Deals With The Devil's Spawn

It's never a good idea to feed a Cavanaugh

There were a few things in life that I enjoyed; sleeping was one of them. I never understood how people could wake up at the crack of dawn's ass and enjoy the rest of their day. Sure, on some level I envied those people, especially on days when it was a must for me to wake up early, but when it came to Saturdays, I didn't envy them, not even a little. Weekends were specifically for people to sleep in. And as much as I loved sleeping in, it wasn't something that I found myself doing often. But when I did get to have a nice long, dreamless nap, heaven nor hell could wake me up. Which was why I found myself ignoring the two voices outside my door. I could hear them clearly, but I refused to acknowledge their presence.

"I already tried knocking on the door, and calling out her name, before, trust me; she is not going to wake up. She doesn't sleep in a lot, but when she does, it takes the Calvary to get her up." I  heard my mom say, her voice muffled by the closed door.

"Do you mind if I try something?" Brayden asked, and I snuggled deeper into my pillow.

"It's your funeral," my mom replied, right before I heard her footsteps as she walked away from the door, probably heading to the kitchen to continue making breakfast before she left for work.

I waited, quietly, listening to hear what Brayden was up to. When all I heard was silence for the next few minutes, I smiled happily, thinking that he'd finally given up. That relief was short-lived as I heard my doorknob turn and footsteps approach my bed. I laid still, hoping that he would give up, and go away. I wasn't ready to leave the cocoon I'd wrapped myself in with my blanket.

A squeak left my lips when I found myself lifted from my bed, and thrown over a shoulder, blanket and everything. He was moving before I could figure out what the hell was going on, heading towards the living room, where he dumped me on the couch.

"What the fuck, dude?" I grumbled, pulling my blanket tighter around my body. "Mom, what the hell?"

"Sorry, bug, he wouldn't take no for an answer; and the kid is frighteningly convincing," she poked her head out of the kitchen entrance with an apologetic smile, and I scowled. 

I turned back to Brayden and stared at him bitterly, making him smile. "We have work to do."

"It's...what time is it?"

"Eight,"

"Its eight in the goddamn morning, Brayden, I am missing vital sleep," I told him with a huff. Lifting my feet up, I stretched my body out on the sofa, and let my eyes fall shut, burrowing deeper into my blanket cocoon. I heard him huff out an exasperated sigh, and I tried not to smile with satisfaction. "Oh come on!" I was over his shoulder again, and heading towards the door. I squealed when the cold morning air hit my exposed feet, before I was dumped into the rocking chair on the porch. "Why?"

"We need to get our stories straight for tomorrow night, I have to take my little sisters downtown for a birthday party later today, so now is the only time I have free," he informed me, his hand resting on his hips, ankles crossed as he leaned on the porch's banister. 

"But it's so early," I whined with a pout, pulling my feet up and under the blanket. 

"I know you're sleepy, Porter, but unless you want me to push you against the wall and kiss the hell out of you, I wouldn't pout like that," he stated bluntly, and I felt my heart stop in my chest, my eyes widening. What the fuck? "Okay, now that I have your attention, I'll come by and pick you up tomorrow night."

"Um, wh-what?" I managed to get out. How the hell was I supposed to focus after he'd put that image into my head? And why the hell was it so enticing?

"I figured we could keep a bit of truth in our story, so when people ask about how we met, we could use the real story," he continued, oblivious to the fact that I was having trouble keeping up with whatever the hell he was saying, my mind clouded with thoughts of walls, and being kissed against them. "Porter?"