☂︎︎ HOUSE OF SHADOWS ☂︎︎ - five hargreeves

* 𝚅𝚘𝚍𝚔𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚃𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 *

[022]
- ☾ '☂︎︎' ☽ -

          "Five, this is a toothbrush not a spider, it's not going to bite you. Please, just brush your teeth."

           Five shook his head and leaned dramatically away from her, as Cassidy waved a toothbrush with a blob of red and blue striped toothpaste menacingly at him. But the boy wouldn't budge, instead vehemently refusing to be within a one foot radius of it, while under the impression in his wildly drunken state that it was a spider sent from Britain to personally assassinate him.

           Cassidy made the mental decision to lock her alcohol cabinets up after she was done with him. He was brushing his disgusting teeth whether he gave drunken consent or not.

           "Get that . . . cretin away from me . . . Brit. . . ." he slurred, swatting her face.

           "C'mon, Five, you like British people. Remember Sherlock Holmes?" She tried in vain to push the toothbrush into his mouth as he muttered insults.

           "He shot Abraham Lincon!" he exclaimed with a sudden burst of energy.

           "Oh my God . . . that was John Wilkes Booth!" Cassidy groaned, but Five was already gone.

           He disappeared then reappeared behind her with an unusually sad sort of pop. Luckily, normal human functions flew out of the window whenever he was drunk so he only managed to stumble in an unbalanced way for a couple of feet before Cassidy grabbed him by the back of the shirt and dragged him into the bathroom. He plopped down on the edge of the tub scowling at her. This had happened about four times consecutively in the span of an hour.

           Shortly after they arrived at Cassidy's house, everyone unanimously decided to make themselves comfortable. Luther raided her refrigerator and Diego fell asleep on the couch, a knife clutched in his hand as he dozed. He'd made the promise that he wouldn't accidentally cut open the upholstery if he tossed and turned.

           Safety was not an excuse for the damage of a fine (and expensive) couch from IKEA. Bloodstains were acceptable, but god forbid anyone rip a hole in the sofa.

           "Five, please!"

           His green eyes narrowed and he messily brushed some of his dark hair out of his eyes before scoffing. "That's the spicy kind, and I don't like the spicy kind . . . OW!"

           She pinched him sharply in the ribs and he opened his mouth in pain for just long enough that she was able to shove the toothbrush into his mouth.

          "Brush. Now." She pointed a finger at him and he grumbled through the toothpaste but scrubbed at his teeth anyway. Sighing she leaned against the counter and blew a strand of her curly hair from her eyes.