A/N: Okay, so I originally wrote this many many moons ago when I was in my Dead Like Me writing phase. I didn't feel like I had finished it and set it aside and then I kind of forgot about it. But I went trolling through my previously written-but never finished archives of stuff, and found this and realized that it was essentially finished -- all I had to do was move some lines to make it make sense and voila.
I'm not sure that I totally like it, but it might not be completely horrible.
So, I present it to you now. I hope you enjoy.
p.s. I hate my titles.
p.p.s. You should probably know, this pretends that the movie never happened. It has no spoilers otherwise.
Disclaimer: None of the characters of Dead Like Me belong to me and I make no money or other profit from the writing and sharing of this work.
"Family isn't about whose blood you have. It's about who you care about."
- Trey Parker & Matt Stone, "South Park: Ike's Wee Wee"
"It's funny, isn't it?"
Mason half turned to her, half of his attention still on the screen before him, "What is?"
"Us," she announced in that tone of voice that told him she was more asleep than awake.
"Us?" he asked, giving her his full attention.
"Yeah, all of us," she clarified.
"Funny how?" he asked. "Funny, 'ha-ha' or 'oooh...that's weird' funny?"
"Funny..." she thought about it, "Funny like, 'hmmm, that's interesting' funny."
"Right," he offered and turned back to the tele.
There was a pause before she continued, "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" she asked.
"No bloody clue," he admitted unconcernedly.
"Okay," she decided, settling back into the sofa cushions.
They got through a full episode of The Simpsons before curiosity finally got the better of him and he turned to her again, "What about all of us is funny as in interesting?" he asked.
She shrugged and it came out only half realized since she was still laying back against the sofa and didn't bother to sit up to do it. "It just occurred to me how much like a family we are," she admitted, eyes still on the set.
"A family?" he asked, brow raised.
"Yeah," she answered, "A dysfunctional one, sure, but we're just like a family."
He shook his head, "If by all of us you include Rube and Roxie, I've gotta tell you, I don't see the love."
She chuckled in that sleepy way she had, "They're like the parents, you know?" she admitted. "Rube's like the dad who cares but doesn't coddle, he tells it like it is, but still worries if you're hurt or if you're okay and he explains things..." she frowned, "I mean, Ward Fucking Cleaver he's not, I know, but..."
"And Roxie?" he prompted, smiling despite himself.
George smiled, "She's the tough love mom, no doubt."
"I don't see Roxie as the mom type," he argued.
"She always knows what to say, even if she doesn't always say it, and sometimes, that's all you need...just someone to sit with you while you cry your eyes out and pet your hair."
And because he suspected that was coming from some personal experience, he didn't press. "Daisy would be the annoying aunt, I suppose?"
George chuckled again, "You know, at first she reminded me a lot of my own mom...so anal and perfect," she admitted, "But now, I totally see her as the annoying older sister, the one who gets all the dates and who all the boys go nuts over, and the one who finds all the younger sister's faults and is happy as pie pointing them out, but the one who fucks up anyone who messes with her family."
He frowned, but she didn't see it and so he asked instead, "I think Daisy'd be too afraid to mess up a nail to fuck up anyone."
"She's got steel in her," George insisted.
After a few moments when she didn't seem to continue, he looked at her, "And me?" he asked quietly.
She glanced at him and smiled, "I thought it was obvious," she told him, "You're the cool older brother who knows all the fun places to go...you know, the kind who introduces you to your first beer and takes you to your first concert and who would never be condescending or judgmental no matter what you do."
He didn't look at him, but she could see the half smile on his face as he thought through her words.
"And I suppose you're the baby of the family?"
She shrugged again, "I can't see myself," she told him, "Only you guys can say what you see me as," she said as if it were some rule written down somewhere.
He watched quietly as Homer chased Bart across the lawn of their house. He answered only when Bart'd been caught. "I don't see you as my little sister," he answered finally.
She turned back to him, surprised, "No?" she asked.
He shook his head and turned back to the tele. "Definitely not."
She was quiet for a bit, "Well, I suppose you wouldn't see yourself as mature enough to be anyone's older brother," she said jokingly.
"That's not it," he said, staring intently at the television. He waited for her to ask, but she didn't. He could tell out of the corner of his eye she was still looking at him though.
"So what is it?" she finally broke and asked.
For a while, he thought he wouldn't answer. If he pretended not to, he had the impression she wouldn't press. But he had come this far, hadn't he, he thought. "There's nothing brotherly in the way I see you, Georgie," he admitted half under his breath, his attention still on the tele.
It took George a moment to realize what he meant, and then she scoffed, "That's 'cus you're a perv."
He chuckled and glanced at her. "No," he answered. "It's 'cus you're you."