the sold your soul to lj darkside. (although. i think lj owns all our souls, see how we panic when it goes down...)

dude. we came up with a beginning (sort of), a middle (vaguely), and an end. we are fabulous!


when he gets let out of prison for the second (and, if god is good, the last) time, it's to find all three of his siblings waiting in front along with edmund's godawful car.

"what," peter says, strolling over with his hands in his pockets, "couldn't you find a junkyard to take that thing?"

"if you'd rather," edmund says, "you could walk."

"shut up and get in," susan says, and when peter reaches for the keys in edmund's hand, his brother yanks them away.

"hell no, big brother, i know how you drive, i'd like to live, thanks."

"shotgun!" lucy announces brightly.

in the backseat, as they pull out of the lot, peter tries putting an arm around susan's shoulders. lucy fiddles with the radio.

susan lets him, and puts her head on his shoulder, sighing a little. "how was prison?"

"i didn't shank anyone this time," peter says. "and thanks for the brownies, they were delicious. ed, i think you forgot to put something in those oatmeal cookies. like oatmeal."

"oh?" edmund says dangerously.

"have you shanked someone before?" lucy inquires brightly.

peter makes an indeterminate noise. he knows how he looks, and it's prison; he hasn't had to throw a lot of punches in his general line of work, not since the bad old days when they were all kids, but he'd learned fast.

"where do you want to go?" edmund asks.

"ihop," peter says, "or olive garden, whichever's closer. and somewhere for new clothes. then a hotel room with a bar."

"i could go for some italian," susan allows, and peter smiles.