sleepover | squad

Late August, 2003

"Ki, how do you use this machine?~" Mavis half whined half screamed from the brightly lit kitchen of Killian Buckley's suburban home. She felt proud of herself for calling the contraption that the witches were in the process of destroying a 'machine' it felt like such a muggle thing to say. She tilted the big top of the KitchenAid pasta maker toward the silver bowl, and it whirred into life. Jumping back, the Gryffindor stifled a squeal as her fuzzy gold slippers squeaked on the warm wooden floors.

"Oh, that's how!" She howled, giggling as she used the attachment to mix up the pretzels, chocolate, popcorn, and other snacks they'd thrown into the bowl (ignoring the fact that it was absolutely not supposed to be used for that). Pulling the way too weighty top back off, it kept spinning and humming, but she just grabbed the bowl and ignored it. She knew some things about muggle electronics, but not enough to unplug it when she was finished. Or enough to clean off the attachment. With a bright smile, and hands full, the witch turned around and left the little bits of chocolate and popcorn kernels stuck in places they never should have been in her wake.

After Killian had written them all sometime last week, the squad had assembled tonight. He had invited them to a movie night at his family home, parents not included. Dressed in plaid pajamas that were cute and comfortable, the teenage witch skidded across the floor with snacks and back into the open floor plan living room. She set down the bowls they'd gathered on the large coffee table with strange knickknacks and a stack of magazines about interior decorating and quick, healthy meals to feed the whole family. Taking a quick look at the seating available to her Mavis bounded onto the over-sized sectional, sinking in next to one of her friends, and grabbing a throw pillow to cuddle with.

"So, what are we watching?"

Billie had arrived early, like he’d asked her to, and they’d been able to have a quiet moment flicking through his coffee table book looking at photographs of stars together before everyone else had arrived. She felt a little guilty because they hadn’t had a chance to talk about walkmans (walkmen?) like he’d wanted to. She’d gotten caught up asking questions about NASA; naturally, she blamed herself.

Now she was sitting patiently on one side of the couch by herself, her hands folded demurely in her lap while she waited for the others to come back from the kitchen. She liked each of the girls quite a lot – and they seemed to like her, too, which was mystifying – but it was clear, at least to her, that she was the newest addition to a social group that had formed a long time ago, and she was reluctant to impose. Especially since it was the first time she was seeing them out of school; she was anxious to keep being liked.

Excluding Phillip, Barbara was her closest friend, and then Aase after that; until last year, that had basically been it. She hadn’t collected many friends in her first few years at school, opting for a couple of close connections and lots of time spent in peaceful solitude. Generally, this had been a voluntary sort of thing; Billie Fay was a wallflower at heart, and getting out of her comfort zone was a difficult task. She was trying, these days, though. She really liked all of these Gryffindor girls (and again, was mystified at the fact that they seemed to like her too), but being in such a high-energy social environment for extended periods of time was a little stressful for the blonde.

She was thankful, then, when Killian – calm, level-headed Killian – took the seat beside her, muttering something about his mother and pasta, or something similar. “Hello,” she said, giving him a tiny smile as some of the other girls piled into and around the couch.

Dr. Rhonda Afolayan (not, as he had hastened to warn all his friends before welcoming them in, under any circumstances, Mrs. Buckley) had not stopped to greet Killian's friends for long when the last of the girls had arrived. It had been a short and brief introduction, as Mr Buckley was anxious about missing the train, but it had been a quick and intimidating introduction. Killian will see to your comfort, phone her if there were any problems, and do not wear the outside shoes inside the house.

So now Killian was putting out fires, of course, as he should have been expecting.

The moments alone with Billie, looking at the glossy coffee table book, had been all too short and fleeting. Now he was bouncing between trying to keep Billie comfortable and keeping Mavis and Nola from destroying his kitchen.

"Mavis!" he was currently yelling. "Where did you even -" A piece of chocolate popcorn flew into his hair. Mavid ignored it and walked away with an unholy combination of snacks, now spun together with the pasta machine. Pasta makers weren't even supposed to work like that! Passing Mavis, Killian ran into the kitchen, hitting desperately at the device before giving up and unplugging it.

Well. That could be a later problem.

Killian picked out the piece of sticky mess from his hair, brushing down his flannel pajama pants and Lord of the Rings t-shirt. His socks were clean, still, thank God.

He grumbled to himself on the way back into the living room, reaching for the remote for the television before sitting down next to Billie. "Hi," he said back, a warm flush darkening his cheeks just slightly.

"Oh, Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring!" The DVD already loaded into the TV console, Killian just gestured to his shirt. "It's okay if you all don't like it though, we don't have to watch it." A glance at Mavis' bowl, and he added: "We can stop to order pizza, too. Whenever we're out of snacks."