We're all family here || The Vulpinis, yo

[FRANKIE VULPINI]

Bull-fucking-shit. That was all he had to say about this. The couch. The fucking couch, with its jabbing springs and its halfway lumpy texture, like it couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to be a piece of furniture, a living creature, or a piece of the floor. He’d never been more uncomfortable in his life and that, he claimed, included the long hours spent going through a divorce with his ex-wife in the room. Worst night sleep he’d ever had, he’d told Hannah the first morning, and she’d told him he could shove the couch right up his ass if he kept complaining, or better yet just walk out.

He’d missed her. He really had. She understood him.

But there was no denying the fact that this situation, all of it, every last grotesque inch of it, was unfair beyond all reckoning. Joel got his own bedroom. Joel, the sickly one who, although not quite so sickly anymore had clearly started the whole confrontation. Frankie had been the victim. And he’d played the part relatively well, all things considered. He still, unfortunately, had not gotten the chance to bash Joel’s head in for besting him, nor had he felt the urge to blame his drug use for his relative lack of strength. It was, as usual, his brother’s fault.

Just like it would be his brother’s fault somehow when Hannah inevitably walked into the living room and found her older brother sunk deep into the demon of the couch with just his boxers on, watching the most blatantly risqué channel cable had to offer at what was almost full volume. Just, you know, for shits and giggles. Frankie did love a good reaction. He hadn’t figured out how he’d blame Joel quite yet, as he wasn’t even sure if the Rat was home, but he’d manage somehow. He always had. And Hannah had always seen right through him just like their mother, but that wasn’t really the point of the practice anyhow.

Hand down his boxers (more for eventual effect than out of actual arousal, although Twilight Sparkle was indeed a fantastic specimen and he figured he might as well, as he couldn’t safely get high on the off-chance Princess Hannah happened to show her dainty little ass), Frankie watched his show quite enthusiastically, sparing the rest of the apartment—and, in reality, probably those above and below it—not a single decibel of glorious, potentially illegal filmmaking.

Porn wasn’t half as fun when you could watch it and not get caught. This, he decided, was much better. Field of Wet Dreams deserved to be recognized for what it was, and he deserved to experience the thrill of just barely changing the channel in time. It would be glorious.

[HANNAH VULPINI]

outfit

So. So... Life since the Vulpini boys has been... hectic to say the least. Though she had liked Holden well enough, the fact was family came first. So, she had to play referee to one brother who was highly nervous and another who was full of piss and vinegar. Fun. Not that she didn't love them terribly, because she did. Being away from them for as long as she had been had wounded her a but, and she was trying to make up for it now. Their parents weren't the most supportive bunch, and bordered on abusive on occasion. The three siblings were all each other had.

Whether the boys liked it or not.

And, to be honest, they didn't.

Frankie had always been cruel to Joel. It was honestly one of the main reasons she and the eldest Vulpini child fought. Once she had even found them playing 'Interrogation' where Frankie had coaxed poor Joel into letting him tie him up, only for his big brother to wail on him mercilessly. Of course, Joel had only been seven then, and eager to please anyone he could. He'd grown out of thinking Frankie was one of those people. On the other hand, Hannah secretly thought, Frankie was jealous of the affection their Mother had given sickly Joel. Joel had been her baby, her darling. And Hannah had been Daddy's. Who did Frankie have?

But, today was quiet. It was nice. Both brothers were home but staying out of each others hair. At least not punching each other. At any rate, Hannah had a moment to paint, and it felt good. It felt great. There she stood in her dungarees, her sports bra, her hand crocheted sweater that swallowed her body. Her bear paw slippers that were snowy white besides the drips of paint that splattered them. Her long black hair was combed back today, with her cubs baseball cap on backwards, and a paint brush in her hand. A portrait of a woman who she did not know. Iris, Goddess of Rainbows. A mythological beauty. A- was that moaning?

She paused, listening.

Oh... Oh God, that was moaning.

What the fuck was moaning going on in her living room for?

As she left her room, she took her squirt guns with her and stuffing them in her pockets. They dripped and she didn't much care. Something was amiss and it was going to lead to a crunchy stain in her carpet. No thank you sir and or madam, no thank you. Marching out, her eyes went right to the tv, as some busty- far too busty to be natural- blond with blue eyes was showing off her oral talents on some John with a baseball bat. And that's not to mean she was discussing literature.

Porn. How classy.

Sharp, blue, eyes moving to her big brother, her face recoiled in disgust. He was near naked, and worse, his hand was down his pocket. For the love of Van Gogh. Collecting her face to one of indifference, her eyes narrowed at him, as she took her pistols out and doused him quickly in cold water. "NO! No! That's a bad Frankie! That's a bad little pervert! We don't do that on Hannah's couch! BAD! BAD BOY!" She made sure to get him good, making sure to aim at his business to frighten away any possible growth issues he might have. Disgusting.

With one gun emptied, she snatched the remote and muted the television. "What the fuck are you doing, Frankie? Trying to blind me or give Jolly a panic attack?" Well... if he was jerkin his gerkin, it was kinda obvious what he was trying to do- NO NO NO EW DISGUSTING! "Don't answer that! Just knock it off! Watch something more your age level." Pushing one of the channels of a known kids network, she grinned as she saw Blue's Clues come on. "There. Remember, you're lookin for paw prints."

[JOEL VULPINI]

Ever since Frankie had returned to the household, Joel had been on edge.

He'd started imagining things again, started glancing sideways at strangers and silently checking them for earpieces and listening devices. Well -- not that he hadn't done that before, but with Hannah around, he was...calmer. She was his security blanket, his safe person.

But even she couldn't protect him from Frankie.

It made him so angry that she cared about him at all. He, who had been so horrible to Joel throughout their entire childhood, he who had made Joel's life a living hell, how could she just forgive him for that?! If he didn't love Hannah too much to ever feel anything towards her but concern and devotion, he would have felt a little betrayed. But this was Hannah. Hannah would never do something like that on purpose.

No, on the contrary, he supposed he saw why she would. She was so...kind, and wonderful, that of course she would forgive her own flesh and blood of anything. That was just the way that she was. And Joel admired her for that, certainly. He simply was not capable of the same.

Especially when Frankie had gone right back to his old capers as soon as he'd arrived.

Of course, Joel had made it very clear to him during their first confrontation that he was not putting up with his bullshit in the same way anymore. He was not the scrawny, mousy, fearful boy he had been -- he was a grown man now, and he was strong, and he knew how to fight. And he would not take advances on his person kindly.

Also, he got his own bedroom and Frankie didn't. So there was that to hold over his head.

And indeed, having the bedroom made him feel...like he belonged. Like he really lived there. The fact that Frankie slept on the couch allowed Joel to disassociate him, to remind himself he didn't really live here, he was just staying here until he got clean. (Which, of course, Joel knew was never going to happen; in Joel's mind, Frankie was staying here until Hannah realized he was full of shit and kicked him out, and he prayed every night that that would happen soon.)

Further evidence of the fact that his brother was completely and utterly full of shit came that afternoon. Joel had been sitting in his room, sketchpad open, drawing away with his charcoals, when a most foul sound distracted him from his artistic labors -- the sound of moaning. The sound of moaning, from beyond his bedroom door (the door he had started locking once Frankie had moved in). The sound of moaning in a very distinguishable voice.

A low growl formed in Joel's throat and bubbled quietly to the surface. He set down his charcoal, dusted off his blackened hands, adjusted the hat Hannah had knit him, and stood up from his desk. Bristling at the interruption, he strode to the door, unlocked it, and exited into the living room, just as Hannah began to squirt Frankie's crotch with a water gun.

Though initially more than a little alarmed by the grotesque images on the television screen, Joel sucked in his horror in exchange for muffled laughter, because, God, Hannah punishing Frankie like that was just hilarious. He chuckled into his blackened hand, shaking with silent laughter as Hannah emptied an entire gun onto him before switching the TV station to Blue's Clues. He glanced at Frankie, grin hidden behind his hand.

"Good choice, Hannah. I loved Blue's Clues when I was Frankie's age."

ooc: outfit!

[FRANKIE VULPINI]

Moaning. Ah, it was glorious indeed. Frankie would have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t enjoyed it at least a bit, though really it was the reaction he was waiting for. Two of them, preferably, though Hannah’s was infinitely more important than the other. As far as Joel went, it was just nice to know he could still get under his baby brother’s skin. Just like old times. And he would, he vowed, get him back for daring to retaliate earlier, when he’d first arrived. If Frankie hadn’t put up with that shit when they were growing up, he certainly wasn’t about to start now. Never mind that Joel was perfectly capable of standing up for himself now, being a fully grown man. He could ignore that fact for the time being.

To be honest, he made it a lot farther than he thought he would before anyone interrupted him. He hadn’t meant to, really. He’d been counting on a good ten minutes before anyone came in, and in all honesty the anticipation was far more exciting than anything happening on screen, so he hadn’t even started with the hand in his pants until he’d gotten bored. So it wasn’t his fault. No one else was paying attention. How, he had no idea. That shit was fucking loud—almost disturbingly so, even to him. Which, obviously, was saying quite a lot.

Maybe it was a bit ironic, his paying so much attention to the screen, waiting so eagerly for someone (i.e. a certain Princess) to scream in horror at his choice of entertainment that he didn’t notice Her Royal Highness had vacated her room until the first splash of water hit him.

It was nothing short of surprising.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Frankie yelped loudly, jerking his hand straight out of his pants as he twitched in an unsuccessful attempt to remove himself from the spray. Somehow, that only seemed to make it worse. “JESUS—” He twitched, flailed, and threw his hands up over his face only to find himself thoroughly watered between the legs.

When at last she ceased fire and snatched up the remote, all Frankie could do was glare, his hair and nose dripping slightly, though not half as much as the little bit of clothing he was wearing. “The fuck is your problem?” he growled, shaking a few drops of water out of his hair before he pushed it roughly back. “Thanks, now it’s gonna chafe, you little bitch.” Still seated far into the couch, Frankie pointed down at his boxers, now slightly translucent and distinctly clingy from their little soak. They were, however, no longer the host of a problem. He supposed that had been her intention.

Just as he was about to go into another round of grotesque swearing, he heard the laughter. It figured. Turning sharply around on the couch, he shot Joel a glare so deadly it ought to have shriveled him right up on the spot. There was a time, of course, when it might have. “The fuck are you looking at, Rat? Don’t you got a nest to go curl up in or something?” he practically spat, hatred and something that might have been mistaken as near embarrassment rolling off him in waves.

[HANNAH VULPINI]

outfit

Frankie jerking around like a marionette was something that was more than a little amusing. The name bitch didn't even really affect her. Hannah had always had the mentality of 'Call me what you like, because chances are it's probably true.' In fact, there was only one word that she really didn't care for, and that was the big C. "You know, we do have those new fangled towels everyone is talking about... You could just go dry yourself off." She gave a little frown. "Or put on some actual clothes. That'd be good." Frankie seemed to be one of those types of people who needed to be damn near naked at all times. It was... kind of obnoxious. And she could tell by Joel's stiffly patient face that she shouldn't allow Frankie to be obnoxious because he was cleaning up his act. But he was so difficult, she'd be lying if she said it wasn't usually easier to let him have his way.

Not always though.

"Don't be a dick to Jolly, just because you're uncomfortable. You really can be a five year old sometimes." It occurred to her that Joel might take offense by the bitch comment- he was in every way protective of Hannah, as Frankie was... well, Frankie. Giving him a glance, her eyes spoke to him. They said let it go. They said it didn't matter. They said that it was important to her that they all try, and that she was depending on Joel to be the mature and kind man that she knew he was. In a lot of ways, Hannah expected more out of shy and sweet and nervous Joel than she did even Frankie, who had once upon a time excelled in popularity and sports. Oh how the mighty have fallen. "Come on. Prince Frankie obviously wanted are attention. We'll have some... family time."

It was a little stunning how contradictory Hannah Vulpini's personality was. On one hand she was independent and cold. She had the intense Vulpini gaze, and the imperious fold in her lips that all the children of Franklin Senior had. Frankie wasn't wholly off when he called her a Princess, even if she would never admit it. But on the other hand she was also sensitive. She wanted the family that she never had, and her stubborn nature made her resolve in creating it with her brothers so absolute. It wasn't that Hannah necessarily wanted them all to be best friends. But she wanted them to show that they loved each other. She wanted an affection between the three of them that they never had in their austere home growing up. Their parents- solemn Olivia and severe Franklin, who had no love for each other- had cheated them out of that.

Hannah wanted them free of all that.