a little less thinking and a lot more drinking, Demetri & Alli

[Deon Matranga]

April 6th, 2012

Deon wasn't sure that he should be getting hammered the night before his wedding. He was DEFINITELY sure that he shouldn't be getting Demetri hammered before HIS wedding either, but what was the point in deprivation at this point? If The Vow Inc didn't want hungover grooms, they shouldn't have sent out letters on a Friday. Logic. Besides, this was their sendoff of sorts, spent not in Vegas on some The-Hangover-style-weekend that ended in chaos, massive debt, and pages of blackmail material like they'd always figured (that could wait until one of them had a midlife crisis), but in a comparatively quiet pub in Podunk Town, located firmly in the land of Freaking Nowhere. Deo might have been disappointed it if it hadn't been for the fact that at least their remaining evening of bachelorhood was spent in the company of each other and a few enabling friends that had flown in for the occasion, and that was really all he could ask. Besides, it was a sendoff only in the metaphorical sense; they'd live in the same town and Deon had always made the effort to chat with his brother once every couple of days when they were separated through work or other obligations. Evergreen was a small enough place that they'd probably even cross paths without meaning to. Hell, they'd crossed paths in the middle of a frigging metropolis before - it was twinsense in action, and totally not to be mixed up with that other thing.

The evening might have even had a bittersweet tone to it if Deon actually bothered himself with such things as being nervous or thoughtful or introspective about the possibility of either matches being unlucky - on the contrary, he'd been grinning for most of the night, even though the next day was probably going to be a huge shock to the system. Deo might have been a little optimistic about that whole slightly-weird thing about marrying a complete stranger (well, not complete since he'd apparently be figuring stuff out with a girl/woman/mythical sea creature named Allison Phifer the next day, so at least he knew her name, and in his vast worldly experience of twenty-eight years, most Allisons were hot. So. There was that), sure, but Deon was optimistic about anything and everything, especially in moments where there happened to be liberal amounts of liquor. Like now.

To illustrate my sad, sad point, Deo settled small army of pint glasses on the table and slid one across its surface to his brother; taking one for himself, he beamed widely and raised it in his twin's direction. "To the fine ladies at the Betty Ford Center who're kicking themselves for not seducing us while they still had the chance."

Er, well. There had been some of that, but what Demi didn't know wouldn't kill him. Hell, Demi had probably done better than him - he always did - but their cute twin-proclivity for babbling excessively at each other ended when it got to comparing notes. There were just some things that Deo preferred to stay unaware of.

He took a long drag on his Guinness and instead inquired about something that he did want to know: "So... wait, what time are you marrying this Harley person tomorrow?" Marley, honey. Your sister-in-law's name is Marley and she is not a motorcycle.

[Demetri Matranga]

Good bye bachelorhood. Actually, maybe Demetri should be saying good riddance. Hell, he'd had one huge party of a time but he was getting old. Ha! Fuck that. He finished off his, er, fourth? No? Fifth? Whatever, some number higher than three, anyway, he polished off that beer just in time to set it down and catch the one his brother was sliding down his way. His best man. The best man there ever was, really. Deon had always been there for Demetri and it would only be fitting that he'd be here to send him off on one last night of singlehood. Not that much would change, hopefully. He bet there would always be a night or two a week that they ended up in one of the tiny town's bars or had a beer over at one another's houses or something.

Part of him was going to miss this and really, Demetri wasn't exactly sure how life without his brother being further than across the house or apartment was really going to be like. It was probably time to see, they were old enough after all. And what better way was there than this? Good for their images and really, it was going to be like exchanging one constant playmate with another. Though this other playmate would hopefully come with the bonus of extra, er, benefits. Alright, enough with that train of thought. His buzzing mind went someplace weird with that.

"Missed a great opportunity there, they did." Demetri agreed with his brother with a huge grin, clanking his glass cheerfully against his older by a few minutes brother's glass. It gave a satisfyingly loud noise and honestly, Demetri was a little surprised it hadn't broken. Just as well, he didn't really want to reek of booze too badly during the nuptials. And really, if he listened to anything his alcohol soaked brain was telling him tonight, he really shouldn't have too many more beers. Being hung over at one's own wedding was a bit of a low, even if it was the Matranga brothers.

A puzzled look came over Demi's face, a name that really only Deo got away with calling him these days. "Uh," He answered eloquently. "I think elevenish?" Definitely earlier than Demetri usually got up. Especially after a night like this. "Harley, er, Marley better be willing to have fun." What if she was a stickler for the rules or something? Or totally boring? Or fat? OR A LIBRARIAN. No, he knew she was something computery because that was what the letter told him. But in his deepest, darkest nightmares, he always ended up marrying a librarian who never let him have any fun. He paused as a new idea crossed his mind, bringing back that ever huge, ever cheesy grin. "How much do you want to bet than I can get her to get freaky on the trampoline on the first night?" Maybe he shouldn't be betting on his fiancee like a horse. Especially since he'd never met her...

[Deon Matranga]

Deon's magnificent brows furrowed and he studied his twin suspiciously in obvious consideration of the bet. "Iunno, man. You how how chicks are." There hadn't been a relationship in Deo's life where he hadn't closed the deal within the week, and dating status only really ever settled in after the fact, and he was pretty sure that Demetri's tended to go the same way. Not that he ever really thought about or wanted to think about it -gross- but they'd shared enough apartments to pick up on the fact that ladies went wild for the Matranga brothers, and that even the hard-to-get type were never truly hard to get. Hell, Deo didn't even mind when they were settling for him instead of his twin. He knew, sure, but it was a fact he preferred to ignore. After all, if he didn’t blame anyone else for his bad decisions, why should he take responsibility for theirs? He might have had a bitchin’ beard sometimes but he certainly wasn’t Jesus.

But maybe The Vow was planning on setting them up with country girls (after California, pretty much everywhere between either coast constituted Hickville USA to him) who had, you know, those weird things called personal values. Maybe his wife would shake hands at the wedding because she didn't kiss on a first date and insist on different bedrooms for a year. A jolt of apprehension coursed through Deo's veins at the thought of marrying a prude; he'd decided that he’d deal with a butterface as long as she put out, sure, but years of celibacy? He wouldn't last two weeks. That was really the problem with not knowing, he guessed, that there was that capability for his fiancee to be hot as hell and everything he’d wanted in a woman (or everything he didn’t know he’d wanted), and there was the chance that the system was going to completely fuck him over in that regard and enjoy doing it. Deon didn’t worry as much for Demetri – the dude could MacGyver a good time out of a rubber band, paperclip, and an 80’s workout VHS – and he tried hard not to worry himself, but the adrenaline rush of a big Life Transition had managed to turn into a plummeting sensation in the pit of his stomach. The obvious remedy to this was more alcohol.

“I’ll bet you…” Deon leant back in his chair and trailed off, taking an uncharacteristically thoughtful drag on his Guinness. Hit by sudden brilliance, he tugged his iPhone from his pocket and brought up a search; thirty seconds later he flipped it for his brother to see, perhaps foolishly handing him his lifeline to all his numbers (which was something Deon should have really been worried about, but he'd had enough to drink that he was throwing caution to the wind, and there was so much brotherly love -SO MUCH- that he was willing to pretend that his twin wasn't completely insane). Besides, it wasn't like he couldn't afford a new one, and his agent kept much better track of these things than he did. "This. And if you actually do, I'll throw in one of those big nerf guns to not actually talk about it, too." Nevermind that it was pretty much betting five bucks for them - it was the thought that counted, and the fact that Deon really didn't want to know about it in the first place beyond the standard surreptitious high-five.

[Demetri Matranga]

Demetri was considering if he wanted to order another beer. Wait, what was he doing? Of course he wanted another one. He signaled to the bar tender for another round, grinning to himself. Perhaps he should have been a little more concerned about being hung over on his wedding day since those things took place ridiculously early, as in before noon. God, could they have picked a more terrible and inconvenient time? Did they expect him to just not sleep or something. Especially, taking into consideration, the fact that he wouldn't be sleeping at all the evening of his wedding as he now was a man with a bet. A man who had to bed is wife, so to speak, on the springy surface of a trampoline. Oh, he'd always wanted to try that and now, besides bouncy, banging sex, there was a nerf gun and a motorized AT-AT that he may or may not have had his eyes on for quite some time. However, he hoped this...Marley, or whatever it was, wasn't too hideous. That would make this bet much, much more difficult.

The fact that she might not want to put out to a complete stranger didn't even cross his mind. It was pretty rare for Demetri to be shot down, especially when he put the moves on her, and not just being his usual ridiculous self but the real moves. "I feel bad for swindling you out of the coolest star wars toy ever, but you've got yourself a deal." He grinned, extending his hand to shake Deon's, though he narrowly avoiding knocking over the partially full beer into his brother's lap. Now that would have been hilarious. And sad, but also hilarious.

"Think Mom is happy we're finally settling down." Settling down. Settling. Down. Those were strange words that left Demetri's mouth. He was an actor kind of and a regular party animal, the last thing he ever pictured that he would be getting married. And even weirder, Deon was getting married too. I guess they really did do everything together, except for what all those shipper girls online wanted them to do. any of that was just...no.

"So what am I going to do if she doesn't have any boobs or...gets cold sores." His nose wrinkled as he thought about all the things that could go wrong. And the crusty lip of some strange girl. He downed the rest of his current bottle of beer before picking up the cold one that had just been delivered.He'd known his limit had come and gone but it was a special occasion. Theoretically, he and Deon would never be having a bachelor party again so why stop now? "Nah, what are the odds? Have you noticed the ass around here is hot." He grinned, eyebrows waggling. "I swear, even the librarians are sexy." And librarians were hideous, evil creatures!

[Deon Matranga]

Sucking air in through his teeth and making the accompanying face as he grabbed his beer to steady it as Demetri shook his other hand, Deon didn't dwell much on the near miss other than moving it a little further away from his brother's reach. "She'd be happier if she actually knew who we're settling down with," he pointed out. They'd flown them out for the weddings - the senior Matrangas knew far better than to get between their sons and alcohol and had since settled in comfortably at the Inn for the evening, but they were there - but it hadn't been long before their mother had brought up how nice it would have been if they'd met their prospective brides before. Wasn't that how the ancients did it? Well, okay, so the Spartan chicks would shave their heads and the guy would kidnap them, sure, and there was no way in hell Deon was going to all that trouble (or marrying a bald chick, unless she had cancer or something and then he'd feel just terrible), but weren't arranged marriages totally not that out of fashion?

Deo nevertheless had a sneaking suspicion that mum had thoroughly googled Allison Phifer and Harley... Marley O'Generic Irish Name by now anyway despite their inability to think of it while sober, and would be alight tommorrow with all sorts of precious information pertaining to what was listed on either girl's musical interests and other such pursuits. One Direction, Deon, ONE DIRECTION.

Oh god, he hoped not.

So what am I going to do if she doesn't have any boobs or...gets cold sores? "Paperbag it," Deon replied automatically, oblivious to how utterly callous it sounded coming from a guy that looked like a shaved bear. "The boobs thing you can fix too. Who's going to turn down free tits?" Well, girls with self-respect, but Deon had a very limited amount of experience with that kind of woman and rather thought that if HE was a girl he'd jump at the chance to have a rich husband pay for what nature didn't give chick-Deo. It made sense to him. Not everyone was blessed with great anatomy, that's what you had personal trainers and plastic surgery for. And heck, if there was a divorce then it was really the wife coming out at a profit because you couldn't ask for implants back, right? See, not sexist at all.

A brow furrowed suspiciously. "... since when were you in a library here? Or... ever."

[Demetri Matranga]

Demetri might have felt bad if he knocked the beer over onto Deon's lap. Maybe. Okay, so he would have after laughing a bit but that was a brotherly thing to do, right? He took a drink out of his bottle, pointing directly at Deon before touching his index finger (with great difficulty) to the tip of his nose. Deon had definitely hit that nail on the head. "She doesn't like being in the dark does she." He chuckled, shaking his head. Honestly, he almost didn't want want to open his letter. He had, though To look at her name and stuff but what was some piece of paper going to tell him that he wouldn't figure out on his own eventually anyway.

He had to let out quite the howl of a laugh at the suggestion that Deon made when it came to fixing an eyesore problem. Oh, that would be terrible, though he couldn't help but picture those spongebob paper bags that you could put your lunches in...if only those were big enough. At least, if she was ugly, he had hopes that the rest of her would be nice. Was that terrible? Probably but he could deal with a butter face! There were special positions just for that, after all.

Plastic surgery was always an option but Demetri had to wonder if he wanted to invest money into something he probably wouldn't get to see for a while, assuming she had any self-respect at all though...he did want to see them asap, aside from the fact that boobs were boobs and he very much liked boobs, there was a large, really cool AT-AT at stake now. Eh, he supposed he'd just have to wait and see what this Marley was going to be like. if he had any luck at all, he did seem to have quite a bit of that, she would be one hot broad. Oh God, what if she had kids? Wait, that meant Demetri could buy more toys, right?

Demetri shuddered at the very thought of libraries and librarians. "It's so quiet in there." he murmured in a hush tone, almost like he was expecting some librarian spy to be listening over his shoulder. "I've been in one once." It was true! There was some reason that he had to go in one but it was really only a matter of seconds before the grouchy old sour puss of a librarian kicked him out onto the sidewalk on his ass. Okay, so he'd climbed up on one of the shelves. "I just don't like them with their bunsm glasses and shapeless sweaters." He frowned, sulkily taking another swigs. "Give me the creeps. Like nuns."