We are creatures of habit.

Every,

Single,

One of us.

No matter where we go, no matter what we do, it is repetition and predictability that makes us feel secure. Woven into the fabrics of our safety blankets that we tuck safely under our pillows, are the threads of routine.

Courtney Meeks's family was by far, no exception.

Every morning, at six AM, seventeen year old Courtney would roll out of bed, make herself presentable, and waltz out of her house right on schedule. As she began her millionth (or so it felt,) day of school, her mother, Jane, would begin to make her husband breakfast.

Thomas Meeks, the ever-responsible man of the house, greeted his trophy wife with a compliment and a kiss at 7:05.

As they left for work, Mr. and Ms. Meeks planned their days- occasionally, when they were feeling ambitious, they would plan their weeks- and their emotions carefully.

Every afternoon, as everyone in the Meeks family returned home, the house became soft with the sweet sounds of relaxation. As 5:05 pm rolled around, each member sat down for dinner and began to briefly discuss his or her day.

At 5:40, Courtney excused herself, always biting down a smile as she made her way a little to quickly up the staircase and to her rather oversized room. As her hardworking parents began to discuss the bits and pieces of their lives that they didn't see fit to share with their daughter, Courtney pulled a chair up to the sill of her middle window.

At 5:45, she shoved the glass upwards, taking a deep breath and absorbing the air of the aging day.

By 5:50, every weekday of almost every week, Duncan Mahone was perched atop her windowsill, always sporting an infectious smile.

It had been this way for a while- ever since Duncan's family moved into the house next to Courtney's. Their parents hardly knew each other. The lawyers of the Meeks family were always out of the house before the cops of the Mahone family- the former making their way across their perfectly manicured lawn over an hour before the latter.

Unlike their parents, Courtney and Duncan liked to think that they knew each other fairly well.

Their first meeting was one of pure chance. She ran into him as he and his family were moving in, then again on her way to school, then again as she was sitting on a park bench one Saturday.

Their hellos were quick, their smiles fake, and their conversations quipped. Truth be told, neither liked the other much in the very beginning. Their meetings were few and far between, and each was a small and overlooked part of the other's life.

Yet now they spoke almost daily and craved each other's attention as if it was heroin. Courtney told him of her day, her thoughts, her musings. Duncan told her of his opinions, his brothers, occasionally (although rarely) his feelings. She would comment on his Mohawk and his piercings; he would comment on her pristine appearance.

Their conversations were long and relaxed. Duncan never moved from her windowsill, and Courtney never moved from her chair. That was the way it was.

At 8:35, Courtney would sigh and tell him that she needed to fall into her bedtime routine once again. They would say their goodbyes, Courtney dragging her chair back to her desk reluctantly. By the time she looked back to her window, Duncan would be gone.

And so ended the important part of her day.

Usually.

For the first time she could think of, her favorite delinquent altered her precise schedule. It was 8:31.

"- and she was mad at me! Mad at me! Honestly?" Courtney raved on, hugging her knees to her chest as she ranted. Her eyes were trained on the floor, her expression strained.

"Well why did you tell her that she was-"

"Duncan, that isn't the point." Courtney interrupted, not wanting to hear what came next.

"Isn't it?" Duncan raised his eyebrows, bemused.

"I… No. It isn't. The point is… the point… er- well, she shouldn't have been mad!" Courtney huffed, finally looking at him.

"I think you should stop worrying about it. If what you said really wasn't as…" he paused to laugh, "insulting as it sounds, then she won't be angry for long, now will she?"

Courtney paused, frowning. Perhaps Duncan was right. Perhaps she was just trying to justify her rude words.

Either way, she found that as the seconds ticked by and 8:35 drew ever nearer, she began to care less.

As though he had read her mind, Duncan brought his wrist up to study his watch, bitterly stating that it was 8:34. Courtney brushed it off, muttering that it didn't matter. Slightly confused, Duncan raised his eyebrows. He didn't think he would ever hear anything close to that slip out of her mouth, yet he was vaguely pleased.

"However," She said after a moment, "I should probably go." There was a pause. "So… you think it'll be alright? You think she'll get over it?"

Duncan smiled. "Princess, I'm sure she'll forget about it." Courtney rolled her eyes at this. Apart from the fact that 'princess' was a hideous nickname, his claim was slightly ridiculous, in her opinion. He continued, "Well… I'm sure she'll forgive you, anyway."

She was still rather skeptical, but she held back her comments, and instead let out a long sigh. Moments later, she opened her eyes to find that he was still lounging in her window. At 8:37.

What was going on?

As if to make it stranger, he then swung his body towards her, placing his feet firmly on her carpeted floor.

She stared at him, confused and speechless. He had seen her room, every day, every week, for so many months. However, never had he ever stepped foot inside

And now, as he stood before her, she looked up at him with a mix of curiosity and suspiciousness.

"What are you-"

"Courtney." He intermitted. "You're worried. You don't sleep when you're worried, and then I hear about how tired and sad you are for at least forty five minutes the next day." He told her, hoping that she would prove deferential.

He paused briefly before going on. "So relax, take a deep breath, and forget about whoever it is that you think you're not pleasing."

She smiled slightly. As much as she pretended that she was totally independent and in control of her precisely planned teenage life, there was something about Duncan's tone that was… relaxing. She felt her discomfort slip away as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

Unfortunately, her skepticism overruled the odd satisfaction that Duncan supplied, and she began to mutter nonsense about people hating her and never accepting her to Yale.

Duncan rolled his eyes as she went on, her tone elevating as she forgot her situation and began to let herself become engulfed in her worries and ridiculous fears. As she became more upset, he became more irritated.

Courtney frantically started to list ways that this could potentially ruin her life. Duncan opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it just before the words were able to tumble sloppily from his lips.

Instead he tilted his head, leaned down, and pressed those lips to Courtney's. He figured that was a better use.

The kiss was soft, like those one gives to their third grade crush near the back of the schoolyard, just out of sight of their cootie-crazed friends. Normally, this was extremely out of character for Duncan, but he found that underneath his sarcastic and disobedient tendencies, there was a part of him that was slowly growing warmer- caring, if you will.

Would he ever show this to anyone? Probably not. Then again, Courtney Meeks wasn't 'anyone'.

He pulled away to find her staring at him, her expression a mix of bewilderment and minor fright. She opened her mouth, blinking, taken aback.

Duncan smiled. "Shut up, Courtney."

"…'Kay." She choked out, smiling slightly. At this, Duncan let out a small laugh, bidding her goodnight and climbing back out of her bedroom window at 8:46

At 8:50, Courtney Meeks was still sitting in her chair by the middle window of her slightly oversized bedroom.

Duncan Mahone was back in his own house, not bothering to greet his parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Meeks were still discussing the aspects of their lives that they didn't see fit to share with their daughter.

Courtney stood, slowly dragging her chair back to her desk, that small smile still playing on her lips.

Perhaps something similar would happen tomorrow when they had their little chat yet again.

Perhaps something else would go wrong, Courtney would complain, and Duncan would once again console her.

Perhaps at 8:45 the next night, Duncan would press his lips to hers once more, sending shivers down her spine as she gripped the sides of her chair.

We are, after all, creatures of habit.

Gnar har har, that's my first TDI fic. I'm REALLY sorry for any ludicrous spelling/grammar mistakes I make. I'm a hideous editor! XD