Black Mirror

Interlude 5 - Living Without Love Is Not Really Living

Alex couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to a party. For any occasion, really. He and Gabe wanted to go to the Halloween party at Armando DiFranco's this year, but their dad put his foot down and insisted they stay home and help him deal with the "rabble-rousers." Not that there were any trick-or-treaters matching that colorfully Yosemite Sam-esque description, but they almost had to put the fear of God into a couple of their drunken teammates who'd tried to TP the false willow tree in the front yard.

Only because Dad would've made his boys clean it up. That was no way to come down from any potential Halloween sugar-high.

But this year, on the day of Mom and Dad's annual Die Hard double binge, the twins watched those two movies in the morning so they wouldn't have to feel the need to stay home and take part in the tradition. They needed to remind their people that as much as they weren't total party animals, they were part of the same circle.

And this year, Gabe took it upon himself to invite a guest. A guest for Alex's benefit, mostly.

Fionna, however, looked supremely uncomfortable. A wallflower, Alex thought as "Reboot The Mission" started playing on Armando's stereo. She leaned against the bookshelf, a red cup full of red Hawaiian Punch in her hand. Actual Hawaiian Punch, too. The DiFranco house was "dry," as they would have said in the Prohibition days, according to the textbook Mom taught. Not just because Armando's parents didn't drink, but because he himself made it a strict rule - no booze at his parties or a permanent ban.

Weed, however, was perfectly acceptable. Usually in the form of brownies, which Alex was always tempted to try. Of course, Dad would probably smell it on him and throw him out on his ear in the cold.

Fionna was eyeballing those brownies too. She looked like she was fighting to decide whether or not she would indulge.

"No weed this time." Gabe sidled up to Alex. "Armando's folks took the good stuff with them when they went to the Ice Palace."

"What are a couple of Fires doing at the Ice Palace?" Alex asked.

"Dunno. Maybe 'cause it never happens around here? It's such a rare opportunity, you know? And you know, we're Ices. We should've gone. God, why couldn't we go?"

"'Cause everyone around us would be smoking doobies and Dad would kill us for getting even a tiny bit of contact high."

"Sure, sure, let's go with that." Gabe grabbed up a plate of brownies and thrust it into Alex's hands. "If you wanna talk to Fionna, go ahead. And bring her these burnt offerings."

"They're not burnt-"

"Yeah, but they might as well be, the way you practically worship her with your eyes."

Alex stopped looking at Fionna long enough to say, "Thanks for not saying something like 'undress her.'"

"Dude, you're classier than that." Gabe pushed him away from the buffet table and back into the living room, almost making him drop the brownies all over the floor for someone (hopefully not Armando's dog) to grab up.

Seconds later, Alex stood alongside Fionna, trying to balance the paper plate in one hand while casually brushing his hair with the other. Despite the impending cold snap - the Ice Palace was expected to bring a legendarily rare Bay Area snowfall - he'd had a haircut, thinking maybe a nice change would work wonders with Fionna. Not that she seemed to notice. Maybe it wasn't drastic enough - it was nowhere near the militaristic style his dad would prefer, but still a little too boy-band with the floppy bangs. New Year's Resolution - get styled a little closer to what Dad would want. It sure worked wonders on Mom, if their wedding photos were anything to go by.