Title: Counter Strike Author: Lokaia Rating: PG-13 for language (A/N): I am SO obsessed with dialogue. Seriously, I think it could qualify as a medical disease by this point.

"Is there a point to this?"

"What?!" I rounded on my best friend angrily, pointing at the TV and attempting to knock some sense into Jake. "This is Counter Strike. Counter Strike. It doesn't need a point! It is the best game ever and furthermore, it rules your mom."

Jake gave me that look. The one that says, 'Marco, did you forget that I'm sixty years old and boring and have no fun ever?' And yes, sometimes I forget, but would it kill him to actually act his age every once in a while? ...And not in the way parents use to make their kids act mature. Jake is boring unless pushed into fun things - such as video games. And Counter Strike.

"O Counter Strike, holiest of video games," I intoned to the screen, ignoring Jake's sigh and rolling of his eyes, "do not punish Jacob for his foolishness - he knows not what he says."

"I know exactly what I'm-"

"He is but upset at the most awesome way I am kicking his butt all over thy holy instrument - Playstation 2. It is understandable that he should whine like a little school girl at his intense suckiness, and my incredible mastery."

"Mastery, my a-"

"I, too, would be intimidated by someone of such intense skill, especially if he was so much cuter than I was."

"And modest."

"Yes, and modest."

"Are you guys done?"

Jake and I both looked over our shoulders at Tobias, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He looked far too amused, which meant he'd been watching a lot longer than he should have been. He smirked at the both of us, eyes flickering toward the TV before the smirk turned into a straight grin. "...You realize neither of you are doing particularly well?"

Jake and I stared at him for a second, before looking back at each other blankly. Two seconds later, we moved.


"Target achieved!" Jake yelled, grinning.

"Well done, Agent Snake!" I yelled back.

Tobias threw our pillows back at us, less amused and more frown-y. "They use bullets and bombs in Counter Strike - not pillows."

"Drastic situations call for improvisation, Tobias." There will never be a day when I don't appreciate Jake's ability to say shit like that with a completely straight face.

I nodded solemnly with my best Yoda-face. "Creative changes, we must make."

Tobias stared at us both for a few seconds, like we should be wearing special white jackets in nice padded rooms. Then he shrugged, picked up a pillow of his own, and dropped it inbetween me and Jake. Plugging in the third controller, he re-started the game. "I'll show you how this is done."

"Blasphemy, he speaks."

"Kick his ass, we must."

"Both of you shut up."