Fic: House
House
Pairing(s) in the story: Lil’Jemaine/Lil’Bret (Flight of the Conchords)
Author Name/Pen Name: she_burns1
Disclaimer: I do not own Flight of the Conchords, or Hbo, or Bret, or Jemaine…though I will glad take donations of Bret/Jemaine!
Rating of story: PG
Word Count: 3,661
Warnings: This story is disgustingly cute and fluffy. You’ve been warned.
Brief summary: Bret and Jemaine play house.
Notes: Oh god. I should probably get shot for writing this. This is probably the worst FOTC fic ever written ever but my muse wouldn’t let it go. Basically it’s Bret and Jemaine when they’re little kids (yes, I know they didn’t know each other when they were little buuuutt…) and it is over-the-top-cutesy. I’m talking like - reading this WILL give you diabetes cute. Anyway, I am aware it is cliched and awful and you all will probably despise me for it - but if you want to give it a try - read it. At least it’s out of my system.
“Bret, honey, your play date is here!”
“Mu-oooom! Don’t call him that!” Bret whined up from the bottom of the basement stairs. He huffed and stomped back over to the couch where his favorite toy guitar sat. He picked it up and started playing with it, muttering under his breath about how silly mothers were.
He could distinctly hear his mother talking at the top of the stairs. She was trying to keep her voice hushed, but it carried down well, “Oh dear, well, you know how he can be, don’t you, Jemaine? Now, you take your time going down the stairs, sweetie, hold the handrail!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You all have fun down there. I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McKenzie,” Jemaine said excitedly and he noisily plodded down the stairs, one hand gripped firmly to the handrail. The basement of the McKenzie household was basically a big room that housed an old TV, a lone beat-up couch, and a ridiculous amount of various toys and odd and ends that Bret had collected. There was also a sole restroom and towards the back the ever dark, and ever frightening, laundry room.
Jemaine pushed up his huge new glasses. He had just gotten them two weeks ago and they made him self-conscious. He walked over to where Bret sat, “Hey Bret.”
“Jemaine,” Bret acknowledged, trying to act cool and casual. He wondered how long it would take Jemaine to notice-
“Um,” Jemaine scratched at the back of his ear as he sat on the couch next to Bret, “What’s that on your face?”
Bret grinned; it hadn’t taken long at all! He was surprised; sometimes Jemaine could be so clueless, “Isn’t it cool? It’s a beard!”
“It,” Jemaine scooted closer, eyes narrowed as he studied his face, “It looks like…smeary. Black and smeary.”
“Smeary?”
“Yeah, my Mum always says when I got something on my face she could just smear it off, then she spits into something and rubs it on my face,” Jemaine’s face scrunched up, “I hate when she does that.”
“Oh, well, I did make it with some of Mum’s black stuff.”
Jemaine raised an eyebrow and Bret got off the couch to run into the bathroom, he grabbed a bag and ran back with it, depositing himself on the couch again, “Yeah, see here,” he reached in the bag and brought out a thin bottle of mascara, “This stuff. The brush was all tickly but it did the job.”
Jemaine took the bottle and looked at it, “Yeah, I’ve seen something like this. My Mum has it in her make-up-face-kit. You took your Mum’s make-up-face?”
Bret nodded, “Just a bit,” he dug around in the bag, “I also got some blue, pink, and purple powdery stuff and some red tube - think it’s that stuff she puts on her lips when we go out.”
Jemaine just nodded and handed the mascara back, “So, you took it to make yourself a beard?”
Bret beamed, “Yeah, I’m gonna grow one when I’m older.”
“’S not a bad idea,” Jemaine mused, “You look kinda silly now though.”
Bret frowned, “No, I don’t. I look cool.”
Jemaine shrugged, unimpressed, “So what are we gonna do today?”
“Dunno,” Bret admitted, shoulders slumped. He had hoped Jemaine would be more in awe of his beard. He reached down into the couch cushions in his boredom, trying to think of something they could do. He found something hard and dug it up, “Oh! Been looking for these.”
Jemaine’s eyebrows knitted together as Bret held up one pink high-heeled shoe. Bret dug into the cushions again and found the matching set, “There we go! Got both of them now.”
He shrugged his shoes off and popped on the heels, he stood up in front of Jemaine, grinning, “See? I got a beard and I’m taller now too.”
Jemaine frowned and crossed his arms. He didn’t want to admit he was the slightest bit envious of Bret’s new height, “Now you look even more ridiculous.”
Bret caught on quick though, “You’re just jealous.”
“Am not,” Jemaine lied.
Bret gave him an incredulous look and sat back down, “Yeah, ok, whatever.”
Jemaine sighed, bored as well now, “You want to play space men?”
“Nah, we did that last week.”
“How about robots?”
“No. Last time we did that I got in trouble. Mum said I talked in the voice too long and I got on her nerves, had to sit in the corner.”
Jemaine grimaced, “I hate that.”
“Yeah, Mum’s can be pretty evil when they have a mind to be.”
“Almost as bad as when they make you eat peas. I hate peas.”
“How about we play with my dinosaurs.”
“No.”
“My trucks?”
“Nah,” Jemaine didn’t like to play with Bret’s toys. He usually ended up getting envious about the whole thing and he all ready felt like he’d done that enough what with the extra height and beard and all.
“We could play rock stars. I got my guitar here and you could go get the drums or whatever.”
“Hmm, not much up for practice.” Jemaine never considered them to ‘play’ rock star and insisted on calling it practice, as he planned on being a rock star when he grew up. Bret wasn’t as serious about it - he planned on being either a space man, a firefighter, a doctor, a zoo keeper, or a robot when he grew up - the list of possible future professions for him seemed to grow bigger every week.
“Then what do you want to do?” Bret asked with an exasperated sigh. He liked playing with Jemaine, but honestly, he couldn’t play with him unless they chose something to play.
Jemaine eyed Bret’s heels and the bag of make-up, then he sat up, “Hang on, I know, how about we play house.”
“House?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t think we’ve ever played that one.”
“It’s easy. It’s like, we pretend we’re grown ups.”
Bret started to get exited, this sounded like fun, “Ok, well, how do you play?”
Jemaine’s arms were still crossed but one hand went up to his chin thoughtfully. It was now Bret’s turn to be jealous. With the new glasses and all, Jemaine just looked so smart. Bret wished he had make-me-look-smart-and-cool-glasses like that.
“Well,” Jemaine said thoughtfully, trying to remember how to play. He had only vague references from seeing girls’ play it and he didn’t want to confess he had stolen the idea from them, as it would then be labeled a girls game and thus unplayable, “One of us is the Dad and one of us in the Mum.”
“Which is which?”
“Well, you’re the Mum naturally.”
Bret balked, “Why am I the Mum?”
“You’ve got the heels on, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, but that just makes me taller, more like the Dad.”
“But you’re smaller.”
Bret pushed himself back into the couch and thrust out his shoulders, trying to look bigger, “No, I’m not.”
“You are. ‘Sides, you’ve got your Mum’s make-up, so you’ve got a Mum thing right there.”
Bret did have to concede on that, “I suppose…”
“Wouldn’t be right of me to use that stuff, she’s not my Mum. You can put on the lip stuff too, be even more like a Mum.”
“Won’t that look weird? I all ready got a beard.”
“So? Some Mum’s have beards. What about Taika’s Mum, she’s got a beard, hasn’t she?”
“No, I think you’re thinking of his Aunt.”
“Oh yeah, isn’t he with her for the summer?”
Bret nodded and both boys shuddered at the thought. Poor Taika. He sometimes played with them as well, but more often than not it was just Bret and Jemaine. Taika usually spent a lot of time with the neighbor girl, Loren. Both Bret and Jemaine feared for him on this - after all, girls were crawling with all sorts of diseases. Cooties at the forefront, naturally, but then there was the fact they made you play ridiculous games with dolls and various pink things.
Loren was the coolest girl they knew (she wasn’t much of pink-lover), but that didn’t change the fact that she was still sadly a girl and thus still sadly riddled with cooties. They all hoped when she was older she could take the same vaccination they were positive their Mum’s took.
“Anyway, you can have a beard and be a Mum.”
“But it was his Aunt-”
“Same thing.”
“Don’t think it is.”
“Look,” Jemaine huffed, “Are we going to play or not? You’re the Mum, I’m the Dad.”
Bret sighed and shrugged, “Ok, ok.”
“Good, that’s settled then.”
Bret took out the lip stuff and went to the bathroom so he could look in the mirror. He did his best to put it on right but he basically made crazy, sloppy rings around his mouth and now, with the beard, looked sort of like one of those sad-hobo clowns. Jemaine thought he looked perfect though.
“All right, now if only we had some clothes…”
“We,” Bret swallowed, rubbing his palms on his pants nervously, “We could go to the laundry room.”
Jemaine’s eyes widened, “But its dark in there!”
Neither Bret nor Jemaine went near the laundry room as it was at the far end of the basement and was always perpetually dark. Neither of them had ever found the light switch and frankly they didn’t spend a lot of time searching for it.
“Yeah, but, we’d be together.”
“True. Looks like we’re playing explorer a bit as well then.”
“Just a bit. You want to take my hand?”
“Of course,” Jemaine said and took hold of Bret’s hand. No way was he going in the stupid, scary laundry room without holding hands.
They slowly edged closer and closer to the laundry room until they were almost inside. The darkness yawned out before them and neither was eager to be the first to set foot inside when luck, unexpectedly, ended up being with them.
Just in the inside doorway, halfway between the darkness and the light, was a basket full of clothes. Bret bravely reached out his free hand and took hold of the basket. Jemaine squeezed the hand he held, nervous and worried for Bret. There could be anything in the laundry room darkness. It could try and reach out to snatch Bret while he was taking the basket.
Fortunately this did not happen and once Bret had the basket the two of them ran back to the couch as quickly as they could, far from the terrors of the laundry room. Once they were back at the couch they started digging through the basket they had captured.
Jemaine found a long sleeved white business shirt and quickly tossed it on. He also found a tie, which he knotted around his neck as neither he nor Bret had any idea how to begin tying a tie.
Bret didn’t find much in the way of clothing save a skirt and after much cajoling put it on over his pants, he pouted, “I look like a girl.”
“No, you don’t. You look like a Mum. ‘Sides, it’s just pretend.”
“And you promise you won’t tell anyone I put it on?”
“Pinky swear,” Jemaine put out his pinky and Bret shook it. The pinky swear was an unbreakable oath, so after it was performed, Bret felt much better.
Still, his costume was not complete, so Bret rummaged around his odds and ends. He found a floppy sun hat his mother wore when she was gardening as well as a feather boa she swore she used to wear when she was out and about.
With both of their looks complete, they could start playing. They decided that the front of the couch would be the inside of their house and the other side would be the outside. Jemaine immediately went to this side, announcing he was at work, while Bret took the front end of the couch and pretended to clean up, as this was what Mum’s did.
Jemaine strolled around to the front of the couch and deepened his voice, “Honey, I’m home!”
“Oh! Good! You can make dinner then!” Bret announced, his voice squeaky high as he pretended to dust the couch, “And don’t forget to pet our ocelot!”
“Ocelot?”
“Yes, his name’s Henry.”
“What’s an ocelot?”
“It’s a big cat with spots.”
“So, like a cheetah.”
“No, more like a leopard but awesomer. Henry’s an ocelot.”
“Are you making that up?”
“No. They’re real. But Henry IS purple, so he’s a bit different.”
“There…is there such a thing as purple ocelots?”
“No, not purple ones - just Henry. He’s the best one.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t forget to pet him! He missed you while you were away!”
Jemaine reached out a hand and pretended to pet an invisible purple ocelot. He took his hand back quickly, “Ah! Tried to bite me!”
Bret shrugged, “Well, he is hungry, best get to work on dinner then.”
“But you’re the Mum. Mum’s cook. Dad’s just work all day at work and complain about how long, hard and boring it is.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s fair. I think you should cook at least one day out of the week. After all, I’m here alone all day cleaning the house, looking after Henry and the baby-”
“The baby? We don’t have a baby.”
Bret scowled and reached into the laundry basket. He pulled out a pillowcase then grabbed one of his dinosaurs. He wrapped it up quickly and thrust it at Jemaine, “Do too.”
Jemaine looked at the bundle with one eyebrow raised, “We have a baby?”
“Yes. His name is BJ.”
“BJ?”
“Bret Junior.”
“Hang on, he’s our baby. I should get a say in his name.”
“What’s wrong with Bret Junior?”
“Bret’s not a good name.”
“What?! Bret’s my name.”
“I know. I’m sorry, it’s not very good.”
Bret’s bottom lip trembled and he resisted crying by only a little bit, “Yeah. Well. Jemaine’s no good either, so,” Bret stuck his tongue out and it was now Jemaine’s turn to resist crying.
There was a tense silence as the two children considered each other and the unhappy words said. Bret spoke first, “If-if you were to name our baby, what would you have named him, then?”
“Oh. Um. Steve.”
“Steve?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh…well…that’s not too bad.”
“Or maybe we could call him…Tim?”
“I like the name Derek.”
“We could put all those names together, couldn’t we?”
Bret smiled and so did Jemaine, unspoken apologies accepted and thus their dinosaur child was christened Steven Timothy Derek, or for short STD, which, neither child saw any problem with.
“So then, you going to make dinner for us?”
Jemaine shrugged, “I suppose. Only fair I make dinner one night out of the week.”
“And tomorrow we can visit my Mum.”
“And then the next day is business time.”
“Business time?”
Jemaine nodded, “Yeah, my parents always have business time on Wednesdays. I always have to go out when they do, because they say it’s very boring.”
“Are they doing their taxes? My parents do that, but they do it on Fridays.”
“Yeah, it’s probably the same thing - your parents just may not call it business time.”
Bret agreed with a nod and sat on the couch, cradling STD and petting Henry. Jemaine reached in one of his pockets (he always had a few things squirreled away in each) and pulled out a package of bubblegum. He sat on the couch next to Bret and offered him a piece, “Here you go. Dinner. Made it myself.”
Bret took the gum, “What is it?”
“Bubblegum pie.”
“Oh, wow!” Bret unwrapped his piece of gum and split it three times. He offered one piece to STD and one to Henry. He chewed one piece for himself right away and then chewed the other two pieces as STD and Henry didn’t seem as hungry as he had thought.
Bret looked admiringly at Jemaine, “That Bubblegum pie was good! You think of better dinner foods than I do. You sure you’re not more the Mum type?”
Jemaine shook his head, “Nope. I just learned to make that while I was on the road at an important business deal that was also at a concert I held.”
“You’re a business man and a rock star?”
“I lead a full life,” Jemaine confirmed, “Got to make good money to take care of you, Henry, and Studdy, don’t I?”
“Studdy?”
“STD.”
“Oh! You’ve given him a nickname!”
“Of course, he’s my baby. You have a nickname too.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, ‘s not like I call you ‘Mum’ all the time. I call you ‘honey’ too.”
“Oh. That’s right! You called me that when you came home.”
“Exactly.”
“Do I have a nickname for you?”
“I don’t know…do you?”
“No. I should think of one.”
Jemaine merely nodded and chewed his bubblegum pie, “You did a good job. Cleaning the house and taking care of Studdy.”
“Thanks,” Bret beamed, “You did a good job too…working and touring and all. Did you get me anything?”
“Hmm?”
“While you were on the road at work. Did you get me a present?”
“Should I have?”
“Sure, Dad’s get Mum’s gifts when they go away…or when they’re in trouble.”
“True,” Jemaine reached in his pockets again. He tossed out some pocket lint but decided this was not a good present. He went deeper and found some cookie crumbs. Again, no good. At last he found a rubber band and he brought it out proudly, “Here you are! A bracelet!”
“Ohhhh! It’s lovely!” Bret held out his arm, “Put it on!”
Jemaine slipped the band on Bret’s wrist and Bret brought it close to his face. He showed it off to Studdy and Henry, and then fingered it thoughtfully. He looked at Jemaine and smiled.
“I-I don’t think you’ve ever given me anything.”
“I’ve given you stuff before. Remember when I gave you the chicken pox?”
“Yeah but - that was bad. This…this is a nice present.”
Jemaine shrugged. He didn’t see the big deal in the rubber band. It was just tan rubber but Bret seemed to like it and that made him happy. He was about to say something when both he and Bret heard the upstairs door creak open and Mrs. McKenzie call down, “Boys? Lunch is ready!”
“Great! I’m hungry!” Jemaine enthused and got to his feet. He shrugged off the shirt and tie and Bret did the same with the skirt, hat, and boa. They both got over to the stairs when suddenly Bret caught Jemaine’s wrist and held him still long enough for Bret to swoop in and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Jemaine’s hand went to the cheek Bret kissed and he flushed pink, “Wh-what was that for?”
“Mum’s kiss Dad’s when they do something nice for them.”
Jemaine rubbed at the place Bret had kissed and he felt hot, “Oh.”
“Um,” Bret looked shy, “Dad’s usually…you know…”
Jemaine looked down, then at Bret through his eyelashes. He quickly kissed his friend on the cheek back. Both friends were red when they went upstairs, hands unintentionally having clasped together.
Mrs. McKenzie scolded Bret when she saw his face, even more so when she saw he had gotten some of the make-up on his friend Jemaine’s face. But her tone wasn’t all that sharp. After all, how could she truly be mad at two such adorable boys? She gave them some juice boxes and plates of scrambled eggs, and then let them sit in Bret’s favorite box in front of the TV so they could watch their favorite TV Show, Albi.
As they watched, Bret looked at Jemaine and smiled. He leaned close to his friend and whispered conspiratorially, “I’ve thought of a nickname for you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Jem.”
Jemaine beamed, “Oh! I like that!”
“Thanks, Jem,” Bret said and he took Jemaine’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze, “My Jem.”
Both boys continued to hold hands until the show was over. They were both sleepy by this point and eventually found their way to the couch, where they slept until Jemaine’s Mum came to take him home.
Bret thanked Jemaine for coming over and said he looked forward to the next time. Once he was gone, Mrs. McKenzie asked her son if he had a good time with his play date.
Bret rolled his eyes, “Mu-oooom!”
“Oh, well, did you have fun or not?”
Bret beamed, “Yes, I always have fun when Jemaine comes over. We played a new pretend game - it was very fun.”
“Well, good. You go on and take a bath and get ready for bed. And make sure you get that stuff off your face!”
Bret did as he was told and began thinking about the next time he saw Jemaine again. He knew next time he wouldn’t have a hard time thinking of something for them to do.
To make up for how bad this is, if you want to read a good story - I recommend moireac's It's So Embarrassing To Need Someone Like I Do You or ballroombubble's Better Than Coco.
Pairing(s) in the story: Lil’Jemaine/Lil’Bret (Flight of the Conchords)
Author Name/Pen Name: she_burns1
Disclaimer: I do not own Flight of the Conchords, or Hbo, or Bret, or Jemaine…though I will glad take donations of Bret/Jemaine!
Rating of story: PG
Word Count: 3,661
Warnings: This story is disgustingly cute and fluffy. You’ve been warned.
Brief summary: Bret and Jemaine play house.
Notes: Oh god. I should probably get shot for writing this. This is probably the worst FOTC fic ever written ever but my muse wouldn’t let it go. Basically it’s Bret and Jemaine when they’re little kids (yes, I know they didn’t know each other when they were little buuuutt…) and it is over-the-top-cutesy. I’m talking like - reading this WILL give you diabetes cute. Anyway, I am aware it is cliched and awful and you all will probably despise me for it - but if you want to give it a try - read it. At least it’s out of my system.
“Bret, honey, your play date is here!”
“Mu-oooom! Don’t call him that!” Bret whined up from the bottom of the basement stairs. He huffed and stomped back over to the couch where his favorite toy guitar sat. He picked it up and started playing with it, muttering under his breath about how silly mothers were.
He could distinctly hear his mother talking at the top of the stairs. She was trying to keep her voice hushed, but it carried down well, “Oh dear, well, you know how he can be, don’t you, Jemaine? Now, you take your time going down the stairs, sweetie, hold the handrail!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You all have fun down there. I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McKenzie,” Jemaine said excitedly and he noisily plodded down the stairs, one hand gripped firmly to the handrail. The basement of the McKenzie household was basically a big room that housed an old TV, a lone beat-up couch, and a ridiculous amount of various toys and odd and ends that Bret had collected. There was also a sole restroom and towards the back the ever dark, and ever frightening, laundry room.
Jemaine pushed up his huge new glasses. He had just gotten them two weeks ago and they made him self-conscious. He walked over to where Bret sat, “Hey Bret.”
“Jemaine,” Bret acknowledged, trying to act cool and casual. He wondered how long it would take Jemaine to notice-
“Um,” Jemaine scratched at the back of his ear as he sat on the couch next to Bret, “What’s that on your face?”
Bret grinned; it hadn’t taken long at all! He was surprised; sometimes Jemaine could be so clueless, “Isn’t it cool? It’s a beard!”
“It,” Jemaine scooted closer, eyes narrowed as he studied his face, “It looks like…smeary. Black and smeary.”
“Smeary?”
“Yeah, my Mum always says when I got something on my face she could just smear it off, then she spits into something and rubs it on my face,” Jemaine’s face scrunched up, “I hate when she does that.”
“Oh, well, I did make it with some of Mum’s black stuff.”
Jemaine raised an eyebrow and Bret got off the couch to run into the bathroom, he grabbed a bag and ran back with it, depositing himself on the couch again, “Yeah, see here,” he reached in the bag and brought out a thin bottle of mascara, “This stuff. The brush was all tickly but it did the job.”
Jemaine took the bottle and looked at it, “Yeah, I’ve seen something like this. My Mum has it in her make-up-face-kit. You took your Mum’s make-up-face?”
Bret nodded, “Just a bit,” he dug around in the bag, “I also got some blue, pink, and purple powdery stuff and some red tube - think it’s that stuff she puts on her lips when we go out.”
Jemaine just nodded and handed the mascara back, “So, you took it to make yourself a beard?”
Bret beamed, “Yeah, I’m gonna grow one when I’m older.”
“’S not a bad idea,” Jemaine mused, “You look kinda silly now though.”
Bret frowned, “No, I don’t. I look cool.”
Jemaine shrugged, unimpressed, “So what are we gonna do today?”
“Dunno,” Bret admitted, shoulders slumped. He had hoped Jemaine would be more in awe of his beard. He reached down into the couch cushions in his boredom, trying to think of something they could do. He found something hard and dug it up, “Oh! Been looking for these.”
Jemaine’s eyebrows knitted together as Bret held up one pink high-heeled shoe. Bret dug into the cushions again and found the matching set, “There we go! Got both of them now.”
He shrugged his shoes off and popped on the heels, he stood up in front of Jemaine, grinning, “See? I got a beard and I’m taller now too.”
Jemaine frowned and crossed his arms. He didn’t want to admit he was the slightest bit envious of Bret’s new height, “Now you look even more ridiculous.”
Bret caught on quick though, “You’re just jealous.”
“Am not,” Jemaine lied.
Bret gave him an incredulous look and sat back down, “Yeah, ok, whatever.”
Jemaine sighed, bored as well now, “You want to play space men?”
“Nah, we did that last week.”
“How about robots?”
“No. Last time we did that I got in trouble. Mum said I talked in the voice too long and I got on her nerves, had to sit in the corner.”
Jemaine grimaced, “I hate that.”
“Yeah, Mum’s can be pretty evil when they have a mind to be.”
“Almost as bad as when they make you eat peas. I hate peas.”
“How about we play with my dinosaurs.”
“No.”
“My trucks?”
“Nah,” Jemaine didn’t like to play with Bret’s toys. He usually ended up getting envious about the whole thing and he all ready felt like he’d done that enough what with the extra height and beard and all.
“We could play rock stars. I got my guitar here and you could go get the drums or whatever.”
“Hmm, not much up for practice.” Jemaine never considered them to ‘play’ rock star and insisted on calling it practice, as he planned on being a rock star when he grew up. Bret wasn’t as serious about it - he planned on being either a space man, a firefighter, a doctor, a zoo keeper, or a robot when he grew up - the list of possible future professions for him seemed to grow bigger every week.
“Then what do you want to do?” Bret asked with an exasperated sigh. He liked playing with Jemaine, but honestly, he couldn’t play with him unless they chose something to play.
Jemaine eyed Bret’s heels and the bag of make-up, then he sat up, “Hang on, I know, how about we play house.”
“House?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t think we’ve ever played that one.”
“It’s easy. It’s like, we pretend we’re grown ups.”
Bret started to get exited, this sounded like fun, “Ok, well, how do you play?”
Jemaine’s arms were still crossed but one hand went up to his chin thoughtfully. It was now Bret’s turn to be jealous. With the new glasses and all, Jemaine just looked so smart. Bret wished he had make-me-look-smart-and-cool-glasses like that.
“Well,” Jemaine said thoughtfully, trying to remember how to play. He had only vague references from seeing girls’ play it and he didn’t want to confess he had stolen the idea from them, as it would then be labeled a girls game and thus unplayable, “One of us is the Dad and one of us in the Mum.”
“Which is which?”
“Well, you’re the Mum naturally.”
Bret balked, “Why am I the Mum?”
“You’ve got the heels on, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, but that just makes me taller, more like the Dad.”
“But you’re smaller.”
Bret pushed himself back into the couch and thrust out his shoulders, trying to look bigger, “No, I’m not.”
“You are. ‘Sides, you’ve got your Mum’s make-up, so you’ve got a Mum thing right there.”
Bret did have to concede on that, “I suppose…”
“Wouldn’t be right of me to use that stuff, she’s not my Mum. You can put on the lip stuff too, be even more like a Mum.”
“Won’t that look weird? I all ready got a beard.”
“So? Some Mum’s have beards. What about Taika’s Mum, she’s got a beard, hasn’t she?”
“No, I think you’re thinking of his Aunt.”
“Oh yeah, isn’t he with her for the summer?”
Bret nodded and both boys shuddered at the thought. Poor Taika. He sometimes played with them as well, but more often than not it was just Bret and Jemaine. Taika usually spent a lot of time with the neighbor girl, Loren. Both Bret and Jemaine feared for him on this - after all, girls were crawling with all sorts of diseases. Cooties at the forefront, naturally, but then there was the fact they made you play ridiculous games with dolls and various pink things.
Loren was the coolest girl they knew (she wasn’t much of pink-lover), but that didn’t change the fact that she was still sadly a girl and thus still sadly riddled with cooties. They all hoped when she was older she could take the same vaccination they were positive their Mum’s took.
“Anyway, you can have a beard and be a Mum.”
“But it was his Aunt-”
“Same thing.”
“Don’t think it is.”
“Look,” Jemaine huffed, “Are we going to play or not? You’re the Mum, I’m the Dad.”
Bret sighed and shrugged, “Ok, ok.”
“Good, that’s settled then.”
Bret took out the lip stuff and went to the bathroom so he could look in the mirror. He did his best to put it on right but he basically made crazy, sloppy rings around his mouth and now, with the beard, looked sort of like one of those sad-hobo clowns. Jemaine thought he looked perfect though.
“All right, now if only we had some clothes…”
“We,” Bret swallowed, rubbing his palms on his pants nervously, “We could go to the laundry room.”
Jemaine’s eyes widened, “But its dark in there!”
Neither Bret nor Jemaine went near the laundry room as it was at the far end of the basement and was always perpetually dark. Neither of them had ever found the light switch and frankly they didn’t spend a lot of time searching for it.
“Yeah, but, we’d be together.”
“True. Looks like we’re playing explorer a bit as well then.”
“Just a bit. You want to take my hand?”
“Of course,” Jemaine said and took hold of Bret’s hand. No way was he going in the stupid, scary laundry room without holding hands.
They slowly edged closer and closer to the laundry room until they were almost inside. The darkness yawned out before them and neither was eager to be the first to set foot inside when luck, unexpectedly, ended up being with them.
Just in the inside doorway, halfway between the darkness and the light, was a basket full of clothes. Bret bravely reached out his free hand and took hold of the basket. Jemaine squeezed the hand he held, nervous and worried for Bret. There could be anything in the laundry room darkness. It could try and reach out to snatch Bret while he was taking the basket.
Fortunately this did not happen and once Bret had the basket the two of them ran back to the couch as quickly as they could, far from the terrors of the laundry room. Once they were back at the couch they started digging through the basket they had captured.
Jemaine found a long sleeved white business shirt and quickly tossed it on. He also found a tie, which he knotted around his neck as neither he nor Bret had any idea how to begin tying a tie.
Bret didn’t find much in the way of clothing save a skirt and after much cajoling put it on over his pants, he pouted, “I look like a girl.”
“No, you don’t. You look like a Mum. ‘Sides, it’s just pretend.”
“And you promise you won’t tell anyone I put it on?”
“Pinky swear,” Jemaine put out his pinky and Bret shook it. The pinky swear was an unbreakable oath, so after it was performed, Bret felt much better.
Still, his costume was not complete, so Bret rummaged around his odds and ends. He found a floppy sun hat his mother wore when she was gardening as well as a feather boa she swore she used to wear when she was out and about.
With both of their looks complete, they could start playing. They decided that the front of the couch would be the inside of their house and the other side would be the outside. Jemaine immediately went to this side, announcing he was at work, while Bret took the front end of the couch and pretended to clean up, as this was what Mum’s did.
Jemaine strolled around to the front of the couch and deepened his voice, “Honey, I’m home!”
“Oh! Good! You can make dinner then!” Bret announced, his voice squeaky high as he pretended to dust the couch, “And don’t forget to pet our ocelot!”
“Ocelot?”
“Yes, his name’s Henry.”
“What’s an ocelot?”
“It’s a big cat with spots.”
“So, like a cheetah.”
“No, more like a leopard but awesomer. Henry’s an ocelot.”
“Are you making that up?”
“No. They’re real. But Henry IS purple, so he’s a bit different.”
“There…is there such a thing as purple ocelots?”
“No, not purple ones - just Henry. He’s the best one.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t forget to pet him! He missed you while you were away!”
Jemaine reached out a hand and pretended to pet an invisible purple ocelot. He took his hand back quickly, “Ah! Tried to bite me!”
Bret shrugged, “Well, he is hungry, best get to work on dinner then.”
“But you’re the Mum. Mum’s cook. Dad’s just work all day at work and complain about how long, hard and boring it is.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s fair. I think you should cook at least one day out of the week. After all, I’m here alone all day cleaning the house, looking after Henry and the baby-”
“The baby? We don’t have a baby.”
Bret scowled and reached into the laundry basket. He pulled out a pillowcase then grabbed one of his dinosaurs. He wrapped it up quickly and thrust it at Jemaine, “Do too.”
Jemaine looked at the bundle with one eyebrow raised, “We have a baby?”
“Yes. His name is BJ.”
“BJ?”
“Bret Junior.”
“Hang on, he’s our baby. I should get a say in his name.”
“What’s wrong with Bret Junior?”
“Bret’s not a good name.”
“What?! Bret’s my name.”
“I know. I’m sorry, it’s not very good.”
Bret’s bottom lip trembled and he resisted crying by only a little bit, “Yeah. Well. Jemaine’s no good either, so,” Bret stuck his tongue out and it was now Jemaine’s turn to resist crying.
There was a tense silence as the two children considered each other and the unhappy words said. Bret spoke first, “If-if you were to name our baby, what would you have named him, then?”
“Oh. Um. Steve.”
“Steve?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh…well…that’s not too bad.”
“Or maybe we could call him…Tim?”
“I like the name Derek.”
“We could put all those names together, couldn’t we?”
Bret smiled and so did Jemaine, unspoken apologies accepted and thus their dinosaur child was christened Steven Timothy Derek, or for short STD, which, neither child saw any problem with.
“So then, you going to make dinner for us?”
Jemaine shrugged, “I suppose. Only fair I make dinner one night out of the week.”
“And tomorrow we can visit my Mum.”
“And then the next day is business time.”
“Business time?”
Jemaine nodded, “Yeah, my parents always have business time on Wednesdays. I always have to go out when they do, because they say it’s very boring.”
“Are they doing their taxes? My parents do that, but they do it on Fridays.”
“Yeah, it’s probably the same thing - your parents just may not call it business time.”
Bret agreed with a nod and sat on the couch, cradling STD and petting Henry. Jemaine reached in one of his pockets (he always had a few things squirreled away in each) and pulled out a package of bubblegum. He sat on the couch next to Bret and offered him a piece, “Here you go. Dinner. Made it myself.”
Bret took the gum, “What is it?”
“Bubblegum pie.”
“Oh, wow!” Bret unwrapped his piece of gum and split it three times. He offered one piece to STD and one to Henry. He chewed one piece for himself right away and then chewed the other two pieces as STD and Henry didn’t seem as hungry as he had thought.
Bret looked admiringly at Jemaine, “That Bubblegum pie was good! You think of better dinner foods than I do. You sure you’re not more the Mum type?”
Jemaine shook his head, “Nope. I just learned to make that while I was on the road at an important business deal that was also at a concert I held.”
“You’re a business man and a rock star?”
“I lead a full life,” Jemaine confirmed, “Got to make good money to take care of you, Henry, and Studdy, don’t I?”
“Studdy?”
“STD.”
“Oh! You’ve given him a nickname!”
“Of course, he’s my baby. You have a nickname too.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, ‘s not like I call you ‘Mum’ all the time. I call you ‘honey’ too.”
“Oh. That’s right! You called me that when you came home.”
“Exactly.”
“Do I have a nickname for you?”
“I don’t know…do you?”
“No. I should think of one.”
Jemaine merely nodded and chewed his bubblegum pie, “You did a good job. Cleaning the house and taking care of Studdy.”
“Thanks,” Bret beamed, “You did a good job too…working and touring and all. Did you get me anything?”
“Hmm?”
“While you were on the road at work. Did you get me a present?”
“Should I have?”
“Sure, Dad’s get Mum’s gifts when they go away…or when they’re in trouble.”
“True,” Jemaine reached in his pockets again. He tossed out some pocket lint but decided this was not a good present. He went deeper and found some cookie crumbs. Again, no good. At last he found a rubber band and he brought it out proudly, “Here you are! A bracelet!”
“Ohhhh! It’s lovely!” Bret held out his arm, “Put it on!”
Jemaine slipped the band on Bret’s wrist and Bret brought it close to his face. He showed it off to Studdy and Henry, and then fingered it thoughtfully. He looked at Jemaine and smiled.
“I-I don’t think you’ve ever given me anything.”
“I’ve given you stuff before. Remember when I gave you the chicken pox?”
“Yeah but - that was bad. This…this is a nice present.”
Jemaine shrugged. He didn’t see the big deal in the rubber band. It was just tan rubber but Bret seemed to like it and that made him happy. He was about to say something when both he and Bret heard the upstairs door creak open and Mrs. McKenzie call down, “Boys? Lunch is ready!”
“Great! I’m hungry!” Jemaine enthused and got to his feet. He shrugged off the shirt and tie and Bret did the same with the skirt, hat, and boa. They both got over to the stairs when suddenly Bret caught Jemaine’s wrist and held him still long enough for Bret to swoop in and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Jemaine’s hand went to the cheek Bret kissed and he flushed pink, “Wh-what was that for?”
“Mum’s kiss Dad’s when they do something nice for them.”
Jemaine rubbed at the place Bret had kissed and he felt hot, “Oh.”
“Um,” Bret looked shy, “Dad’s usually…you know…”
Jemaine looked down, then at Bret through his eyelashes. He quickly kissed his friend on the cheek back. Both friends were red when they went upstairs, hands unintentionally having clasped together.
Mrs. McKenzie scolded Bret when she saw his face, even more so when she saw he had gotten some of the make-up on his friend Jemaine’s face. But her tone wasn’t all that sharp. After all, how could she truly be mad at two such adorable boys? She gave them some juice boxes and plates of scrambled eggs, and then let them sit in Bret’s favorite box in front of the TV so they could watch their favorite TV Show, Albi.
As they watched, Bret looked at Jemaine and smiled. He leaned close to his friend and whispered conspiratorially, “I’ve thought of a nickname for you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Jem.”
Jemaine beamed, “Oh! I like that!”
“Thanks, Jem,” Bret said and he took Jemaine’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze, “My Jem.”
Both boys continued to hold hands until the show was over. They were both sleepy by this point and eventually found their way to the couch, where they slept until Jemaine’s Mum came to take him home.
Bret thanked Jemaine for coming over and said he looked forward to the next time. Once he was gone, Mrs. McKenzie asked her son if he had a good time with his play date.
Bret rolled his eyes, “Mu-oooom!”
“Oh, well, did you have fun or not?”
Bret beamed, “Yes, I always have fun when Jemaine comes over. We played a new pretend game - it was very fun.”
“Well, good. You go on and take a bath and get ready for bed. And make sure you get that stuff off your face!”
Bret did as he was told and began thinking about the next time he saw Jemaine again. He knew next time he wouldn’t have a hard time thinking of something for them to do.
To make up for how bad this is, if you want to read a good story - I recommend moireac's It's So Embarrassing To Need Someone Like I Do You or ballroombubble's Better Than Coco.