Chapter Fourteen: Intervention and the Ill-Tempered

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Chapter Fourteen: Intervention and the Ill-Tempered

Things between Iain and I were okay. We were sometimes stiff and awkward. We were formal friends, and under public eye, the world's cutest couple. But we'd spent enough time hiding out in Iain's room watching How I Met Your Mother to know; it was time for an Intervention.

"Don't get me wrong, I mean, I like making out with you and stuff," Iain said. That was the problem; we liked making out with each other too much.

"Right, same, but how long is Ben planning on lying to his girlfriend?" I agreed.

"I know that if I was dating a girl that long, I'd probably at least have mentioned the fact that I have a sister, you know?" he said.

"Yes, I agree."

"So we're on the same page?" he asked.

"Totally," I nod.

"Okay, good," Iain said, and unpaused the video game we were playing. The idea was to talk to Ben when he got home. Apparently, Olivia had gone out of town to visit some of her girl friends from high school. So that meant Ben was going to be home this weekend, and also alone.

"NO YOU FUCKING DON'T!" I yelled at Iain, who was on the war path to kill me. I don't know how we got in this position, with my legs in his lap, and his fingertips absentmindedly running down my legs while we yelled insults at each other through the video game console.

"Guys, Olivia's out of town, cut out the lovey-dovey ness," Ben said, walking in the door, and seeing us on the couch.

"Are you seriously bothered by us actually getting along for once? Because that's all that's going on. That and I'm kicking his ass at this game," I said.

"Ben, we need to talk," Iain said, pausing the game once Ben sat down.

"Is this the part where you tell me Kit's pregnant? Because if you fucked my sister you are so fucking dead. I swear to fucking god," Ben spat.

"That's kind of what we wanted to talk to you aboot," Iain said.

"IAIN I SWEAR TO FUCKING-," Ben stood up, yelling, ready to fight Iain.

"I'm still a virgin!" I yelled. Ben sat down.

"Alright, we can talk," he sighed.

"How long are you planning on lying to your girlfriend?" Iain came out and asked.

"I'm not lying to-," Ben started.

"Ben, she thinks that Iain and I are dating, fucking even, and you can't even stand to see us sitting on the same fucking couch," I sighed, "It's a problem."

"I'll tell her sometime. I just...," Ben sighed.

"Ben, the longer you put this off, the longer I'm going to keep making out with your sister," Iain said.

"I know. I know," Ben said.

"So what's the problem?" I asked.

"I'll tell her when it's right," Ben said, sighing huffily.

"When will it be right, Ben? How long do we drag on this lie? At what point does it stop becoming a lie and have to become a reality, because you realize that Kit's life, and my life is on hold so we can play your fucking game?" Iain spat.

"What are you trying to say?" Ben asked.

"I'm just trying to get you to realize that you've fucked up, and it's time to come clean," Iain sighed.

"Look, it's my mess, and I'll handle it, but for right now, it's staying the way it is," Ben growled out and left the apartment, slamming the door.

Iain sighed, and in an anger fit threw the contents of the side table to the ground in a loud crash. He knocked the whole side table on its side. He tangled his fingers together at the back of his head, sighing.

"Iain," I said softly, "Relax."

"How am I supposed to relax when my best fucking friend, and his girlfriend, and you are his sister," Iain rambled, making no coherent sense.

"Everything will be okay," I said, picking up his mess. Iain went to his bedroom, and once I'd cleaned everything up, I went to the fridge and got out a cold beer for Iain. I tried to pop the cap off, but I couldn't get it.

I went to Iain's room, and walked in to see Iain sitting on his bed, watching TV. He'd calmed down some, obviously. I climbed onto his bed, and sat beside him. I handed him the beer.

"Thanks, Kitten. I'm sorry I snapped," he said.

"It's okay," I shrugged, "I tried to open it, but I couldn't get it." Iain smirked and smacked the top of the bottle on his nightstand, and it came right off. Iain took a big swig.

"What are we going to do?" I asked, taking the beer from Iain and taking a swig.

"I'm going out for a smoke," he said, getting up. I followed him down the stairs and outside. I watched as he pulled out the carton of Marlboro Reds and offered me one.

"Does it help?" I asked.

"Do you mean does it make you feel less confused about our current situation-torn between what you want and what you can't have? No, Kit. It doesn't help, but it takes your mind off of it. Like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound."

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