Chapter 2

Aidan gazed up at the surface directly above his head.  Lisa really needed to clean for often.  All this dust was going to get in his hair.

"Tell me again.  Why am I under the bed?" he asked.  He thought he was being quite patient.  After all, he’d just been shoved under the bed.  The very dirty and cluttered "under the bed."

"Because I have to do a project with Erika, and I have no desire to attempt explaining you to her."

She did have a point there.  Although at that point he was only in a semiconscious state, he could recall Erika being a strange combination of prudish and condescending, and any encounter with her was bound to involve screaming.  Which would then involve further encounters, particularly with Lisa’s mother.  She would not take his presence in her daughter’s room well, that much he knew.

"So, what’s wrong with the closet?"  Aidan complained.

"I don’t know.  But you seemed to have problems with it the last time I had to hide you.  I believe you said something about it being to cramped to bear."

Aidan narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to retort when he was interrupted.

"The more you complain, the worse it will get." James drawled.

"I hate computers," Aidan muttered.

"That’s a fairly common sentiment," remarked said computer.

"Give it up Aidan," I advised.  "You can’t win against Mr. Perfect over there."

"Hey!  I am perfect!"

One hour later, Aidan had come to the conclusion that his first impression was correct: Erika was a condescending religion nut.  And Lisa was more patient than any human should be.

The problem with Erika was not that she was religious, but that she tried to be sarcastic, cynical, and religious at the same time.

"Is she ever going to get out of here?" Aidan muttered.  "The dust will ruin my hair."  His quiet commentary was rewarded by a kick from Lisa's direction.  "And bruised, too," he thought bitterly.

Lisa was meanwhile trying to urge Erika along, but Erika was one of those people who was entirely oblivious to such things.  Aidan was becoming increasingly difficult to muffle, as he was not pleased with having been stuffed under the bed.

"It's not that bad," she muttered under her breath to Aidan, who had been keeping up a running list of complaints for the past hour.  "And I'm trying to get her out of here!"

"Are you listening to me, Lisa?" Lisa's attention snapped from Aidan to Erika at the latter's hard tone.  Trust Erika to actually be observant when you least wanted her to be.

As Lisa attempted to come up with an excuse, she was saved.

"Lisa?" Her mother's voice floated up the stairs.  "Erika's mother called.  She's needed at home right now."

"Okay, Mom! We're coming." Lisa rose in a flurry of motion and dragged Erika with her.

As soon as the door closed behind the two teenage girls, Aidan rolled out from under the bed, and attempted to remove the dust from his hair and lungs.

"My respirtory system is going to be shot if I have to do much more of that," he wheezed.

"I imagine so" came a voice from behind him.  It wasn't James.

It was Jordan, Lisa's older brother.

"Who are you, and why are you in my sister's room?" He paused, and his eyes narrowed.  "And why are you wearing my clothes?"

Well, shit.  This was just what they needed now.

I walked back towards my room, sagging in relief.  Aidan had nearly blown it several times with his sniping comments, but the difficult part of the day was over.

Or so I thought.

My bedroom door, which I had most definitely closed, was ajar.  I assumed that Aidan had left it that way on a mad dash to the bathroom, or something.  That wasn't quite the case.

My brother sat on my bedroom floor with an expression on his face that he had stolen from my father at his most stern.

This conversation was going to be interesting.

Jordan had made himself at home on my floor, and he arched a single black eyebrow at me.

"Well?" he asked expectantly.  "You mind explaining how a twenty-five year old man, who happens to look just like that 'doll' you brought home last week, came to be in your room and wearing my clothes?"

Siblings, I mused, were apparently designed to be oblivious when you wanted them to be perceptive, and perceptive when you wanted them to be oblivious.  Jordan was being far too perceptive.  I didn't even know how he'd realized what I brought home that night; I thought he had been out at the time.

"Umm…" I paused.  This whole situation was so incredibly illogical, I had no clue how to explain it.  "Well, imagine I brought home a…"

"Mannequin?" supplied Jordan blandly.

"Yeah, a mannequin."  I was certain that I was tomato red.  "And then, imagine I had this 'power' to wake up said mannequin."

"Uh-huh," was my brother's response.  He looked somewhat dazed by this.  Then he turned, and poked Aidan between the eyes.  "Definitely plastic," he muttered.

"Hey!" protested Aidan.  "What'd you do that for?"

Jordan ignored Aidan and addressed me. I always knew you were weird, Lisa, but transforming male sex dolls into living beings is a bit much."

I narrowed my eyes and responded as best I could.  "Says the man who enjoys watching interior design shows."

"There's nothing wrong with appreciating ascetics in a room." He stated loftily.  Jordan glanced around critically.  "We're going to have to do something about this place if he's going sleep here."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." I mumbled.  "You're in charge, Big Gay Jordan."

After Jordan left, I collapsed on my bed and moaned in a picture of relief and mental pain.  My temporary relaxation was interupted by Aidan nudging me with his foot.

"Hey, get up.  Didn't you hear him? We're redecorating here."

"You've got to be kidding me." I groaned.

"No.  I think he said something about this being the ultimate project."

I burrowed deeper into my pillow at that.  "God save us now." I muttered.

"Come on, Lisa," Aidan whined.  "I don't want to sleep on the floor anymore."

If I had realized the level of Aidan's whininess, I wouldn't have awakened him.  But then, I recalled, I didn't exactly waken him purposefully anyway.

My reverie was interrupted by my brother's return.  "You'll still be sleeping on the floor you know," he replied to Aidan's comment.  "But it will be distinctly more comfortable and less dusty."  Jordan looked askance at the wrinkled clothes Aidan wore.  "We'll have to see about getting you more clothes."

It was so like Jordan to be concerned with clothes.  His preoccupation with them would never change.

"What are you doing with all that?" I inquired.  He was carrying wood, nails, and half the contents of my father's workshop.

"It looks like buying Dad tools for every occasion is actually paying off." He remarked.  "And if you had been paying any attention at all, you'd know.  We're elevating your bed."

"You're doing what?" I squawked.

Jordan looked at me with simulated awe.  "It's amazing.  You actually sound like a bird of prey."

Sometimes, I really wish I were an only child.
 

Jordan had seen more daytime cable then any person should legally be able to.  It was the only explanation for not only being able to loft my bed, but design a floor length dust ruffle as well.  Not to mention pillows.  It was scary.

My mother was, of course, thrilled by this.  Not only was her daughter developing an interest in style, but her children were 'bonding.'  I decided that letting her believe that was the best plan.

"How in the hell am I supposed to get up there?" It was so unfair.  My room was no longer my own; it had been commandeered by two men who managed to make it girlier.  Something was drastically wrong with that picture.

Jordan rolled his dark blue eyes.  "You use this," He pointed out the ladder.  "Are you done complaining yet?"

"No," I stated simply.  "You've taken over my room."

"And this is the greatest tragedy the world has ever experienced."

I heard Aidan snickering in the background and resisted the urge to throw something hard at him.  I instead smiled sweetly at my brother.

"Are you sure that you're the guy here?  You have twice the interest in this stuff that I do."

"That's hardly difficult," he commented calmly.  "You have no interest at all.  Now about this chair…"

I groaned.  It would never end.

It did end eventually, but not until Jordan had transformed my room into a casual contemporary palace.  I'm surprised he didn't take pictures.

"It's fine, I suppose." I said, as I looked around.  The transformation had involved a lot of slate blue fabric, for the dust ruffle and the chair.  Which was fine, since the avacado plaid upholstery had never been my thing.

Jordan was muttering something about straw mats to cover the floor.  Narrowing my eyes, I turned to him.  "There will be no straw mats, no more pillows, and no trips to Pier 1."

"You never let me have any fun," he pouted.

I lifted my eyebrows.  "You claim to be straight, and you enjoy interior design.  How can you possibly call me weird?"

"I don't turn mannequins into men," he replied.

"The score is: Lisa, 1; Jordan, 1.  Will there be a tie-breaker?" inquired Aidan snidely.

Two pairs of blue eyes cut towards him.  "Shut up," we said in unison.

Aidan flopped back on the bed and groaned.  "Wasn't one of them enough?"

Jordan continued to glare at him.

"Aidan." He intoned.  Emerald eyes briefly met cobalt.  "I want to speak to you outside."

I started to ask why, but then decided I didn't want to know.

Jordan stepped out of Lisa's room and checked the hallway for traffic.

He assured himself that the coast was clear, and then pinned Aidan against the wall.
 

"I know my sister well enough to realize she won't stand for me playing the overprotective older brother, so I'm only going to warn you once.  If I see or hear anything to indicate you have so much as breathed wrong in her presence, or that it has accelerated beyond the realm of platonic friendship, you will learn the meaning of pain."  Jordan's blue eyes had a feral gleam, and Aidan hurriedly nodded his understanding.

"Jordan smiled, signaling his return to a more normal, less psychotic state.  "Good.  Then we have no problems."

Aidan sagged against the wall.  "And I thought she was scary."

Chapter 3

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