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Your name is Dave Strider, and you have came to the conclusion that your sister is one hell of a crazy broad. You have come to this conclusion many times before, but she always did things to remind you of this conclusion, thus coming to it.
What helped you come to this conclusion once more was you coming into the kitchen for a snack and drink and you find her leaning against the counter, a bottle of peach schnapps in her gloved hand and that girlish smile on her lips that you could only find in one of your sibling's shitty Animes on some lovestruck girl that had just gotten her first kiss. The slight red to her cheeks from the alcohol only added to this image.
“Sup.” You greet her with an upnod, opening the fridge door and dodging a shitty sword suddenly launching itself at you upon opening the door only to straighten yourself back out like nothing had ever happened and continue on scoping the inside for anything to munch on. Upon finding nothing but a bunch of other shitty swords and a carton of orange juice, you quirk your lips to the side and shut the door again.
“Hey little man.” She greeted you in turn, her words more giggly than usual. “Ain't gonna find much in there, 'm afraid.” She informed you, Texan drawl slipping out and nodding at you in assurance like she'd already checked for you. She could've told you before you bothered at least. Not like you'd listen, but still.
“I noticed.” You turn to her and perk a brow. “What're you doing?”
She giggles and holds up the bottle like it couldn't be more obvious. Which it was. “Drinkin'. You want some?” She's holding the bottle out to you.
Your eyebrow lifts again and you begin to eye her with suspicion from behind your shades, but you can't get anything out of her smirk or the rest of her face that's hidden behind shades like yours. She nor Bro normally offer to share their alcohol with you, so you figure you've got every right to be a little hesitant about accepting right off the bat. “What's the catch?” You ask, eying the bottle in her hands.
Your sister snorts and shakes her head like she's appalled you even considered she's not offering the drink out of sincerity. “No catch, just thought you'd like some. Know how much you prefer it to Bro's nasty liquor.” Her nose wrinkles slightly like she's already had some of your brother's alcohol already and immediately disliked it.
You cross your arms over your chest and continue to stare at her with your candy-apple gaze. “Yeah right, you probably poisoned it with something.” You say while she looks back down into the clear liquid.
“I did no such thing! 'Sides, if I did, I'd be poisoned too! I drank some, see!” She shakes the bottle at you and the liquor sloshes around as if to add to her argument that some of the bottle's contents had already been depleted by her.
“Could be acting.” You continue to argue, but her hand lifts to pause you and she cuts in.
“If you want it then take a drink, Dave, I'm not gonna hold the offer forever!” Her words come out a little slurred and you finally decide that it's safe to drink, sighing and taking the bottle from her.
“Fine, gimme a drink.” You say, hoping that will calm her down a little bit, and you know it already has by the way the corners of her lips turn up slightly in a smirk as she watches you. “If something bad happens, though, I'm telling Bro.” You say, like he'd actually give a shit. Probably blame it all on you anyway. She only snorts before breaking out into giggles and flashstepped beside of you, lifting a hand to your head and ruffling your hair.
“I'd never hurt my little ototo.” Your sister murmurs drunkenly before placing a kiss to the side of your head. You merely bat her away, making her break out into giggles again as she flashsteps back over to the counter.
You eye her once again and lift the bottle to your face, sniffing at it experimentally before finally deeming it okay and tipping it back, gulping down some of it's content like you hadn't had anything to drink in ages. The burning sensation slides down your throat and the familiar taste of peaches spiked with alcohol overwhelm your senses. She only watches you with the most devious grin as you swallow it down.
You start questioning whether it was a good idea to drink it again, but say nothing about it as you pull it away and wipe at your lips with the back of your red sleeve before handing it back to Sis, staring at her skeptically.
It wasn't that you didn't trust your sister, not at all. It was that she was something else, something much more sadistic than Bro who could kick your ass in much more humiliating ways. So he had to stay on his toes, which was practically a custom in the Strider household, but it was enforced a little bit more around his older siblings.
She only giggles again, girlier than usual, but she was obviously tipsy already, so not a fuck was given as she took the bottle back. And it was pretty apparent that she had no hard feelings at you thinking she'd poison the precious schnapps. “See, you're still alive.” She points out and takes another swig, enjoying the bitter peach taste just as much as you.
“For now.” Is your only reply as you smirk, snorting as she giggles at you once more and wraps an arm around your shoulder.
Before long it's turned into one shot, two shots, three shots, four, and half of the clear liquor has been drained from the bottle, both you and your sister helping to drain the bottle's contents. You're both pretty red in the face, you are both slipping back into your Southern twang that is usually discernible, and you're both not trying all that hard to keep your pokerfaces up. Because you're both already a little too drunk to care. If Bro were there, and he wasn't on the road to being shitfaced like the two of you, you are sure that he'd be kicking both your asses, but oh whoops, fuck not given. They've all flown out the window with the fucking crows. All of them.
Your name is Dave Strider and you are drunk. You and Sis are both standing in the living room, staggering slightly as some music pours out of the stereo system, something old school that you haven't heard since forever ago that only your sister would still listen to today. Snoop Dogg's beats and lyrical miracles are coming at you and all you can do is snort and try to choke back your laughter with the back of your hand. “Dude this shit is so old school. I think it's older than you.”
Immediately her hand shoots out and hits you, gently, upside the back of your head, but she's laughing with you. “Better watch your mouth, son, or you'll be eatin' your foot.” She says before taking another drink from the bottle before handing it to you once again. You hold it loosely by it's neck, behaving as if the hit had never happened.
“You should enjoy stuff like this with me more often, little man.”
You pause in the middle of bringing the bottle to your lips to look over at Sis to see that she's grinning at you. Your brow furrows. Was she trying to be all sisterly and bond with you? It seemed that way. This was something that you were not used to. So you respond the only way you know how; with snide remarks.
“You know, I'd totally be okay with that. If you weren't so fuckin' crazy and all up in my grill, kickin' my ass n' everything.” You didn't really mean it. You did enjoy doing stuff with your sister, and your brother too. Half the stuff was the three of them strifing, but shit, you wouldn't have it any other way. You take a quick drink and pass it back to her.
“Baby bro, you love my crazies.” She replied, her giggling turning into full blown cackling as she takes the bottle from you. “I kick your ass so you can be sugoi! You know that.” That smirk was now a creepy grin, but it didn't bother you.
You begin to shake your head, but upon noticing how the room spins when you do, you stop and look back to her, trying to focus through the haze. “No, you kick my ass for your enjoyment you sadistic bitch.”
This elicits more cackles from her and for a moment you're reminded of a teal girl with red tinted shades and too many sharp teeth before you shake your head, quickly reminding yourself who you're talking to.
But Sis only gigglesnorts and wanders over to your brother's futon in the corner of the living room and flops down on it, one of her legs sprawling out while the other is bent at the knee. “I've been slackin' lately so you shut that pretty ass mouth.” Then a thought seems to cross her mind and her lips break out into the most devious of grins. “Unless you wanna strife right now, that is.” She offers, tilting her head down enough to look at you from over her pointed shades and give you a look at her own candy-apple red hues.
You only blink at the threat. A strife? Right now? In their drunken state? You imagine that a lot of stuff would be broken, hence why the strifes or any other shenanigans were always held outside of the apartment or on the roof. But a drunken strife in the house would be fun. The thought of Bro coming home and finding the demolished area is what makes you hesitate, though. So you taunt your sister some more.
“What's stoppin' you now? Too drunk? Are you so shitfaced that you can't be the all powerful sensei from those retarded cartoons you watch religiously?”
A big grin stretches her lips wide and you start to reconsider once again. “Little bro it ain't what's stoppin' me.” You watch her take one last drink of burning peach deliciousness before she's gone in a flash and you feel a shitty sword, probably the one you had previously ducked, jabbing you in the back. “You know better than to taunt me, Dave.” She croons, giving you a bit of a prod in the back.
You shove your hands into your pockets whipping around to face her, not bothered by the threat of of the sword as you put a smirk firmly in place. “Ain't tauntin', just curious.”
Sis withdraws the blade and spins it before letting it rest along her shoulder. “C'mooon, Dave.” She drawls. “Scared of your sweet sister kickin' your ass? … Or maybe it's Bro.” You see a glint of red through the shades as she peers over the tidier-than-usual apartment. It was like it was calling the two of you to disrespect your surroundings. “We're playing inside for once, and I don't think he'd like that at all.”
You perk your brow and frown. Striders weren't scared of charging howlbeasts, let alone their siblings. You weren't gonna take that sitting down. “Striders aren't afraid, remember?” You ask before digging into your own sylladex and pull out a sword that was broken somewhere down in the middle into sharp and jagged edges that would hurt like a bitch if you got cut by them. You had a problem with your swords breaking when you had them, but that was something Bro and Sis had promised to work on as you got older. “Bro can get over it.”
Your sister giggles again, this time a bit malicious, and you knew it was on. “That he can.” She said before flashstepping again, and fuck she was fast, maybe she really had been slacking on your ass lately. Suddenly she was at your side and and bringing her sword to slash you in the side.
It was like you were lagging though, your ill beats were slowed down, but you manage to dodge the sword by twisting your upper body away and raising your own weapon to deflect her blow, the swords chiming as they clash. Then your foot swings out and you aim for her legs in an attempt to sweep them out from under her.
But she's fast. She's faster than you for sure, not that you would admit it. She jumped in the air and flickered out in mid-jump. She came at you from above, this time, the sword swinging down on you. Luckily, you flashstep away and leave one of Bro's poor smuppets in your wake, watching as it gets sliced in half, stuffing flying as it's remnants fall to the floor. Yeesh, imagine if it'd been you!
You let out a low whistle, staggering slightly. “Bro ain't gonna like that.” You look up and see the sadistic gleam in her eye from killing the defenseless plush. Fuck, she could deny it all she wanted, but she could be just mean. Right there lay proof in the living room floor, staring up at them with dead button eyes. “He'll get over it.” She sang, spinning the sword again. Your move, Dave.
You charge, leaping over the coffee table to get to her, coffee mugs and water bottles knocked over with your feet in vain as you flashstep again, only for you to come down on her seconds later with your broken sword aimed for her shoulder.
That shit is easy for her to block though, and she does by raising her sword up to meet yours again, but this time you notice the slight bend of her knees as she bares your weight on her weapon. Yes! You were getting somewhere. Sure, it was probably because of the alcohol making her sloppy, but you didn't care. You were even bold enough to let your lips turn up into a bit of a smile before being forced away with a grunt. She'd lifted a leg and her foot met with your stomach and knocked you off of her. Shit, she got you back.
You land on the floor, trying to catch your breath before Sis is on top of you again, sword coming down and shouldn't you feel a little bit more scared of being hurt? Nah. Nausea swept over you for a moment. Liquor and quick movement didn't go together but you had to suck it up or your ass was grass. You had this, though.
You're rolling away before she can hit you, a flurry of throwing stars flying at her as you roll behind the couch for cover. And you were dizzy again. Fuck, drunken strife was turning into a bad idea. This was confirmed as the sound of glass shattering reaches your ears and the strife is put on hold as you lift your head to look at the damage. One throwing star was stuck in one of the wooden cabinets, another one several inches below it had struck a bag of Doritos, and the third and final star had met with one of your brother's bottles of rum.
Dread hit your stomach.
Shit. If you thought Bro would be pissed over the dead smuppet, wait till he saw this. The rum had spilled out over the counter and was now making a puddle in the kitchen floor where the neck and part of the body of the bottle was laying while the rest of the bottle had remained on the counter. His aim must have been bad off... Meh, strifing in the house was always a bad idea anyway.
“Uh oh.” You heard your sister say before your gaze moves from the bottle and up to the ceiling where she had perched herself, hanging onto a lighting fixture. She flashstepped over to where the broken bottle lay and you flashstepped beside of her, peering down at the bottle before looking back up to survey just how much of your surroundings you had disrespected.
“He's gonna be piiiissed.” The older Strider sang moving the sword to rest on her shoulder again.
“Yep.” Is your only reply, deeming the strife over and putting your broken sword back into your sylladex.
“Your aim was off, maybe I should put you through basic training again!” You look up to her and notice the malicious smirk again. Why didn't anyone believe you when you said Sis was crazy?! The special kind of crazy where you never suspect it. All you see is a pretty girl and a pretty face and next thing you know, hot damn, bro, that girl just kicked your ass so hard you're tasting boot for about a month.
“Yeah you'd like that, wouldn't you? Can't get enough of tryin' to whoop my ass.” You reply before quickly jumping to your own defense. “I wasn't off, I'm drunk!” Your lips break out into a smile again and your laughing while your sister is cackling like a motherfucking hyena.
It was funny, really, even though it really wasn't a laughing matter, but you two just couldn't help it. You were both thinking of what would happen when your brother came home and saw the mess and just how much he'd bitch. Or maybe he'd skip the bitching this time and kick both your asses. You sort of deserved it at this point, especially after slaughtering the smuppet and breaking his bottle of rum, but it was cool. You were cooler than fucking Frosty.
When your laughing fits died down, you turned back to the apartment and took in the property damage. Chairs were tossed. Bottles were broken. Rum was on the kitchen floor and water was seeping into the carpet from a kicked cup of water while a smuppet was bleeding stuffing out on the living room floor. You were just thankful that you hadn't damaged the futon. Mission accomplished, Striders. Pat yourselves ironically on the back.
“He's gonna be pissed.” Sis repeats and you only nod, feeling a bit more sluggish so you grab onto the counter to right yourself.
“Yep.” Is your reply. “Can't wait to see that, right? Gonna come in here all Hulk Hogan and shit, ready to give us a smackdown, brother!”
She snorts at you and puts away her own sword, despite it not even being her's. “Ehh, he won't do shit.” She murmurs, probably feeling the same after effects as you. Her glance turns to your face and she clucks at you. “You look like you're about to drop, Davy.” She coos at you before wrapping her arms around your shoulders like she's gonna protect you from the big bad bro. You sort of wanna lean against her, but that's not cool, so you decide against it and just shrug your shoulders instead.
“Nah man I can still go another round.” You reply with a nod. Though it would probably be best if you didn't. And she understands this, raising a hand to your head and ruffling your hair that resembled her's more than it did your brother's.
“Doubt that.” She said, her voice growing soft and gravelly. Drunk and tired. But smiling. Especially since you decided not to bat her hand away. That seemed like too much energy at the moment
“Doubt it all you want, you just don't wanna go another round.” You slur, laughing drunkenly at her because you just could not fucking give it up. Someone needed to smack you upside the head. “Afraid you'll get it handed to you by your little bro that ain't so little no more?”
“Dave...”
“Yeah, okay, I get it.”
You feel a kiss planted on your temple and then Sis is pulling away, leading you over to the futon where you both plop down in a tangled mess of limbs and askew shades. An arm is lifted and placed behind your head as a rest while your sister lays beside you, head resting on your shoulder. And suddenly concerns that wouldn't concern you so much start popping up in your head. Or really, they wouldn't concern you so much if you were sober, but right now you were kind of worried. What if Bro did come back all super pissed and hated you for what happened. That smile you had was gone and you looked like someone had shot Old Yeller.
“Hey.”
“Hmm?” She stirs like she was woken up.
“Think Bro'll really be mad?”
You're both quiet, waiting for whatever she can come up with. And finally her head shakes, making you feel a bit better. “Even if he is, he'll get over it quickly enough, the ass.”
You laugh again and feel a lot better. Worries and concerns are pushed from your drunken little head as you fall into a slumber, and won't be waking up until the eldest Strider came home from his gig.