If Only Until Morning

~Jesse~

Laundry day. To most college students-- or anyone, if you think about-- just the word brought up images of extreme boredom, annoying labour, and being an adult. Well, we weren't adults and made no designs on giving the impression we were, so laundry day for Penny Dreadful was hardly boring.

I admit it's sometimes good having two people who are pretty responsible. Like the sometimes where they make us hit the laundry mat early so we beat the rush of all the smelly guys and their smelly laundry.

And don't get me wrong: Matt and I were both nineteen and in college, with siblings (and sometimes parents) to take care of, so we could take things seriously when needed. It was just easier when Angie and Sean took the higher route most of the time.

Sean was definitely for entertaining ourselves while we waited for our clothes, though. He suggested we joust in the carts and convinced the manager to let us film for a while. I realise national security is an issue, but what's the point of bombing a laundry mat? It's not exactly going to bring down civilisation as we know it.

Angie, however, seemed completely unmoved by us declaring shenanigans. In fact she seemed indifferent to anything at all, except maybe the book she was reading. And judging that the neutral expression on her face was not one of concentration or interest, even that was questionable.

Of course, we all knew what the problem was, or at least part of it. All this animosity between her and Ali was grating on her conscience. Penelope didn't like people not liking her, no matter how apathetic she seemed to it. No one did.

After Zack and Sean wiped out on the carts and as Matt and the rest of ATL reviewed the footage, I wandered over to Angie, sitting cross-legged on top of her washing machine, and hopped up beside her. She glanced up before returning to her book.

"How come you're not joining in?" I asked, glancing over her shoulder. King Lear. God, that couldn't have been good. Angie reading about plotting bitches, murder, war all wrapped in Shakespearean language, which she adored: not good for the rest of us.

"I don't feel like it," she murmured, adjusting her perch.

I snickered as she did so. "Getting a little too comfortable there, Ange?" One green-and-blue eye glared briefly at me before refocusing downward. I couldn't but question my humour when Angie wasn't in a good mood; maybe I wasn't as funny as I thought, and she just faked it well.

Okay, too much unintended innuendo.

"We kind of need you in the video, you know," I reminded, leaning over to peer at her face. "And a happy you makes the fans happy." Her brow furrowed and smoothed. I smiled. "And everyone else seems to smile when you're happy."

Pen's lips twisted and she shut her book. "You're such an enabler," she sighed, hopping off the washer as it stopped vibrating. "Only instead of drugs or destructive behaviour, it's for making other people happy."

"I like making pretty girls happy," I declared, beaming.

Angie rolled her eyes and squeaked when Jack tackle-hugged her around the middle. After stumbling, she pouted up at him through her lashes with a look most girls practice for years to perfect. Barakat only grinned. "I like happy pretty girls too," he agreed. "Can I make you one of those?"

She scoffed. "Only with incredible distractions and a lot of make-up," she requited.

"Barakat!" Matt called across three rows of washers. "No baby making around the clean clothes!"

I didn't know Angie could move that fast. Then again, I've never been obliquely threatened with procreating with Jack. Thank God for small favours.

The bad thing about being rambunctious in a laundry mat while on tour is that while the four of us sat around and assailed people when they came in, most of our tour mates-- probably more sane people-- brought in their clothes, stuck them in the wash, and left to go do other things and not waste their day in a laundry mat.

Luckily they all seemed to come in interspersed, so we had plenty of entertainment. The Academy Is came in just before The Matches left, which made Angie plenty happy. She and Shawn were talking in circles around a subject, and while it occupied them, it made me suspicious. I've always thought secrets were overrated, tools used by the unimaginative to hide their wrongdoings.

But seeing as neither Penelope nor Shawn was at all unimaginative, it had to be bad for someone.

My ears perked up at Muse's "Invincible" playing out of Angie's front pocket, and with a grin, she answered her cell. "Hey, Aibh," she greeted happily, perching on a washer with her legs crossed.

"Whozzat?" The Butcher asked conspiratorially.

Angie rolled her eyes, smiling. "My brother. No, not you, I know you know you're my brother." Pause. "Doing laundry with the guys. Say hi, guys." Everyone we knew standing around ran over to say, or just shouted, "Hi, Angie's brother!"

She rolled her eyes, laughing, and brought the phone back to her ear. "I assume you got that," she laughed. "Um, Matt, Jess, Sean, William, Michael, Sisky, Mike, and The Butcher." ... "Yes, The Butcher. Well, his name's actually Andy, but he hates when people call him that."

She smiled slyly as The Butcher glared. "Nah, he's harmless. It's William you should be worried about." Bill blinked with wide eyes and Angie's grin widened, despite her level tone. "Lead singers generally have more charisma than seemingly possible. And this one's a walking dose of it."

William stood next to Angie with his hands in his back pockets, hesitantly watching her talk. She nodded, smiling at him and listening, and laughed. "No, you could probably break him in half."

"Hey!" Bill protested, but subsided when Angie kissed two fingers and tapped his nose.

Angie and Aibhlin kept talking for a time while I filmed Matt trying to do a headstand in the cart and Sisky pushing him every time he got close. I wasn't really paying attention to them; I had my head turned to watch Angie.

She was telling her brother about tour, smiling and laughing softly at whatever he was saying. She hadn't looked that genuinely happy in a while, and that kind of stung. It was like the guys and I had an unspoken pact, made when Pen joined the band, to make sure she had a positive outlook on where her life was. We'd all seen where things went when she didn't.

"Trill, you're filming nothing," Mike said, catching my attention. With a jerk, I saw that Sundance had abandoned his trick and went back in the section to film over it.

"Well, there are a couple things," I heard Penelope say in a lower tone. She glanced around, looking uncertain when she caught my eye, and looking down at her swinging feet. "No no, it's not important. Aibh--" ... "Aibhlin, it doesn't matter. I can deal with it."

I think we all had the same reaction to that: get her off the phone. "Ange, y'r clothes're done," Sean called, eyes flicking between Matt and me.

Angie glanced up. "Aibh, I've gotta go. No. Don't bother, it's no big deal." She rolled her eyes. "You already punched him in the face, what else are you going to do without reason?" Well, that shows what they were talking about. Ryan had a black eye for a week after he visited for the first time with the title "boyfriend". "Okay. I will. Love you, Aibh. Ciao."

Penelope hung up with a sigh and hopped off the washing machine. "I'm gonna grab a drink," she announced, "Since I presume that was a ploy to get me to stop talking and my clothes aren't actually dry." She gave a little half-grin and jumped on Bill's back. "Onward, faithful steed."

"I resent this," he protested, walking towards the door.

"If you really did, you'd drop me. Which you won't because you love me too much."

"Watching them always reminds me of this girl I used to date," Matt mused. "Except Angie's not nearly as psycho as she turned out to be."

"Y'know, if she weren't dating Ryan, I'd say they were all over each other," Mike said, flipping through a magazine.

"An' y'think you're th'first one t'see tha'?" Sean asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "I think he's hoping," I voiced as Bill and Penelope came back. "That way they'd have her all to themselves."

"Who're you whoring now?" Angie asked, hopping to the ground and sipping a Dr. Pepper.

"Where'd you get that?" Sisky asked suspiciously.

She raised an eyebrow at him as she took a long drink. "Not from your secret stash. I'm not stupid, man." A chorus of laughs sounded from down the street, and after a second, Angie made a mouse-like noise, shoved the bottle at Sisky, and dived behind a row of washers.

While we all laughed, confused, at her antics, Brendon, Spencer, and Jon strolled through the door, all with sacks of clothes slung over their shoulders. We stopped laughing, and they stopped laughing, and we all just kind of stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"Hey, guys," Spencer said tentatively. "Where you just talking about us or something?"

"Where's Angie?" Brendon asked, throwing his bag into a seat.

Jon leaned to look down a row. "What're you doing on the floor?" he asked Angie, laughing. Silence, and a look of comprehension dawned on JWalk's face. "He's not here."

The top of Penelope's head popped up and she looked around furtively before straightening and dusting herself off. "Hello, boys," she greeted, like she hadn't just pulled a James Bond.

It took Ange a few minutes to relax after Jon, Spencer, and Bren came in; her eyes kept darting to the front window whenever anyone walked by, and she didn't really join in conversation much. After much goading and several whispers that she shouldn't worry, what got her mind away was Matt flipping open the viewer on the camera again.

Within seconds she was laughing again, because, hey, if there's a camera, that means there are people to see us, and all of us were kind of whores when it came to entertaining fans. Angie just sat back, laughed, and played the straightman.

Er, woman.

Whatever. Fuck being PC.

Bill's elbow suddenly dug into my ribs, which hurt like hell seeing as he's as bony as I am. "Ow, what'd you--"

I cut off with the sound of female laughter that did most definitely not belong to Angie. Even when she's pretending everything peachy, her laugh isn't that affectatious. Or high-pitched.

Alison, clinging to Ryan's arm, was laughing like she just heard the killing joke. Ryan himself was laughing silently, wearing a smile that said he was absolutely enjoying himself. I glanced over: Angie's face was dangerously blank as she stared at the space between Brendon and Chislett.

I think Bill was blocking their view of her, because neither of them seemed to notice. "Hi, everyone," Ali giggled, leaning her head on Ryan's shoulder. Everyone muttered a greeting, except Angie, who remained silent. "Ryan was just telling me the most hilarious story about tour last year. He's so funny."

Now the neutrality on Penelope's face was turning more to disgust as Ali continued to ramble about Ryan's story. Most of us half-listened, having been there, nodding idly. I began to notice that Angie's right eye would twitch every time Ali touched Ryan, despite the fact she wasn't even looking at them.

Bill glanced at her beside him, leaned his head to hers, and whispered something. Penelope said nothing, didn't even acknowledge him. Her head jerked up and sideways though, and without a word, she straightened from leaning and began stuffing her clothes into her bag.

Our group fell silent and she yanked the drawstring shut and snapped her phone open, stalking right through the circle. Ryan didn't react at all when her shoulder swished past his. Hell, it was like she wasn't even there to him.

"How about we all go have some fun?" Ali suggested, breaking the silence with a gleaming smile. "I could really go for some coffee right now."