Scott Moffatt shot a glare at his youngest brother, Dave. "D, just because you're Canadian doesn't mean you have to act like it. Now, go drool over Sarah McLaughlan or play hockey, eh, you stupid, little flappy-head freak?"

Dave grabbed a bottle of hair mousse from the bedside table wondering why it wasn't in his own hotel room. "Reading 'Teen again, Scott, eh? Man, why don't I ever remember to bring my gel? I always forget and then I have to use Clint's mousse or go places with flat hair. Did you know that if you use mousse a lot, as a kid, that is, like Clint, then you're almost guaranteed to be bald, if you're a guy, when you're old or have major hair thinning and loss is you're a girl when you're old? So, Shcotty, do you use mousse?"

Scott sent Dave another glare through the burgandy tint of his hair. "No. I use hairspray. Where'd you hear that crap, anyway?"

Dave shrugged and threw the mousse bottle on the other bed in the room. "CNN or something. Hmm... hairspray? That makes you lose brain cells. But, that explains a lot."

Scott looked around and picked up a rolled up sheet of paper and threw it at Dave only to have it hit the wall above him and fall into Dave's lap. "Very funny. So, where are Bob and Clint?"

Dave picked up the crumpled paper and attempted to straighten it out as he spoke. "I think they went shopping at Roots. I swear, they're obsessed. Roots should pay us for how much we give them in advertising during interviews and those chicks with fan fiction who think that's all we ever wear. And... what the hell is this?"

Dave had unfolded the paper and had begun to read it. It wasn't unusual for the Moffatt brothers to cuss every once in a while, but it wasn't usually that loudly. This caught Scott's attention and brought him over to sit at Dave's side.

"It's a love note," Dave said. "But, it's written to a guy and signed by Bob."

Scott grabbed the paper quickly. "Erm, ick. Uh, do you think he's gay?"

Dave raised his eyebrows. "With how hot and heavy he and Heather got... last New Year's, I think it was? I think he might be bi. He likes to watch you lick your guitar, that's for sure."

Scott shook his head. "Eww, man. Wait, Heather Jennings who Clint was dating, but she broke up with him because his dick was too small?"

"No, man. But, she was hot. Heather Princeton."

"Whoa! She's really hot! Was she drunk?"

Dave shook his head and smiled. "Nope. But, Bob was. And, from what Heather J. told me, those two aren't all that identical from what she saw that night when Bob and the other Heather were out back on the grass."

"Dude! Not what I needed to hear. No girl has ever seen me without my pants on."

Dave sat up in apparant shock. "No! Out little exhibitionist who treats his guitar to the equivalent of a blow job every concert? How is that possible?"

Scott sat still for a moment. "Because only guys have seen me without my pants on... Not counting family."

Dave smiled. "You're yanking me, Scott. I thought you were just offended by Bob's little love letter."

Scott turned away. "Dave, you can honestly tell me that you can't tell the difference between my handwriting and Bob's? I just signed his name. And, look who its addressed to... on the back."

Dave looked confused for a moment, then flipped the paper over and read. "Woah! Taylor Hanson? Dude, he's hot! I don't blame you."

Scott swung back around. "You're not like that too, are you, D?"

Dave shook his head again. "Nah. Just open-minded. So, do you actually know him?"

Scott put on a relieved smile with a deep breath. "Um, no. Not yet, anyway. But, y'know, I'm sort of hoping he'll reply to this. You see, he wrote Bob a letter and I happened to read it and didn't tell Bob about it. That's why I signed Bob's name. I'll tell Taylor the truth after we become good friends and then, if he doesn't hate me, we'll plan to meet."

Dave handed Scott the crinkly sheet of paper. "Not good, Scott. You're already sort of anticipating that he'll hate you. Write to him as you and just put the return address as 'Moffatt'."

Scott smiled shyly and picked at a piece of lint on the comforter beneath him. "Thanks, Dave. I might just do that. And, could you, like, not tell anyone?"

Dave grinned good-naturedly. "Only for you, Scott."

Scott instinctively threw his arms around Dave in a hug and kissed him on the cheek. Then, just as quickly, pulled back and began to rampantly apologize.

Dave leaned over and kissed Scott's cheek. "It's okay. I know you let your guard down." He paused. "Tell you what, Scott. From now on, be as affectionate with me as you want. It'll be up to you as to when and where it happens, but its up to you. I'm comfortable no matter what."

Scott drew in a sharp breath as his eyes watered up momentarily in anticipation of long unreleased tears. "Thank you, Dave. Man, if I had known you were this open, I would have told you before anyone else."

Dave's eyes narrowed cautiously. "Who else knows?"

Scott smiled sheepishly. "Um, Heather Jennings. I was sort of, um, jacking off and she walked in just as I opened up a copy of Playgirl. So, we had a little talk after I almost killed myself zipping up. She's a cool gal. And, uh, that was a part of why she, um, broke up with Clit... Shit, Clint! Uh, she said he was small by comparison and she wanted a porn dick. So, she and I spent the afternoon talking about hot guys and porn dick. I honestly thought she was kidding about all of it. But, that night she broke up with... Clint."

Dave looked at Scott with an understanding and serious look on his face. Then, he burst out laughing and threw his head back only to hit it on the sharp metal edge of the ritzy headboard. A moment later, he was gasping in pain.

Dave quickly leaned over and put his hand to the back of his head. "Fuck! It's bleeding! Scott, could you get me something? A washcloth, a t-shirt, hell, a pair of boxers with ice! And, call up some help. Call Sheila and... and Dad and my lawyer. Fuck, fuck, fuck! This hurts and blood is gushing out!!!"

Scott looked at him with a bemused smile. He ran to the bathroom and ran cool water on a towel, brought it in to Dave and placed it gently on his head as Dave quietly whispered and cursed.

Scott made the necessary calls and then did as asked and took Dave down to the hotel infirmary.

Installment #2 - Bob and Clit, Oops, Clint Try To Take Over The World