Chapter Text
" I grieve in stereo / the stereo sounds strange. "
~ MGMT, Little Dark Age
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"Simon, would I ever lie to you?"
"Riddle me this, Alvin, brother-of-mine (slash bane-of-my-existence): how else do you reckon a machine with no autonomous functions, nor means of mobility, should transfer itself from our closet to virtually any other location, without external assistance? In spite of my optical impediment, I am confident in the assertion its design does not facilitate—or in any way enable—the performance of utter dissolution, nor the ability to render its exterior appearance invisible, as per your alternate idiotic suggestions."
"W-well, how can you be sure of that? Some machines just have a mind of their own!"
"Because it's a LIE DETECTOR!!!" With a flourish, Simon slammed their bedroom's closet door on a desolate interior. This abrupt gesture caused both of his brothers to flinch, and even the smaller of the two didn't hesitate to shoot his accused sibling a glare; the affectionate Theodore preserved his microbial malice for the miscreant of the trio, and this was just as well, for no one deserved his disapproval more than Alvin.
Alas, just as Theo was (otherwise) slow to anger, his mischievous brother wasn't much quicker to comprehend the sheer extent to which his flimsy facade of nonchalance exposed his ulterior motive.
Repressing the urge to throw something (he already felt guilty for having scared Theodore), Simon removed his glasses and rubbed the space between his eyes so as to quell the hint of a headache that was building up in his brain. With a sense of strain in his voice, he sighed, "Please tell me it's still in one piece."
Alvin chuckled—this time, not nervously. "Oh, dear brother, you needn't fear; I merely borrowed the device... for tonight's sleepover!"
Theodore's stare softened to a smile; scrutiny into delight. "Oh, that's good! Then you probably haven't broken it yet!"
"What a relief," Simon said with biting sarcasm. "Now enlighten me, Alvin, to the purpose my machine will serve at this nocturnal social function."
"I-I just think it'll be good to have around! Make sure everybody gets along, keep the peace, if you will—you know what they say about sleepovers: leave all dishonesty at the door!"
"I don't think they say that," whispered Theodore, to whom Alvin gave a gentle nudge.
"Even without my Detector on hand, I know that you're lying, Alvin. Your intentions have never been this nauseatingly pure." Simon adjusted his spectacles, and squinted as if to discern his brother's true scheme through that dumb cocky smirk. Theodore eyed him suspiciously too, and their combined effort succeeded in cracking his mask (for which he compensated by promptly pulling his baseball cap over his face).
"OKAYFINEIT'SFORTHEGAMEOFTRUTH-OR-DARE!!!"
"The WHAT?!?!?!" exclaimed the pair in disbelief.
"You know—the GAME!! It said on the invites and everything!" He pointed to each of his brothers consecutively as he recounted the contents of the Chipettes' invitations. "Theo's in charge of the snacks, a-and Simon, you get to pick the film! And I, good ol' reliable Alvin, was put in charge of the games! I figured that Truth-or-Dare would be fun, and I wanted to keep it a surprise. Alas, you left me no choi—AAAAHH!!" Alvin shrieked as Simon gripped him by the scruff.
"ARE YOU INSANE?! 'Social harmony' my FOOT! You're practically begging for nuclear warfare!!!"
"I hear ya, Simon; truth hurts," Alvin shrugged, only for Simon to abruptly release him.
"My arms are tired," he huffed, "I'm still angry, though!"
"Yeah, Alvin," said Theodore, "you know how Truth-or-Dare turns out: someone could really get hurt!"
"Emotionally or physically!"
"Would both of you just calm down? I didn't raise wimps for brothers!"
"You didn't raise us at all!" Simon fumed.
To his disdain, Alvin chuckled again, this time with a sadistic tinge. "Why Simon, for someone who prattles on about responsibility all the time, you sure seem reluctant to accept your eldest brother's acceptance of his responsibility—as the eldest brother. Because I'm older than you. I'm the—"
"Oh, shut UP!!! I don't know when you subscribed to this delusion, but I assure you, even if you WERE the eldest—and you're NOT—your unrepentant lack of maturity or remote trace of common sense would disqualify you from any leadership role you should hope to sustain!!"
"And yet!" Alvin interjected, pointing at Simon in mock accusation, "You don't object to Brittany's authority over her own sisters!"
Simon rolled his eyes in turn, tickled somewhat by Alvin's analogy (as if those two had anything in common beyond their cosmic egos!). "I don't object, because it's none of my business. And, furthermore, Brittany has leadership skills!!!"
"Yeah!" Theodore squeaked. "A-and she doesn't just think about herself!
(This time it was Alvin's turn to join Simon in a mutual side-eye.)
"Oh-okay, she's not perfect, but she thinks enough about the Chipettes' needs that they can live by themselves. When was the last time that you saw their treehouse a mess?"
"An excellent point, Theodore," Simon said. "And I have tried to instate a similar order in this house—I really have! But it all comes down to your antics, Alvin; underneath all that fur and pride, you're like a being of pure entropy!!! So don't go calling yourself the responsible one, 'cause you're anything but! Only one person could fill that role..." He took a deep breath and went over to the toy chest, rifling through it and extracting a plastic bag of gift bows. Theodore and Alvin exchanged a glance—half innocently quizzical; half visibly terror-struck. There was a palpable shift in the room as Alvin's blood ran cold.
"WHAT??? No, Simon; ANYTHING but that!!!" Despite his despairing outburst, he didn't attempt to impede Simon's current course of action. Instead, he crumbled to the floor, uncharacteristically despondent. "He won't be there this time..."
To Alvin's surprise (and relief) Theodore tearfully took his side. "Simon, please don't! Can't we just all stop fighting?"
Simon's hand trembled with trepidation. "I'm afraid... that it's the only way..."
"It really isn't!!!" Alvin cried, and Theodore nodded rapidly.
Simon's gaze lingered on the shining bows—an easy fix if he ever knew one. But, for a moment, he saw himself there, reflected within them; visage distorted by foil and fold...
With a harrowing intake of cold, lucid breath, Simon fell back from the chest as the bag left his grasp. His brothers caught him before he collapsed, and the trio embraced as the terrible tool was resigned to the darkness again. Alvin's dry sobs and Theodore's whimpers awakened Simon to the sheer selfishness of his rash last-resort, and in this moment, he despised himself for the price they may have all paid for his hypothesis.
After a solid minute, they separated, and all tensions dispersed. Composing himself, Simon latched the toy chest with lackluster gusto, and then faced his unruly sibling again. "Look, Alvin, you can understand why I'm upset... I helped you put that machine together for what I thought was a science fair project! I obviously feel betrayed—lied to, even!"
"Ironic, huh?" Alvin chuckled sheepishly. Simon made to snatch his hat, but Alvin clapped his hands over his head. "It's with the Chipettes!!!" he exclaimed, catching Simon off-guard long enough to gain the high ground by scaling the nearest bedpost.
"What the—just how did you get it over there?!" Simon looked from the empty closet to the window. Theodore followed his gaze, equally bewildered.
"Wellllll I may have also borrowed your teleportation device."
Simon looked at him incredulously. "Why would you so readily confess to something so stupid? That machine is half broken from my last attempt to use it—for all we know, it could've torn the universe apart—or at the very least, the house!!!"
"Oh please, we'll manage somehow. We always do." There was a noticeable creak in the floor, succeeded by a shudder, and the bedpost-bound chipmunk momentarily wavered to regain his balance. Once stability was achieved (illusively, at least), Alvin cleared his throat, and smirked at Simon. "Since the Chipettes are sooooo much better at managing themselves, why don't we extend our stay? I'm sure we could learn a thing or two from their example."
Simon crossed his arms and smirked in turn. "Oh sure, while we're at it, why don't we move in with the Chipettes? Need I remind you how their temporary residence with us played out a couple years ago?"
"W-water under the bridge! I'm sure we could get along for... for just a few days!"
"You and Brittany can hardly get along for just a few SECONDS!!!"
"B-but Eleanor and Theo get along great! And so do you and Jeanette!" As Alvin spoke those last words, he could've sworn he saw Simon's face flush, only for the cynical chipmunk to clear his throat and pull his turtleneck over his nose.
"Alvin... sort of has a point," Theodore chimed in. "If we did stay with the Chipettes, we could really put our friendship to the test—and maybe become better friends! Maybe we could learn something from them!"
"I like where your head's at, Theodore!" Alvin exclaimed. "What do you say, Simon?" He crossed his arms devilishly as his brother stared daggers at him. "The votes are in, and it's two against one; looks like you have to follow my rules now."
"Sorry Simon," said Theo. "A week-long sleepover just sounds like fun!"
"So does being poisoned," Simon muffled through his sweater.
"What did he say?" Theodore asked Alvin. His brother leapt off the bed and set a hand on his shoulder.
"If I heard correctly, I think Simon just told you to grab our SLEEPing bags, 'cause we've got a treehouse to get OVER to!" While saying this, he repeatedly nudged Simon, who'd sunk into a fetal position on the floor, his entire face submerged in his blue turtleneck. As instructed, Theodore took his and Simon's sleeping bags to the stairs, while Alvin stayed behind in the room to milk his victory. "Psst, see what I did there? 'SLEEPing bags,' 'get OVER'??? Pretty clever, huh?" Each gibe was punctuated with a nudge.
"I hate you, you... ugh, never mind."
"Oh no! Is mister fancy-talk at a loss for words?"
"You know I save my smart-alec lingo for when I'm trying to get a rise out of you; and I know you act extra idiotic when you're trying to get a rise out of me." Briskly, he pulled down his sweater to unveil his face: fur ruffled, round glasses knocked askew. "I'll play your game, but you oughtn't forget: you stole my machine, so who's really holding all the cards?"
"ME!" Alvin cackled, scooping his brother into his red sleeping bag before Simon could get a word in edgewise.
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They arrived at the staircase shortly, Alvin dragging a struggling Simon behind. Gleefully, he cried down, "Look out below, Theo!" before tossing him over the edge and clambering up to the rail to descend in style. Simon arrived at the bottom first, and the red sleeping bag lay pathetically inanimate. When Alvin ran out of railing, he backflipped off and stuck a landing a seasoned gymnast would applaud... the sleeping bag—and by extent, Simon—serving as the mat upon which he landed. Alvin threw his hands triumphantly up in the air, and below, Simon let out a pained "Oof!"
"Munk up, bro," Alvin scoffed.
"I'm... gonna... kill... you."
"That ship has sailed, brainiac. Looks like you're stuck with ol' Alvin for the long run!" Before he could close off his torment with a cackle, Simon mustered a kick, and sent his brother toppling. Wriggling out of the bag, his eyes fell upon two hazy Theodores on the cusp of opening a door...
"Wait, Theo, DON'T!!!" Still disoriented from his tumultuous fall, Simon struggled to ascend to his feet. Alvin caught sight of his brother too late in the game, and the grounded duo helplessly gasped as the youngest slipped into the room.
"Now look what you did!" Simon hissed, clutching his sibling by the scruff again.
"M-ME?! If you hadn't knocked me down, I'd've seen him, before it's too—"
Alvin's retort was severed by a scream, Simon wasted no time in dashing to the door—Alvin dragged reluctantly in tow. It was still slightly ajar when they arrived, and Alvin finally balked—leaning as far back as he could within Simon's constraints.
"What is it now?" Simon snapped.
"N-nothing—oh, what the heck, you know exactly what it is!"
They heard Theo crying softly inside. Simon's grasp upon Alvin's turtleneck loosened, and his brother landed with a thud.
"No matter how much it hurts," Simon whispered, "we just have to push through the fear. For Theo." He offered Alvin a hand, and for a moment, the pair felt almost like twins; siblings on the same wavelength, brothers the same age... who shared the same voice. "For Theo," Alvin echoed. Together, they opened the door.
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