#vbrp

Deleted the links to deleted blogs (mournfully).

Added: New Deans! @emocloneboy15, @notevendean

Added: New Triana! @trampnextdoor

Updated: URL changes, broken links.

When Pete invited everybody who liked the Shallow Gravy Facebook fanpage to show up at their Wednesday-night-Thursday-morning gig at the tiniest venue in New York City, Hank wasn’t expecting Triana Orpheus to actually show up. Moreso, he wasn’t expecting Triana Orpheus to be the only one who showed up.

Hank and Dermott, of course, still played as if they were a sold-out prime-time show at Madison Square Garden, rather than a bar that nobody has ever heard of, on a weeknight, hours after every sane person had gone to bed. Complete with shirts ripped off and a disastrous attempt at stage diving, they treated Triana, Pete and Billy like wild fans, rather than an overly enthusiastic pseudo-manager, an overly enthusiastic pseudo-manager’s ward, and an estranged childhood friend who probably only showed up for a chance to run into Dean.

Toward the middle of their second encore, Dermott tripped on a wire and unplugged the amp, and it was quietly decided that it would be their final song for the evening. After their goodnights and sick exit, Hank hopped off the stage to thank her for coming. Half because he was worried that dedicating two of their performances of “Jacket” to her wouldn’t be enough to show his appreciation, and half because he didn’t want to help pack up.

              ❝ So, keep it on the D.L., but the band and V.I.P.s                  are heading out to a wild after party. The drinks                  are free and there’s a banana peanut butter one                   with your name on it. ❞

He clarified, 

Hank has to do all of his online shopping at 3 AM, when his dad is fast asleep.

Eyes red and irritated from staring at a bright screen in a dark room, mouth ajar from his brain functions shutting down in exhaustion, and mind fully concentrated on the totally sick novelty Pez dispenser heads for only $22,000, the kid was in a stupor. He hadn’t even noticed someone had walked through the room to get a glass of water, until he heard the fridge door close.

Hank jumped, closed the computer faster than a fourteen-year-old whose mother just walked into his room, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before a wave of relief rolled over him. Thank God, it was just Dean. Judging by the time, he must have had one of his famous nightmares.

       ❝ Was it the one about the sexy alien-lookin’ librarian with four             arms, or the one where Pop’s face is stitched onto your belly             and you can’t wear a shirt because he’ll suffocate? ❞

Not waiting for the answer, Hank sat up, stretched, and started following his brother back to his bedroom. He didn’t exactly miss Dean waking him up when he had one of these nightmares, but at least Hank got to see him when they shared a room. Ever since Dean started getting all deep and mature, he stopped feeling like a twin and starting feeling like Hank’s acquaintance. Like Rusty. With Dean spending all of his time in his studies now, Hank was feeling almost completely outgrown. He always knew he was living in his baby brother’s shadow, but he never felt so dismissed as he did when he was trying to talk to Dean about his escapades-- his stupid girl stuff-- while Dean was getting ready to go learn highbrow philosophy and super science stuff. 

So, the chance to finally kick it with his brother at 3 AM again was worth way more than anything he was going to buy on Craigslist, and he wasn’t going to let Dean go to sleep without paying attention to him for a while. He welcomed himself into Dean’s modern-y room and closed the door behind him.

It didn’t occur to him that Dean hadn’t actually gone to sleep yet, until he noticed the light of the open laptop screen, empty coffee cup and sheets of paper on his fancy full-sized bed. Was he pulling an all-nighter or something? Was that a thing normal kids did in their normal colleges? Hank was still trying to wrap his head around the customs of traditional schools. Learning beds didn’t exactly assign homework or give exams.

He lay down on the other side of the bed and quietly watched Dean work for what felt like the most boring 90 seconds of Hank’s life. He couldn’t imagine someone doing this “essay” thing voluntarily. It’s not even like Dean was dorming; he wasn’t even doing the cool part of college. Hank didn’t know much about universities, but he did know that his dad and family friends never told stories about the nights they stayed inside and did dumb homework all night.

       ❝ ...Soooo... ❞

Rolling over onto his belly and staring up at his brother, Hank kicked his feet back and forth like a schoolgirl. If Dean wasn’t going to give himself a full college experience, Hank was at least going to make him go out and party for this one night. It wouldn’t be too hard to find someplace exciting in New York. The city was like one big dangerous campus.

Dermott was busy playing on his phone, despite the fact that he had been warned on more than one occasion not to. However the manager was out today and since no one else had been there as long as he had, he was technically the senior individual on staff. That did not put him in charge though, no one trusted him to be in charge. Despite that, since he was stuck up front it was boring as hell.

He was too busy at first to notice anyone until he heard a female voice with a really hot accent. Looking up Dermott was shocked that she was actually talking to him. He glanced around to be sure, yep, she was talking to him. “Uhh… “ It took him a moment to register what she had even asked as he put his phone away and stood up fully. Finding his mouth did not want to work he just shook his head as he tried to force himself to talk. It wasn’t that she made him nervous or anything, she just caught him off guard. He was smooth with the ladies, he just wasn’t ready. “Uh.. no.. Like.. exactly like you? What a twin or something.” Dermott couldn’t help but grin as he thought of cute twins for a moment.

        ❝ Do you think you could ever fall in love with a girl who didn’t            care about all your dweeby bullcrap? ❞

It’s probably a bad time for this, but goddamn, he hadn’t seen Gary in ages. He ignores the fact that the Ventech is under siege, ignores the fact that Gary is armed, ignores the bodyguard screaming at him to run to the panic room, and skitters past a stream of bullets to touch base with his former backyard hobo, hopping over the new gaping hole in the ground caused by an explosion, just moments ago. 

With his gaze focused very intently on his frienemy-emphasis-on-the-frien, he continues, 

         ❝ I mean, let’s say she’s like, the most passionate, exciting,             mysterious, red-hot little chickie who has ever been able             to remember your name, and you feel wicked alive and             kinda terrified in her general presence, and you like her             so much that you don’t even care that she might have             some connection to the mob, and when you’re around             her there’re more butterflies in your tummy than there             were in the Monarch’s last cocoon... but she keeps             yawning when you talk about Batm--ah, uh-Star Trek.             And you don’t want to make her sit through, uh, Star Trek,             because somehow she just-- she totally doesn’t care, but... ❞

With HᴀɴᴋCᴏ’s NYC location still under construction, Hank needed to go out and buy pastries from his future competition. He could deal with that. It was a good way to survey the taste of the big apple’s citizens.

The problem was that the celebration of Dean’s first 𝑨 on a college paper called for at least six dozen chocolate mousse cannolis and a small wedding cake, and delivering floppy old pizzas wasn’t providing him with the green he needed to pay for six dozen chocolate mousse cannolis and a small wedding cake. But Hank would let nothing take this gratuitous collegiate fiesta away from Dean, not even his father completely locking their fortune away from him. He walked up to the register to pick up his order as if there was nothing wrong with what he was about to do, grinned at the sight of his ridiculous order and sent his compliments to the baker while she rung up his order.

                                   ❝ Help me bring this to the car and I’ll pay you out there? ❞

It’s a bakery that serves Guild schmucks, he figured, she’s got to be used to this kinda stuff. He stepped out to where his hover car was parked, right beside the gigantic lady-giraffe he bought to keep Mr. Reachmore company and maybe make some baby normal-sized giraffes. Hank untied her leash from the hovercraft and asked the girl to “hold this for a sec” while he buckled the wedding cake into the passenger’s seat and fumbled through his glove compartment to find his wallet.

He turned back to the world’s most unfortunate cashier of all time and started shuffling through his wallet, but instead of pulling out any money, he hands her two pamphlets: “So You Bought A Pet Giraffe” and a “What to Do with My Pregnant Giraffe.”

       ❝ Her name is Christina Reachy. You need to take her for a walk twice a           day. Do not tickle her belly. Keep the change, and no givesies backsies. ❞ 

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