14 | Whipped Cream

The force to unite Jackson and me, I guessed, was a dog named Swissybuns.

Screaming loudly like I've never screamed before, I dropped to the floor, a splash of cold water dousing my body. I groaned and pushed the curtain of wet hair from my face. My foot was inside a pail and my clothes were all soaked. Countless times of trying to get up, but ending up slipping, I gave up and laid on the floor.

Looking around the kitchen, it was half as better than what it looked like after the dog-tornado swooped up. Utensils were washed and put back, the fridge was stocked with the food that didn't end up on the floor while the others went straight to the garbage, and Jackson even found a screwdriver to fix the unhinged cupboard. The stains were hardest to take off, though. We scrubbed the walls, the counter and the islands, but then since the floor was a great deal of work, I suggested we flooded it.

We did it a lot of times in the shop. It was this whole cleaning event where we just messed around and poured water on the floor, leaving evaporation and drainage to drink up the mess. Sadly, now, the floor was still wet and so was I.

Maira could wake at any moment and I refused to see any of her rage.

I heard someone curse. Again, pushing the hair out of my face, I saw Jackson entering the kitchen. "I'll say it once more, sweets," he looked around at the clutter I've created, "That was a great idea."

I pointed at him, "You shut your mouth and help me out." He laughed and carefully treaded through the water to grab both my arms. I was about to slip again but he caught my waist.

In all honesty, I was still bemused of how sudden we could become friends just because of a chaos Brennan brought on.

I shook my fingers in front of his face to sprinkle some water on it. "This is unrecognized genius and you're just too dumb to see it," I sassed. He only smiled and put the bucket right side up.

"There's a drain between the counter and the fridge, so the water's going down there," he gestured at the said drain, "The living room's fixed as far as I could do. The couch still has a tear, though. I can't run a sewing machine on that."

Wringing my wet shirt, I asked him, "What about your Dad's office, though? Room?"

"The office's getting renovated so that was as messy as it could get even before the dog arrived. My room will be fine – I'll fix it up myself."

We haven't seen any sign of Brennan or that beast since we shooed the former out of the living room. I just hope that idiot hadn't chased his pet out of the house and all over Los Angeles or else we'll all be done. That dog was going to be the death of all of us.

"You okay?" Jackson asked me, "I could get a towel for you."

I stared at him for some time, wondering how this boy could get so confusing. Finally, after the pregnant pause, I shook my head and told him we'll have to be focused on that dog and his brother.

"Were you serious about Maira?" I grabbed a mop and started sopping up the remaining puddles. Fortunately, those mysterious liquid substances from the tiles were off after a little scrubbing and the water. "About really getting super angry?"

"Angry, and ruthless, yes," he grabbed a rag and helped me. "One time, Brennan took all of her makeup and put it on his face and then wore this dress. We found him hanging by ribbons of the dress on the chandelier. Mom did absolutely nothing – she didn't let him wash his face or get the dress and bra off himself. For two weeks, he looked like the love child of the Joker and Barbie."

Whoa, cruel. The worst punishment Mom had given me was laying off dessert and mid-meal snacks for a month. But that was horrible too, in my standards.

"She didn't leave him on the chandelier, did she?" I spared a glance at Jackson.

"She did, but Dad didn't. He got three people to remove him from the ceiling."

I whistled briefly. I could use this as blackmail material for Brennan, though. In case he tried to get sneaky and steal ice cream from my hand once again. Don't ask how that happened – I regretted how easily he snatched dessert right under my nose.

"He was young then?" I asked, referring to the incident.

Jackson cracked a smile, "Eleven."

If only the world could see who Brennan Brutus Dale really was.

Shaking my head slightly, I trailed my fingers along the counter. The kitchen wasn't exactly restored to its former glory, but it could get there. With a little fixing up which was beyond our powers, it would be pretty again. Maybe even prettier. "How do you put up with him sometimes?"

"The longer you're used to it, the faster the anger subsides," I heard him sigh, "Then, you start cleaning up his mess." I was quite used to it, too – cleaning after what damn hurricane he chose to bring over.

Brennan could be just as complicated as his brother. At the right circumstances, he could be utterly serious and a little frightening, but most of the time he was this abnormal ball of electricity that brought havoc to your life. Then, he'll pull on his charms to apologize for everything, and you wonder whatever did you do to be in the presence of this boy-man.

And there was Jackson. Staring at him now became a habit for me and I had decided that he did notice but he didn't mind at all. Then I would let my gaze wander off to his face, down to his arms, and preferably much farther than that . . .

I mentally cleared my throat and put my arms around myself. Not now, Ollie.

"But you fool around with him, don't you?" I told him, "He's still your brother."

"I'm starting to think he's adopted."

I bit my lip, smiling. This kind of conversation was what I needed with Jackson. But he didn't seem to realize that because when we did talk like this, he came in crashing to break the bond starting to form. He was so bipolar, I couldn't even find where the two poles were.

"Sometimes I get blamed for the things he did," said Jackson, "Just because I just sat there and let him do whatever mischief he wanted to do. But I tell you about the time he handcuffed me to a window and duct taped my mouth because I told him chasing butterflies and plucking their wings off was bad. He ran off and fell into the mud."

"In the end," he continued, "We both got the scolding from Mom. I was five and he was seven."

"Your dad plays cool?" It looked like Walter did, and I wished my father had his demeanor.

"Yeah," Jackson nodded. The kitchen was almost dry – almost. "He almost never gets mad. And when he does, he doesn't look like it and Mom says it's 'cute' how he tries to be."

I heaved myself up the counter and leaned back. Jackson did the same and sat next to me. We were both drenched and my hair was as flat as Mitch's boobs, but I swung my legs, worn out by the cleaning workout. Normally, my middle finger raised on its own when Mom pushed a broom and vacuum towards me, but I felt obligated to tidy up because first, Maira was a nice woman and second, she and Jackson deserved much more than be left with Brennan's shenanigans' outcomes.

"I'm sorry you had to clean with me," Jackson said to me. And he wasn't making it any less uncomfortable when he pushed himself closer to me. "Cooking is supposed to be your job, not running around, picking up dog crap."

"I can't just sit around and let you do the work. I'm not that evil – unlike you." Those words made him wince, as did my conscience. He looked away from me, his shoulders sagging.

I almost jumped and cursed vanilla when something soft was thrown at me. Thinking it was Swissybuns – oh, that dog didn't deserve the title of 'president' – I immediately dropped it to the ground before he could fart on me again. It wasn't the dog, though, but a white stuffed chicken which was now bathing in the little water left on the floor. I even heard the faint 'cluck, cluck' sounds it made.

There was only one person who would do this.

"What the hell was that, Brennan?" Jackson scowled at the kitchen doorway, where Brennan's head popped out.

"Cockblock," the other boy mumbled, staring at the discarded stuffed toy, "Or chicken-block. Whatever. I had to stop you guys before a tongue battle breaks out. I saw you and I didn't know how to get in."

My fists couldn't stop clenching. We were having a moment! "What a shame," I told Brennan, "My tongue was all equipped and ready." I stuck out my tongue for added effect.

"You losers," Brennan frowned. He stood still, far from us, hesitant to cross the slippery tiles.

"This better be good," Jackson's face went void of emotion, "Tell us you caught the dog."

"Oh, well," Brennan sucked his bottom lip in and put his hands together. "I caught him – in a way. If you call it that. But I wouldn't say it's that successful, and I also say it's such an achievement – "

"Just get to the point!" I carefully held onto Jackson to keep myself from toppling down again as I hopped off the kitchen island.

"I locked him in a room in the basement!" It all came out in one breath. "He's just there. The room's empty and I'm scared to go in because the lights are out so I drilled a hole on the door to look at him, but when I did he jumped at my eye and I don't want to go back in there!"

"I'm too sexy to die," he whimpered.

"Then calm down you big baby," Jackson said, crossing his arms, "Ollie and I will handle it. We just need a few materials and we can hunt that dog down."

"We will," I nodded my head, hard, and it was like a head-bang. Then, I stopped from following Jackson. "Wait, we will?"

"Of course we will," said he, unfazed, "Who else?"

"But he'll feed on my sweet carcass after he's finished with yours!" On second thought, maybe staying behind with Brennan and helping him keep Maira asleep was the best idea. "That dog will kill us!"

"Not if we kill it first," Jackson started to sift through the kitchen cupboards and fridge, much to my confusion. I took a glimpse at Brennan and saw that he was staring at us blankly, but seemingly, a lot was going through that empty head of his.

"Kill?" He repeated, petrified, "Don't do that to my Swissybuns! He's just misunderstood! Jackson, please!"

Jackson pretended he didn't hear. He gently handed me a knife, eliciting a high-pitched scream from his brother and he took a pair of tongs and barbecue sticks for himself. From the fridge, he got a string of sausages and hauled them on his shoulder, and I also fetched whipped cream.

A foolproof trap for the dog. Yes.

"Whipped cream?" Jackson cocked an eyebrow at me.

I held the can to my chest, "You don't know how this has saved my life." He stared at me for a while before collecting some more stuff. I pressed the nozzle and poured some of the cream on my mouth.

Life saver, indeed.

Brennan was on a corner, sitting cross-legged and hugging his legs, rocking back and forth. "But President Swissybuns is too cute! You guys are animal abusers." He began spitting out pleas and alternatives for us, but Jackson grabbed my hand and led me out of the kitchen while I put some more cream on my tongue.

"You'll empty out the can," Jackson stated as we climbed up the stairs.

"I intend to. It calms me down, okay?" I said in reply, "Why are we going up? I thought Brennan said 'basement'."

"I'm looking for something." We went past the winding corridors and stopped in front of a door which was clearly Brennan's, judging by the poster of himself on the front of it. A life sized poster. I've never been to Brennan's room, but I knew it was going to be ugly.

"You seem to know what you're doing," I remarked, "Do you do this often?"

Jackson was silent. He disappeared behind the door, but I didn't follow. Instead, I leaned against a wall and fidgeted with the knife in my hand and the cream can in my other. I couldn't believe one thing led to this one.

"I found it!" Jackson exclaimed from the room.

"What did you find?" I yelled back, "His virginity?"

"No, that's already lost," his head popped out of the door. "I'm talking about this. I thought he would've brought Sweatybuns here in some way." He pulled a cage along with him, and it wasn't just a normal dog carrier, but really a metal cage that fit the dog perfectly.

"We just have to have the bait ready, then we can trap him inside," he explained.

"And kill him?"

He looked at me, smirking, "You really thought I was serious?"

Silence.

"No, of course not."

We continued down the stairs and then down to the basement with, seemingly, more doors than I could imagine. This time, he wasn't holding my hand because his hands were full, and my inner voice was booing in my head. I found a way to ease my nerves as I trailed behind Jackson. "Ghostbusters, Ghostbusters, na na na na, Ghostbusters . . ." I repeated in a whisper, like a mantra.

"Sweets, we're not going to kill ghosts," Jackson said calmly in front of me. My lips shut instantaneously.

But I found the silence eerie. Like we were on a boss battle and the boss himself was a pup called Sweatybuns – Swissybuns, I mean. The lights were dimmed in the corridors to save light, and suspense built up at each step.

"Dogbusters, Dogbusters, Na na na na, Dogbusters!" I chanted with a rhythm.

Imagine my surprise when Jackson didn't facepalm himself. I guessed he had a high tolerance for annoyance, living with Brennan for eighteen years. I often wondered why Brennan wouldn't move into a condo and live off instant noodles, pizza and fine dining with the loads of money he had. Even Lawrence was more mature, and Lawrence was younger.

"Hey Jackson?" I called out once a question popped in my mind.

He hummed a little before replying, "Yeah, sweets?"

"How do you think we'll catch him if it's dark inside the room?" I asked, "I mean, didn't Brennan say that the light's broken?"

"That's the part I haven't worked out yet, sweets."

Oh.

We halted in front of an old door. This was the room Brennan was talking about because sure enough, there were barks and whimpers coming from inside. Jackson put his palm on the doorknob, then gazed at me, "You want to do this?"

No.

"No."

He merely smiled. "It's a fork road we're in right now. Sweatybuns takes one path and Mom is in the other. Believe me, this is better than facing the wrath of my mother because if we don't do this now, she'll push us in the room later on with Brennan and lock the door."

I boldly put my hand on top of his, on the doorknob. I could run away once he's first inside, but like I told him, I wasn't that evil.

"Dogbusters it is," I pressed some more whipped cream to my mouth.

♫ ♫ ♫

Jackson and I froze and simultaneously turned our heads up to the ceiling where we heard Maira's footsteps and voice. Then, Sweatybuns in the cage suddenly barked in the middle of his whimpering session. Jackson tried to shush it, but I started to hold my breath when the dog wouldn't stop and Maira started asking what the noise was.

I crossed my fingers, hoping to all the chocolate in the world that Brennan didn't make up the worst excuse.

It had been a complicated job to coax Sweatybuns into his cage. Jackson practically tossed some sausages into the room, and we didn't know the probability that the dog wasn't waiting by the door. When we had heard a chewing and licking sounds, we both went in with flashlights. Jackson had set the cage in place and put some sausages in it, but every time Sweatybuns came nearer the cage, he would bark at it and run away.

"Whipped cream?" I had suggested when there was no chance of getting him in. Because if we didn't get him in, he'd soon finish up the sausages and eat us.

I could barely see Jackson in the dark, but I had been pretty sure that he made a frowning face. "He stole a macaroon," I defended, "So, maybe he has a sweet tooth?"

He grunted an agreement, and I had been certain he was grieving that his plan only worked halfway through. I had put cream as a trail into the cage, and we watched as Sweatybuns followed it curiously and got himself inside his rightful place.

I had literally high-fived myself because Jackson declined my raised palm.

And now, Maira was surely awake and we might as well throw ourselves into Sweatybuns' cage. "What do we do?" I whispered to Jackson as we made our way out the room. The dog was going around and hitting himself against the walls.

"Run, obviously." I turned to Jackson to see a devious smile on his face. He set down the cage carefully, grabbed my hand and led me through the basement. I looked back carefully where we left Sweatybuns until I could no longer see him.

"Are you crazy?" I blew out breaths as I stared at Jackson, "He could break out of his cage!"

"Exactly why we should be out of here before he does break out or before Mom comes down here." We ran up a set of stairs I've never seen before and we emerged in a room unfamiliar to me. It was near the back garden though, as I could see through the sliding doors. "Brennan's most likely to be with her so voila, she'll see the dog and lash out at him. Only left for us is to act as innocently as possible."

"Whoa, you're so smart," I marveled, "If this were a movie, I'd call it 'Brennan and the Beast'."

A ghost smile flickered on his lips. "What's this place anyway?" Hands on my hips, I scanned the room we were in. It was heavily tiled, with smooth walls. The only thing occupying the room was a grand piano on one corner.

If only I could play the piano . . . but I wasn't exactly gifted in handling instruments.

"This room is for Brennan only," answered Jackson, "He plays and sings here alone, when he needs time for himself. He doesn't know I know what's inside this room."

I pursed my lips, gazing at the small chandelier on the ceiling. "You memorized this house's blueprint, or something?" He looked like he knew every nook and cranny.

"Somewhat," he said, "I've lived here all my life."

He walked closer to me and held my hand. I could get used to this. Jackson tugged me towards the other entrance, a set of wooden double doors. "You okay with going up to my room?" he glanced back at me.

"Any room is fine, yes."

"We have to cross the living room and the halls to get there, so stay quiet."

We did just that. Jackson guided me through the house, and he'd tugged my hand gently whenever I stopped to stare at a fascinating place. He never let go, though. Finally, we heard Maira's loud and heated voice and Sweatybuns' barks – we were close to safe haven.

Now we have to cross the dangerous territory to get there.

We hid behind a wall as we observed the scene. Maira was in front of Brennan, who had his head down and was unmoving and beside the boy was the dog in a cage. " – you know how irresponsible was that!"

"Of all the things you've done – wait," Maira grumbled, "I can't shout at you if I'm like a midget to you!" I had to suppress my laughter when she fetched a three-legged stool and perched herself on it, glaring at Brennan.

"Mom – " Brennan croaked but Sweatybuns interrupted him with a loud bark.

"Why! Why did you do it, Brutus, you know I'm allergic to dogs!" Maira cried out, "Isn't that why you weren't allowed to have pets before? Did you hit your head and forgot?"

"What a howler," I murmured under my breath. Maira Dale could be my spirit animal, but Jennifer Lawrence already had that honor.

"That's just her bark," Jackson whispered behind me, "No pun intended, though."

"I was going to get him back!" said Brennan, "Just borrow President Swissybuns a teeny tiny second."

"Oh my God!" Maira threw her arms around, "The name you gave him! I didn't raise you that way!"

"But Mom," Brennan whined.

"And he destroyed the house, didn't he?" Maira narrowed her eyes, saying it lowly, "Look at the couch, Brennan! It's torn up! Did you try to clean it up by yourself, because whoever did, the work is awful!"

Jackson's hand tightened on my own.

Brennan's lips were quivering. "I – I didn't, I mean I did!"

"You can't even superglue the antique vases, so useless!"

Jackson tugged at my hand. "Come on," he whispered, "Before you witness his punishment." We started to creep past the scene. At one point, I was certain Brennan saw us, because his eyes widened a fraction as Maira delivered her sermon. But much to my relief, he didn't say anything.

As soon as the coast was clear, we ran up the stairs and to Jackson's room. And when we locked ourselves inside, I collapsed into intense laughter and sat on his sofa. I took in greedy breaths and stretched my arms. "That was quite an experience," I said, grinning.

I turned to Jackson to see him smiling, too. "I feel sorry for Brennan. Just a bit."

"He protected us!"

"Yeah, but took credit for all that cleaning work," He complained.

We basked in comfortable silence for a while to drive out the exhaustion. I've never had this much sweat on me in weeks – maybe months. I shut my eyes to relax, while my head was swirling with thoughts of what could have happened to Brennan. I wondered if I could still cook dinner and I wondered if Jackson and I could ever have this fun with each other again.

"Sweets?" Jackson called, "Do you need a towel, or clothes?"

"What do you mean – oh," I looked down on my clothes. I was still wet from the cleaning, only a bit had dried out and my hair was still flat and dead. My shirt clung onto me like a second skin, from all the sweat and water. "You think I could take a bath?"

Jackson titled his head towards the door leading to the bathroom. "I have a spare bathrobe inside. Go ahead."

I basically flew towards the bathroom, asking myself if it was as grand as the one in their guest room or if it smelled like Jackson, too. Like I expected, it was pristine and more gorgeous that I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that Jackson could resist from staying inside here forever. I quickly stripped off my clothes and jumped in the shower.

And I also knocked myself out with the lotions and perfumes. Once I got out of the bathroom, all freshened up, Jackson was there, and handed me clothes. "I got this from Mom's old drawer," he said, "I don't know about underwear . . . " He trailed off, staring at me. I chuckled a little when his ears reddened.

"Oh wait," I took a whiff from the collar of the bathrobe I was wearing, "Is this yours? I just picked the one that smelled good." He only nodded and swallowed.

"So, again," I couldn't help the face-splitting grin on my face, "No underwear?"

"No," he mumbled, averting his eyes.

I snorted out a laugh, "I'll look for a tank top to wear under the shirt, don't worry. And I'll throw in some lady boxers." He didn't say anything while I got out the room to scour for more clothes in Maira's old ones.

After deciding to wear a tight top and a thick old shirt on top of that, and checkered 'lady boxers', I made my way back to his room, where he was already dressed up and bathed. Just a step outside one of the rooms, one could already hear Maira Dale's screams and yells.

"So, how long will we stay here?" I asked softly, bouncing on his bed with crossed legs.

"As soon as Brennan gets to his punishment," Jackson said, "I know Mom will probably send him off to return Sweatybuns so she can cool off, then the house will be quiet for a while. In this degree of Brennan's idiocy, the torture levels are probably off the scale."

"And dinner?" I realized how hungry I was. Apparently, whipped cream wasn't too stomach-filling.

"You'll get to that later, don't worry," he sent me a reassuring smile.

I snatched a pillow for myself and nuzzled my face into it. This was so unnatural for the both of us, since we were just giving each other the cold shoulder last week, but I was grateful Brennan brought in Sweatybuns because I didn't want to go back to that kind of treatment from Jackson. I wanted him like this, hand grabbing and all.

When we were silent to each other, it was tormenting.

But thrown in this circumstance, we were Dean and Sam.

"Oh Castiel, make it last," I muttered into the soft pillow.

"Sweets?"

I looked up at Jackson, wide-eyed, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "I'm sorry."

I pursed my lips.

"I thought about what you said that day," he moved himself closer beside me, "And you were right. Your dad did put you in a tight spot, and I couldn't blame your for that."

"And you were right about Brennan and I," said he, "I am – was – jealous of him. And I overwork myself. I wanted so much to do something outside the music industry, you know. But my brother is a star and I could never do something more than what he could."

I took his hand. My inner voice was ranting how this was a cheesy moment, but I pushed her to the back of my head. "Not that nice to be outshined by your sister, either," I told him, "At least you have all your strengths sorted out and your parents realize that. I want to be noticed for what I'm good at."

"Cooking? Maybe Dad could get you a cooking show or something."

I shook my head, "That's not really what I'm talking about."

I wanted to sing. I wanted to be heard. Unfortunately, I had to do my job before my Dad could set me a record deal.

"But you promise – not to have any harm towards my father? My family?"

"I've talked to my dad," I shut my eyes briefly, "I've lied a lot to both yours and mine. I'll see where it takes me then. Don't worry – if I ever have something to hold against my father, I won't hesitate to use it and get me out of the contract. I'm supposed to be sorry for what I'm doing right now."

"Then I won't tell my parents anything," he said, "But that doesn't mean I'm never going to. I'm trusting you."

"And I still don't trust you," I stuck my tongue out playfully, "You're one confusing dude, Jackson."

"So . . . " he cleared his throat, "Apology accepted?"

"What?" My eyebrows shot up, "You think it's that easy? You made me cry, and that's going to take a lot more than cheap sweet talk."

"Food. That's what's going to get you, right? Food."

"You have to live in guilt first before I forgive you," a smirk tugged at my lips, "So much food, please."

"Food it is, then."

If Mitch were here, she'd tell me I was falling in love and to kiss him.

And I'd probably tell her to piss off because I wasn't that masochistic and easy to fall. Disgusting – attraction, maybe, but he wasn't getting past my chocolate walls.

If Lawrence were here, he'd tell me to keep him because he was a rare kind in the male species.

I'd tell him I'd see what I could do.

And if Mom were here, she'd whack me in the head and tell me to go back to cooking.

I'd probably go eating in their kitchen, instead of cooking.

But they weren't here, and I was the person to judge for myself.

And I'd say Jackson was an interesting puzzle to figure out, but I was starting to.

♫ ♫ ♫