Last time, Ismael moved in, El proposed to Leo, and Bedivere learned about his alien heritage. This time, teen rebellion and a bachelorette party.
Bedivere’s pretty sure Deshaun and his stories about “aliens” are full of shit – or just plain crazy. That being said, he finds that with puberty came a bad case of insomnia, not that it seems to be affecting his state of mind. He hasn’t slept properly in days, but he still feels fresh as a daisy.
One night, on a whim, he heads out to fish in the early morning hours. He’s there less than an hour before a cop shows up to bust him for his heinous criminal act of
walking across the damn road breaking curfew. Wow. We’re all glad to see the Gallant’s dutifully paid taxes are funding this kind of top tier police work.
(jk, they haven’t paid a dime since Brienne bought the No Bills LTR)
Jared is characteristically furious.
Jared: You went across the road? At three a.m? You call that breaking curfew?!
Bedivere: Dad, I swear, it was just a misunder-
Jared: Next time I wanna hear you made it at least a mile, okay? Rebel against authority properly, you little punk.
Bedivere: But dad, I don’t wanna rebel against authority!
Jared: Sure ya do kid, and I’m very proud of you for it! You’re still grounded though.
Grounded in the Gallant household = being on dish duty long enough to satisfy your parents. That’s not really a punishment for Bedivere the neat freak, so instead he gets put in charge of fixing their perpetually leaky kitchen sink.
While trying in vain to repair the piece of shit for the millionth time, Bedivere feels a sudden pressure in his skull. It feels almost like static electricity, but somehow inside his head. Acting purely on instinct, he raises his hand towards the offending appliance, and feels himself abruptly lose most of the strength in his body as the sink stops leaking.
Bedivere: Oh my plumbob Deshaun was right.
El: Great, you’ve figured out the truth, your life is a lie, blah blah blah, could you not have your little crisis in the middle of my bachelorette party?
Empathetic as always, El.
Bedivere: Ohh, my head…I…I think I’m gonna go lie down…
He heads upstairs to get away from the giggling partygoers downstairs and hopefully get over his sudden headache.
The second his head hits the pillow, he slips into an odd trance-state. Numbers and symbols he only half-understands whirl in front of his eyes, there and then gone again in the blink of an eye.
Downstairs, the bachelorette party is in full three-person swing.
I wonder what they’re all thinking?
El: Mmm, look at that hunk of man meat. Brother in the middle of an existential crisis whom?
Catherine: It doesn’t count as ogling if I peak out of the corner of my eye, right? Right.
Connie: I can’t believe you indulged your little horse obsession by hiring a cowboy-themed stripper for your sister’s bachelorette party.
Tiff: How loud d’you think this guy would squeal if I bit him?
TIFF! No biting the male stripper!
Tiff: Whaaaat? Just a little nip! He won’t even feel it in the morning!
Tiff: *grumbles* Killjoy.
Meanwhile, Bedivere is experiencing what can only be described as a mind fuck. The dancing holograms are joined by voices echoing in his mind. Oddly enough, although he can feel the prickle of multiple person’s attention on him, like when a kid at school stares at him from behind his back, they don’t seem to be speaking to him. Their presence feels disturbingly cold and clinical, like they’re taking notes on him rather than establishing communication.
Catherine: Hey sis, remember how you used to shove food in my face when we were kids?
Catherine: It’s payback time!
Let’s all just ignore the vaguely sexual elements in this image. Speaking of which…
NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE
Catherine: God do I wish I was anywhere but here.
Catherine: Alright, gather round everyone! It’s time for me to publicly humiliate my big sister, as is tradition!
El: Aww yeah! Humiliation makes me PUMPED!
Catherine: Also, Dad, could you please put on some pants?
Jared: Not on your damn life.
All things considered, the party goes pretty well.
Some supervillain decided to create a doomsday weapon, so of course the police call up the geriatric spy to take care of it.
Brienne: I’m too old for this nonsense.
Some early morning piano practice before Danger wakes up.
As far as Brienne is concerned, Ismael is an amoral scientist willing to dissect her beloved stepson at the drop of a hat, and the only reason she hasn’t kicked him out of her house is because Catherine would be furious. None of that stops him from “subtly” trying to get on her good side.
Ismael: MY, THIS IS A LOVELY HOUSE YOU HAVE HERE CATHERINE. YOUR MOTHER IS QUITE A REMARKABLE WOMAN FOR ACCOMPLISHING SO MUCH, NOT TO MENTION STRONG AND BRAVE AND INCREDIBLY KIND-
Catherine: Ismael, how many times do I have to tell you, play it cool.
Brienne: *stony silence*
Ismael: Catherine, you are a bright light in the interminable darkness of this lonely world.
Catherine: Aww honey, no you are!
Catherine&Ismael: *smitten giggling*
El: I’m gonna barf all over this portrait.
Bedivere: Ismael, you’re a scientist, right?
Bedivere: Do you think you could- I mean- … I’ve been hearing things. Lately. And I don’t want to worry Mom or Dad, but that’s the kind of thing you check out, right?
Ismael: That would be wise, yes. I’m afraid I’m a physicist, not a biologist, but I can certainly see what tests I can run.
Bedivere: Thanks man! I don’t care if Mom thinks you’re creepy, you’re seriously the best!
*sneak in* *slides new chapter under door* *sneaks out*
*sneaks back in* *hugs Livvie for Liebster Award Nomination* *sneaks back out*