It turns out Mike didn't really have to wait long for his plan to be put into place... in fact, it happened much quicker than he thought...

"Oh, great. Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse..." Scott muttered. Scott was a grouchy riser, and he'd spilt coffee on himself in the morning, then lost his phone, then found out that his cat had ripped up his week's pay and pooped in his shoes. Not a good day to be messing with him, and certainly not a good day to have to be dealing with... 

"Oh shut it," Vincent said, sitting down on the bus-stop bench next to Scott and turning up his nose at some offensive graffiti. "Why are you always grumpy, anyway?"

"I'm not always grumpy, you just drive me insane," Scott replied, more harshly than he'd intended to. "What bus are you waiting for?"

"Jeremy invited me to the art gallery..." Vincent sighed, sounding kind of tired.

Rough night, too, huh? Scott thought. Well don't expect me have any sympathy for you. "That's funny, Mike invited me to the art gallery, too."

"And you agreed?" Vincent laughed. "I never pictured you as an arty guy."

Scott glared at him, "I do know how to appreciate art, thank you."

Vincent glared back and looked as if he was about to snap something rather uncouth, then sighed, "You know what? I don't even care. I'm sick of hating your guts. Let's just not talk."

Scott looked back at him and frowned for a second. Then, out of reasons he didn't quite understand, he said, "No, it's okay. Sorry. I've just had a bad morning."

Vincent looked back at Scott, surprise flickered across his face for just a second, then he was smirking, "Scott, I do believe this the first time you've talked to me like a civilised being. So you do have it in you to behave like an adult? I was beginning to doubt you."

"Don't push it," Scott growled.

"Ah, and there's the Scott I know and hate," Vincent said.

Scott sighed, and the bus came into view over the hill, "It looks packed," he said quietly, and pulled his phone and a pair of headphones out of his pocket.

"Yeah, you're right," Vincent stood up and hailed the bus down, which slowed down beside the curb with a protesting screech from the breaks. "You first," he offered, as the bus doors opened.

Scott walked past him without a word and hopped onto the bus, taking his wallet out of his pocket, searching for some crumpled (but un-torn) notes and handing them across before heading up to the back of the bus.

He paused at the last two spare seats on the bus.

The keywords there being 'last two'.

He'd have to share with Vincent.

Groaning, he sat down and slid right up to the window, putting the earphones in in an attempt to drown out any conversation. It was a nice day. The sky was clear apart from the odd slow-moving cloud. This was a nice part of the city. It was pretty, had plenty of trees and there was a nice park only a few streets away.

Vincent sat down beside Scott, looking at him, "You alright? You look upset."

Scott rolled his eyes and turned up his music, refusing to look at Vincent and refraining from the urge to hum along to the song.

"Rude..." Vincent mumbled. "What are you listening to?"

"None of your business," Scott said.

"Ooh," Vincent poked him in the shoulder, "Somebody's got a guilty pleasure~ Who is it? Justin Timberlake?"

Scott glared out the window, still not looking at him, "I don't have a 'guilty pleasure'."

"Oh, really?" Vincent asked. "Let me see what you're listening to."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I have no interest in sharing any aspect of my personal life with you."

Vincent flinched back, offended, "I was just trying to be friendly."

"Sorry," Scott said, with no hint of genuine remorse in his voice.

"Forget it," Vincent said darkly, staring blankly ahead.

Scott sighed as the bus started and kept listening to his music. The rest of the trip was awkward and uncomfortable; Scott could feel Vincent's anger radiating off of him like an aura, and Scott was sure that his own icy indifference was making a mark on Vincent, too.

When the bus came to a stop out the front of the art gallery in the city, both Vincent and Scott stood up and silently exited via. the back door of the bus.

"Where'd Jeremy say he'd meet you?" Scott asked finally as they walked in.

Vincent shrugged, "I don't know and I left my phone at home. Where are you meeting Mike?"

"I don't know and Mike's not answering his phone," Scott said.

They were silent for a long moment, just loitering in the main area while others, older people and families, milled about, looking at the different works of art.

"Screw them," Vincent said finally.

"I'm sorry?" Scott asked, looking at him.

"I said, screw them. Why don't we go look around together instead?"

Neither of them, at this point in time, knew that both Mike and Jeremy were at their houses, still asleep.

Scott hesitated for a moment and then shrugged, "I guess I could put up with you for a little while..."

"Good," Vincent grabbed his hand and walked off.

"Oi!" Scott pulled his hand out of Vincent's grasp, going slightly pink in the face. "You don't have to lead me around, I'm not a child."

"Could have fooled me," Vincent said, and then pointed to a little sign next to a large room. "Look, they have an exhibition on Jackson Pollock. Let's go." Without waiting for an answer, he walked off.

Scott sighed, frustrated, and then followed behind.

All in all, it was a moderately okay day. Vincent led Scott around to the main exhibits, they discussed art between themselves, and only fought badly about seven times, which compared to most days was like getting along like a house and fire. The art gallery was a tall and thin building, about fifteen floors tall and connected by a rickety old elevator that moved at a snail's pace. After reaching the fifteenth floor and having examined all of the prehistoric art that they were lucky enough to have on display (the floors were in chronological order, floor 15 being the earliest, floor 2 being the most recent and floor 1 being for exhibitions), it was decided that Mike and Jeremy were not going to show up any time soon.

"Y'know, it's almost like they set us up," Scott commented as they walked back to the elevator.

Vincent, who had come to that conclusion long ago, merely hummed in agreement as he pressed the 'call elevator' button.

With a slightly off-key 'diiing-daang', the elevator's dinted doors shuddered open and Vincent and Scott walked inside, Vincent pressing 'Floor One' as he did so.

Scott narrowed his eyes as the lift doors as they shook closed. They didn't close all the way, so there was a gap about wide enough to fit your hand through, "I hate old lifts."

The lift made an odd creaking sound and began its descent.

"Don't worry, Scott, it's not like anything will happen. I'm sure this thing is super safe," Vincent jumped up and down, watching Scott go paler as the lift creaked and wobbled a little bit with every jump. He grinned wickedly.

"T-That's not funny..." Scott whispered, grabbing on to the handrail that was in the lift.

Vincent chuckled and stopped jumping, "Well, I enjoyed my day out with you, Scott, which is saying something since I hate you."

"Yeah," Scott said, "I guess you were alright if I just blocked out half the things you said and only glared at you when you weren't looking."

Vincent looked at him sideways and sighed, "You know what my song for you is?"

"You have a song for me?" Scott said.

"Yeah. Grace Kelly, by Mika."

Scott turned and looked at Vincent, staring at him for a long time. And then he grinned, then chuckled, and soon he was laughing out loud.

Vincent raised an eyebrow, "Scott?"

Scott continued laughing for a while, breathing deeply and then laughing again, "I'm sorry, it's just... that was the song I was listening to when you asked me earlier today on the bus."

Vincent grinned, "No way!"

"Yeah, 100%!" Scott continued laughing and soon Vincent was laughing too.

"That's really your song for me?" Scott asked when he'd calmed down and the lift doors had finally opened.

"Well, it makes sense if you look at the lyrics," Vincent shrugged.

"I never really concentrated on the lyrics," Scott said.

"Hm," Vincent smiled. "You should look them up."

"Yeah, okay, I will..."

The bus ride home was pleasant, compared to most times when Vincent and Scott were together. It was mostly going well until about halfway through when Vincent made a snide remark, Scott snapped back at him and soon they were back at each other's throats again. They didn't talk to each other when they left the bus, just exchanged glares and headed back to their homes.

This didn't stop Scott, however, from falling back on his bed, pulling out his laptop and searching up the lyrics for Grace Kelly.

Do I attract you?

Do I repulse you with my queasy smile?

Am I too dirty?

Am I too flirty?

Do I like what you like?

I could be wholesome

I could be loathsome

I guess I'm a little bit shy

Why don't you like me?

Why don't you like me without making me try?

I tried to be like Grace Kelly, mmm...

But all her looks were too sad, mmm...

So I try a little Freddie, mmm...

Ive gone identity mad!

I could be brown

I could be blue

I could be violet sky

I could be hurtful

I could be purple

I could be anything you like

Gotta be green

Gotta be mean

Gotta be everything more

Why don't you like me?

Why don't you like me?

Why don't you walk out the door!

"Getting angry doesn't solve anything"

How can I help it

How can I help it

How can I help what you think?

Hello my baby

Hello my baby

Putting my life on the brink

Why don't you like me

Why don't you like me

Why don't you like yourself?

Should I bend over?

Should I look older just to be put on your shelf?

I tried to be like Grace Kelly

But all her looks were too sad

So I try a little Freddie

Ive gone identity mad!

I could be brown

I could be blue

I could be violet sky

I could be hurtful

I could be purple

I could be anything you like

Gotta be green

Gotta be mean

Gotta be everything more

Why don't you like me?

Why don't you like me?

Why don't you walk out the door!

Say what you want to satisfy yourself

But you only want what everybody else says you should want...

Scott didn't read any more, he just shut down the laptop and sighed.

That song was truer than Vincent realised...