Prompt: sweat pants

Word Count: 165

Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.

To look at Brooke McQueen as she roamed the halls of Kennedy, you wouldn't think the girl knew the first thing about comfortable clothing. But behind closed doors, when the house is empty and there's no chance of visitors, she becomes the comfort queen. She relishes the sparse moments where she can sit splayed on her bed, de-make-up'ed and sweat panted, and not have to worry about looking good for the masses of people who expect her to.

She's so comfortable in fact, enveloped in the old blue pyjama shirt that has seen better, less holey days, that she doesn't hear the door open. Doesn't register anyone else's presence until a flash lights the room. She blinks away the black spots until she can see Sam's beaming face.

"Now that is one for the yearbook." And she's gone. Brooke blinks once, then gets halfway into the second before she tears out of bed, screaming Sam's name and various threats at the top of her voice.