teenagerenegade | Sleepover!

Entry tags:

Sleepover!

Once they get home from the club, Charlie sorts out some more comfortable clothes for Rosie to change into, if she wants to (knowing that Sabrina will just help herself to a t-shirt and sweats), and pads off to the bathroom to have a quick shower and change. He stops by the kitchen to grab sodas and snacks and, when he comes back, he knocks the door, not bothering to moderate his voice because he knows that Kavinsky and Newt are still out.

"Is everyone decent?" he asks. By that, he mostly means Rosie - he's seen Sabrina in every state between indecent and decent, after all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

After changing out of her borrowed dress and into her--also borrowed--t-shirt and pajama pants, Rosie goes out into the hallway to give Sabrina a bit of privacy and to call the Home. The volunteer at the front desk tonight is Meredith, one of the nicer ones, who only gives her a brief and mild lecture about not knowing her plans for the evening until it's just past curfew. Still, she marks Rosie down as absent for the night and asks for Charlie's address, saying have a good night with your friends, hon before she hangs up again.

She's back in Charlie's bedroom again and curled up on his bed by the time he knocks. "Perfectly decent," she calls, looking over at Sabrina with a grin.

Sabrina has a favored set of Charlie's clothes that she goes for, though she's not terribly concerned about modesty as she changes, hanging her dress up in Charlie's closet and setting her shoes aside as well. She'd already let Marcus know of her plans, and so she flops down on the bed to wait. Listening to Rosie on the phone in the hallway through a slightly opened door, and Charlie rummaging around downstairs, she's warm and content, and happy to welcome Rosie back up beside her.

"Decent as I'll ever be," she answers.

Charlie snorts at that as he comes through the door, setting down and the snacks on his desk.

"I figure you guys can crash in here and I'll go on the sofa," he says. "Unless we can manage all three of us in the bed." He realises how that sounds a beat after he says it.

Rosie doesn't think about it until a beat after Charlie, too caught up in the desire to be polite and a good guest. "It'd be a bit close, I think," she says, "but we could--oh." She looks at Charlie, then Sabrina, both of them already having registered the implication, and turns bright red.

"I can sleep on the sofa, truly."

Sabrina can't answer at first, because she's hiding her face on the bed, shoulders shaking slightly. It's better than falling off the bed, which had almost happened. They're just both so sweet and dear, and she finally sits up with her hair completely rumpled, and mirth sparkling in her features.

"Let's see if we can successfully fit in for a movie, and sort the rest out later? I've already promised to behave." She waves Charlie over, making space for him.

"Yeah, okay, I totally didn't think any of that through," says Charlie, grabbing the remotes and climbing up into the bed with them, settling in the middle. "What kind of thing are we in the mood for, ladies?"

This time, at least, her blush is a quick thing, there and gone before Charlie's even clambered up to join them in the bed. The change in topic helps considerably, though Rosie doesn't have a ready answer. The Hollywood epics she'd so fancied back home seemed dated and insipid here, while the types of movies favored by her Darrow friends often struck her as flat and uninteresting. Both options seemed hardly worth mentioning.

"I haven't any specific ideas," she starts, "but maybe something that'll be easy enough to follow along with if we wind up talking more than watching?"

Sabrina has indeed promised to behave, but she's not about to keep herself from curling up against Charlie. "I almost always vote for horror movies," she tells Rosie. "I suppose it's in my blood." This is playfully dramatic, giggling a bit. "I've been waiting to watch the ones about the giant worms that come up from the ground to eat you."

She makes some sort of gesture meant to represent such worms.

The gesture is ridiculous, and Charlie snorts at it, rolling his eyes. "We have been kind of saving that one. What do you think about horror films, Rosie?" He nudges her with his shoulder. "Think you're up for giant worms?"

"I haven't seen many horror films," she admits, laughing at Sabrina's flailing, smiling at the gentle bump of Charlie's shoulder against her own. "With or without giant worms. Or normal-sized ones, for that matter."

A few times, she'd gone with friends and--very occasionally--her brother to see the latest Hammer production at the Odeon, and the new Hitchcock film about the murderous hotel owner had been the topic of considerable chatter at school the month before she'd found herself so suddenly brought to Darrow, but that had been effectively the limit of Rosie's exposure to the genre. She so disliked being frightened, it made little sense to seek it out for entertainment's sake.

"Still," she continues, "I can't say I'm not a little curious about it. Let's watch that one."

"It's very campy," Sabrina says helpfully. "More of a cult classic than anything really scary." She'd already sworn off things like exorcism and Satanic horror a while ago. "So I've heard." She grins brightly, scooting so that she can swing her legs over Charlie's lap and into Rosie's. "The big thing at home was sixties era films anyway."

Charlie comfortably curls his free hand over Sabrina's knee as she settles, selecting the move with the remote in his other hand. He grins.

"Sixties? Really? The way you dress and the way you talk, are you sure Greendale was in 2018?

"Ah, my era, then," she says, brightening in a silly kind of way when Sabrina mentions it. "Or the early days, at least. Good to know there's still enough cinematic merit to it in the future." Never quite as tactile as her two friends--even without considering that they were in a relationship with one another--at first Rosie just looks down when Sabrina's feet land in her lap, but doesn't pull away.

"You have a point, Charlie," she says, looking at them both with a wry half-smile. "If I hadn't known better, I'd say Sabrina and I were contemporaries." As she talks, she lets her hand rest lightly on Sabrina's ankle.

Sabrina pulls a face. "I don't know why Greendale is the way it is," she admits. "I think it has to do with lifespan of your typical witch or warlock. The coven doesn't exactly do a lot directly with the town, but--" Her sigh is a little frustrated. She's tried to figure this out for a long time, since her arrival. "We have technology, and we know about historical events, but the theater's always showing old movies, and the whole town is styled... like Halloween in the sixties. No one questions it. I never did until I came here and saw what it's like in other places that are happening in the same year."

She falls quiet, leaning into Charlie's shoulder more heavily. "I'll probably never know."

He hadn't meant to make her feel bad, and he plays with her hair for a second, leaning his nose against her temple. "Well, you look great, and it's not like you're missing anything important, right?" He gives her a squeeze. "Whereas Rosie genuinely had to learn how to text."

"I deserved that," she says, sticking her tongue out at Charlie before turning a far more conciliatory look on Sabrina.

"I'm sorry," she says, the hand that had been on Sabrina's ankle running up, lightly and soothingly, to her calf and back again. "It must have been a shock, not knowing things were so different elsewhere, but I'm glad you're here with us now. That we're all here."

Sabrina's easy enough to cheer, especially in this way, after a nudge of her nose against Charlie's jawline, she smiles, and peeks over at Rosie, who would feel Sabrina hook her heels a bit to squeeze her legs, a reassurance. "It's fine," she tells them both. "It's really more of an irritation, to know something isn't quite right, but you can't be sure. I just assume it's the fault of the Church of Night."

She smiles.

"Come on, I want to see these worms eat some poor townspeople."

"Guess you'll never know," says Charlie, a crooked smile lifting the corner of his mouth as he hits play on the remote, shuffling down against the pillows a little bit to rest more comfortably between Sabrina and Rosie. "This movie is supposed to be terrible, by the way. Not well reviewed, even by Darrow standards."

As the movie starts, Rosie settles in too, her brief uncertainty eased in part by the gentle pressure of Sabrina's heels against her thigh. "Of course it is," she says to Charlie, picking up the bowl of popcorn and grabbing a handful before passing it over. "Giant worms, a...what is that, a desert town somewhere, people being eaten...it all sounds awful."

Then, more brightly, "And perfect for making fun of."

Sabrina's smile is small and full of the best secrets, but then they are a much more comfortable tangle and there's popcorn too. "If you show me a really well made movie about giant worms eating someone named," she peers at the screen, "Kevin Bacon, I will show you a bunch of witches. This is going to be wonderfully bad."

And that, along with the sleepover itself, makes her wonderfully happy.

Charlie takes a sip of his soda, his free hand idly resting on Sabrina's thigh, his shoulder leaned against Rosie's. It's barely five minutes into the movie before he gets absolutely hysterical giggles.

"Oh, fuck. This is ridiculous."

It starts out ridiculous, and somehow only gets worse from there. By the time the two ne'er-do-well main characters are tearing across the desert in search of the new--female, of course--scientist who's come to town, Rosie's laughing too.

"Oh, they're horrible," she says, gesturing expansively at the screen as one of them describes his ideal woman in less-than-ideal terms. "Now I hope they get eaten."

"Graboid is about the dumbest name I've ever heard for something," Sabrina declares, nursing her own soda, perfectly comfortable in her current sprawl. "Do you think there's a place where they're real? And I feel like rooftops are a temporary solution."

She's considering her own approach, maybe.

"Can they swim, I wonder."

"I mean, if there is, I don't necessarily want to go there. Or tempt fate that they might end up here next Halloween or something." He wrinkles his nose, thinking about it. "Might be a bit more challenging than gingerbread?"

"They better not be able to swim," Rosie says firmly, looking away from the screen as yet another unsuspecting townsperson is sucked under the ground. She takes another handful of popcorn and eats it before continuing. "And I'm with Charlie. Given the number of different places people come from here, there probably is someplace where they're real, and I don't want to visit."

At the mention of the gingerbread men, she looks down at the mostly-faded scar on her arm, one of her unwanted souvenirs from the New Years party. "Definitely more challenging than gingerbread. As far as I know, the gingerbread men didn't eat a car, or whatever it is those things just did to that poor woman."

"I could take them," Sabrina says lazily. "Well, with some help. They don't seem that complicated." She re-positions her cheek against Charlie's shoulder. "People mostly seemed to enjoy fighting the gingerbread."

She follows Rosie's gaze to the scar, and crinkles her nose a bit. "Don't worry. If something new and big and bad comes along, I'll protect both of you."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sleepover!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject