Chapter Text
Lincoln Loud loved all of his siblings, he really did. But, sometimes, one in particular really tested that love and patience... and her name rhymed with 'granola.'
His third youngest sister had always been a diva for as long as Lincoln could remember, but over the years, Lola had grown more into a nightmare. She had an unpleasant penchant for constantly demanding to be the center of attention, flaunting her looks, and always, always making sure everyone else knew just how special she was — and if you ever dared to contradict her or not agree with her, or worst of all, make her feel like her princess crown was slipping in the slightest? She would not let it stand. Oh, no, not one bit. She'd let you know in no uncertain terms just how wrong you were. Loudly.
And, of course, Lincoln got it the worst. Yes, he knew his other sisters dealt with a lot of her crap too, but for whatever reason, Lola felt like she could always make him the target of her most vicious attacks. Maybe it was because he'd used to be the one to put up with her antics the most, maybe for some reason it was because he was the only boy, or maybe it was just because their personalities clashed the hardest out of all their siblings remaining at home. Whatever the reason was, though, in the past couple of years, Lincoln and Lola became the main source of fights between all of the Loud siblings, bickering like cats and dogs over seemingly everything and anything.
For instance, last month she'd demanded that he buy her a new bottle of expensive perfume for her birthday that he really couldn't afford because, and he quoted here, Lincoln, you smell so bad that I literally want to stick a gun in my mouth whenever you come near me, and this is the only thing that can mask the stench of your loserdom. Or, just a week ago when he was running errands and didn't pick up the exact kind of fancy ice cream that she wanted, and she told him that he was — and he also quoted here — too stupid and incompetent to ever do anything right, and a useless fuckup of a brother.
It was hard to believe that not all that long ago, he'd actually enjoyed spending time with her. In fact, once upon a time, they had gotten along very well; he stood by Lola's side as her coach for her pageants, he tried his best to support her dreams. They were playful and tender with each other, and had more than their fair share of sweet moments. But now, that all seemed like an eternity ago, and those good memories were fading fast, swallowed by resentment and a wake of bad blood that just seemed to never relent.
He tried to reason with her, to see her side... after all, she was still young, still trying to figure out who she was, and undoubtedly going through a lot of stress and turmoil as she tried to find her place in the world. Lincoln knew how hard that could be — hell, he was still doing it himself in many ways. But, even so... Lola was just so ungodly difficult to deal with! And when she perceived Lincoln as giving her even the slightest bit of criticism against her or her actions, she'd instantly become the world's most insufferable, narcissistic, self-centered bitch. These days, it was so bad that anytime they were in the same room together, things would more likely than not devolve into a steady stream of name calling and insults. So, he mostly just tried to avoid her. Lincoln loved Lola, he supposed — she was still his sister, after all — but he didn't like her.
And why would he? Her attitude absolutely infuriated him to no end, and she seemed to always know just what buttons to push to drive Lincoln crazy. Her favorite go-to move was to point out how he was a failure in life; to rub it in his face on how behind he was compared to all of his older siblings, who were out making their way in the world, working full time jobs or in prestigious schools out of state.
Lincoln was in his early twenties, and a student at Royal Woods Community College. At one point, he had planned to move away for college like all of his older sisters had, but during his senior year of high school, he got cold feet. He ended up deciding to stay at home and attend college in Royal Woods for at least the first two years, and although he didn't necessarily regret his decision (he was grateful to spend the extra time with all but one of his younger sisters), he often found himself wondering if he should have left after all.
"Eh, nah," he muttered to himself, ripping out the sketch and crumpling it. Presently, he lounged in his bed, sketching absentmindedly in his drawing pad. He had an art assignment he needed to turn in by Monday, and was trying his best to draw a snowy landscape as his thoughts lingered on the frustrations that were Lola. Lincoln tossed the bad draft aside, letting the paper ball fall to the floor and joining its comrades on the bedroom carpet.
The metaphorical grass was always greener on the other side, and no matter how much he imagined things would be better if he went down a different path, he knew that he ultimately made the right choice staying home and taking things slow for now. His older sisters each had a specific path they wanted to pursue, and had been working toward their goals steadily since they were teenagers. By the time they left for college, they all knew exactly what their plans and dreams were. As for him, though, Lincoln still really had no solid idea what he wanted to do, and was still waiting for an answer to jump out of him.
The only thing he was really good at was art. So, here he was, in his third year at RWCC, still undeclared and biding his time by taking primarily art classes while carrying a part-time course load to make time for his job at the nearby comic book store. If all went well, this meant that in about a year he'd have his degree, and by then, hopefully, he'd be able to figure out what the hell he wanted to do with his life.
Lincoln was penning in the beginnings of an outline to a snow-covered Michigan mountainscape when a whiny, ear-piercing screech called out his name.
"Liiiiincoln!"
Ah, the sweet, melodious call of that unmistakable voice. Like nails on a chalkboard, but somehow twice as worse.
"LIIIIINCOOOOOLN!" Lola shouted again downstairs, her shrill voice ringing throughout the entire house. "You fucking asswipe, where are you!"
He stayed silent and kept sketching, hoping that whatever she wanted wasn't that important to her and she would just tire herself out and leave him be. As he'd come to learn, ignoring her was almost always the best course of action.
A couple of minutes later, though, Lola burst through his bedroom door in a fit of fury. "Here you are, you lazy piece of shit," she growled, pointing at him. "Why don't you ever answer when I call you? Are you deaf and dumb?"
Biting back a groan, Lincoln leaned back on the headboard and regarded his little sister with a cool, unamused stare. She was dressed in her cheerleading uniform — a red top with thin shoulder straps that was slightly cropped to bare a strip of midriff, and a pleated, flared skirt. Lola's long blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, held with a pink ribbon that fluttered behind her as she stepped forward toward his bed. Her bright blue eyes glared daggers at him as she approached, and her bubblegum pink lips curled into a venomous sneer.
"I figured it was obvious I was in my room," he replied calmly, gesturing to his surroundings. "Anyway, is that all you came for? Just to be a pain in my ass?"
"I need a ride to cheer practice." Her voice grew just a bit softer, but she still held her scowl towards him. "Mom and Dad told me they'd be working late. Everyone else is busy... so, loser, can you get ready and take me?"
"No," Lincoln said tightly.
"Come on, what are you even doing?" She wrinkled her nose up in distaste as she glanced down at his sketchpad. "Really, Lincoln? You're just doodling your gay cartoons!"
Half-expecting her to snatch his assignment up from him and tear it apart, Lincoln clutched the drawing pad protectively to his chest and pulled back. "It's my homework," said, frowning. "Not that I need to explain myself to you."
"Ohhh, so impor~tant. Your home~work!" Lola mocked in a sing-song falsetto. "My loser brother needs to draw stupid scribbles for homework because he thinks that will somehow get him a real job after he's done failing all of his courses!"
Trying to control his temper, Lincoln gripped his pencil tighter. He knew that Lola was just trying to rile him up and get under his skin, but he couldn't help but let her words sting just a little. "Oh, fuck off," he snapped back, narrowing his eyes. "You're barely even a blip on the radar yet, and you don't even have the slightest fucking clue what you want to do. Stop acting like you're so fucking special."
"Ugh, don't lecture me. You were born a complete fuckup, why would I listen to your opinion?" Lola tilted her head innocently. "Or, are you choosing to be a fuckup? Is it a decision you're consciously making, because if it is, then, like, wow... you're even more of a lost cause than I thought."
He was this close to losing his cool, but Lincoln instead took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm. "Lola, the answer is no. I'm not your personal driver and I won't chauffeur you everywhere. Especially when all you do is talk shit to me." With that, he promptly turned back to his work, scribbling out the beginnings of a snowy hilltop as if to put an end to the conversation.
"I'm not asking you to chauffeur me everywhere, you dumbass, I just need a ride to practice! And you wonder why I'm always calling you a bad brother." She stomped her foot and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Part of it is this — not driving your own fucking sister to her cheer practice because you're a lazy piece of shit who can't spare ten minutes away from his pathetic doodles!"
He gritted his teeth together and set aside his pencil. Lincoln was trying to be the better man, to not let himself get caught up in the heat of the moment, but Lola had a way of knowing just how to push his buttons. "You're right... you're not worth my time." He fixed her with a level stare. "I'm so fucking sick of you talking about me like I'm trash. 'You're a loser, Lincoln,' 'you're a waste of space, Lincoln,' 'you're so stupid, Lincoln,' 'your drawings are shit, Lincoln,' 'you'll never go anywhere in life, Lincoln.'" With each example he gave, his voice rose higher and higher, his own anger boiling more fiercely with every word that left his mouth. "You treat people like absolute shit and then expect them to bend over backwards for you. I've had enough, Lola! I don't have to put up with your crap anymore. The answer is NO."
For several moments after Lincoln's tirade, Lola stood there silently seething with anger. For once, it looked like she was at a loss for words — she just stood there and glared at him, the two of them locked in an intense stare, both furious and neither willing to back down first. Then, finally, she snapped back. "You are the absolute worst!" she screeched. "The only reason I treat you like shit is because that's exactly what you are!"
Before he could react, Lola snatched his drawing pad from him, and hurled it across the room. His sketchbook slammed against the wall and landed on the floor, scattering his pages everywhere. "There. Now you can't work on your stupid, pointless assignment!"
Fists clenched, Lincoln rose to his feet. "Get the fuck out," he hissed.
Lola's sneer only deepened. "Aww, are you gonna cry?" She clasped her hands to her cheek, putting on a show of mock worry. "Did that upset you, Lincoln? Because good." She leaned forward, jabbing him in the chest with a manicured finger. "The next time you want to refuse to help me with even the tiniest little thing, just think of how stupid and worthless your own life is, and you'll reconsider your actions."
"Don't fucking touch me, Lola," he growled, slapping her hand away.
"Oh, so, you're getting violent now?" she shrieked. "Is the big, strong Lincoln gonna throw his tiny little fists at a defenseless teenage girl? God, you're pathetic." She reached out and gave him a shove. "Fucking do it. Hit me, coward — I'd like to see you try. Then, I can drag your ass to the cops and have you tossed in jail where you belong, with the rest of the lowlife scum like you."
She must have been really upset, because even Lola normally didn't go in on him this hard or escalate this quickly. He was seriously considering giving her the slapping that she deserved, but he somehow managed to hold his fist back. Instead, Lincoln decided to play her own game and go straight for her weak spot. "You're a fucking cunt, Lola. Just a sad little attention whore who can't be happy unless she's shitting on the lives of the people around her and making them feel miserable, too."
"Shut up!" she hissed, her face scrunching up with indignation. "You are so fucking lucky that Mom and Dad aren't here to hear you call me that, or they would have grounded your ass in a heartbeat."
"If they don't already know how much you swear like a drunken sailor," Lincoln said. "They'll probably find out eventually anyway, because it's not like you can go a single minute without screaming out an incoherent string of obscenities — kind of like when you're getting railed by a huge football player. Is that why you're so desperate to get to practice tonight, Lols? Got a hot date with the football team waiting for you over in the locker room?"
A bright scarlet flush burned on her cheeks and Lola's eyes widened in disbelief. "You have no right to say that shit, you pervert!" she shouted. "You're disgusting — how can you talk like that about your own sister?"
"Why are you so upset, Lols? It's cause that's all you have, right? Your looks?" By now, Lola was visibly shaking in murderous outrage, her teeth bared like an animal and her hands clenched into fists so tightly that the knuckles were beginning to turn white. It occurred to him to back down, but Lincoln felt proud of himself for finally having found a chink in her armor, and pressed on without restraint. "I guess I shouldn't pass judgment, though... it's not like you've got any real talents other than sucking dick. Hell, I can smell the cock on your breath from here. That's the truth, isn't it? You're not a princess, you're just a slut who—"
Something inside her must have snapped, because the next thing Lincoln knew, Lola was screaming over him and marching out of his room. "I HOPE YOU DIE, LINCOLN!" she yelled, stomping down the hallway.
"Yeah, well, fuck you too!" he called out after her, walking out into the hallway. He stopped outside of his bedroom door, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as Lola retreated back away towards her bedroom. "Enjoy your ride to practice with that quarterback! Hopefully you can still cheer after he's done with you."
She stopped in her tracks. Lola turned to glare back at him one more time, fury burning in her eyes, and suddenly reached down and pulled her shoe off before hurling it at him with all the force she could muster. Lincoln barely had time to react, but managed to sidestep the flying shoe at the last moment as it whizzed by his head. It slammed into the wall with a loud thump, leaving a small dent in the sheetrock behind him.
"Hah!" he called. "Missed me, dipshit! You never coul—"
Even faster than the first, Lola whipped her second shoe across the corridor. This time, her stiletto came rocketing toward him too quickly for Lincoln to duck out of its way, hitting him square in the forehead. He stumbled back from the force, clutching at his face. Stars swum in his vision, and as he massaged the throbbing spot on his head, Lincoln's fingertips came away smeared faintly with warm blood.
"You bitch!" he growled, staring down at the crimson streaks on his palms. Lincoln rubbed the blood on his jeans, and when he looked back up, Lola was charging down the hallway at him.
"I'LL KILL YOU, ASSHOLE!" she shouted, and lunged at him. They fell backwards onto the carpet together, grappling fiercely in what quickly became a tangled mess of limbs. Lola's fingers were curled into claws, raking at his chest as she tried to get a grip on him. Her fingernails dug in, and she writhed atop him like a wild animal, trying her best to pin him to the ground. She eventually managed to emerge on top of him, straddling his waist as she raised her fists over her head. "HOW DO YOU LIKE THIS, LINCOLN!" she yelled, slamming them down onto his chest.
With a grunt, Lincoln reached up and grabbed hold of Lola's wrists before she could land any more blows. The blonde struggled wildly in his grasp again, thrashing about as she tried to wrench herself free from Lincoln's attempts to restrain her. They both rolled back and forth on the floor, each trying to gain leverage on the other in a desperate bid for dominance. "Get the fuck off me," Lincoln grunted. She was smaller and weaker than him, yet somehow fought with a frenzied strength that forced him to struggle for every inch as he slowly pried her away. "You're insane!" Lincoln hissed as she kicked out at him with her bare foot, dangerously close to hitting him in the face.
"Alright, that's enough!"
A hand reached down and grabbed Lola's ponytail, yanking her away from her brother. Lincoln quickly scrambled back, sitting with his back up against the wall as Lynn stood over them both, grabbing Lola by the arms and pulling her back to restrain her in a tight bear hug like an unruly child.
"Both of you, cut the shit right now." Lynn's eyes darted between them both with a furious glare, and she shoved Lola away in the opposite direction. The blonde stumbled a couple of steps backward before she caught herself, panting heavily. "This isn't just some stupid argument," Lynn snapped. "You two are seriously hurting each other."
"It's not my fault he's an ass!" Lola spat, brushing herself off and straightening her cheer uniform.
Lincoln shot her a dirty look. "Yeah, well I wasn't the one who—"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Lynn shouted. Both of them flinched. "Why can't you two ever stop fighting? This shit seriously needs to stop. You're brother and sister — you need to act like it!"
As Lynn berated the two of them, Lincoln's head reeled. He reached up to gingerly touch his face with his fingers; there was a shallow gash on the side of his temple, but otherwise nothing serious — although it still hurt like a motherfucker. "I don't want to be her fucking brother," he grumbled bitterly. "She's a spoiled little shit who only cares about getting what she wants from everyone."
"Ooh, like you're sooo great to be around," Lola spat back, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "You're an immature, pathetic, waste-of-space piece of shit, and you don't deserve to be related to me, Lincoln!" With a huffy toss of her hair, she spun on her heel and shoved past Lynn, storming away toward her room.
"Yeah," Lincoln muttered under his breath as he watched her go. "Well, I wish we weren't."
Down the hallway, Lola stopped before entering her room, turning to give him one last spiteful glance over her shoulder. With that, she stepped into her bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her with enough force to shake the entire house.
"Jesus Christ, you two..." Lynn shook her head at him and let out a long, weary sigh. "What were you fighting about this time?"
"Ask her." Lincoln rubbed his head again, winching at the sting. "She's a psycho."
"Uh huh. And did that psycho pounce on you for no reason at all? Or, were you egging her on like you always do?"
He looked up at her and frowned. As she stood over him, Lynn folded her arms across her chest and glared down at Lincoln like a judge regarding a particularly pathetic defendant, eyes narrowed disapprovingly.
"I don't know how the hell you guys used to get along so well when we were kids," she continued, "but you two seriously need to figure your shit out. You're the older one, Lincoln, so grow the fuck up. I don't care if she is a brat, you're the one who should know better than to let Lola keep dragging you into these stupid arguments."
He suddenly felt the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air as he slumped back against the wall, letting his head fall back with a dull thump. She had a point, he realized. No matter what happened between them or how much she riled him up, he was still the eldest between them, and he ought to know better than to stoop to her level. "Okay. Yeah," he said softly, remembering how he called her a slut and accused her of sleeping with football players. A tiny blush of shame colored his face, and Lincoln stared down at his lap. "...Maybe I did take it a little too far."
Lynn stood silent for a long moment, and he glanced up to meet her gaze once more. Her steely hazel eyes had softened, and something like compassion flickered across her face. "Hey, I get it," she said. Lynn knelt down to his level and reached out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "She's tough to deal with. I don't live with her and have to be around her all the time like you do, but I still remember those times back when I did. She got on my nerves plenty, too." As she spoke, Lynn leaned forward and brushed Lincoln's hair aside to inspect the damage on his temple. He winced slightly at her touch, and the corners of her mouth twisted downwards in concern. "You okay, Linc?"
"Fine," Lincoln murmured. "Just a little nick. Nothing ice and some Tylenol can't fix."
"Are you sure?" Lynn gently cupped his cheek and turned his head toward her to get a better look. Her thumb stroked the line of his jaw, and brushed away a droplet of blood. "Looks kinda bad to me.”
"I'll be fine," Lincoln insisted, pushing away her hand.
For a moment, she looked as if she was about to say something more, then closed her mouth and nodded. "Okay, tough guy," Lynn quipped, rising back up to her feet. She reached down to offer Lincoln a hand. He hesitated for a brief moment, but took it to let her help him up. "I'm serious about you guys fixing things, though. You don't have to be best friends or anything like that, but you two have been fighting and bickering for years. It's not healthy for either one of you."
Lincoln sighed. "Believe me, I know."
"I mean it. So, please..." Lynn gave him a pointed look. "Do whatever you need to do to work your shit out."
"Yeah, I'll try," he muttered.
As Lincoln turned to retreat back to his room, however, he wondered — not for the first time — if such a thing was even remotely possible.