Vinny Mauro Imagines

Friends With Benefits

Losers.

All of them.

This is why you hate coming home on holidays.

You sigh as you listen to your brother and his friends laugh and cut up in the living room; your parents were out on "date night" and had left you in charge of babysitting your brother and his friends.

They were too old for a babysitter.

Shit, they were graduating in like two months from high school, they were all legal adults, they could do whatever they wanted.

Which is why you didn't give a shit whatsoever what they did.

You were only around for another two days before you went back to college, and then you wouldn't have to see your brother for another couple of months --- until his graduation.

Which was key.

Avoid him and his loser friends.

Well.

Maybe they weren't all Losers.

You rather like Vinny.

He was the shy, quiet one who looked tongue tied whenever he was around you when your brother was around. You'd run into him a few times without your brother and he'd talked just fine.

You don't know what the issue is.

You sigh as you slide lower on your bed, pulling your pillow over your face in annoyance as you hear another loud round of adolescent laughter.

You're pretty sure one of them is just now going through puberty as high as his laugh is.

Ugh.

Shut the hell up already!

You're dying.

Nothing is loud enough to block them out.

Jeez.

Maybe ice cream would soothe your annoyance.

If those assholes hadn't eaten everything in the house like usual.

You sigh as you toss away your pillow and roll to you feet, disgruntled.

It was hot, so your shorts and tank top were all you had on as you made your way to the kitchen, your hair in a loose bun at the back of your neck as you make it to the freezer and scope it out.

You purse your lips, then reach for the ice cream you liked the most, stretching to reach for it where it was shoved into the back.

You hear a low whistle behind you with a roll of your eyes.

Losers.

All of them.

"I wish you lived in my house so I could see you in my kitchen every morning dressed like that," you hear one of your lame brothers friends say as you glance over your shoulder. You ignore him as you close the freezer and look for a clean spoon.

"Where do you Losers think you're going?" you ask with a frown as you lean against the counter. Your brother and two out of the three friends were gathered in the kitchen, his car keys in his hand like he thought he was going somewhere.

"Out to get some food," your brother responds, sending you an annoyed look. "There's nothing here and we're starving."

"It's probably because you already ate everything," you respond, scooping a spoonful of ice cream out. "You're like a pack of hyenas."

Your brother rolls his eyes

"Where's the other stooge?"

"On the phone with his mom. We won't be gone long."