Chapter Text
Sitting in the dining room with a glass of wine in hand, Donna McNaughton glanced over at her husband. "Did you hear, honey? That Spencer kid got out on parole again," she said, a note of distaste in her voice. Marvin McNaughton barely looked up from his newspaper, his eyes narrowing as he flipped a page. "That little delinquent? Lucky for us, our boy has enough sense not to hang out with him anymore. That kid’s lost his damn mind." Timmy, lingering just out of sight in the hallway, rolled his eyes. He'd been eavesdropping on their conversation, and their condescension grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. For months now, he'd grown sick of his parents and their constant meddling in his life. They never let him do what he wanted, always dictating how he should act, who he should see. The more they tried to control him, the more he wanted to rebel. An idea started to form in Timmy's mind, one that made a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. What better way to piss them off than to start hanging out with Kevin Spencer again? Just imagining the looks on their faces if they found out was almost too good to resist. Deciding he'd had enough of their snobby, uptight bullshit for one night, Timmy quietly slipped out of the house, not even bothering to tell them where he was going. They didn't deserve to know.
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Meanwhile, Kevin Spencer was fresh out of the joint and was already itching for a drink and a smoke. Kevin spotted the Camel Toe Inn down the street. “C’mon boy, let’s you and me get loaded, and have the time of our lives.” Allen said. Of course, Kevin wasn’t stupid; he'd been in enough trouble to know that laying low was the smart move. With a fake mustache slapped on his upper lip, he strolled into the bar like he owned the place. It was much better than tagging along with his old man anyways. As Kevin took a seat in a booth, Marty, the bartender, eyed him with suspicion. “You remind me of that Kevin Spencer kid. That little shit doesn’t know his head from his ass,” Marty muttered, half to himself. Kevin barely batted an eye at the insult, but a flash of anger flickered in his eyes. “You ain’t gotta take that from this fat leprechaun, boy! You gotta straighten things out!” Allen said. Kevin figured that Allen was right, and made a mental note to flatten Marty’s tires later. Kevin ordered a beer, downing it in a few gulps. He’d be damned if he’d let some lowlife bartender talk to him like that. When Marty wasn’t looking, Kevin slipped out of the booth without paying. As he sauntered out of the bar, Kevin heard Marty’s voice rise in frustration behind him. “Goddammit! First Percy, now this shithead! Why the hell can’t I catch a break?” Kevin just smirked, lighting up a cigarette as he walked over to Marty’s car. Flattening the tires felt like sweet justice. "Bravo, lunatic," Allen the magic goose cackled in his mind. Kevin exhaled a cloud of smoke, feeling the adrenaline of the moment pulse through him. As he turned around, he saw a familiar figure approaching—Timmy McNaughton.
Timmy's dark blue eyes gleamed with mischief as he caught sight of Kevin. "Hey, Spencer. Long time no see," Timmy said, his tone teasing as always. Kevin didn’t exactly feel like chatting, especially not with this stupid rich arsehole, but before he could tell him to fuck off, Timmy cut him off with an offer. "I was just heading out for some smokes. Wanna join?" Kevin blinked, surprised by how easily Timmy seemed to know what was on his mind. Allen flapped his wings in panic. "The kid's a damn psychic, I tell ya! Get outta here before he figures out anything else in that screwed-up head of yours!"
Kevin ignored Allen’s frantic squawking, watching Timmy closely. Timmy seemed to sense Kevin’s hesitation and, with a grin, upped the ante. "It’ll be on me, Spencer." Kevin raised an eyebrow. Free smokes? Who could turn that down? Even Allen calmed down at the prospect. "Better take advantage of this fine offer here, boy" Allen said.
Without another word, Kevin gave Timmy a thumbs up, and they headed toward the nearest convenience store. Once inside, Timmy grabbed the pack Kevin pointed out, while Kevin, ever the opportunist, swiped a few extra packs when the cashier wasn’t looking. “The more the better, besides, what if those stupid useless idiots would want to take some from us!” Allen said. Kevin knew who Allen was referring to, those useless unemployed idiots that he had the misfortune of calling his parents. After they left the store, Timmy tossed the pack to Kevin, who caught it with a practiced hand. "So, got any plans, Spencer?" Timmy asked, lighting up his own cigarette.
Kevin shrugged, exhaling smoke into the night air.
Timmy’s grin widened. "Wanna take a ride in my dad’s car?" Kevin remembered the last time Timmy had driven—he’d been all over the road, and offered to drive this time. “Fine by me," Timmy said, sounding relieved. "I just don’t wanna be stuck with my stupid parents tonight." Kevin could relate to that. It’s something both Timmy and Kevin had in common; their parents are pretty messed up after all, and Kevin deemed that term as Impish Impieties. Besides Timmy got him free smokes, so coupled with that, Kevin figured he should cut Timmy… a bit of a slack.
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It was late by the time they parked the car on a secluded hill overlooking the city. Kevin was pretty buzzed in the sweet effect of nicotine. Turns out, and it’s a thought that suprised Kevin, he found himself not hating Timmy’s company as much as he thought he would. Sure, he’d rather be hanging out with Allen, but then again that stupid goose never gave him free smokes, and it was always Kevin doing the leg work, so the hell with him. Allen, however, had other ideas, not really affected by Kevin’s internal shit talking about him. "We should ditch him, boy. the sliver spooned pussy is wasting our time," Allen hissed, appearing out of nowhere to flap his wings irritably. Kevin shot Allen an annoyed look before glancing at Timmy, who was eyeing a bottle of cough syrup on the dashboard. Kevin would’ve shot daggers at anyone for looking at his prized cough syrup like that, but he figured since Timmy got him free smokes, then it’ll be a fair trade to have Timmy try this stuff out. Kevin motioned the cough syrup to Timmy, asking him if he’s tried any of this stuff before. Timmy shook his head. "No, what’s so special about it?" Timmy asked. Kevin opened the bottle, and told Timmy, It’s great for knocking you out when you don’t want to deal with shit. Kevin knew what spots to hit when it came to Timmy. Timmy seemed intrigued and took a swig, his eyes widening at the taste. "Wow," he said, genuinely impressed before chugging a bit more. The sweet taste of cherry and burning was… surprisingly good. Timmy handed the bottle to Kevin, who took a swig himself. "So, Spencer," Timmy started, leaning back in his seat. "Why do you keep ending up back in the joint?" Kevin thought about it for a moment, staring at the city lights below. Kevin told Timmy, people respect him in there. They know better than to mess with him. Out here… it’s just a bunch of bullshit. Timmy nodded, looking like he understood, though Kevin doubted he really did. But the silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable, neither of them feeling the need to fill it with meaningless chatter.
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When Timmy finally snuck back into his house, it was nearly dawn. Marvin was waiting in the living room, his face red with anger. "Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.
Timmy just sneered, brushing past him. "None of your business, you old bastard." “Timmy, your mother was worried sick!" Marvin snapped, grabbing Timmy’s arm roughly. “And what? You think knowing where I am makes you a big man? Screw you!" Timmy yanked his arm free and stormed up to his room, slamming the door behind him. He took a deep breath, leaning against the door. The night had been worth it, if only to see the look on his father's face. Moving to his window, he peered out at the Spencer house across the street. The light was still on in Kevin’s room. Timmy smirked, wondering what the hell that lunatic could be up to now.