It was only a few minutes before Rick began to rouse on the carpet but he stayed down. Little noises came out of him as Vyvyan took his normal spot at the table next to Mike. "What is it Michael?"

"We have rules in this house, Vyvyan."

"I didn't hit him that hard, Mike!" Vyvyan protested, gesturing defensively with his hands. "He's just being a little girl like he always is!"

"I don't mean Rick, I mean girls at parties. We all agreed who gets what. House rules. That is to say I get the girls and you lot get the parties. If a girl is confused and slaps this handsome face instead of snogging it, you don't take her to bed, you get me?" Vyvyan went from confused to looking slightly crestfallen but nodded his agreement, stabbing the sharp metal into the table and standing.

Rick was on his feet now, brushing off his blazer and looking serious with his hands on hips. "So what are you suggesting Mike? You take all the birds... I mean women, and we turn into big poofs and run away with each other?"

The ginger punk laughed loud and sarcastically. He didn't know why he was laughing that loudly, it wasn't that funny. "You'd just love that wouldn't you Rick, everyone turning into a big poof like you, all drooling over you and wanting to touch your bottom!"

Without hesitation Rick took a few steps forward, his voice scaling up. "Don't give me that bucko, you'd be first in line!" Rick's finger stabbed into Vyvyan's t-shirt clad chest.

"To bash your face in!" A pause and then a grin. "Looks like someone did it already!" Vyv had stood up, coming around the table to be almost nose-to-nose with Rick.

"Guys! Guys! See what's happening? We're fighting because of women!" Neil drawled, he added some red liquid that wasn't ketchup to the lentils on the stove. "Can't we all just –"

Rick and Vyvyan, without turning or releasing their holds on the others blazer and vest, shouted their response in tandem. "SHUT UP NEIL!"

Neil furrowed his brow and turned back to the pot of lentils. "There's no need to shout and get all heavy. That's okay though, I'm just Neil, I just make the tea and like, do everything in the house even though no one listens to me…" He drifted off. Not that anyone was listening to begin with: even the lentils were ignoring him, and they were dead.

"Don't need to worry about Vyvyan, Mike, that girl just felt sorry for him!" Rick said mockingly.

A look of shock, hurt and then fury flashed across Vyvyan's pierced and studded features. With a shove, Vyvyan disentangled himself from the Anarchist. The force launched Rick over the tattered couch; arse-over-tea kettle. He had been in such a good mood when he woke up this morning, he had barely even thought of bashing anyone's skull in. It had been a strange feeling, but a nice one. Now Mike had to ruin it, Rick had to shove his big fat opinion into everything and imply he was gay when he had just gotten off with a bird the night before! He hopped the couch and gave Rick a swift kick, letting out a strangled sigh.

He stomped back to the table, grabbing SPG from his perch on top of the fridge (the creature protesting loudly) and yelled that he was, "SO BLOODY BORED!" He stomped up the steps to his room, acting like a violent child as he slammed the door shut.

Rick held his ribs and squirmed on the floor, but no one seemed to notice. The flatmates were extremely good at ignoring each other when it was necessary. Mike went back to his newspaper. Neil pulled the wooden spoon out of the lentils. He watched it crumble away, leaving the hippie holding just the handle of the spoon. Neil seemed pleased with this result and he called out: "tea's ready!"

A few hours passed, and Vyvyan lay on his bed, listening to records on the second turntable he had stolen from Rick. After the houses' necessary burning of all things combustible in the winter, Vyvyan had made a point of quietly buying another one with money obtained from selling Neil's gem collection. He had left it for Rick to find, and once he finished bragging about his treasure finding skills and how amazing he was, Vyvyan had swept in and taken it. After a Cliff Richard vinyl was snapped over Rick's greasy hair, he stopped arguing over who owned the turntable. The music was loud, raw and surprisingly emotional, helping him to ignore the stomach pains and growls that pained him. The lentils Neil had made would help, but he was still too angry at Rick to go downstairs and not throttle his last breath out of him.

How dare Rick call him gay! How dare Mike say he couldn't go after a chick! His might as well live with his Mum! Frustration filled him and with frustration came balled fists and gritted teeth. The song changed to a song made for crowds of younger people rebelling against the government; the monarchy. He sat up and stared at the turntable as if he could see the words coming from the speaker. He yelled and threw a glass bottle across the room, just missing SPG, who swore at him and dove into his cage. There he quickly continued shredding Neil's shirt sleeve. He jumped off the bed, kicking the table near the door. He threw the needle off the vinyl with a screech, exploding through the door and sending shards of wood everywhere. He kicked the doorframe viciously with his boots for good measure before storming down the steps.

Neil was just about to put the bowl of lentils down on the table for himself, when Vyv appeared around the corner and snatched it out of his hand. He shoved Rick off his seat at the table, who muttered something about manners. Sitting down he dug into the food, spooning it into his mouth and ignoring the taste, texture and, well, everything about it. It was like eating a mixture of wallpaper paste and battery acid. Compared to some of the potions the punk had consumed this was bland. At least it didn't make his hair fall out or turn him into an axe wielding homicidal maniac.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye. Neil was standing at the counter, focused on scraping out a bowl into the sink that had contained the same lentil concoction weeks ago.

"Ok, so I was thinking right, we really need to get some washing up liquid. I saw a plate trying to leave on his own, right, it wouldn't stop moving! Now this bowl is all crusty and not usable and I might not be able to eat! Not that anyone cares..."

"Finally you're right about something Neil, we don't care." Mike was looking through the swimwear section of a department store catalogue, turning pages and smiling at the models. He kept flipping pages. "If you have the dough Neil you can buy whatever you want, you dig me? But Mike doesn't spend unless there is something in it for Mike."

Vyvyan ignored Mike and Neil's conversation, turning his attention to Rick. He didn't want to give him attention, but he was still so angry. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tried to kick out at Rick as he attempted (tried?) to stand. Rick stumbled and Vyvyan flailed his boot out, scrunching up his face when Rick managed to stand. He straightened his own posture in the chair. "I really hate you Rick." Vyvyan said, setting the bowl aside and leaning back in the chair.

Rick had scrambled to his feet, angrily dusting himself off again before crossing his arms across his chest, trying to shake the general unease written on all his features as he avoided Vyv's boot. "Very mature, Vyvyan, but you can't fool me. I know why you're mad!"

Rick looked smug but still worried, Vyvyan knew that look very well. He narrowed his eyes and toyed with his nostril piercing like a bull wanting to charge. He was curious how Rick could know something when Rick didn't know anything. "Oh, please Rick do tell!"

"You fell in love! Vyvyan loves a GIRL! You've been upset since she left! One shag and she has you wrapped around her wittle finger!"

Vyvyan snorted and shook his head as he stood up from the chair. He took the now empty lentil bowl in his hand and bringing it down hard on top of Rick's head. The bowl shattered, pieces flying everywhere. Droplets of blood appeared on Ricks face where the jagged points cut his cheek and forehead. Rick swayed with the force before crumpling to the floor. Vyvyan stepped over his unconscious body, walked to the television set and turned it on before sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

"Next up on BBC 2, it's Bastard Squad."

His favourite program was on, and Rick was quiet. He should be happy, but something didn't sit right. He didn't enjoy doing hurting Rick nearly as much as he usually did. Maybe something bwas/b wrong with him.