2019-08-06 - Sibling Conversations

It's a warm summer evening, clear and breezy, and so Corey is out in the garden. Shirtless and shoeless, he's just finishing up the rest of the planting in the large planters he's set up at the end of the garden. Lots of wooden sticks are poking up out of the soil, and he's a little on the mucky side himself, smudges of earth and soil on his hands, arms, chest, face. But, he's happy, in his element, Well, his other element, the one that doesn't require a kitchen.

Sparrow can be heard well before she can be seen, the basement door closing behind her as she belts, "We've played this game twice. I won't play nice. You can't take me down! Baby, roll the--Hey!" Singing cuts off abruptly as she spies Corey outside on the way to the kitchen and redirects thattaway. Jean shorts, loose grey tanktop with some logo stamped across the front, chipping nail polish in mismatched colors on both her fingers and toes. Standard casual Sparrow, plus a bit of sweat which suggests some physical activity. Given that she's got her drum kit downstairs, it's not difficult to guess what she's been up to. "Whatcha planting?"

"Hey," Corey greets in kind, straightening and taking a deep, satisfied breath. He looks a little bit like he's trying to camoflage with the rest of the garden given the soil smears and now some grass stains on his legs, but hey. Happy sibling. "What am I not planting. We've got tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, potatoes, french beans, beats, cauliflowers, onions, chilli peppers.." he rattles off, grinning. It'll be awesome when it all comes to fruition.

"Cabbage, cucumbers, brussel sprouts, dill..." Smart-assed Sparrow answers to the rhetorical question with a cheerful shrug. She, too, seems happy as she plops down in the grass juuuuust outside of arm's reach, even if Corey stretched, not trusting her brother to refrain from spreading some of that camouflage her way. "But chilis sound good. Pickled for sammiches." Leveling the chef with a look, she clarifies, "I'll handle the pickling," as if that might be beyond his capability.

The marginally younger twin hah's quietly. "Cucumber too," he is reminded. "Sure you can, just not in my pans." A brief glare; yes, he knows someone made eggs in his pans. Sparrow might not have had the spatula in her hand, but he knows where the blame rests. "Good drum practice?" he then asks, wandering over to plop down right beside Sparrow, rubbing one inexplicably mud-smeared shoulder against hers if she's not quick enough to dodge.

Splayed hand goes to her chest as Sparrow's eyes go all not-my-fault wide. "I didn't touch your pans," just to be clear on that point. Her innocence might be more easily believed if she weren't grinning in the wake of that declaration, far too pleased at how that played out. "Yeah," she starts, mouth opening to say more, but an 'eugh' comes out instead when her failure to dodge--no attempt even made--muddies her shoulder. "You don't have to be part of the garden to plant it, ya know?" With a look over at the mess he's made of himself, she heaves a resigned sigh, too lazy to evacuate the threat zone. "But yeah. Feels good. Real good. I gotta pop over and catch up with Runa soon. Got us a guitarist who can get us gigs. Need a bassist and some regular rehearsal, but. Might actually do this." And she sounds kinda quietly hopeful, a rare tempering of excitement which demonstrates genuine investment.

"No, but it helps," Corey replies cheerfully, unrepentant about sharing the garden-love. "Glad you're back into your groove. Who's the guitarist, one of those guys at the diner?" he asks, having been vaguely paying attention to their music-related conversation when he wasn't stuffing his face with a burger or talking to Alfie about raves. "Hope it all goes well." He props his elbows in the grass and leans back, enjoying the last of the sun on his face.

"Jaime Kelly, yeah," Sparrow confirms of the guitarist's identity. Had she caught the look Corey had shot him in the diner? Nope. Would she care if she had? Double nope. "He actually followed through. Came over, talked possibilities. Didn't bring his fucking guitar, but." She shrugs like it doesn't matter, but she's grinning wide, pleased, out of her twin's sight, slouching forward with her elbows on her knees instead of leaning back. "Said he's got some places were he plays solo now and then, might be able to get us in there." With a glance back at her brother, she admits, "More excited about this than getting back to class," in a familiar tone, the one that suggests her interest in something is waning and she'd like to move on to other things now. Like you can just get full reimbursement on tuition to go play rock star at the drop of a hat.

Nodding thoughtfully, Corey affirms, "Good." Just as well he can't see that shit-eating grin, really. "And no, before you say it, you can't drop out of college." Yes, he can hear that flagging enthusiasm. Not that he's the boss of her, or anything, but still. "I need a partner in crime to make cool chemical stuff for me. And you wanted to do stuff with drugs, if I recall rightly."

Sparrow sticks out her bottom lip and turns on the big puppy dog eyes when told she can't drop out, both a plea and a pout. Not that the mopiness sticks for more than a couple seconds, quickly replaced with a nose-scrunch and grin. "You make it sound downright criminal when you say it like that," and, let's be honest, little riot grrl here probably loves that. "And it's not like I'm going to magically forget how sodium alginate works if I'm not actively getting chemistry poured into my brain." With a sigh, she concedes, "But I got through quantitative analysis, and it's all org chem and physics this year, so. I dunno." Maybe it'll be interesting.

"Yeah, but. What if there's something cooler than sodium alginate?" Corey knows very little about real science, but he picks out that name she just said. "You'll never know if you don't finish your degree." Tilting his head slightly, brow quirked at that sigh. "Anyway, you know the drill. Raspberry death-by-chocolate if you survive the year. Raspberry and lemon cheesecake for every A." For all that he's a chef, he doesn't make desserts very often (though that may change now he's working for a patisserie), so the offer is still a deviation from the norm.

"There's always youtube," Sparrow counters impishly, like she could learn all her molecular gastronomy from the internet. There's possibly a good chance she has. But the bribery has her hooked, look cast back over her shoulder as she studies her brother, gauging how serious he is. This requires some negotiation. "How about a different panna cotta for each A?" she counters, knowing full well that's gonna be a bit more work. And require more creativity on Corey's part. "Did I tell you about the vanilla one with shaved parmesan?" Her eyes go wide. It sounds ... weird. But that look in her eyes says it definitely was not.

There's a snort from the male twin, and he shakes his head. "Classes, Sparrow." Her counter-proposal draws raised brows, and he ponders. "Alright, but you've got to come up with the flavours." There's a slight nose-scrunch as she mentions parmesan. "You didn't, but I'm sure I can make that for your first A."

"Deal." Sparrow seals it with her signature ear-to-ear smile before turning her attention forward again and finally dropping her hands to the grass behind her to match her twin's position. "Think I might fuck off for a little before classes start. Few days? Week?" One shoulder shrugs up. A little softer, she admits, "Told Alfie I'd, uhm. Help him find some elsewhere. Freedom. From..." She shrugs, shaking her head as she does. "History, ya know? Here."

"Sure." Corey nods, not really seeming surprised that Sparrow might flit off for a bit before school starts. "Hope you guys find what he needs. I told you I've got a job now, right? I'll be working pretty much every day up until classes start, then doing early morning shifts a couple days a week."

"No!" Sparrow looks to Corey, at once excited and offended--and maybe a little concerned--at the surprise admission of employment. Her mouth opens once, twice. It's the third time that sees actual words coming out as she murmurs with amusement, "I am not used to you being the responsible one." While the girl who was in every club in high school while holding down an assistant manager job is currently considering dropping out of college and running off to be someone else's bad influence. Tables definitely turned.

"Working at Patisserie Vydal." Of course it's a job doing something in a kitchen. "The head chef is really amazing. I'm going to learn a lot working there," Corey remarks, smiling up at his sister. "Plus he's open to the idea of experimentation. His entremets is amazing." And that's saying something; boytwin is a harsh critic of many foods.

"Faaaaancy!" Sparrow may well genuinely sound impressed. Proud of her brother, to be sure, but maybe even a notch above that. She adopts a somewhat serious expression as she informs Corey, "I, too, am open to the idea of experimentation and hope you will consider me first when you're looking for taste-testers as I have always been, and always will be, both honest and adoring." As if she has to apply for the position.

"Obviously." Corey grins at his sibling. "Number one taste tester, in fact." Because if nothing else, he knows she'll be brutally honest regarding something working or not working together. "So. You and Alfie going elsewhere. Gonna make a move, shortass?" he prompts.

Sparrow nods. Obviously. There might be a bit of not entirely insincere pride at that title bestowed upon her. But then he asks about Alfie and her face goes weird, like he said something that doesn't make sense. "Make a move?" she asks dubiously. Dipping her nearer elbow so that she turns slightly toward Corey, she asks, "What do you think the order of operations is, kiddo?"

There's a slow blink as Corey gives Sparrow an equally dubious look. "Parentheses, exponents, multiplication, division, addition, subtraction," he replies slowly, just about dredging that up from memory. "Why?"

Sparrow's face scrunches even as her mouth opens, as she outright gawks at her brother. Slowly, she starts to shake her head and concedes, "You're not wrong," with some reluctance. "But you're not right either? And I can't tell if you're fucking with me. Please tell me you're fucking with me?" She looks dubious but hopeful, but moves on quickly. "What kind of moves do you think I'mma make, C?"

"..so you're already sleeping with him." Corey assumes. "Are you gonna tell him you've caught his cooties, or not?" Pause. "No, that sounds more like being preggo. Are you gonna serenade him with drum music and declare your undying love?"

Sparrow looks relieved when Corey catches up and she doesn't have to... like... say it bluntly. "We were already reciting poetry at each other before I said anything to you," she admits, shoulders slumping until she just surrenders to gravity and flops back on the grass dramatically, arms splayed haphazardly. "It's happening so fast. But it also isn't. Ya know? Cuz we were... I dunno. Something. Before he left. Friends? Ish? As much as he had friends? So there's all this history, but it's not..." Her thoughts get all tangled, and she frowns at the sky jealously, all that clarity up there and none down here. "He keeps up. And he keeps saying the right things. And he came back so fucking hot." She cuts a look to Corey, accusatory to be sure, and tells him, "But you told me not to think about it. And now you're making me think about it."

"Yeah, I'm making you think about it because you guys are going off alone for a couple days," Corey affirms. "Like I said to you. Proximity makes it harder. Just the two of you, harder still. So you need to decide if you want it or not, Mena." He's quiet, but blunt.

Sparrow accepts that answer but provides no immediate response of her own. She stares up at her brother for a few seconds before sighing and closing her eyes. "The scary part is how much I want it. That's what makes me want to not want it. Like some part of my brain is throwing up some alarm for how abnormal this is, just blaring that systems are not operating normally. What if I'm just caught up in the nostalgia? I mean, I'm not. I know I'm not. He's not who he was anymore. Not by a longshot. But maybe it's that. How new he is. And the novelty will wear off and things'll get weird. But I don't think it's that either. I've been thinking myself into stupid circles just to try to shut that fucking buzzer off--" A quiet breath. A shrug. "But I still want this."

Lifting one hand to reach over and ruffle Sparrow's hair, Corey murmurs, "Then go with it, Phil. Dive right in. You don't half-ass shit." There, brotherly blessing given. Or at least, advice of a kind. Maybe not the best, but it's the best he can offer, knowing her like the back of his hand but not Alfie so well.

Sparrow swats at Corey's hand, blindly, but she's already smiling. With a snorted laugh, she agrees, "Right? Just, ya know, remember that that's what got me here. If I weren't going full speed ahead, nonstop, no brakes, we might still be politely getting reacquainted." The little crinkle of her nose assures that's not a pleasant thought, not at all what she wants. How boring that would be. "But yeah. Right in. Splat."

The boytwin nods. Now that Sparrow has her course plotted out - or in fact, laid out in this case - Corey settles back into the grass, hands pillowing behind his head. "It's all good, Mena. It'll work or it won't, and it'll be worth the ride, I expect." Not that he's much of a one when it comes to riding emotional rollercoasters.

"Yeah, I mean, even if we crash and burn tomorrow, it's been worth it. Which. Right. I dunno what I'm getting all weird about." Nevermind that Sparrow had a very clear picture of her angst just a couple minutes ago. She can't even begin to picture it now that the path ahead has resolved itself. Her nearer elbow nudges Corey's, a wordless thanks. Or maybe a bid for his attention even though there's no competition for it at the moment. "You should try it. Diving in. Feeling things. It'll be fun."

Laughing, Corey agrees, "Yeah, sure. Okay." He even sounds sincere! Until he adds, "But not until after college." With that, he sticks a hand down in his pocket to pull out his smokes and zippo, tucking one between his lips and lighting it. Draws, exhales, is content. "Or maybe after landing my first professional role after that."

Sparrow rolls her eyes so hard that it brings her gaze skyward again. "You make it sound like the end of the world." Please disregard any earlier moments of panic. Minds have changed. "It's not like your life ends when you feel something. Fuck, it's not like your sex life has to end." She angles a sidelong look her brother, considering saying something, but deciding against it. Eyes up, she redirects, "We should have a housewarming party."

Brows raise at that sidelong look, but Corey doesn't poke. She'll say whatever it was when she's ready. "Before or after the cookout with next door?" he enquires drily. One party at a time.

"We were already fucking before the diner," Sparrow mutters, that detail she decided to omit, significant because Alfie had handled her very overt flirtation with someone else so well that no one would've guessed they were already sleeping together. "But, uh... what?" Has someone mentioned the cookout to her? Has she forgotten? Whichever the case, she seems genuinely confused.

"Oh, yeah. We're doing a cookout together," Corey comments, having assumed Sparrow already knew somehow. "A bunch of us were at the laundromat at the same time and came up with the idea. Alf, Ash, Marius and Astrid, and some random guy. Cole, I think his name is? Maybe this weekend if it's dry."

"Oh." Sparrow's eyes go wide in that probably-thinking-about-something sorta way. "Well. I guess that's warm enough to warm a house." Shrug. "I mean. What about Runa and Jens? There are three Anderssons still, yeah? Jens didn't just--" Her hands lift to gesture, held in loose fists then exploding out like poof. "And what about music? You don't get to pick it. I might let you pick the beer because you've developed some taste in your old age, but someone's still gotta do quality control." Someone might be used to being in charge.

"My old age? You're older, shortass," Corey quips back with a sly grin. "Obviously they're invited too, but I mean, those were the ones of us who were talking about it. Ash is handling the alcohol. She's an expert. And I'm handling the food, except there's one cake I'm baking that she wants to decorate." A lazy shrug suggests he's fine with this.

"Yeah, but you've all clearly been shit at disseminating information, so." Sparrow is concerned. She gives Corey a second to let it click, but then goes on to ask, "Has anyone actually invited them?" just to make sure he gets it. Probably retaliation for his little jab. Older and wiser! Which brings her around to leveling a decidedly Mama Bird look at her little brother. "You're baking together. You're living in a romcom, Corey. Let me know when you catch up."

"Hell no." Corey draws his line in the sand right there. "Not baking together. I'm baking. She's adding stuff on top. And not while I'm in the kitchen, either." Threats of evisceration with a paring knife have not been unknown against kitchen interlopers when he's mid-creation. "Anyway. You should go next door and make sure they all know. I need to grab a shower."

"Yeeeeeeeah," Sparrow draws out, readily expressing whole volumes of doubt. "I'm pretty sure I've seen this movie, kiddo." Pushing up from the grass, she cheerfully chirps, "Good luck!" as if the knowledge of some surely made-up film has given her insight into how it all goes from here. Rather than wait to field any further denials, she quick-steps back inside, continuing her earlier kitchenward trajectory.