That night, Malik had taken over the entire living room with his homework and emotional stress. All of his books had been thrown over the floor, while his papers decorated any stable surface they possibly could. The occasional snack product and half empty cup added a little flare to whatever else hadn’t been covered.
When Kadar arrived home from his tutor session with Frederico (an event he had to fight brutally for), he found his brother, laid on his stomach in front of the couch.
At first he, actually, believed his sibling to be dead. He dropped his bag and hurried to his side.
“Malik!” He called, shaking his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, I know you’re freaking out but death isn’t the answer.”
After a moment of silence, his brother groaned and shifted. “Kadar? What are you talking about?” He asked, sitting up enough to shoot a glare at the younger sibling. He ran an aggravated hand through his hair.
Kadar sat back. “Ah, well, I thought…” He trailed off, looking awkward. Then, he smiled in such a way that had it been shown to anyone else, they may have been disturbed. “You’ve only got an hour until Altair gets here.”
Malik was on his feet not a second later. “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?!” He screeched. Not waiting for an answer, he bolted from the room, up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom. The entire way he complained, loudly, about just how much stress this Friday had been to his young life.
Kadar only rolled his eyes and set to work cleaning up his brother’s mess. Normally he wasn’t such a Good Samaritan but, today, he felt that Malik deserved a bit of a break.
After an hour of fretting about himself in front of the mirror, Malik eventually gave up and exited the bathroom. He had decided to forgo the whole fancy ‘date’ look and just gone with his normal attire. In the back of his mind he had the feeling that if he went in anything different than normal, then Altair might think that something was wrong. He went with his normal jeans, white shirt and black jacket.
“Mal-mal!” Kadar called up the stairs. “Your date’s here!”
“It’s not a date,” Malik mumbled to himself. With a huff, he paused momentarily to get his thoughts together. Once settled, he turned and strode downstairs.
Altair was seated on the couch, supplied with a soda. He was smirking at Kadar, who, it seemed, was telling a rather amusing story about his tutor session with Frederico. With the finishing of it, Altair was chuckling appreciatively and taking a small sip of his soda. When he saw Malik however, his expression tightened and he quickly set his drink down.
“Ah, Mal-mal,” he sighed, pointedly eying the man up and down. “You didn’t get dressed up for our date?”
“First off, it’s not a date,” Malik snapped, looking deeply annoyed. “Second, you didn’t either.” He tilted his head toward Altair.
Then again, Altair could wear a plastic bag and still look good. Tonight he had forgone the ‘recycled’ look and had gone with a simple white jacket, black shirt and jeans. He looked, to Malik, like a run way model. Frankly, it pissed him off. No man should be that attractive, especially when Malik was, irrefutably straight.
Altair shrugged. “I’ll give you that. Ready to see my new baby?” He asked, smirking at Malik now.
“Hold on.” Malik moved into the kitchen that was joined with the living room. He reappeared a second later with a, rather large, bottle of fine English Whiskey. “Just going for a drive is a terrible night. I thought we could make it more interesting,” he explained, holding up the bottle as he did so.
Altair’s eyes widened. “When did you become such a rebel?”
“Are you complaining?” Malik retorted.
Once more Altair shrugged. “Of course not. Well, come on then.” He fished his keys out of his pocket. “See ya later, squirt,” he said, glancing at Kadar. He moved toward the door but paused. “And just so you know, Frederico has a thing for blue eyed people. Last I heard, Vieri’s were brown.” He shot a wink at Kadar before he pulled open the front door and stepped outside.
“Make sure to lock the door behind me,” Malik sighed, rolling his eyes. “Good night, Kadar.”
“Have fun, Mal-mal,” Kadar called in a sing-song sort of way. Malik closed the door with a snap.
Re: Backseat Virgin [7/x]
When Kadar arrived home from his tutor session with Frederico (an event he had to fight brutally for), he found his brother, laid on his stomach in front of the couch.
At first he, actually, believed his sibling to be dead. He dropped his bag and hurried to his side.
“Malik!” He called, shaking his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, I know you’re freaking out but death isn’t the answer.”
After a moment of silence, his brother groaned and shifted. “Kadar? What are you talking about?” He asked, sitting up enough to shoot a glare at the younger sibling. He ran an aggravated hand through his hair.
Kadar sat back. “Ah, well, I thought…” He trailed off, looking awkward. Then, he smiled in such a way that had it been shown to anyone else, they may have been disturbed. “You’ve only got an hour until Altair gets here.”
Malik was on his feet not a second later. “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?!” He screeched. Not waiting for an answer, he bolted from the room, up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom. The entire way he complained, loudly, about just how much stress this Friday had been to his young life.
Kadar only rolled his eyes and set to work cleaning up his brother’s mess. Normally he wasn’t such a Good Samaritan but, today, he felt that Malik deserved a bit of a break.
After an hour of fretting about himself in front of the mirror, Malik eventually gave up and exited the bathroom. He had decided to forgo the whole fancy ‘date’ look and just gone with his normal attire. In the back of his mind he had the feeling that if he went in anything different than normal, then Altair might think that something was wrong. He went with his normal jeans, white shirt and black jacket.
“Mal-mal!” Kadar called up the stairs. “Your date’s here!”
“It’s not a date,” Malik mumbled to himself. With a huff, he paused momentarily to get his thoughts together. Once settled, he turned and strode downstairs.
Altair was seated on the couch, supplied with a soda. He was smirking at Kadar, who, it seemed, was telling a rather amusing story about his tutor session with Frederico. With the finishing of it, Altair was chuckling appreciatively and taking a small sip of his soda. When he saw Malik however, his expression tightened and he quickly set his drink down.
“Ah, Mal-mal,” he sighed, pointedly eying the man up and down. “You didn’t get dressed up for our date?”
“First off, it’s not a date,” Malik snapped, looking deeply annoyed. “Second, you didn’t either.” He tilted his head toward Altair.
Then again, Altair could wear a plastic bag and still look good. Tonight he had forgone the ‘recycled’ look and had gone with a simple white jacket, black shirt and jeans. He looked, to Malik, like a run way model. Frankly, it pissed him off. No man should be that attractive, especially when Malik was, irrefutably straight.
Altair shrugged. “I’ll give you that. Ready to see my new baby?” He asked, smirking at Malik now.
“Hold on.” Malik moved into the kitchen that was joined with the living room. He reappeared a second later with a, rather large, bottle of fine English Whiskey. “Just going for a drive is a terrible night. I thought we could make it more interesting,” he explained, holding up the bottle as he did so.
Altair’s eyes widened. “When did you become such a rebel?”
“Are you complaining?” Malik retorted.
Once more Altair shrugged. “Of course not. Well, come on then.” He fished his keys out of his pocket. “See ya later, squirt,” he said, glancing at Kadar. He moved toward the door but paused. “And just so you know, Frederico has a thing for blue eyed people. Last I heard, Vieri’s were brown.” He shot a wink at Kadar before he pulled open the front door and stepped outside.
“Make sure to lock the door behind me,” Malik sighed, rolling his eyes. “Good night, Kadar.”
“Have fun, Mal-mal,” Kadar called in a sing-song sort of way.
Malik closed the door with a snap.