Hello, readers! I'm participating in the Day by Drabble challenge over at Livejournal and my chosen fandom for the month-long challenge is Super 8, which means you'll probably be seeing a lot of little drabbles from me as the month goes on. I figured I'd throw them all into one story here to reduce clutter and to let you all in on the fun. :)

Prompt Number One: I was blue, just as blue as I could be / Ev'ry day was a cloudy day for me / Then good luck came a-knocking at my door / Skies were gray but they're not gray anymore ("Blue Skies" by Irving Berlin)

DISCLAIMER: I claim no ownership to the characters utilized in this fanwork. This is an exercise in writing and I gain no profit from it.

Cheerfulness would hardly be the appropriate emotion to follow a full-scale alien attack that tore a town to shreds and caused the deaths of about twenty-five percent of its population, but then again, inappropriate reactions had begun to develop an unusual affinity for Joe Lamb in recent days.

As per usual, he had Alice Dainard to thank.

"Jesus. It's pathetic," Charles would say, shaking his head as he eyed Joe practically bouncing down Main Street to meet him and the other boys for ice cream.

"What is?" Cary says after this particular statement of disgust, leaning forward over the table to get a look outside the window. This time, Joe is not alone, nor is he walking. He is pedaling his bicycle toward the ice cream parlor, with Alice astride behind him. Charles pulls a face resembling that which one makes after swallowing a raw egg.

"What do you think, dumbass? That." He gesticulates out the window at the approaching pair. Cary nods thoughtfully, plopping back down into his booster seat. Preston fidgets anxiously.

"I think it's kind of… endearing," he offers.

"No one asked you, egghead," Charles snaps, flicking the melted remnants of a spoonful of spumoni at him. Preston flinches and shies away.

Martin's mouth thins as he reaches a hand down to warily ghost his fingers over his splinted leg, as though making sure it was still there. He glances at Charles with pity, but says nothing.

The front door – painted with new white letters reading, Today's special: 1 scoop sundae, 75¢! – opens and the bell rings and it's Joe, and it's Alice, and Charles grimaces, bracing himself for an onslaught of cooties and mushiness and all other things that normally make him nauseous.

"Hi, guys!" Joe greets them, and there it is again: cheerfulness, bright blue skies and sunshine bursting forth from the grin on his face. Cary's eyebrows go up. Alice isn't smiling; she's smirking. And they're holding hands.

"Oh, God, save me," Charles mutters. Cary stifles a snicker behind one hand, but Joe notices it. Alice balks and starts to take a step back, folding her lips in with displeasure and embarrassment, but Joe's hand snatches back and grabs hers, keeping her rooted. He ignores the awkwardness radiating at him from his friends and sits down beside Cary and Alice joins him; Charles, Preston, and Martin stare at them from the other side.

"So," Preston says, eyes protuberant as always, "Mr. Hondale says that he'll give us free ice cream today if he can see a copy of Charles' movie."

"When hell freezes over!" Charles exclaims.

"With ice cream?" Cary offers, and there is a beat, and then they all burst into laughter.

Under the table, Joe finds Alice's hand and puts his on top of it. She raises her head to look at him, and he catches her eye the way he would catch butterflies in a wide, billowing net when he was a kid; and suddenly not even the sky outside is bluer than the ones inside her irises. She blinks, briefly shutting off the daylight, and he sighs briefly before feeling a balled-up napkin hit him in the side of the head.

"Doofus," Charles exclaims in his typical disgruntled voice. The pubescent cracks in it have begun to reach their crescendo. "I was telling you about a new scene I'm writing for the sequel. Now, it turns out that Detective Hathaway has to find a way to recreate the cure, because…"

Joe tries to pay attention. He really does. He tries so hard he could get straight A's for it. But Alice, a welcome distraction, keeps catching his focus, and she winks at him while Charles babbles on, and Cary is discussing fireworks, and Preston looks half-panicked, and Martin just looks vaguely disinterested with Charles' tangent, and everything is right and it is summer.