Dave smiled, carefully rolling onto his back and eliciting Jeanine, in her dormition, to shift her head unto his chest, her arm snaking across his stomach and holding him to her. She yawned and he believed for a moment that she could be waking up, but the subsequent sigh indicated that she was not. He brushed her hair back from his cheeks, smoothing it back on her head.

The sheets concealed the both of them from the waist down, Jeanine’s smooth back exposed to the bedroom and decorated with strands of her dark waves. Dave smiled down at her beautiful face, peaceful—blissful. He almost wanted to wake her up for a session of morning sex, but decided against, looking past the top of her head to see Scott lying spread eagle on his back with the same sheet just barely covering his lower hips. The sheets draped Angela’s lower hips as well, her skin so smooth and golden over her gentle swells. Scott had a protective arm across her bare back, his other hand splayed on his stomach. He was breathing very deeply, bordering dangerously on a snore.

Dave yawned, covering his mouth with his free hand. Angela mimicked him, turning slightly to look back at him over her shoulder. She covered her chest with one of her arms as she rolled on to her back, stretching the other arm above her. As her body arched in this dramatic display, the sheet slipped low on her hips, the top of her pubic area contouring in to where it would surely meet in a V.

“Good morning.” she said softly, turning back to clutch her boyfriend’s chest.

Scott stirred in his sleep, reaching his free hand across his body and rubbing her arm briefly. He murmured something in his sleep, then his hand dropped to rest on his stomach once more, his head turning away and his chest resuming its rhythmic rise and fall.

“Morning.” Dave smiled, sighing. He opened his mouth wide and yawned audibly. “Shit…” he sighed, twisting a little lock of Jeanine’s hair around his finger. “This place is a wreck.” he commented.

With that, the youngest Moffatt brother leaned over the edge of the bed, searching with his eyes through the discarded clothing for his boxer shorts. He promptly spotted a piece of the white fabric with cobalt pin stripes half obscured beneath his dress shirt from the night before. He stretched an arm off the bed reaching for it, careful not to disrupt his peacefully slumbering girlfriend. His left arm strained for as far as it would go, the right one concealed beneath Jeanine’s body, just barely able to grasp the corner of his underwear between his index and middle fingers. He dragged the pair of shorts towards him, swooping them up then going about carefully removing his arm from beneath Jeanine’s body. She stirred in her sleep, rolling away from him and onto her back with her arm arched gracefully over her head. Her entire upper half was bare and exposed to the world. After Dave slipped into his boxer shorts beneath the sheets, he draped the sheets over his girlfriend’s bare chest, throwing his legs off the bed and sitting up.

“Are you getting up Dave?”

Angela’s soft voice broke the otherwise stillness in the room and startled Dave.

He scratched his head. “Yeah.” he replied, yawning. “You hungry?” he asked her, pleased to have a companion while his girlfriend was still asleep.

Angela smiled, sitting up and tugging the sheets up over her chest. “Yeah.” she smiled.

* * *

Timber awoke the next morning with a very disoriented feeling that came with not initially recalling where she had fallen asleep the night before. Her eyes gradually became used to the bright lights that flooded the room—the horizontal blinds had been left open—feeling an immediate comfort when she realized that she was indeed in Bob’s bedroom. The only portion of this usual tale that was off was the fact that she was sleeping on his usual side of the bed closest to the door while he, as she could feel his body creating warmth just behind hers, was asleep on her side of the bed—the inside of the bed that was closest to the windows.

The room was spinning, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut in order to stave off the vertigo that was taking hold of her although she was still laying down. She had gotten very drunk the night before—that she could remember. She could recall what had happened earlier on in the night, then the memories tapered off into still frames.

“You awake Drunky McDrunkerson?” Bob asked, his voice gravelly and his mouth half obscured in his pillow.

Timber rolled onto her back slowly, groaning in agony.

Bob chuckled, burying his face in his pillow for a long moment. His pretty eyes reemerged and he smirked at her, his tangles of hair creating a halo around his softly-expressioned face. He had a light grin on his face.

Timber sighed, closing her eyes once more and taking a deep breath. It was then that she noticed the duvet rubbing right against her skin. There was a long moment of panic.

“Where’s my top?” she asked, digging a hand beneath the covers. She was still wearing a pair of bikini underwear, and she found her navy-blue tube top in a nylon bunch around her waist.

“Do you remember last night at all?” Bob asked, shifting over onto his back in a great jounce of the mattress. He curved an arm up over his head, his hairy armpit facing her.

As Timber shifted her tube top up on her body, the covers still concealing her from the neck down, she paused for a moment as if attempting to recall what had transpired. “Kinda.” she replied, realizing that although she could remember all that happened, there seemed to be a hazy film over the entire night.

Bob chuckled, turning his face and sniffing his armpit. “Oh man.” he wrinkled his nose. “It’s shower time.”

Timber stretched her arms above her head as well, taking a great whiff of each armpit. “Tell me about it.” she snorted, putting her arms back down.

“But anyways,” Bob continued. “By the end of the night you were really drunk. In fact, you went downstairs to get the karaoke machine and you came back up with a bottle of liquor instead!” he laughed.

Bob sniffed his armpit once more. He made a face, still trying to decide whether or not he was suffering from a serious case of body odor. “You were hugging the toilet all night!” he smirked. “I finally got you to stop puking and I had to carry your drunk ass to bed.”

Timber giggled. “Thanks Bob.” she said softly.

“Do I really smell as bad as I’m thinking I do?” Bob asked.

Timber turned over and sniffed his armpit. “Oh my God!” she suddenly exclaimed, sitting straight up in bed.

Bob sniffed himself again. “That bad?” he asked.

She paused in her precursor to the hefty verbiage that would indeed follow, giggling slightly and waving her hand. “No, you smell fine. But I have a secret to tell you!”

Bob grinned, looking up at her from where his arms were now bowed behind his head.

Timber smoothed back her bird’s nest of hair, sighing with great histrionics. She knew her abeyance from speaking would drive Bob crazy.

“Maybe I shouldn’t even tell you…” Timber began in an exhale. “I mean, Jeanine and Angela made me promise not to tell.” she continued, knowing that that was indeed the truth.

“Tell me biatch!” Bob shouted.

Timber began to giggle. “Okay,” she said, tugging her tube top further up on her body. She sat Indian style, despite the fact that she was only wearing a skimpy pair of panties on her lower half. “I walked in on something really big.”

“What?” Bob demanded, his eyes illuminated with interest. “What?! Tell me Timmy, tell me!”

“Shh, shh!” she hissed at him. “This is a BIG secret, you can’t tell ANYONE!”

“I won’t!”

“Jeanine, Dave, Angela, and Scott were all hooking up with each other in the basement!” she exclaimed.

“WHAT!?” Bob cried, his once wide eyes becoming impossibly huge. “IN THE BASEMENT?!”

“SHHHHHH!!!” Timber shouted, flying forward and clapping her hands over his mouth. “You cannot tell anyone.”

Bob gripped her wrists and held them back, his need for details more important than her scolding. “Just out in the open?” he asked quietly.

“No, in the practice room.” Timber responded lowly. She sat back. “They were all butt-ass naked, Dave and Jeanine looked like they were fucking from what I could see, and Scott and Angela were doing something… I couldn’t tell.” she rolled her eyes in an overwhelmed fashion. “Oh my God! I was so shocked! It was so crazy!”

“Shit!” Bob cursed flatly, re-bowing his arms behind his head. “I knew I should have gone with you to get the karaoke machine!” he exclaimed.

“Shhh, shhh!” she hushed him, bouncing where she sat on the bed. “I know!” she giggled. “It was so fucking weird! I didn’t even know they got along, let alone had group hook up sessions!” she giggled. “Color me taken aback and flabbergasted.”

“Color you the human dictionary.” Bob undertoned.

Timber paused, staring off into space for a moment as the memory played itself in her head once more. She finally looked at Bob, registering what he said. “Shut up!” she scolded, going about striking at him with her fists.

Bob caught her wrists, already beginning to laugh hysterically. “How am I going to face them! Holy shit!” he laughed. “I call bull-shit on you!”

“You’re not allowed to call bull shit!” Timber informed him, still attempting to mount him as his restrained her. “I call bull shit! You don’t!”

“Bull shit!” Bob hollered, laughing. “Bull-shit!”

“Your mother is bull-shit!” Timber accused. “Your mother took a bull shit and named it Bob!” she continued to wrestle him. “And oh-shit here you are!”

Bob wrangled her by the wrists and managed to push her onto her back as he sat up. “Ha!”

Timber’s legs went flailing into the air by the head of the bed. Bob held her down for a moment, just grinning at her.

“I’ll kill you.” she informed him flippantly.

He sat back, the duvet still over his lap. “Damn Carmen and her whining.” he stated flatly. “If it weren’t for her I would have gone with you.”

Timber rolled her eyes, still lying on her back in the opposite direction as him. “Yeah right.” she sneered. “If it weren’t for your libido, you would have come with me.”

Her grin was wry, but he took it as comedy. He shrugged helplessly.

Knock knock.

Bob looked up towards the door. “Moffatt’s mortuary, you kill ‘em, we chill ‘em!” he called.

Timber giggled, her body vibrating from where she was sprawled out on her back. “Moffatt’s house of pain, how can we hurt you?” she called after him.

The door creaked open and Dave peaked his head into the room. Timber tipped her head backwards to see him above her, welcoming him with a warm smile.

“Hey guys…” Dave said, pausing for a moment and looking mildly confused at the sight of Timber lounging on her back in a pair of panties and her stretchy tube top—her stomach exposed with her hip bones sharply holding her underwear an inch off of her stomach.

One of her legs was steepled, the other bent so that her foot did not rest upon the pillows. Her hair was tangled and messy but soft around her head, her face possessing a soft glow with her large lips parted slightly and pouting.

Bob bit his lip fiercely, his eyes already dancing with laughter.

“Where is everyone?” Dave asked, finally peeling his eyes from Timber.

He had changed into a pair of dark blue Henley sweat pants that hung loosely along his legs and a Roots tee-shirt that was fully equipped with the beaver-in-reeds logo across the front. His hair was still half-gelled from the night before, standing up at a strange angle that he was incessantly attempting to smooth down.

“Um...” Timber trailed off, stretching her arms over her head and elongating her body. “I have no idea.” she raised her eyes to her best friend, noticing he had a stupid look on his face.

Bob broke into ridiculous laughter, pointing at his brother and continuing to laugh.

Timber placed her foot on his shoulder and pushed. “Shut up!” she warned.

Dave’s eyes shifted awkwardly. “What?” he asked after a moment, self conscious.

Bob looked to his best friend. “Oh come on!” he cried. “I’m going to allegedly find out soon anyways, so I might as well let him know that I know and that Clint is going to know too.”

“Ughhh!” Timber growled. “I cannot keep a secret and it sucks that the people I have to tell my secrets to can’t keep them either.” She pointedly glared at her best friend.

Bob frowned, making his face into a little pout as he accepted his scolding. “Well, I mean, I’m going to find out anyways.” he shrugged. “And I can’t not tell Clint! We share DNA!”

Timber rolled her eyes. “I have to learn how to keep a secret.”

Bob’s eyes went wide and warning, still glassy and angelic from hours of sleep. “We don’t keep secrets from each other!” he snappily responded.

Timber just chuckled. “I know, I know.” she rolled her eyes, then turned her head back up to Dave.

The younger triplet just blinked, standing awkwardly in the center of the room, knowing he was missing some grande inside joke that was floating in the air just beyond his reach. He was ambivalent whether or not to inquire.

“Sorry Dave.” Timber quickly stated.

Bob patted her calf that had come to rest right next to him. “Don’t apologize to him Timber,” he grinned. “He just had a four-way… do you really think anything could get him down?!”

Bob roared with laughter, his head lolling back to rest on the headboard. Timber glared at him, attempting through the twisting of her mouth to keep her own giggles at bay. Both collected themselves almost immediately, looking to Dave for his reaction.

Dave smirked coyly, shrugging. “Anyways.” he stated—a way of swiftly shifting the subject to one that did not involve his latest sexual exploits. “Where is everyone?”

Timber looked to Bob.

“I think Carmen and Kelly slept in the living room or the guest room. I don’t really know.” he shrugged. “I was busy carrying ‘ole Lightweight here to bed.”

“Thanks Bob.” Timber dryly responded, rolling her eyes.

Dave just grinned slightly. “Well… I’m going to go make breakfast, so you guys should come eat soon.” he shrugged, already backpedaling for the door.

“Alrighty.” Bob nodded, smacking Timber’s lower leg once more.

“Peace out Dave.” Timber saluted him.

Dave turned to leave, opening the door wider in order to make his exit, but quickly jumped back as Carmen and Kelly appeared on the other side.

“Oh, hey guys.” Dave smiled. “Breakfast in like forty-five.” he informed them as he continued past, heading down the hallway.

“Ooooh, I’m hungry too!” Carmen salivated, patting her stomach.

She entered first, having slipped into her house to change into a salmon pink tank top and a pair of blue-plaid boxer shorts that were rolled up at the waist. Her auburn hair was slightly disheveled on her head, her face appearing pallid without the usual few swabs of mascara across her lashes. Kelly was directly behind her with her hair swept back into a ponytail, yet the evidence of the previous night’s make-up was all around her eyes. She had donned one of Clint’s tee-shirts—a bright blue one with a green circle in the center of the chest—and a pair of her own grey sweat shorts.

Carmen noticeably paused upon entering. “What are you guys doing?” she asked cautiously, not wanting to sound bitter and suspicious, but fearing she did so anyways.

“You feeling better Timber?” Kelly asked, slipping past her friend and settling at the foot of the bed.

Timber just smiled slightly, rolling onto her stomach into what she assumed was a more appropriate position. “I actually feel kind of nauseous.” she replied. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” Carmen responded, rounding the bed to the inside and sitting down next to her boyfriend. “What did you guys do last night?” she asked for the sake of conversation, sitting unnecessarily close to Bob in bed.

He scooted over slightly in order to allow her space. “Well since you guys left me with Miss Puke over here…” Bob trailed off in an undertone, passing a glare at Kelly and then to Carmen beside him.

“I wasn’t that bad! I can still remember!” Timber insisted. “I remember puking in the backyard.” she offered, smiling sheepishly.

“… and then in the downstairs bathroom… and then in the kitchen… and then in the backyard again when you insisted you needed air… and then in the upstairs bathroom…” Bob ticked off on his fingers. “I kept giving you water, and you kept puking it back up!” he laughed.

“Shut up bitch.” Timber giggled.

Bob waved his hands, almost choking with laughter. She had put her head on her arms that were stretched out above her and was looking back at him. “No! That’s not all!” he interjected. “You were hugging the toilet for a good half hour, then you insisted you were fine. So I helped you up and you puked all over yourself and me. So I had to get you out of your clothes while you were on the floor in various stages of consciousness, and THEN I had to literally carry your drunk ass to bed.” he recounted, shaking his head.

Timber covered her face with her right arm that had been arched behind her head. “Oh no!” she wailed, laughing. “Last night was like… the worst night ever!”

“Yeah, and the whole karaoke machine incident was just the straw that broke the camel’s back!” Bob snickered, smacking his best friend squarely on her butt cheeks that were so elegantly hinted towards around the fabric of her underwear.

Timber flinched at his gesture then peeked out at him and smirked mischievously. “More like the straw that stroked the camel’s sack! That shit was hot!” she giggled.

“OHHHHH!!!” Bob hollered, laughing hysterically. “The camel’s sack!”

Carmen and Kelly giggled in the periphery, their own laughter tapering off long before that of Bob and Timber.

“Hey, where’s Clint?” Bob suddenly asked, as if just noticing that his identical brother was missing from the picture. “And Ben, by the way.” he added.

Kelly shrugged. “Ben was watching TV with your dad in the living room when I was downstairs a few minutes ago.” she supplied. “Clint is somewhere else.”

Carmen placed her hand on Bob’s knee, gently creeping it up along his thigh, walking her thumb and index fingers along the fabric of his cotton sweat pants on the inside seem. She looked up into his eyes and a devious smirk passed over her lips.

“I’m going to go wash up for breakfast.” Bob announced, his eye contact unflagging against hers. “I’ll be right back.”

Timber sighed loudly, throwing her body onto her back and sighing once more, begrudgingly. “I need to brush my teeth and shit too. She turned her face and sniffed at her armpit. “And take a fucking shower!” she complained, tossing her feet over the edge of the bed and getting on to her feet. She stood up and stretched elaborately with her hands over her head and her back arching backwards a great distance, her chest nearly paralleling the ceiling. “Peace out guys, I’ll be back eventually.”

Bob slipped off the bed after her, opting to take the long root over the edge closest to the door so that Carmen didn’t have to get up. He passed his girlfriend a smirk while combing his fingers back through his hair. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

His words were nearly a promise and she held him to it with the pursing of her lips in approval.

Timber broke through their sacred moment. “Can I barrow these for the hallway?” she asked her best friend, holding up his Addidas track pants from the night before.

Bob broke his secret look with Carmen and looked over his shoulder at Timber who was standing by his closet. “You puked on those.”

Timber made a face. “Eeeew. A lot of puke?” she asked, pinching either end of the waistband with the index finger and thumb of each hand in order to inspect.

“Not really, actually.” Bob shrugged. “Just a little bit; they should be fine—you were just puking water.”

Timber grinned, stepping into his sweat pants and rolling them up thrice at the waist. “Ughhh. Navy-blue and black. Shit.” She cursed, noticing that she was still wearing her tube top and thus breaking one of her cardinal rules of fashion.

Bob shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Just go biatch.” he ordered.

Timber started to laugh, skipping for the door to avoid the slap he aimed for her backside.

“The straw that stroked the camel’s sack… you little…” he trailed, exiting the room behind her and shutting Carmen and Kelly inside.

* * *

The practice room, due to the small slits of window up along the rim of the ceiling, was a dark watercolor blue all day long until the sun set at night and it finally became black. In this dimness, the various microphone stands and acoustic guitars resting in their cases along the walls took on a life of their own, ambiguous, like the Boogeyman crouching behind the partially ajar door of a child’s closet, waiting for a chance to leap forth and expose himself as a winter coat or rain slicker. These figures crept into Jeanine’s mind—that and the temporary confusion over where she had fallen asleep the night before—as two glowing brown orbs opened with much strain against smeared eyeliner and the weight of sleepiness.

She could smell him on the sheets right beside her, convinced that he had been there, knowing she could only sleep so well when his heart was pounding near to her temple. She could feel the heat of his skin on her cheek…

She elegantly turned over onto her back, arms over her head and spanning a circumference around her from her shoulders like the arc of a protractor. The sheet slipped downwards and her light brown nipples sprung free against the soft fabric. With an audible yawn, Jeanine was awakened to bliss, and suddenly felt the innate need to return to her slumber and wallow in his sweet scent that was still on the sheets and along her body. She curled into the fetal position and closed her eyes again, paying no attention to the individual on her other side in bed.

At this elaborate display, Scott was awakened from his own deep slumber, having peacefully slept through the worst of what had the potential of being a hangover. Startled at first, he yawned and turned over to see the long, tanned, and contoured bare back of a female with wavy wisps of brown hair dancing down her back.

“What the fuck?!” Scott quickly snapped, confused and moving sharply back from her in the bed.

Jeanine quickly sat up at his sudden outburst, looking at him in surprise.

All stopped for a moment as the awkwardness of the two sleeping together in the same bed began to register. Scott held his hands up at his sides as if to steady the inertia of realization happen all around him at once, his bright blue eyes shifting from left to right as he mentally recounted the details of the night before.

Jeanine, face beginning to burn with embarrassment, tugged the sheets up over her breasts, which had been hanging free with the sheets gathered at her lap. She glared at him. “Where’s Dave.” she commented, more than asked, holding her hand protectively across her chest. She lifted her chin indignantly, not enjoying the compromising position in which she was suddenly placed.

Scott was immediately annoyed by her demeanor, smoothing his hands back through his hair and shooting her a similar dose of the glower with which she had so easily supplied him.

“Where’s Angela?” he asked in an equally as snooty tone, rolling his eyes at what he perceived to be immaturity and standing up from the bed with no regards to his nudity.

Jeanine scoffed, thoroughly pissed off by his hubris, turning her face as he walked, completely naked and uncaring, out into the main part of the basement. With her eyes trained on the door, she shifted down to the foot of the bed, searching the mélange of discarded clothing for her own underwear and hastily tugging it on lest Scott return in that moment. She slipped into Dave’s dress shirt from the night before and tip toed out of the room to the steps.

The sun was bright and warm and welcoming when she ascended the stairs from the basement into the kitchen, contrasting the subterranean levels of the house. As her feet touched upon the cold tiles, Jeanine stopped short, a bit disconcerted by the scene that was playing out before her.

Angela and Dave stood at the island counted, shoulder to shoulder—as much as their height difference would allow—him, chopping tomatoes into tiny dicings while she broke eggs into a large bowl. Angela was wearing her dress from the night before with Scott’s dress shirt unbuttoned over her shoulders. The two were laughing at a joke that had occurred before Jeanine had entered, and the sight made her sick to her stomach.

“No Dave, those pieces are very small—“ Angela informed him in the midst of laughter. “You do not have to cut so small pieces Dave!” she giggled, rolling Scott’s sleeves with haste and reaching her hands across the brunette Moffatt to take the butcher’s knife from his hands. “You are going to cut your finger with this.” she informed him, glancing at his face and smiling.

Dave laughed, allowing her to covet his instrument. “I can’t cook!” he whined.

Angela elbowed him. “It is chopping of tomatoes Dave. There is no science to this.” She teased him. “Do you have smaller knife?”

“But the bigger one gets the job done faster… right?” he goaded, smirking.

Angela shook her head. “Not without getting your fingers first!” she giggled. “You chop so reckless Dave, you must be careful—you make me nervous with this knife.”

Dave puffed his chest forward, feigning a deep frown. “I’m a man. I can handle it; I know what I’m doing with the knife.” he informed her.

Angela broke into peals of laughter. “If you say so Dave. Just in case, show me where you have your band-aids.”

Jeanine, her face already a scowl from her prior altercation with Scott, cleared her throat pointedly in order to make her presence known. At this, both Dave and Angela looked up from the cutting board, immediately ceasing their battle over the butcher’s knife in pure startlement over her sudden company.

Dave smiled broadly. “Hey Jeanie!” he greeted her cheerfully. “You’re awake; we were just making breakfast.”

He held his arm out, a signal to her to come to him for an embrace. A bit crestfallen after watching him fraternizing so comfortably with the woman she personally believed would be the downfall to their relationship, Jeanine reluctantly made her way to her boyfriend, lending herself to his body and wincing as he kissed her forehead.

“We were just making breakfast.” Dave explained, no signs of remorse in his voice. He shifted his gaze sideways. “Actually, I was just teaching Angela a think or two about making Spanish omelets.” he grinned.

“Dave!” Angela giggled. “I just saved your life from you cutting off your hand!”

Dave laughed good naturedly, his slightly bucked teeth showing. “Okay, okay.” he sighed sheepishly. “I can’t cook on the stove,” he admitted. “But I can make a mean bowl of cereal!”

Jeanine pulled away from his embrace. “I’m going to go brush my teeth.” she informed them.

Dave looked back to her and smiled. “Okay Jeanie.”

She managed a smile, but it looked more like a sneer as her jealousy boiled within her stomach and made her feel slightly nauseated and fearful. She turned her back on them, heading for the steps, and her face contorted into an angry expression as she heard their laughter continue behind her.

* * *

Timber was seated on the toilet seat with one leg propped up, attempting to file her toenails although her vision was blurred through the steam that was accumulating in the bathroom. She laid her cheek on her steepled knee, rolling her eyes and sighing in a bored fashion.

“Mother-fucker, are you almost done in there?” she demanded of her best friend on the other side of the cloudy shower curtain.

Bob peaked his head out, the white froth of shampoo drifting like glaciers down the sides of his face. He grinned. “Yeah, yeah.” he growled.

Timber narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “Bitch please.”

“Bitch please!” Bob mimicked, snapping the curtain shut.

She smirked a pouting smirk, placing her emery board down on the edge of the counter. She set her foot down on the floor, standing up slowly as to not make any noise. Attempting with dire diligence to keep the giggles she would inevitably let loose without great deals of self-control at bay, she crept to the bathtub in which her friend was showering, taking a deep breath and sharply sliding the curtain open in a noisy sweep.

“AHHHHHH!!!” Bob shouted, his hands reflexively dropping to cup his crotch.

Timber doubled over with laughter immediately, missing her view of his phallic region—much to her chagrin.

“You little shit!” Bob screeched, slicing shut the curtain again. “When I rinse off, I’m going to come after you!”

Timber was still roaring with laughter, unable to move from where she was standing. “Wait, hold on!” she sputtered, clutching her middle. “I missed it! Lemme see again!”

She ripped the curtain open once more, yet again pitching forward as she ran out of breath laughing. Bob was prepared this time, his hands still in place over his private parts. He used a free hand to snatch a towel from the rack just outside the shower. His best friend was still attempting to keep her balance, clutching the edge of the bathtub and doubled over. Bob quickly cinched the towel around his waist, wasting no time gripping the back of his pants that she was wearing and yanking her forward into the tub.

“Oh my God!” Timber gasped, sputtering in the water.

“Drown, bitch, drown!!!” Bob shouted, still clutching the towel at his waist.

Timber was out of breath with laughter, on her hands and knees at his feet, her hair sticking to her face in water-laden strands. She finally was able to release a shriek, her mouth opening wide for an elated fit of laughter to escape.

“You are such a biatch.” Bob informed her, standing over the drain and watching her pitiful form as she struggled to maintain composure. “I’m going to kick your ass.” he grinned.

Timber raised her eyes to him, attempting to push herself up to her feet but pitching forward never the less. “Eat an ass! I almost saw your penis Bob!” she informed him. “But I missed it!”

Bob just shook his head at her, reaching beside him to shut off the faucet. Timber demurely raised her eyes to him again, her head still down. Hair hung along her cheeks, water running from the ends in a steady system of drips. She was panting in an attempt to catch her breath, her large brown eyes taking him in. He stood above her, his feet on either side of the drain, the dark hair that covered his calves sleekly wet and sticking to his ankles. The towel that was cinched low on his waist was soaking wet, the periwinkle fluffiness darkened and somewhat suggestive of his contours beneath. His chest and his abdominal muscles were dripping with rivets of water that snaked through the defined ravines of his developed muscle. His skin was tan, taking on a bronze glow under the overhead light. His hair was slicked back from his narrow face and he almost resembled a wet kitten—which of course elicited another fit of laughter from his best friend.

“You are getting your ass kicked Missy.” he informed her ominously, standing over her with an authoritative presence. “Maybe not today… maybe not tomorrow… but when you least expect it, I’m kicking your ass.”

He started to step out of the bathtub, leaving her there.

“Oooooh, I’m scared!” she taunted him.

Bob looked back at her, reaching back into the bathtub and turning the shower on, then snapping the curtain shut.

“Hey!” Timber screamed.

* * *

Jeanine, after brushing her teeth and washing her face, made her way back into the hallway, nearly jumping out of her skin, startled, as Dave gently pushed back on her shoulders.

“Hey…” he whispered softly, his hands dropping down to her waist.

He guided her back through the bathroom doors to where the air was thick and balmly from Timber and Bob’s morning showers. Attaching his lips to hers, he pushed the door shut behind them, backing her against the counter with the sinks carved right into the surface.

“Wait…” Jeanine breathed, dodging her face from his. “What about Angela?” she asked, looking him square in the eye. Her own eyes were pleading and sad.

Dave gazed at her with an aroused laziness to his countenance. “What do you mean?” he asked, leaning forward in an attempt to kiss her again.

Jeanine stared him down, her facial expression not at all one of happiness. “Breakfast.” she reminded him.

Dave grinned, opting to kiss her cheek this time, since she wasn’t allowing him any access to her mouth. “Scott’s chopping the tomatoes until I get back. I wanted to say good morning.” he laughed lightly, nuzzling his face along her cheek, then her neck.

“Ugh, Dave…” she whined, pushing him back from her by his shoulders. “Do you think I’m a whore?” she asked him.

Dave paused completely, searching her deep brown eyes for some sort of explanation. When she continued to stare back at him, her eyebrows gathering upwards in the center with distress, he placed his hand on her shoulder, his own brows creasing with a different concern.

“Jen… what are you talking about?” he asked gently. “I love you. I don’t think you’re a whore, or anything like that!” he stated emphatically. “I love you!” he said, praying to God that she would believe him.

“Even after last night? You don’t think that that was… slutty?” she asked gently, warming to his hands on her.

Dave started to stroke her along her hips. “No.” he stated plainly, becoming very distracted. “I love you…” he stated again, looking into her eyes with sudden focus.

“Maybe you just love having sex with me.” she whispered, lowering her eyes.

Dave dipped his head, trying to catch her face as she looked down. “Hey, Jeanine…” he said gently. “We never have to have sex if you don’t want to.” he informed her firmly, bringing his left hand up to caress her cheek. “I love you whether we have sex or not… we don’t have to have sex ever again and I will still love you… each… and every… day.” he sang gently.

Jeanine sighed deeply, looking up at him again—he towered over her—with a pained expression on her face. “Sometimes it’s just so hard to believe…” she whispered, barely audible.

Dave cupped her face in his hands. “I’m going to make you believe me.” he whispered. He laid a gentle kiss on her lips, dancing his fingers along her spine. “I love you so much…”

Jeanine warmed up to him, her arms encircling his shoulders in a desperate embrace. “Show me.” she whispered breathlessly into his ear.

Dave attached his lips to her cheek, squeezing her against him and lifting her up to sit on the edge of the counter. He pressed his lips against hers, his hands rubbing her body firmly in every contact. He slipped those hands beneath the hem of his shirt that she was wearing, gripping the waistband of her underwear and beginning to slide them down her hips. Past her knees, he began to crouch, slipping her panties off her feet as he placed a knee on the tile.

“No Dave…” Jeanine softly said, grasping his upper arms and tugging him up again. “I want you.” she said, beginning to spread her legs as she yanked him by the shoulders with a sudden aggressive strength. “Show me you love me.” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “Dave…” she gasped. “Show me you love me…”

“I love you…” he whispered, cupping her jaw once more with his left hand and kissing her, while his right hand worked to untie the drawstring of his sweatpants. “I love you… I will love you forever…” he breathed against her lips.

“I love you too Dave…” Jeanine responded, pulling him close.

Dave positioned himself to enter her, but she hesitated, her shaking fingers going for the hem of his tee shirt, pulling it up over his head.

“Wait…” she whispered. “I want you to touch me.”

He gasped, audibly, his eyes half closed with lust.

“Make love to me Dave… Make love to me…” she beseeched.

He fumbled with the buttons on her top, and it slid off her shoulders and down her back. Dave stood perfectly still, shamelessly ogling her body. He reached out, watching his hands run from her shoulders and over her breasts. Jeanine moaned desperately, reaching behind her for support and tipping over the glass beside the sink that held about ten different toothbrushes—one belonging to each member of the group.

“Inside me, Dave…” she moaned quietly, her head leaning back against the mirror. She was holding his arms, tugging him towards her. “Show me you love me…”

Dave swooped in on her body, slurping hungrily at one of her pert nipples. “I love you Jeanie…” he gasped against the skin, gripping her breasts firmly and squeezing.

She screamed in a pleasure-filled pain, still fumbling with her hands behind her and accidentally turning on the faucet of the first sink. “Make love to me… make love to me…” she whispered, moaning with her eyes closed.

Dave shook his knees back and forth, shaking his sweatpants down on his hips. “I love you baby… Jeanie, I love you…” he moaned, pressing against her.

She gasped, clutching his back with one hand. She was panting against his shoulder, no longer possessing the self control to keep her voice down. Her arms were still in his shirt sleeves, having them pool around her wrists with their unbuttoned cuffs. Dave began to slip to and fro inside her, very slowly, with a disjointed rhythm at first, gradually finding a steady and even pace. He searched, eyes closed, for her lips with his own, finding her shoulder, his nose in her hair, then her chin.

“Dave!” she cried, cumming almost right away.

He covered her mouth with his own, continuing to press himself inside her with a steady and firm control of his hips. He groped at her chest with is tongue mingling against hers.

“Dave!” she cried out again. “Oh my God…” she whimpered.

“I love you.” he panted. “I love you so much… everyday… everyday… I will love you every day of my life…” he promised her, his brows creasing as he felt his arousal culminating in his abdomen. “Forever…”

“Forever Dave…” she gasped. “Forever…”

She came again, moaning and hugging him against her. Almost immediately after that, she quivered with an orgasm, digging her fingernails into the skin of his back.

“Jeanie!” Dave gasped, his mouth open in sheer ecstasy as he started to cum inside her, shivering slightly.

He molded his mouth along hers, licking along her bottom lip as his heart continued to pound roughly in his chest. Jeanine, too, was quivering, her eyes suddenly wide open. He stayed inside her and her legs were still wrapped around his waist.

“I love you.” he whispered, kissing her again.

“I love you too Dave.” she gently responded.

But there was still a sinking feeling in her heart—perhaps the impending doom of the possibility that she could loose him—the fear of having her heart broken. She needed him too much…

And in the long run—that would only lead to pain.

* * *

After breakfast, the group of ten assembled in the living room. It was the first time in a very long time—forever, it seemed—that the complete group of best friends were together. It finally seemed as if things were getting back to good.

Everything was as usual: Ben was relaxed in the recliner, gazing forth at the television with a very lazy expression on his face. Scott and Angela were across the coffee table on the loveseat—she was sitting up towards the end and he was laying on his back with his head on her lap while she played with his messy hair. Dave was sitting at the left end of the sofa—nearest the foyer and the recliner—and Jeanine was sitting on his lap, leaning back against his chest, his face coming over her shoulder. Kelly was sitting in the middle of the sofa, and Carmen was on the right end, closest to Angela. Timber sat between Bob and Clint on the floor, the three of them leaning back against the coffee table. Bob reached his hand behind Timber, tapping Clint on the shoulder and quickly retracting it, pretending as if nothing had happened at all.

“I saw that douche bag!” Clint shouted, leaning forward and glaring at his identical brother.

“You saw nothing!” Bob informed him.

He reached behind Timber and tapped his brother again, snatching his hand back just in time.

“Stop it!” Clint whined. “You little shit!” he scolded, extending his own hand, reaching in front of Timber, and slapping Bob’s outstretched leg.

“Hey! I didn’t do it!” Bob lied, hitting Clint back.

“My ass! How did you even know what happened then?” Clint challenged, hitting Bob on the leg again, but this time using his fist and pounding his brother’s thigh with it.

“Because you’re always bitching about something.” Bob shot back.

“Well only when you’re being annoying!”

“You’re always annoyed! Did you get your period today or something?” Bob teased.

“Shut up! I do NOT get my period.” Clint growled.

Bob turned around to look at the others in the room behind him. “Hey! You guys! No one be alarmed, it’s just Clint. He has his period!”

“I do NOT have my period! Stop bothering me!” Clint whined.

“You whiny little bitch!” Bob taunted. “Whiny!”

“Shut up!!!”

“So Clint, what’s a period like? I mean, what does it feel like to be on it?”

“I am NOT on my period!” Clint shouted, leaning over Timber and slapping his twin’s leg. “Fuck you!”

Dave, Scott, and Ben chuckled lightly in the background.

“Fuck yourself!” Bob countered, still smiling smugly. “Oh wait… you can’t because you’re on your period.”

Clint took his cup from the coffee table behind his head, sticking his fingers in and fishing out an ice cube. He flung it at his brother, water dripping over Timber’s arms that were rested in her lap. She silently glared at the slightly older triplet to her right, wiping the droplets off on her dark grey sweat pants.

“Hey!” Bob laughed, throwing the ice cube back at Clint.

“Stop!” Clint shouted, dodging the cube and allowing it to become lost in the carpet beside him.

“Do ya have cramps Clint?” Bob taunted.

“I AM NOT ON MY PERIOD!” Clint shouted, taking the glass and intending to splash the remaining half of water at him brother, but instead covering Timber all down the front of her white ‘Chanel No. 5’ tee shirt.

The young girl jumped to her feet, gasping in the shock of the action as well as the freezing cold water. With her eyes wide, she growled angrily. “YOU!!!” she shouted, pointing a finger on each hand at each of the brothers. “You naughty, NAUGHTY BOYS!!!”

“Wet tee-shirt contest!” Bob and Clint shouted in unison, seeming to completely forget their previous disagreement.

Ben broke into hysterics.

Bob took his own glass from the coffee table and splashed it at Timber, beginning to laugh when she screamed and jumped back as she was doused.

“You fucking ass holes!” Timber exclaimed, holding her tee-shirt away from her skin in order to prevent transparency.

Bob and Clint high-fived.

“I am so SICK of your high jinks!” she continued to rant, bunching her shirt up in her hands and attempting to ring out the cotton fabric. “You are mean, mean boys! MEAN!!!”

Bob and Clint were still giggling, Clint falling over with his head on Bob’s shoulder.

“Not funny!” Timber scolded, shaking the front of her top back and forth as if shaking it dry.

“Yeah, that was really immature, Bob.” Kelly put in her two cents. “I don’t know why you put up with that shit, Timber.”

Timber gave Bob a dark look, frowning. “I don’t know either.” she stated crisply, moreso to him than in response to Kelly.

“Here.” Bob stated with a grin. “You can wear my shirt.” he offered.

“I don’t want to wear your damned shirt!” Timber snapped at him, glaring. “I liked wearing my shirt… until you pricks hosed me down.”

“Oooh! Victoria’s Secret commercial!” Clint suddenly exclaimed, leaning forward and yanking Timber down by her wrist. “You’re blocking the TV.” he informed her as she attempted to get reseated between him and his twin brother.

“Damn Clint, way to be on your period.” Bob snickered.

“Shut the fuck up Bob!” Clint shouted, beginning to flush a deep red. “I am NOT on my period, okay?!”

It was at that moment that Frank Moffatt chose to walk into the room. He paused in the archway from the foyer, staring quizzically at his son.

“Clint…?” he trailed off, so caught off guard that he could not even think of a witty remark.

“What?” Clint demanded, his ears becoming a darker shade yet.

“Anyways.” Frank stated. “What are you guys up to today?” he asked.

“Nothing.” The triplets said in unison.

Frank paused, knowing he could hear an air of guilt in his sons’ tones. “Well, your stepmother and I decided that we want to take the evening off. Can I trust that you guys won’t burn the house down while we’re gone?” he asked.

Clint looked up at his father, suddenly confused. “Where are you guys going?” he asked.

Frank paused for a long moment. “We’re just taking a trip.” he repeated himself, indicating that something was afoot that his sons were not supposed to know about.

“What kind of trip?” Clint asked.

Frank gave his son a very dry look. “One that you aren’t going to know about.” he responded with a smirk.

“A secret trip?” Bob chimed in with his twin in a game they had so appropriately dubbed: Annoy the Father.

Frank sighed, familiar with what they were doing. “Yes.” he sighed, not particularly in the mood to play along. “A secret trip.”

“Are you going to bring—“

“Have a nice time!” Scott said loudly, interrupting Clint’s barrage of questions. “See you next week.” he smirked.

Frank narrowed his eyes at his sons, a smirk taking shape across his mouth. “No parties.” he stated, as he did every time he left the house for an extended period of time.

“Of course not.” Scott smiled angelically.

Angela looked down at him and giggled. She was French braiding little corn-rows along the side of his head then unraveling them to reveal the crimped portions of hair.

“Okay…” Frank trailed in a warning tone. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.” he started for the foyer again. “I mean it guys: no parties.”

“We promise.” the identical counterparts of the four brothers Moffatt chorused.

“We’re just going to have a movie night.” Dave offered, his palms flat on Jeanine’s stomach.

“Yeah and maybe splash Timber with water again.” Timber grumbled, glaring at Clint then turning to Bob.

“Take the shirt off then.” Clint smiled.

“I’m trusting you guys.” Frank stated, giving the room a wink and the gun before heading up the stairs.

Scott sat up. “Man your stations kids, tonight, we party.”

* * *

return***seventy-seven