sweet about it and not at all pissed, okay?"