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“Stephen,” America called, scuttling towards him.
“Hm?” Stephen lifted his nose from the book he was currently reading.
“What’s this?” she held up a colourful box, the word ‘Twister’ at the top of it bolded.
“Where did you…” he shook his head, “Nevermind that. That’s sort of like a party game, from… what? The 80s?” he chuckled a little.
“A game?” she asked. “Maybe we co–”
“What are you both talking about?” Wong appeared from the doorway, walking towards them. His eyes flicked towards the box held in America’s hand, and his brows lifted a bit. “I haven’t seen that in ages,” he remarked, pointing at it.
Stephen’s head shot towards him.
“You used to play Twister?” he asked, incredulously. He couldn’t imagine what the man would look like, twisting around on the mat.
Wong laughed.
“Play Twister? I was the king of Twister!” he said, and Stephen’s brows shot up to his hairline, eyes turned so wide it may as well have popped out of his head.
“So…” America said from beside them, catching the attention of both the sorcerers, “How exactly do you play this?”
*.~ ◇ ~.*
“So since we’re playing for three, I’ll be the referee,” Wong said, “and you both are the players. When I spin, y–”
“That’s weird for someone who just said they were the ‘King of Twister’,” he said, smirking. “What? Too old for it now, grandpa? Your golden ages are over?” he teased, cooing at him, and Wong gave him a challenging look
“Is that a challenge, old man?” he asked, and Stephen let out an offended gasp, placing his hand over his chest.
“How dare you! You’re older than I am,” he pointed a finger to the other sorcerer’s chest.
Wong huffed.
“Yeah, but if anything, your back and hip says otherwise.”
This time, Stephen’s face turned a shade of light pink, which earned him a smug, victorious smile from the librarian.
America just kept watching them from the sideline, much like how a person watches a tennis match.
“Okay, that’s it. You, me, and the damn twister mat. Last person who stands wins,” Stephen announced, voice determined, and America was tempted to grab some popcorn. “America, you’re the referee. The game is on!”
*.~ ◇ ~.*
Stephen felt like his body was being twisted in agonising directions. The aching pain in his back screamed at him to seize all movements, and he felt as if one other turn to the opposite side might just break all his bones.
Meanwhile, Wong seemed to be enjoying himself. Turns out he wasn’t kidding about being an expert in Twister…
But he wasn’t going to turn back now. He’d win this game if it was the last thing he’d do.
"Left leg blue," America said, as she watches Stephen and Wong move accordingly. Stephen tried to stifle a wince as his body protested, various cracks resounding from his joints. God, when had he become so old?
Wong let out a muffled laugh beside him, and Stephen shot him a menacing glare.
Their positions could only be described as awkward at best. Stephen, with all his long-limbed glory, was sprawled stiffly across the mat with one leg on green and another on blue, both hands on the yellow spots beside him separated with a spot between. Wong was casually yawning in front of him as he had one leg on green at the corner beside Stephen’s and another on the blue a step away from Stephen’s leg, one hand on the yellow between Stephen’s hands and one at the corner on red. It was both disgracing and bothersome for Stephen on how ridiculously close their positions are. He sneaked a suspicious look at their referee.
America watched, an amused expression on her face, and this time, she did prepare some popcorn. Popping some into her mouth, she continued.
“Right hand green,” she said, giggling when Stephen cursed under his breath and arched his back at the stabbing pain of moving his muscles.
By the Vishanti, give him mercy.
Wong looked smugly at him, and moved his hand on the green spot between one long leg and a trembling hand. He was practically under the giraffe at that point, one that seemed to wince every split second.
“Left leg red,” she said through a mouthful of popcorn. Stephen tried to remember how to move his leg, looking ridiculous as he lifted his arse into the air to comply. Somehow, his face ended up a hair’s breadth away from Wong’s.
“Right hand red,” she said, almost delightfully. That made Stephen nearly topple on top of the librarian, who was currently frowning. He turned his head to America, just in time to avoid Stephen’s near collapse, who instead had his head plop down to the space on his neck. He ignored it, though not before giving a chuckle that sent the giraffe into fury.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” he accused the girl, and Stephen lifted his head, wincing again, and shot her a similar glare.
“I stopped spinning like 15 minutes ago. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice,” she shrugged, and their faces turned red to the point where it might’ve made a tomato jealous.
In the daze of embarrassment, Stephen pounced on her, which resulted with him tangling on Wong’s leg and falling face-first to the ground with a muffled ‘unf’, his legs and arms flailing in the air. Wong, who finally lost balance, tumbled to the ground with a grunt, and he felt Stephen roll across him to get to the girl. He was practically crawling over the floor, hand reaching towards the still-chewing America, when suddenly…
“Cramp! Cramp! My leg! I’m having a fucking cramp!” he wheezed, and Wong tried to move away but was pinned to the ground by Stephen's weight, who was struggling to hold his legs.
“Shit shit shit shit shit…” Stephen hissed, and Wong’s movement under him just served to make things worse.
“Just… Stephen, stop moving!” he yelled at him.
“I can’t! My damn le–”
Wong’s leg slipped against the mat under them, and Stephen fell to the side just as he grabbed at the end of the mat, which wrapped around them as they rolled towards America’s direction. Stephen thrusted and kicked, and Wong sighed.
America giggled, and both the sorcerers gave her a death glare, then rolled towards her simultaneously. Stephen’s cramp long forgotten as he struggled to gain vengeance.
That’s how the three of them ended up sprawled over the floor, limbs tangled, wincing and cursing under their breaths. The cloak, who had been witnessing all this in the background, floated to grab the dropped popcorn, sitting by the nearby couch as they struggled and flailed.
This was proving to be a long, long evening.