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Grayson was in no mood to be shouted at from the bottom of the stairs.

Generally, he waited until Tristan either gave up or decided that whatever he wanted was important enough to come get him, but Grayson was already up. He'd just gotten out of the shower, in fact, and was in the process of toweling off his hair when he heard Tristan shouting for him. Luckily for Tristan, their parents were out on "date night" and so weren't there to smack him upside the head for disturbing the peace. Grayson wasn't above doing so himself, but only because he planned to go downstairs for a bottled water anyway.

Again, luckily for Tristan, he'd remembered his clothes in the bathroom. It was getting colder, so he was less likely to sleep in his boxers these days (a fact Tristan added to his nightly prayers as thanks) which was the only thing that saved everyone embarrassment when he stood at the top of the stairs, shooting a bland look down the length of them. Neither Tristan nor Jude -- Jude? -- appeared to notice him at first, and so he took a moment to simply observe.

He continued to towel his hair, cocking one hip and resting the majority of his weight on his left leg as he felt the first stirrings of amusement. Though Tristan and Jude didn't know one another well and their behavior couldn't be called positive by any stretch, Grayson thought they were rather fond of each other. In their own way. The way where they would never admit.

And did Tristan just bite Jude?

Rolling his eyes, he wadded up his towel and tossed it down the stairs, following shortly after it. "What are you two doing? It's late," he added, sounding aggrieved, and looking every inch of it in his sweat pants and Colts tee. "I'm going to bed."

Or so he thought.

Looking so supremely disgusted and offended that one might assume a grievous insult had been dealt his mother (had he actually had a mother), Tristan brushed off his shirt, muttering, "Yeah, yeah. Just keep your fly up while I'm in the room."

Grayson finally reached the bottom of the stairs and rolled his eyes, bending at the waist to pick up the towel he'd just thrown. His parents would not be impressed if they found laundry on the floor anywhere but Grayson's room, and they'd know it was him, too, since he was the only one who ever showered at night. The last thing he wanted was another lecture, especially considering...

Well, actually, he never wanted another lecture.

His hair was leaving a big wet spot on his shoulder, and unbound, it was obvious it was much longer than it generally appeared. It was also wet and naturally wavy, so that had something to do with it as well. "We're doing what?"

There was no mistaking his tone. Grayson had been getting ready for bed. He didn't want to go out patrolling. He didn't even want to put socks on.

Besides.

What was Jude doing at his house wanting to patrol all of a sudden? He hadn't even told Grayson he had a cat. (Yes, Grayson was going to be a little childish about this.) Suddenly he was the man to see for patrolling, but things like living, breathing creatures dependent on him for life were off bounds?

He couldn't help but be a little happy Jude had come to find him, though, all things considered.

This also irritated him a little. He seemed to have some inexplicable inability to be simply annoyed with Jude. He was always looking on the bright side.

Damn.

Had Jude known what kind of deeply-rooted guilt issues and complexes Grayson battled with day by day, he might not have been so flippant with his teasing. Though Grayson recognized it as a joke, and a thinly veiled attempt at manipulation, his protective instincts immediately went into overdrive, and his hands tightened around the towel. Though Jude wasn't being serious, and would likely enjoy himself in some perverse way if he did actually find a group of youma, Grayson would not be able to go to sleep without the image of Jude being dismembered because he was not there.

Nevermind the most he could do was light up like the world's biggest glowstick.

Jude was asking him to go patrolling together and by God, he was going to go patrolling.

That did not, however, mean he had to enjoy it.

"Oh, all right," he breathed, annoyed resignation in his tone. No matter how tumultuous his thoughts were, he had gotten quite adept at masking his true mood in his voice over the years.

But he really was annoyed, too.

Tossing the towel in a hamper, he stretched his arms over his head, nose wrinkled faintly at Jude's back. To make certain he was heard, he added, "I just showered, you know. My hair is still wet. I'll probably catch a cold."

Jude 1, Grayson 0.

He was going to have to get better at this guilting thing.

Bitchy Grayson could only last so long. It took a lot of effort to whine and moan, after all, so almost as soon as he'd begun to predict the (apparently) inevitable cold, his shoulders were already relaxing into resignation. He was a little bemused to be told to wait in his own home, but he used the time to pull his socks out of his boots and shake them out. He teetered a bit precariously as he slipped one, two on, and then dropped unceremoniously to the floor as he tugged on his boots and began lacing them.

He'd just risen, wiping his hands off on the seat of his jeans, when Jude re-entered. He blinked when his impromptu patrolling partner brandished a hat that bore the logo of the one thing both of them loved absolutely equally, blinked again when it was fit snugly atop his wet hair. He didn't even mind the punch to the arm.

Eyes wide, he waited a beat, almost unsure, before the broadest grin Jude had likely ever seen suddenly dominated his face.

A hat. A Colts hat. He didn't even care that his hair was going to dry and he'd have ridiculous hat hair by the time he took the cap off, if he ever did. His hands slowly rose to touch the sides of it, an embarrassingly fond look on his face as he said, simply, "Thank you."

Though Grayson was generous almost to a fault, he was rarely on the receiving end of such actions. It baffled him, a little, but it also filled him with an incredible, simple happiness, and completely evaporated any traces of his bad mood.

"I'll be right back." Moving faster than one would expect, Grayson took the stairs two at a time, retrieving his henshin pen and calling a "Don't wait up!" to Tristan in the process. His brother poked his head out, scowled at the hat (He was a Patriots fan himself) and disappeared once more into his room.

A little breathless by the time he got back to Jude, Grayson grinned. "Ready."

Grayson was over the moon with the hat, acting more like a little kid who was going to Disneyland than a grown man who'd been dragged out of his home to go gallivanting around the countryside in the middle of the night. His mood only continued to improve when he realized they were going to go out in Jude's truck - cool - and he happily climbed in, fiddling with the seat belt as soon as he was perched on his seat. Safety first, after all, was Grayson's motto.

He placed his hands atop his knees, still looking for all the world like the least favorite nephew who had suddenly been invited to a ball game. If only Jude had realized what the simple gesture would do to a young man who already hero worshipped him for saving his brother. "Tristan's all right. Terrible taste in football teams," he added cheerfully. "But all right."

Jude fired up the engine, and Grayson half-turned, eyebrows arched in puzzled amusement. "Do people really hit deer with their trucks and take them home? I thought that was... illegal," he finally decided, tapping his fingers on his knees in a rhythm.

He'd never been so excited to go out patrolling.

Grayson was not a hunter. He didn't think he ever wanted to be a hunter. As far as he was concerned, the meat in the grocery store had been grown on little meat trees in the refrigerated section and packaged nicely on the premises. He knew, of course, that beef came from cows who had once been standing peacefully in fields making big brown eyes at passerby, he just didn't care to think about it. He was, however, a little fascinated that Jude knew so much about the subject, especially with his closing remark.

Another small insight into the mind of Jude! He'd write about it when he got home, if he wasn't too tired.

And then, he didn't really have time to think about his diary, because Jude was suddenly slamming on the brakes and Grayson was groping for what Arthur grimly referred to as the "oh s**t handle" above the door - only Jude's truck didn't seem to have one. Thankfully, they didn't go plowing into a guard rail or worse, though Grayson's heart was hammering by the time the truck rocked on its wheels and stilled.

"I saw -- something?" But it didn't seem to matter if he replied or not, because Jude was already on his way out of the truck, and Grayson was fighting with his seat belt at the same time. He managed to break free, all but toppled out of the truck, henshin pen gripped tightly in his hand.

He was just in time to hear a high-pitched, decidedly angry scream as he henshined.

"Get the hell away from my dogs!"

It wasn't exactly what you expected to hear when you knew a youma was around.

Startled, he broke into a run, a few steps behind Jude as they rounded the corner and saw a young woman in track pants and a sweatshirt, two miniature chihuahuas running mad circles around her legs as she hurled rocks at the youma bounding toward her. Grayson's first thought was that the scenario was absolutely ridiculous, but he barely had time to filter the thought before the girl shouted another command, sending the dogs running like bullets for the bushes.

Leaving her alone, both hands up, one fisted around something that looked a lot like a --

"Magellan Power, Make-Up!" And suddenly her pigtails were flying back, and a bright light filled the night sky.

Well.

Well.

Magellan actually hadn't honestly been aware there was anyone else on the scene aside from her, Tick, Tock, and the butt-ugly youma. To have two rather fabulous senshi show up suddenly both surprised and irritated her in equal waves, and it distracted her long enough that she didn't fight back when she was suddenly pulled aside and tucked up against a complete stranger's side. Her instinct was to recoil; though she didn't wear a rape whistle, she was seriously considering getting one as she ground her foot down on top of Robin Hood's cute little boot.

"Excuse me, what do--" Her words were drowned out by the sudden screech of the youma, and her eyes went wide with panic when it jerked toward the golden senshi, apparently attracted to his dazzle.

"HEY!" She wanted to shout look out, or run, or move your goddamn feet but she didn't manage it.

Ignoring Sagittarius and Magellan, Leo lifted his hand regally, swiping his palm across the air as though parting a fog. His voice was simple and calm as he said, "Radiant light." and the night sky suddenly lit up like the surface of the sun.

Even though her eyes were covered, Dani could still see the impossible light at the edges of her vision, and she hissed, flinging her arm up to try to block the rest of it. The youma screeched again, and something tumbled - trash cans, maybe? - as it rapidly backpedaled to escape the light.

Leo, meanwhile, lifted a (small, half-full) trash can and leapt on top of a building, calling out pleasantly, "Three o'clock, Sagittarius." as he hurled it as far as he could.

Which wasn't far.

But that was okay, the youma was close by, somewhere.