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You've never been a morning person. Saturday, Sunday, and Summer have always been your favorite days of the week, because they mean sleeping in until whenever o'clock and staying up all night without consequences. You love your pillows and your blankets and your cat, and you hate the constant blare of your alarm clock.
Bellamy's a punctual-type person, he takes pride in getting places early. If it wasn't for him, you probably wouldn't get anywhere at all. He doesn't care that your cat is soft and warm and sleeping right up by your neck, he has a schedule to keep. You don't think he would actually leave you at home, but you hit the snooze button only twice all the same, dragging yourself out of bed to trudge through your morning routine.
Your mom's an early riser, just like your brother. Most days she's up and awake and heading off to work before you and Bellamy even wake up, and she doesn't come home until after dark. You aren't sure what your dad was like in the mornings, or any other time, and you've never cared to ask.
Bellamy's got a bagel waiting for you when you stagger into the kitchen, halfway presentable and maybe a third of the way awake. It's got just the right amount of strawberry cream cheese and it is delicious.
"You going for brother of the year or something?" you ask, raising an eyebrow as Bellamy slides a steaming mug of coffee across the table. Your brother does an awful lot for you, he always has, but making you breakfast? That's new.
The thing is, you love your brother, and you know that he loves you -- but that doesn't mean he doesn't make you absolutely crazy kind of a lot of the time. You're still not about the way he's swaggering around the school, like being captain of his sucky soccer team means he runs the place. Not to mention, his just as stifling and micromanaging as ever. Maybe it's because neither of you ever really had a father, but he takes the overprotectiveness to a whole new level and you are way past over it.
To be fair, though, you're probably gonna give him gray hair before he's thirty, and you give as good as you get. You know exactly how to drive him up a wall, and you're not above pushing his buttons. That's the thing about having siblings -- you love them even when you can't stand them.
Bellamy glances down at his watch. "Yeah, well, you better eat quick, we're leaving in four minutes," he says, and you just about choke on your breakfast. When he says four minutes, you know he means three and a half, and you're not about to risk having to ride the bus.
Your brother spends the next three and a half minutes looking nothing short of smug as you hustle around the kitchen, but he has already packed your bag for you, so you mostly forgive him for it. He doesn't even grumble when you brush your hair in his car.
"Oh, great," you say, slipping on your shoes as he pulls out of the neighborhood. "I left my Spanish homework on the--"
"--Coffee table?" Bellamy finishes, flipping on the turn signal. "Found it this morning, it's in your bag."
"Wow," you say, going back to tugging at your shoelaces. "You really are going for brother of the year. Well, congratulations, you got my vote." You slump back a little in your seat, and finally notice the time. "Except why'd we have to leave fifteen minutes early?" you ask, suddenly understanding what the rush was all about this morning.
"I have to swing by work first, and check the new schedule," Bellamy says, and that's about when you realize you aren't even heading towards the school, you're heading towards the store where your brother works part-time bagging groceries. "We're having a last minute practice right after school, before the game tonight. I kind of need to know my hours before tomorrow."
"Yeah, I get it," you say, and it's no surprise, given how many times you've said no, but you wonder when he stopped asking you to come to his games.
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It bugs you all the way through first period, and for most of second, but then it clicks.
Kindness shouldn't be a competition -- and it isn't, not really -- but you think you've found a way to win all the same.
Jasper's already in his seat by the time you make it to third period. You slide into the chair beside him, smile, and ask, "You want some company at the game tonight?"
You count eight seconds of stunned silence before Jasper makes a strangled sound and chokes out, "What?"
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You'd expected the home team stands to be practically empty -- Bellamy never brings it up, but Jasper talks about the lack of support for the Rocketeers all the time. What you hadn't expected was for the visitor stands to be packed.
"Is it always like this?" you ask, and it's kind of crazy that you should have to raise your voice just to talk to the two people sitting right beside you, but the rest of the crowd really is that loud.
"The Grounders fans are insane," Jasper tells you excitedly. "They drove an hour to be here. All of them."
Insane pretty much sums it up -- the visiting fans have been jumping up and down, cheering and shouting the entire game so far. They're covered in face-paint and wearing bizarro costumes, all leather and fur even in the summer heat.
Not that it seems to matter to their team -- the Grounders are wholly focused on their game, not even looking up at the fans. In fact, the only person looking anywhere other than the field is their goalie, who actually keeps staring up at your side of the stands. He's tall, and muscular, with a mohawk and possibly tattoos, but it's hard to know for sure at a distance. You suppose he could be looking at Jasper or Clarke -- maybe he knows one of them, or something? -- but you've got this strange feeling that's he's looking at you, and there's a one in three chance that you're right.
Your own brother hasn't been looking over here half as much as this guy. Bellamy had smiled wide as soon as he'd seen you up in the stands, and you won't lie, that made you feel pretty good, but he hasn't so much as glanced over here since. You get it, he's paying attention to the game, but still.
The Grounder's goalie is looking your way again, so you turn and stare into the visitor stands instead. "Why can't we sit over there?" you ask honestly. "I mean, that looks way more fun."
"Team spirit," Jasper answers, like that's the answer to everything. Then he hikes his thumb at his stepsister and adds, "Also Clarke won't let me."
"For a good reason," Clarke cuts in, nodding towards the Grounders as one particularly enthusiastic fan loses his balance jumping and just about topples from the top of the bleachers. "I don't even have to say anything, they're proving my point for me."
You make a sympathetic sound that Jasper probably can't hear over the din from the other side of the bleachers. If there's one thing the two of you have in common, it's overprotective siblings.
Jasper doesn't even seemed fazed by Clarke's comment. "Just wait until Thursday's game," he tells you, leaning in a little bit closer. "We're playing the Reapers -- I heard their mascot was so offensive the league said they had to change it."
Clarke rolls her eyes, and you grin.
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It's become something of a ritual, you going to the Waffle House with the team after the game -- except not only did you actually go to the game this time, but for once you're not sitting with Bellamy. You figure that's mostly because you're sitting with Jasper, and your brother still won't even make eye contact with the guy. Either way, you're cool with switching things up every once in a while, and you had a good time hanging out with Jasper tonight. He's kind of weird, yeah, but funny and sweet, so it all balances out.
Clarke's not sitting with you, either, and you know for a fact that is out of the ordinary.
Monty joins you as soon as he gets there, and just like the rest of the guys, he's in pretty good spirits for a team that just lost 3-7. You guess they're just glad they scored a couple of goals.
Jasper, though, is uncharacteristically quiet, chasing his eggs around the plate with his fork, and staring across the restaurant, at Clarke, who's seated in a corner booth across from Finn Collins, deep in conversation. You're not sure what's up with those two, and even less sure than you care.
"Are you okay?" you finally ask, because Jasper just keeps sighing and you can't think of a time that he ever wasn't talking, up until now.
"It's finally happened," he says in response. "My post-coma grace period is over, and Clarke's actually mad at me. I mean, don't get me wrong," he adds, "the whole helicopter-mom thing was getting kind of old, but even that was better than her hating me."
"Oh, stop whining, she doesn't hate you." You'd noticed Clarke was kind of scary quiet for most of the game, and you figured it wasn't just because of you. She had plenty of reasons not to like your brother, but you didn't think she had a problem with you. "What'd you do to tick her off?"
"Nothing!" Jasper tries, and Monty snorts in amusement. "Okay, so, maybe I made her a couple of profiles on social media sites I thought she'd never use." He must notice the way your jaw drops, because he rushes to add, "I did it for her own good!"
"For her own good?" you echo, and Jasper nods. "What was it, like, dating websites? Because I'm sorry, but if you signed her up for FarmersOnly.com then you totally deserve whatever she does to you."
"No, it wasn't -- I made her an Instagram and Tumblr, so she could be internet famous," Jasper explains. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate, but he just forges on. "And Pinterest, so that --" he falters, clearly grasping for an excuse and failing to come up with one, "--okay, so the Pinterest thing was mainly for me, but the other two? Totally for her benefit."
"I see." You nod, somehow managing to keep your tone serious. "And it's only those sites?" you prompt. "Nothing weird?"
Jasper can't even look at you as he finally admits, "Also I made her an account on Club Penguin a couple of years ago." He looks dejected, and you can't even breathe, you're trying so hard not to crack up. "But that was only so someone would come to my parties."
"Wow," Monty says, deadpan. "That is literally the saddest thing I've ever heard."
You laugh for the rest of the night.
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