Au where they all survive and go to college together post war

thejakeformerlyknownasprince:

[Assume that this takes place approximately three years after a version of the final battle in which, inexplicably, no one died.]

• “Why Sonoma State?” Marco smiles winningly at the RA for their dorm.  “Simple.  It was the only place that would take all six of us.”  He makes a flourishing gesture at where Jake is stacking textbooks onto a shelf, across the room from where his own parents are folding bed sheets.  “We are a package deal.  Most of the other colleges only wanted Rachel ‘cause she’s ‘well-rounded,’ or Ax ‘cause he’s a nerd, oh and Harvard offered Tobias a legacy scholarship since there was that one time his dad straight-up invented the internet as part of a class project there…”  He leans against the door frame.  “But we told all those places that they do not get one of us unless they’ll take the entire ménage à six.”
• “Please never call us that ever again,” Jake says loudly.
• “As you wish, darling,” Marco calls back.
• Jake’s response would probably be rude, but at that moment he gets distracted by his dad opening up a twenty-gallon plastic bin to reveal what looks like an entire pharmacy’s worth of over-the-counter medications.
• “Dad!” Jake says.  “What…?  What.”
• Tom sits up.  His contribution to proceedings so far has been to flop across Jake’s bed and bounce a stress ball off a water stain on the ceiling.  “Alternative revenue stream?” he suggests.  “So that if you run short on cash, you can always just take up as a drug dealer.”
• “You never know when you might need something.”  Jake’s dad starts carefully stacking bottles of ibuprofen, cough syrup, and pink bismuth on a shelf above his desk.
• Jake stares at his dad, mouth halfway open.  “Why would I ever need four Epi-Pens?  I’m not even allergic to anything!”
• “That we know of.”  His dad continues unpacking, unperturbed.  “But this way you’ll be prepared in case of any emergencies.  Anything could happen, and…”  He stops, clears his throat.  “And you’ll be halfway across the state, kiddo.  I’ll feel better knowing that you can handle anything that might come up.”
• “Yeah, and if any of it even gets opened then we’ll know for sure that he’s using it to brew meth,” Tom drawls.  “Morphing fixes everything from mosquito bites to hangovers, Dad.  He doesn’t need fifteen different painkillers.”
• Jake’s mom straightens up, eyes narrowing.  “How do you know that morphing fixes hangovers, young man?”
• Tom rolls to his feet.  “How ‘bout I go grab more bags out of the car, yeah?”
• “Oh, so you’ve finally decided to start contributing, then?” Jake says loftily.
• “You’re welcome for hauling all of your crap around all day, midget!” Tom calls, already halfway down the hall.
• “Asshole,” Jake says, but he’s smiling softly to himself.
• Marco gets it, totally.  It’s the same warm feeling he gets any time his mom tells him to cut his hair and he swears to die before he’ll let that happen.  Because they’re never going to be kids again, not really.  But in its own way that makes it nice, just sometimes, to pretend.  Pretend to be brats.  Pretend to be certain.  Pretend that they can take their loved ones for granted, even if in reality that’ll never happen again.
• Tobias is expecting Marco’s jokes, all 500-odd of them, when he announces that he’s going to be an Anthropology major.  Tobias has long since learned to roll with Marco’s occasionally-questionable sense of humor, and he’s happy to tolerate the comments about “studying humanity from afar” and “learning to blend in with enough practice.”  He doesn’t know what to do with Cassie getting excited on his behalf and then promptly wilting when she finds out that it’s Cultural Anthro, not Bio Anthro, that interests him.  Rachel just looks over his schedule, nods to herself, and says, “You realize you could revolutionize the whole field if you felt like it, right?  After all, who has more perspective on what it means to be human than you do?”
• Tobias, in turn, actually laughs out loud when Marco casually announces his interest in theoretical physics because “I’m here to have fun, not strain my brain to death!”  What’s even more surprising is when Tobias realizes that Marco’s not joking.  That Marco only got the idea because he took a string of pretests online and scored the highest on the one measuring his ability to learn basic calculus and wave theory on the fly.  That his ability to translate abstract math into a concrete understanding of force and motion might not be enough to make him the next Albert Einstein, but it still exceeds his grasp of (for instance) U.S. history and the English language.
• “We’ll still have a lot of introductory classes together,” Cassie tells Tobias, as she looks over her own tentative schedule for how to get a Biological Anthropology B.A. in four years.  Her tone suggests that she forgives him for making the wrong choice, and is sure he’ll reconsider in time.
• If Rachel thinks that Tobias has the potential to revolutionize Anthropology, she’s certain that Ax will take the entire Media Studies program by storm.  She gives it five years before he’s changed the definition of what it means to be a food writer.
• There’s no shame in being an exploratory major, the academic advisor tells Jake.  Which is the first time that Jake wonders if maybe there is shame attached, seeing as this guy felt the need to say anything at all.
• Rachel responds to a variation on this same comment with a lift of her chin, a toss of her hair, and a sharp, “Good.  Because I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”  Unlike Jake, however, she doesn’t choose her classes based on a combination of random guesses and rumors about what’s easy.  She takes Intro to Women’s Studies.  Intro to Marketing.  Intro to Communication Theory.  Intro to Criminal Justice.  Intro to Applied Design.
• “It’s an awesome idea!” Rachel says.  Which is around the time Cassie starts mistrusting it.
• They’re getting ready to go to their 9:00 class — Intro to Comm Studies — together.  To be more specific, Cassie grabbed a pair of jeans and a flannel out of her drawer and has been ready for twenty minutes.  Rachel has finished blow-drying her hair, but has yet to get dressed beyond her fluffy bathrobe and is only two lips and one eye into her makeup.
• “You can’t join every extra-curricular on campus,” Cassie points out.  “We have to study and stuff, too.”
• “Yeah, but there are so many good causes here!”  Rachel gestures to the pile of fliers left over from the Student Org fair.  “RAINN, UNICEF, the SPCA, WWF, a bunch of other alphabet soup I didn’t totally grasp but signed up for anyway…”
• Cassie sits up, grabbing the topmost flier off the stack.  TWLOHA, it says, which seems like a parody meant to mock the other acronyms.  She’s pretty sure she knows what this is actually about.  Rachel’s good at filling the days with schoolwork and casual conversation and (Cassie has learned) a good 60 minutes a morning on personal grooming.  Cassie, on the other hand…
• There are no animals to care for here, and there’s no war to fight.  She hangs out with Jake and Rachel and the others, of course, and she’s been doing an okay job of keeping up with her schoolwork so far, but she keeps getting caught by how many hours there are in a day.
• “We cannot possibly go to the first meeting of all these orgs,” she says at last.
• Rachel spins around in a cloud of hairspray and perfume.  “So we’ll keep at it until we find a couple we like.  What do you say?”
• It was pouring rain yesterday.  It rained all week.  The sad huddle of booths at the Student Org Fair in front of the library had to be reached through knee-deep mud.  And yet Rachel waded out there, not because she cares all that much about saving the pandas.  Because it’s not pandas she cares about.
• “Yeah.”  Cassie opens the TWLOHA flier, skimming over the information inside.  “Yeah, okay.  Let’s give them a try.”
• Marco walks straight by the unfamiliar blond lady having a conversation with Cheryl from the sorority next door— at least, he does at first.  About two steps later he screeches to a stop, pivots around, and goes running back.
• “So does this mean you can’t put me in touch with any former members of this organization?” Eva is asking.  She shoves a few strands of wig away from her face, the motion aggressive.
• “Former members?”  Cheryl lets out a nervous giggle, fiddling with the end of her hair.  “I mean, Lambda Rho Iota has a lot of alumnae who are still really involved…”
• “Oh, so you don’t allow people to leave, then.”  Eva leans closer.  “You pull them in with your lanyards and your sport days and your so-called ‘rush’ events for social pressure, and then you never allow them to leave even after graduation.  Because there is no leaving, is there?  There’s only disappearing in the middle of the night, no warning, no phone calls, no body ever found —”
• “Mom!” Marco throws himself bodily between her and the clueless junior she’s already reduced to the verge of tears.
• “Hi, honey.”  Eva leans around him.  “Does this ‘Rachel Carson’ person you named your house after even exist, or is she just a demagogue you invented to indoctrinate—?”
• “Hi Cheryl nice to see you bye now!”  Marco shuffles Eva several feet away, giving Cheryl the chance to grab her free water bottles and run for it.
• “You are not to join any of these so-called ‘sororities’ with their so-called ‘service components,’ and I do not care what alleged perks of membership they offer to you,” Eva says severely.
• Marco takes a breath to remind himself that she means well, that she’s never been to college herself, that she’s entitled to be a little overprotective after everything.  “What are you even doing here?” he says at last.  “You and Dad dropped me off like two weeks ago.”
• “What makes you think I ever left?”  Eva glances around them, too distracted to notice that Marco is now staring at her in horror.
• Eva drops her voice.  “While we’re at it, don’t trust the ‘Quidditch’ people either, I checked and it is not a real sport.  They couldn’t even answer my questions about athletic commission grants.”
• “Mom.  I promise that I will not join any student organizations unless you vet them first and give your approval.  Okay?”
• Nodding, Eva plunges ahead.  “I checked the dorm building, and there are approximately fifteen exits if you allow for vents and foundational flaws that one could use in cockroach morph.  Now, if the building is on fire and also under attack from multiple hostiles, we need to confirm that you can still navigate as a fly—”
• “Mom.”  Marco stops walking to look her in the eye.  “I appreciate you trying to make sure I’m safe.  But you maybe, just maybe, assuming I’m not totally helpless?  That would also be cool.”
• Throwing her arms around him, Eva presses his face into her shoulder.  “Very well,” she whispers.  “But still.  Keep an eye on those Quidditch people.”
• Cassie and Rachel make it through half a meeting of Legalize Weed Today.  Everyone whispers and exchanges glances when they walk in.  Then the guy at the front of the room starts explaining how antidepressants are just put out by The Man to control us, because people need to free their minds and realize that natural substances are the only way forward.  Rachel hopes she and Cassie attract even more whispering when they stand up and walk out by silent agreement, because then they’ll at least have made a point.
• To her credit, Rachel knocks.  Twice.  To her credit, Jake actually does make a vague noise of acknowledgement on the other side of the door.  To her credit, they didn’t even lock the damn door.
• So it is not her fault at all that she finally gives up and wrenches the door open after 30 seconds of mixed signals.  Only to find Jake sitting swathed in his bed sheets, a squirrel perched on his windowsill.  Both Jake and the squirrel give her innocent looks.
• “Masters of disguise, you two.”  Rachel sighs, pressing a hand over her eyes to try and block the image from her mind.  At least they’re not in Cassie’s bed, which would be even worse.  Rachel has to sleep in that room.
• “Did you need something?”  Jake’s voice comes out more high-pitched than usual.
• “I don’t even slightly remember what I came in here for, because your attempt at subtlety has scarred me for life.”  Rachel looks from Jake to the squirrel (who is still doing her best, which is not great, to be just a squirrel) and then back to Jake.  “Next time, lock the fucking door,” she says, backing out of the room.
• Jake rubs the back of his neck.  “I was just—”
• “And remember to use a condom!”  Rachel slams the door behind her.
• Cassie and Rachel try one meeting of Sonomans for a Greener Planet.  This week’s revolves around the need to install plastic buckets next to every single trash can in the city of San Francisco, so that people can avoid putting liquid waste into the trash cans themselves.  No one in the meeting seems to have any idea about what will be done with the liquid once it’s in the buckets, or who will pay for the buckets, or why people can’t just dump extra liquid on the nearest patch of dirt or grass instead of in the trash can.
• “Raaaaaaa-chel,” Marco whines, as soon as Rachel pulls open the door to her own dorm room.  “Jake lost our only room key!”
• “Actually,” Jake says, elbowing his way in next to Marco, “I’m just the one who is apparently a ‘mean mom’ because I refuse to pay the 60 bucks to get us a new one.  But it’s dumb that it costs so much money for a new key.”
• “Didn’t you get two keys when you moved in?” Cassie calls from inside the room.  Jake immediately flushes.  He’s nothing if not predictable.
• With a sigh, Rachel ushers the boys inside.  Cassie and Ax and Tobias are already camped out on her floor, working on some project for their Ancient Civilizations class.
• “We did get two keys,” Marco says, “but then this one time I was late for class, so I had to ditch everything I had on me — room key, Student ID, ten bucks, a perfectly good pair of Vans — to fly over there.  The professor threatened to fail me if I missed any more classes,” he adds, in a tone that invites them all to marvel at the depths of this injustice.
• “Do you not need a student ID to access the dining hall in its infinite bounty?” Ax asks, horrified.
• Jake lets out an aggrieved sigh.  “Every time we get to the door, he just bats his eyelashes at the student worker and goes ‘you know who I am.’  And somehow it works, every single time.”
• “Anyway, we were just using Jake’s key, but then Jake lost it!”  Marco throws himself across Rachel’s bed like it’s a fainting couch.  Rachel shoves him aside to sit down herself.
• “Where did you have it last?” Cassie asks, sensibly.
• “Um.”  Jake thinks about it for a while.  Everyone else watches him think.
• Rachel gives up before he does.  “Just swallow your pride and get a new one made, okay?”
• “I mean, you don’t really need-need a room key,” Tobias says.  “Ax and I haven’t had one since our first week here, and we’re just fine without.”
• “You what?” Rachel says.
• Tobias shrugs.  “I lost mine ages ago, and Ax…”  He glances over.
• “It was delicious.  Shuss.  A very distinct metallic taste, followed by a most interesting texture on the throat.  However, it did prove to be most unpleasant to digest.”
• “Ax let his curiosity get the better of him,” Tobias finishes.
• “How have you been getting into and out of your room this whole time?” Marco asks.
• “These doors are set high enough off the ground for roach morph to get under.”  Jake rolls his eyes as if unable to believe Marco couldn’t figure that one out on his own.
• “We were doing that,” Ax says.  “However, ever since Tobias cut a hole in window screen, we have not needed to bother going through the hallway at all.  A-tall?”
• “You what?”  Rachel says again.
• “The screen’s still there.”  Tobias rolls over to look up at her, trying for an innocent smile.  “It just has a…”  He makes a circle in the air, about three feet in diameter, with one hand.  “A slight hole in the middle.  So that we can get in and out without having to go under the door frame.”
• “I guess it’s a good thing you guys live on the third floor,” Cassie says slowly.
• Tobias nods.  “Oh yeah.  We’ve only had to chase two, okay three, raccoons out of there.  But that was before Ax’s scent was all over the place.  Turns out they do not like the smell of aliens.”
• “You what?”  Rachel’s starting to feel like a broken record.  Also starting to wonder why it has never occurred to her before that the boys are constantly visiting her room, but it’s never the other way around.
• “Technically, there have been several squirrels and a few mice who have entered as well,” Ax says, “but Tobias is kind enough to consume those invaders so that they don’t further trouble us.”
• “Plus, what do you even need a dorm room for, anyway?”  Tobias looks from Jake to Marco.  “We’ve got the mini-fridge for cinnamon rolls and feeder mice, the TV, the microwave, and that’s about it.”
• “Where are you even keeping your textbooks and whatnot?” Marco asks.  “No way you’re dragging that —”  He glances at the 800-page monstrosity sitting open in front of Tobias.  “Under your door in roach morph.”
• Tobias laughs.  “Of course not!  We keep books and spare clothes stashed above a loose ceiling panel in the Social Sciences building.”
• “You what?” Rachel says, unable to suppress the reflex.
• Jake tilts his head as if actually considering this idea.  “It would save on a lot of trips between buildings, and the air vents inside Carson Hall are surprisingly spacious…”
• Rachel buries her face in her hands.  “How is it Cassie is the only one actually raised in a barn, and also the only one of you who isn’t acting like she was raised in a barn?” she asks her palms mournfully.
• “Hey!”  Jake straightens up.  “I managed to hang onto my keys for over eight months!”
• “Yes, and your idea of ‘doing laundry’ was to stuff every single article of clothing you owned into a single washer and then stand there in boxers and Jordans as it jammed, sprayed water everywhere, and drew attention to the fact that you never added detergent.”  Rachel gives him a severe look.  She is glad that he called her for help rather than trying to fix it himself, otherwise she shudders to think what might’ve happened.
• “Anyway, it’s 60 dollars,” Cassie says.  “If any of you can’t afford new keys yourselves, I’m happy to fork over the 240 necessary for all of you to get new ones.”
• “Might I remind everyone that we’re all rich and famous these days.”  Rachel glares around at all four boys.  “So none of you are going to be breaking the bank if you just swallow your pride and go admit to Student Services that you need new keys.”
• “That is entirely unnecessary, esse-serry, because…”  Ax wilts under Rachel’s stare.
• “Fine, fine,” Marco mutters.  “But I want the record to show that this is all Jake’s fault.”
• “‘Course it is,” Jake says tolerantly.  “I’m the meanest mom of them all.”
• Cassie and Rachel have been members of the local RAINN chapter for three semesters when the fundraiser comes up.  RAINN starts with a Polar Bear Plunge: anyone who wants to can get sponsors to pay them to jump into the San Francisco Bay in mid-January, all proceeds to go to sexual assault survivors.  Rachel, as always, offers a one-up: she and Cassie will jump out of a helicopter, turn into actual polar bears in midair, and then land in the San Francisco Bay… but only if their fans donate at least one million dollars to the event.
• In the end, CNN loans out the helicopter in exchange for exclusive coverage.  In the end, they raise fifteen million, and change.  In the end, Cassie actually lets Rachel talk her into buying a brand-new swimsuit just for the event.
• They are spectacularly bad at following the rules or knuckling under to authority, and there are ways in which it shows.  Tobias fails a British Literature test, because he refuses to read All the King’s Men and he regrets nothing.  Marco fails out of his Computational Biology class because he doesn’t bother to listen to the windbag professor.  Rachel refuses to complete her Marketing Theory final because it’s creepy and manipulative, and just barely scrapes a C.  Jake fails three classes his first semester, only one his second semester, and another two his third semester; in each case he fights the law and the law wins.
• Ax reads through the assignment, twice, very carefully.  Then he looks back up at Rachel.  “I’m confused,” he admits.
• “It’s a simple question.”  Rachel sets the tape recorder on the table between them.  The noisy Student Union probably isn’t the best place for this interview, but it’s the place she happened to catch Jake and Ax blatantly co-writing two slightly different copies of a Teaching of ELA essay they’re supposed to write alone, so she’ll go for it.  “When, where, and how did you first become aware that aliens were present on planet Earth?”
• “Why are you asking Ax this?” Jake asks.
• Rachel rolls her eyes.  “Because I already know how the rest of you will answer, seeing as I was right there with you, and I’m supposed to pick someone whose answer I don’t know.  Since I only have five real friends, Ax it is.”
• “Your logic is impenetrable.”  Ax folds his hands on the tabletop.  “Very well.”
• “Great.”  Rachel leans in to the recorder, pressing the start button.  “Rachel Berenson interviewing Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill for Applied Media Relations.  Ax: when, where, and how did you first become aware that aliens were present on planet Earth?”
• “Actually, it was Elfangor who told me, as well.”  Ax’s smile is all in the eyes, and just a little bit melancholy.  “I was in my first year of education — similar to your kindergarten?  Gaaarden? — and we were told to pick a planet and learn a few facts about it.  I asked my brother for help, and he…”  The smile becomes more melancholy.  “He told me of Earth.”
• “Including that there were aliens here?” Rachel asks.  “That was one of your facts?”
• “Not that specifically.  Cally.  All-lee.”  Ax takes his time, turning the word over in his mouth.  “He told me how soft and green the grasses were, how firm and rough the trees.  He told me of the places where Earth’s rivers ran straight off the edge of cliffs, cascading down hundreds of feet with a sound like a fighter ship taking off in close quarters.  At the time, I assumed he must have visited the planet to know it so well.  Later, I thought nothing of it, and…”  Ax takes a breath.  “It was not until I learned of the will he left Tobias that I once again remembered his words, and remembered the sense that he must have known this place, and loved it well.”
• “Wow,” Jake says softly.
• “I am not sure if that answers your question correctly.”  Ax looks at Rachel.
• She clears her throat.  “Seems right to me.  Did you at least ace the assignment, after that?”
• “Oh no.”  Ax chuckles.  “There were no grades, but I was chastened by the teacher for allowing my imagination to run away with me.  When I later confronted Elfangor about it, he told me to my face that I must have been too elaborate in the telling.”
• “No,” Rachel says, indignant.
• “Sounds like every other older brother in the universe,” Jake says.
• “Yeah, but—”  Rachel sputters.  “But—”
• “Oh yes.”  Ax’s smile is more genuine now.  “He was occasionally fond of, as you might say, pulling my leg.”
• “Like I said.”  Jake raises his eyebrows.  “Siblings.  It’s, like, the sworn duty of the oldest to troll everyone who comes after.”
• “Okay, look, that time I told Jordan and Sarah that peeing in the pool would dye the water green was self-defense,” Rachel says.
• “Whereas the time that Tom told me Santa Clause didn’t visit our house because of all the bad things I’d done during the year was pure evil.”  Jake shrugs.  “Point being—”
• “That is indescribably evil.”  Rachel shakes her head.  “I can’t believe I never tried that one.”
• “Elfangor once told me that all creatures with mouths evolved that way to cannibalize their own parents,” Ax says.  “I was terrified of djabalas for months after that.”
• “Anyway.”  Jake pushes back from the table.  “Sorry I, uh, derailed your recording.”
• “Oh, right.”  Rachel looks back down at her packet.  “Question two.  In your opinion, what role did media coverage of the invasion play in people’s responses?”
• Ax glances around.  “It was most annoying for the attention it garnered.  Only just this semester, I have been forced to turn down four different propositions and one offer of friendship from individuals who became aware of my presence through television or newspapers.”
• “I’m just sayin’…”  The guy at the next table over finishes his beer and thunks the empty glass back down.  His voice is too loud, slurred at the edges.  “Anyone stupid enough to join an organization like the Sharing kinda maybe had it coming.  Ya know what I mean?”
• Cassie feels her whole body go still.  Across the table, Ax lowers his maraschino cherry back into his glass still uneaten.  Tobias’s shoulders hunch defensively.
• “Like, what kinda dumbass is like ‘yeah, this totally uncertified organization with its mysterious fucking leader and weird obsession with full membership seems totally legit to me.’”  The drunk asshole is still talking.  “And now half the yeerk-heads on the planet are like ‘boo-hoo, I didn’t meeeean to become some alien’s little bitch,’ and we’re supposed to buy that?”
• Jake shoves to his feet.  Rachel yanks him back down and plants a hand on his shoulder, standing herself in the same motion.  “I got this,” she says.
• Cassie opens her mouth to suggest that maybe they could just let it go and enjoy their drink in peace, realizes she doesn’t particularly want to let it go, and closes her mouth again.
• “Tobias, stop her!” Marco hisses, apparently having the same thought, as Rachel shoves her way between the drunk asshole and his redheaded friend to get their attention.
• Pointedly, Tobias leans back in his chair and takes another sip of his Mai Tai.
• “It’s Asstin, right?” Rachel asks Drunk Asshole.  “We have Applied Design together.”
• “Austin.”  Drunk Asshole smiles blearily up at her.  “That’s Sean.”  He points to the redhead.
• Well, no one’s died yet, Cassie thinks.  And if it comes to that, she figures they can leave Ax to sit on Jake while she and Tobias wrestle Rachel off of her victim.
• “My name’s Rachel.”  Her answering smile is all danger.  “And I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying just now about…”  She tilts her head in mock thoughtfulness.  “What was it…”  She snaps her head back down, jaw clenched.  “Yeerk-heads?”
• Sean, who appears slightly more sober, immediately goes dead-white.  “We were just… I mean…”  He clears his throat.  “We didn’t know…”
• Rachel turns to look at him, and he scrambles backward so fast he falls out of his chair.
• With a dismissive sniff, she turns away and leaves him on the floor.  “Anyway.  Austin.”  She turns back to her original victim.  “Do you know who I am?”
• It would appear that Austin is starting to get a clue, because he swallows hard and looks up at her.  “You’re…”  He swallows again, around what appears to be a dry mouth.  “Animorph,” he mumbles at last.
• “Now here’s something you might not have known about me.”  Rachel slams both hands down on the tabletop.  Austin recoils.  “Funnily enough, I joined the Sharing one time.”
• “I…”  Austin’s voice remains open for several seconds.  “If I knew, I wouldn’t… I didn’t know you were there!” he says at last.
• “Oh, so you’re the kind of stinking, cringing, two-faced coward who only talks about dumbasses like me when we’re not around to defend ourselves.”  Rachel leans steadily closer to Austin as she talks, until he has shrunk so far down in his chair that its top rungs rest against the base of his skull.  “That’s very interesting.  And would you know, I think I’d rather be the kind of dumbass who almost became some alien’s little bitch than be the kind of hollow, pitiful man who has to let shit like that dribble out of his mouth in order to feel like he’s in any way smarter or more important than anyone else on the planet.”
• Austin opens his mouth and closes it several times.  If Cassie had to guess, he is dead-cold sober and an inch away from pissing his pants right about now.
• “Now.”  Rachel straightens up, still towering over the guy.  “This little bitch is going to go back over there, and if I hear you say one more word about yeerk hosts…”
• “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I didn’t mean it, I was wrong, I’m sorry—”
• Rachel turns away, releasing the guy from her stare, while he’s still mid-babble.
• Sean scrambles off the floor and grabs Austin by the arm, running for the door.
• “Tip your waitress!” Marco calls after them, and Sean throws a twenty on the ground as he goes.
• “Going to one meeting does not count as joining the Sharing,” Jake apparently cannot resist adding, once Rachel sits back down.
• “Technically it was two meetings.”  Rachel tosses back the rest of her cider, breathing hard.  “And I used my words, didn’t I?  That’s what six years of therapy’ll get you.”  She glances over at Tobias, who is staring at her.  “What?”
• At last, Tobias shuts his mouth.  “That was,” he says slowly, “the single hottest thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”
• Jake groans.  “And now you’ve ruined the moment.”
• “You ever stop and appreciate how, like, wet water is?  Like, it’s all flowy and transparent but then if you really stop to feel it it’s got this, y’know, this texture.  It’s not just water, it’s all, all, wet.  But we never appreciate it.  We just go through our lives like ‘blah, blah, water, whatever’ and we never really feel the water, not like the way it feels on our skin.   And even being a dolphin and is like ‘water, yeah, it’s just there’ and little fishies like trout and big fishies like sharks, they still don’t really think, they don’t feel the wet…”
• “Marco?”
• “Yeah, Jake?”
• “Exactly how many of those pot brownies did you have, again?”
• “One!  And it was tiny.”
• “… uh-huh.”
• “Okay, and then I got, like, really hungry, so I ate four more of them.”
• “Next time a hot guy at a party starts offering you questionable substances, maybe bring some different snacks along for when the munchies set in.  Okay?”
• “Oh, yeah!  What’s his name!  I almost forgot.”
• “Riku, the criminology major with the nice cheekbones.”
• “Damn, you’re good!  How did you know that?”
• “You’ve already told me about his cheekbones.  Three times.  Now, will you please go to sleep?  I have a Poli Sci test in the morning.”
• “Yeah, okay, fine.  Maybe I should go tell Riku about the water.  Maybe he never appreciated water either.  You think he drinks water?”
• “Pretty good bet he does, unless someone infected him with rabies in the last hour.  Go the fuck to sleep.”
• “I had rabies once.  Think I should tell him that?”
• “Probably not.  Good night, Marco.”
• “Night, Jake.  Love you.”
• “…yeah, yeah.  I, y’know, I love you too.”