#did u also spit in the face of god...... wanna share this cigarette....

[biillys]

had a dream last night that st5 dropped and billy and eddie both came back and were gay as shit for each other and all the eddie stans were frothing at the mouth and all the harringrove stans were rioting and i was posting text posts from the supermarket like wow they invented gay love but y'all aren't ready to hear it

[qualidude]

Could you post an excerpt of your writing pretty please?

I’m going to do this under the cut so I’m not just filling up everyone’s dash, but thanks for asking! It’s cool y’all are interested. It took me a while to decide what part would be good to share. I thought about trying to pull an excerpt from each of the three POVs, but I think that would get too long to share in a text post on Tumblr. This is part of the scene where the most characters are present at once. It’s told from Avery’s perspective. She’s basically the dyke of my dreams but also....not. I wrote a little more about her in response to this ask Co-author is @arabdyke​ ! Also, if you’re wondering what the hell I’m talking about, follow the link above!

One thing I will say about this book is that we aren’t going for anything fancy, more going for attachment to the characters and readability (since it’s so fuckin long lol). It all takes place in first perspective, so we are just trying to achieve something that feels natural. Let me know what y’all think!

“I’m gonna go smoke,” I say when there’s finally a lull in the conversation. “I’ll come,” Ian offers, which surprises me. I won’t turn down the company though. Amanda heads off to some other part of the house while all three of us make our way outside. I take a cigarette out, lighting it. I try to exhale away from Ian, but the smoke keeps blowing in his face. “Sorry,” I crack a smile. He just smiles back wearily. “Do you think Everest likes that Amanda girl?” I ask. He sighs and shrugs, looking pathetic about it. “Probably. I don’t know. I mean, it’s fine if he does.” “Is it?” He slumps again. “I mean, yeah, it is.” “Why isn’t it fine?” I ask, ignoring what he just said. Ian looks around hesitantly like he’s making sure we’re far away from all other ears. He seems deeply uncomfortable. I seriously feel bad for this guy. He doesn’t know what I know, but even if I didn’t, I’d never be shitty about it. He probably even knows that, but it might not make it easier.

“It’s just hard to watch Everest date anyone now...after Gwen was so awful.” “Mm,” I muse. “Well, Amanda seems nice.” Rudolf’s staring at Ian intensely like he’s trying to will him into just spitting it out already. “I guess,” Ian agrees slowly. “Nice enough.” Rudolf kind of rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Ian just crosses his arms, staring off at nothing in particular. “There are other reasons too,” he mumbles, still not making eye contact. “Like...I don’t know. I like him.” Jesus. Finally. “Aw, that’s sweet,” I tease, not wanting to act too shocked or knowing. “You guys have known each other forever. How long have you been into him?” “A long time. Too long, probably. It’s stupid, right?” “It’s not stupid,” Rudolf cuts in before I can come up with a response. “You can’t help the way you feel.” Ian just shrugs. “Rudolf’s right,” I say. “It’s not stupid.” “It’s pretty hard not to feel that way,” Ian chuckles bitterly.

“Trust me, I get it…” I continue. “I was in love with my best friend too once upon a time, but it’s not the end of the world. He could feel the same way even. You have no idea.” “Yeah,” Rudolf adds. “I mean, he did date a guy once, right? You kinda left that part out before, buddy.” “We were kids,” Ian says, getting red. “That barely counts.” “Of course it counts,” Rudolf insists. “Well, he isn’t gay,” Ian says pointedly. “He literally told me he was bi just a few days ago.” Ian gets quiet and seems confused. He looks like he’s trying to figure out how that could be possible. “He told you that?” he asks finally. Rudolf nods. “He never told me that,” Ian states. I can tell he doesn’t know what to make of this new information. Is it a good thing? Mostly he just looks dazed. “He thought you knew,” Rudolf says. “He said he thought it wasn’t a big deal.” Ian takes a deep breath. “Well, I don’t think that changes anything.”

“Dude, yeah, it does,” Rudolf keeps at it. “You have a chance. That’s something, right?” Ian doesn’t seem convinced. He just looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. “Maybe,” he says simply. There’s a sense of finality in his tone like he’s putting an end to the conversation. He looks off into space again after that. I chain smoke a few cigarettes, mostly because I don’t know what else to say or do. When I’m about to reach for another, Rudolf takes it out of my hand. “We can go back inside,” he says, handing the cigarette back to me. He looks kind of shocked by what he just did like he acted without thinking. Ian sees the expression on Rudolf’s face and chuckles. “Yeah, alright, we can go back in.”I smile at Rudolf to try to ease the tension. Then I follow them inside, stashing the cigarette back in my pack. By now, it’s louder and a lot more crowded. I don’t recognize anyone, but that’s alright. Maybe it will be better if we don’t see anyone we know tonight. Ian’s surveying the room, probably looking for Everest. He gives up quickly, though. “I might go check things out in the kitchen,” I say. “Wanna tag along?” “Sure,” Rudolf nods, letting me lead the way. Ian doesn’t say anything but follows after us regardless. There are a few people hanging around the table and like Amanda mentioned, one of them’s doing trash rat tats. I greet them with a nod and then pick up some flash sheets sitting on the table, looking them over. Some of them are pretty basic, but some are cool. There’s one of a gory eyeball and another of a fat pigeon that I somehow love as much as I hate.

“Are you getting one?” Rudolf asks, glancing over the designs in my hands. “Yeah, I think so.” Ian looks along with us, but I know this really isn’t his scene. “Which one do you think you’ll get?” he asks. “Hmm, probably this one,” I say, pointing to the eyeball. “It’s so gross,” he cringes. “Yeah, I like gross shit.” “You should see her art,” Rudolf says fondly. I smile at him. “Think this suits me?” “Yeah, it’ll look good.” When the current crowd clears, the person holding the tattoo gun looks at us and asks if there’s anything sparking our interest.“This one’s pretty cool,” I say, handing them the sheet. “Sweet,” they say. “Take a seat.” So, I do. The tattooer isn’t super chatty, but that’s fine. I kind of prefer it. I decide to get the work on my arm in the small space I have left between two stick-n-pokes I got a few years back. Ian and Rudolf sit with me, but Ian just looks queasy. “You don’t have to stick around,” I assure him, but he forces a smile and asks me if it hurts. “Not really,” I say, hoping that’ll help somehow. That’s the truth. It doesn’t really hurt. You get used to it. A few minutes in, a new group of people pile into the kitchen. Amongst them, of all fucking people, is Cameron. Fucking fantastic. 

Rudolf doesn’t notice right away. He’s busy staring at my arm, but after a minute, he looks up at me. I must seem uncomfortable because he raises an eyebrow and then turns around. His expression immediately slips as he makes eye contact with Cameron. Then he turns back to me, looking dead-eyed. When Cameron spots us, he wastes no time heading over. Rudolf wastes no time leaving. I wish I could follow him, but I literally can’t. “Hah, of course you’d be into this lame shit,” he says to me, ignoring Rudolf’s disappearing act. The tattooer scoffs under their breath. “Cameron, fuck off,” I say limply. “I’m not in the mood.” “Ow,” he feigns hurt. “Watch it, Avery.”

Cameron takes the seat that Rudolf was previously occupying. “Hey,” he says to Ian. “Hey,” Ian responds, looking unsure of the whole situation. “Who are you?” “Cameron Fant,” he says, holding his hand out. “You?” Ian accepts his hand slowly, giving it a firm shake. “Ian.” God. Who introduces themselves like that? Was Cameron always this annoying, or did I just not see it? “Are you one of Avery’s friends?” Cameron asks, probably prepared to make himself look perfect in the eyes of a new, handsome stranger. Ian nods, and Cameron asks where we met.

“Weight class.” “Why haven’t I seen you around before?” “This isn’t really my thing.” Cameron laughs and then touches Ian’s shoulder. “Well, yeah, this is awful,” he says. “I’ll show you something better.” Ian’s face is red again. Cameron probably loves that. He’s oozing confidence and it fucking sucks. I wish I could tell Ian right now just how awful and disgusting Cameron is, but I can't. Not without betraying Rudolf's trust. Instead, I zone out and stare down at my arm, trying not to listen. Cameron keeps flirting with Ian and it’s honestly the vilest thing I’ve ever heard. I’ve seen these moves a million times before, but now, with everything coming into the light, I can barely keep it together.“Cam, screw off, you’re not even his type,” I say before I can help myself. Cameron’s eyes snap to me and he looks pissed. Ian looks uncomfortable too, but screw them both! It’s literally just the truth. Besides, this isn’t something Ian wants to get mixed up in even for one second. He knows Cameron’s an ass, but he’s also charming as hell. I don’t want to risk Ian falling for the facade. “Oh you know fuck-all,” Cameron spits at me before turning back to Ian like I never said anything at all. Ian looks so fucking distressed and I feel bad because I know he doesn’t know how to make this stop. “So, what do you do?” Cameron asks, crossing his arms in a way that I think is supposed to make him seem laid back. “Uh, I just graduated,” Ian mumbles.“Wow, me too,” he says and he just sounds so damn sure of himself. “From where?” “U of M.” “Huh,” Cameron smiles condescendingly. “I went to the Academy of Art with Avery and Rudolf before his lame ass dropped out. I’m a sculptor.” “I heard…” Ian says, wide-eyed. “That’s...cool?” Ugh. Don’t encourage him! “It is pretty cool. Probably the best job in the world. I get to do whatever I want and make all my own hours.” Jesus Christ, he sounds so full of himself. I swear to God he’s a complete and utter fucking narcissist.

Cameron keeps talking about himself and I can’t help but notice that he sounds a little more invested than normal. I keep staring at them, trying to figure it out. Ian certainly is Cameron’s type, even if the reverse isn't true. I guess Ian looks a bit like Jackson, which is funny because Jackson looks a bit like Cameron. All these fucking white boys, man. That might be what’s keeping Cameron’s interest. He’s shallow, after all.

Just as Ian looks like he’s about to absolutely lose it, Cameron gets a text. He pulls out his phone and smirks to himself. “I’ve got something I need to take care of,” he says to Ian. “But I’ll see you around.” “Sure,” Ian responds. “Later, Avery,” Cameron says to me before leaving the kitchen.

Once he’s gone, Ian leans into me and urgently whispers, “Was he hitting on me!?”

Ugh. “Yeah,” I say with distaste. “That’s the guy Rudolf slept with, huh?” “Yep...” I say again, getting knots in my stomach. “He’s pretty crappy.” Ian gives a long nod, sitting back in his seat. “That’s what Rudolf and Everest both said.” Hopefully, that’s enough for Ian to put the idea to rest. If he rejected Rudolf’s advances before, then he’s probably not about to fall into Cameron’s trap. He’s just too nice to tell Cameron to fuck off. When my tattoo is done, the artist wraps it for me and I pull my wallet out, handing them a few bills.

“Thanks,” I say, “This is great.” That felt like forever. Usually, I enjoy the entire process, but Cameron ruined it. Now I just want to find Rudolf. I wander through the house, shoving everyone who bumps into me. I am not in the fucking mood. “Let me know if you see Rudolf,” I say to Ian. He nods, glancing around with me for a few minutes until we find Rudolf sitting on a sofa. There are a bunch of other people sitting around him, but I can tell he probably hasn’t been talking to any of them. There’s a drink in his hand and I can’t help but wonder if it’s his first or his fifth. “Hey, man,” I say. He nods, but with the way his head bobs I can tell he’s pretty fucked up. Man, this sucks. I never expected to see Cameron here. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“Fine,” he insists but his voice is high and slurry. I offer him a hand, pulling him up from the sofa and away from the crowd of folks hovering in the living room. “Cameron’s pretty full of himself, huh?” Ian says. 

I think he’s trying to make Rudolf feel better, but it doesn’t work. Rudolf just scowls. 

“What was he doin’? Talkin’ about how talented and popular and amazing he is?” “Pretty much,” Ian says. “Typical. Was he flirting?” Rudolf keeps wobbling against me, but at least he’s coherent. “Um...I don’t know. Maybe a bit?” Everest reappears finally, clapping a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Hey! Sorry I got swept off! How’s it going?”

“I got a tattoo,” I say, lifting my arm. “Woah, sweet!” he exclaims. “You’ll have to show me later.” “Cameron decided to show up,” Rudolf adds, sharing a look of disdain with Everest. “Oh… ew,” Everest says slowly. “Man, that guy is so lame.” “He hung around, so I left,” Rudolf shares. “God, yeah I would’ve, too…I would’ve peaced right the fuck out.” “Yeah, plus watching him flirt with Ian would’ve made me want to puke. Glad I missed that.” Everest’s jaw slacks. He looks at Ian and then back at Rudolf. 

“Are you kidding? That guy really has no shame.” Ian laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, I didn’t really know how to react…”

The tension doesn’t go away. It just keeps building. Ian and Everest don’t know how truly foul Cameron is. They think Rudolf is upset because he slept with Cameron and things went south, but that’s not even close. We stand around for a minute and Rudolf keeps drinking. Hell, we all keep drinking, except Ian who looks like he just wants to go home. “What did Cameron even say to you?” Everest mumbles, pushing a topic I really wish he’d just drop. “Mm…” Ian twists his face like he’s trying to remember. “He mostly just talked about how he’s an artist. He told me I’d like the party scene if I went places with him.” “Gross,” Everest scoffs. “That’s never happened to me before,” Ian confesses. “A guy’s never hit on me like that before.”

He seems put off, but still somehow excited. I wish he wasn’t, but I’m trying to understand. Sometimes it just feels nice to have someone acknowledge you, especially when you’ve been in the closet so long. It makes you feel less alone, even if that person is a total scumbag. “Yeah, well Cameron’s a douche,” Everest snaps. “Oh, yeah, I mean, I know that,” Ian looks taken aback. “I’m not going to keep talking to him or anything.” Yikes. I wonder what has Everest so riled up over this. Did Rudolf tell him what happened? Everyone seems uncomfortable and I’m starting to think that we should just get the hell out of here. It’s such a fucking drag that Cameron sucked the life out of our whole night like this. Too bad my best friend turned out to be an absolute nightmare of a person. 

Too bad my ex-girlfriend hates me now because she can’t see how shitty he is. 

Too bad I clearly have the world’s worst taste in people.

“Do you guys want to head home?” I decide to ask, hoping someone will take the bait.

“Not yet,” Everest says, his arms crossed. I look to Rudolf and he just frowns. Ugh. Jesus Christ. This is why I hate going out! This is why I hate parties. I literally never have a good time. Why do I even try anymore? I hate having to manage everyone’s feelings! “Okay,” I scuff the sole of my shoe against the floor. If I can’t get these guys to leave, maybe I can make Cameron want to. Then I could enjoy myself again.

[littlemissvincentvega]

I promised I would eventually have a request for you and here I am, with a request lol. Any of these would be awesome with Mr. Brown bc I LOVE HIM and he DESERVES SO MUCH MORE LOVE I adore this dorky man - 80, 82, 73, and 1 I love you babe

YAYYYY THANK YOU BBY love you to pieces beautiful ♥ i’ve done this as one fic but used each number cause i wanted to include all of em!! hope thats okay sweetness :>

also this flits back and forth in time a bit so SORRY dsakcdjakljDJCAJ ALSO THIS TOOK FOREVER BUT HERE U GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I LOVE U

-

You lean back in your seat, lightly tipping your cigarette ash into the ashtray. With the exception of Brown and Pink, you & the guys are enjoying a smoke after a pretty good haul from the heist you’d managed to pull off that morning. You cock your head at Brown, whose gaze is on you. “Is there a reason you’re staring at me?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah, Miss Crimson,” he chuckles nervously. “I’ve never seen you wear a dress before. That’s all.”

A flattered smile growing on your lips (you like the attention the boys always give you), you look down at your outfit. Having acted as bait for the heist, Eddie had taken you to get an appropriate dress. You had decided on a blood-red cocktail dress that had hugged your curves in all the right places in the changing rooms. It didn’t hurt that it matched you alias, too! “That’s a strange insult,” you tease, smirking at him.

“What? No– nonono!” he gasps. “I didn’t mean it like– I just meant, y’know, that–”

Pink sniffs. “Spit it out, Brown, Jesus Christ.”

“–it just looks really cute on you, you look really nice, that’s all I meant!”

You smile at him, taking a drag from your ciggy. “I know what you meant,” you giggle, “I was just messin’ with you. Thanks, babe.” He blushes at you calling him that, even though it’s just a bit of flirty banter. You do it with all of the boys; even Pink sometimes appreciates it.

-

Panting, you stumble down the street as quickly as you can, eyes fixed on the olive-green vehicle parked on the curb. Adrenaline rushing through your veins and a breeze rushing through your hair, you yank the car door open, jump into the back seat and, before Pink can shut it behind you, the vehicle speeds off. As Brown sends the car swerving round the corner, Mr. Pink sets the briefcase full of cash at his feet. “Nice work, you,” he comments. You go in for a high-five and (surprisingly) he obliges.

“We’re goin’ to that abandoned shack down Victoria Avenue, right?”

“Christ, Brown, who’s the fuckin’ getaway driver here?” Pink frowns, shaking his head. “Yes, it is.”

“Hey, man, chill, I’m just makin’ sure! Crimson, you did great.”

“You didn’t even see me in there!” you giggle. “Thank you though, sweetie.”

He smiles at you through the rear-view mirror and concentrates on driving. Luckily, the cops hadn’t arrived when you were fleeing the scene, and hopefully they still weren’t there. There had been a fair few prank calls from the local fuckhead teenagers lately, so it wouldn’t surprise you if they assumed it was another one of those. “Do you think we’re gonna go to Joe’s bar after?”

Pink rolls his eyes. “I think there’s more important shit to be worryin’ about in this moment in time, man. Y’know, like getting to the fuckin’ rendezvous alive? That’d be fuckin’ helpful.”

“I was only asking–”

“Ladies, ladies,” you interrupt, trying to diffuse the argument before it spirals out of control like it usually does. “Pink, stop being a miserable cunt, and Brown, focus on getting us there. We’ll find out when we get there, okay?”

“Okay,” Brown mutters. Pink gives you the side-eye and rests his cheek against his hand, sulking. You’re not offended, though; sometimes he needs to be told. Sighing, Brown takes one hand off the wheel and rolls his window down, the breeze hitting you nicely. It’s a warm morning.

-

As the three of you sneak into the shack, you decide to make small-talk. Not small-talk, just not heist-talk. That usually doesn’t do anyone any good; not when those two are in the same room. “You guys have any nice plans for this week? Y’know, assuming we get out alive and well?”

Brown shrugs and looks at you, his mind seemingly elsewhere. He usually daydreams, and you can usually tell, though just not what about exactly. “I was thinking of goin’ to the arcade downtown,” he finally says, staring into space, “but I got no one to go with. So I dunno.”

“That’s probably ‘cause grownup professional men don’t do childish shit like that,” Pink scoffs, his hand stuffed into his trouser pocket, presumably trying to locate his Zippo.

“Shut up, man, arcades are fun!”

“You need to lighten the fuck up, Mr. Pussy,” you smirk, and he stops fumbling around for his lighter and places his hands on his hips, looking at you offended.

“Who asked you?” he huffs, looking you up & down like a bitchy schoolgirl. You can’t help but stifle a giggle at that. Sometimes he’s so dramatic it hurts.

Mr. Brown shares a playful smile with you then digs out a candy bar from the inside pocket of his jacket. “You wanna go halfsies?”

“Sure.”

Pink rolls his eyes at you two as you scoot over to Brown and pipes up. “I gotta take a piss, I’ll be right back.”

“What a lovely thought,” you reply, shaking your head ever-so slightly. You and Mr. Brown lean against the wall of the shack, not bothered about the mucky floor. The tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips as he unwraps the bar of chocolate and you watch him in admiration, unknowingly growing a smile.

He hands it to you for the first bite and you grin at one another as you take the first bite, the sweet chunk melting a little at the warmth of your tongue. God knows how long that bar had been in his pocket, but it still tasted good to you. Not even a minute passes and you two have demolished the snack– who could blame you? “Thanks,” you smile, looking up at him to meet his gaze and spotting a brown smudge just beside his lips. You nudge him and giggle. “You’ve got a little somethin’.”

Brown looks utterly perplexed. “What?”

Shaking your head, you lean over and wipe the chocolate off with your thumb and he watches you in complete awe. “You had chocolate on your face,” you giggle, and a grin appears on his lips as he realises.

“Oh, oops. Thanks.”

After wiping the chocolate from your thumb with a tissue (you always keep an emergency pack on you), you return your gaze onto him. His cheeks are pinker than Eddie’s when he’s laughed for ten minutes over a dumb joke. “Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?”

“Like what?” He seems to be zoned out staring at you.

“Like that,” you say, prodding him between the eyebrows.

Before he can protest, Mr. Pink comes back from his bathroom break, cigarette between his lips and zippo in his palm. “Longest piss I ever took,” he remarks, pacing slowly in front of you both and craning his neck forward to light his smoke.

“Spare us the details,” you sigh.

Brown can’t help himself but press further. “Where’s the little boys room?”

“Eh, there isn’t one, dumbass. I just pissed in a bush outside.”

“Oh, Pink,” you shake your head. “I’m gonna go see if they’re nearby, I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, you meander over to the doorway, wooden slats letting glimpses of sunlight into the shack.

-

“C’mon, let’s get you home,” you sigh, Brown’s arm slung around your shoulder. His other one is around Orange’s, but he’s pretty tipsy as it is. Sure, Mr. Brown hadn’t smoked with the rest of you (except Pink, though you’re sure he sneaked out to have one at some point) but he’d had plenty to drink. And by plenty you mean not much. He’s a lightweight. “Orange, walk in a damn straight line!”

“Oh, sorry baby,” he mumbles, throwing you a salute, eyes half-lidded. He’s probably the quietest of the group; just not when he’s had a drink.

Going to Joe’s bar may not have been the smartest idea considering everybody but you and Mr. White got absolutely hammered in the span of about two hours, but you weren’t gonna complain. You had fun. “Just a few more feet, let’s go,” you urge, and you & Orange manage to drag Brown into the backseat of the getaway car. “Alright, you get in too,” you say to Orange, then motion for Pink and Blonde to join. You figured you’d save White (and Joe for that matter) from Ed & Blonde’s drunken antics.

Blonde sits slumped in the front with you and, after lots of boozy ‘goodbye’ yells, you set off to take each of them home. Over at one of the stoplights, you peek in the rear-view mirror and smile to yourself– both Pink and Brown are resting their heads on Orange’s shoulders, eyes lightly closed. For once they actually look peaceful, it’s a breath of fresh air from all the bickering you’re used to. “I ever told you how pretty you are?” Blonde asks, nudging you.

“Yes, sweetie.”

He looks lost. “Oh.”

“Just let me drive,” you chuckle, continuing your journey to his place. Your memory is a little foggy since you haven’t visited in a while but you’ve a good idea of where abouts it is. “Close your eyes for a bit, we won’t be long. Almost home now.” He mumbles an incoherent ‘mmkay’, rolls down the window a touch and rests his chin on the door. 

It doesn’t take too long to pull over at his place, a rather luxurious-looking townhome. “Here we are,” you say, tapping Blonde’s shoulder gently. He stirs but shakes his head, his eyes stubbornly closed. With a smile, you get out of the car and walk round to his side, opening his door for him. He almost falls out of the damn thing. In fact, if he would have, he’d have smacked his face on the pavement. “Come on, it’s time for bed.”

Blonde grumbles as you help him out of the vehicle but complies nevertheless. You help him stagger up to his front door, help him unlock it and help him inside. A lot of helping involved. Anyway, you manage to get him to bed (he flopped on it and almost threw up) and return to the car having locked him safely inside, of course. Honestly, these dumbasses cause you so much grief but they’re worth it.

“Where you been at, sweet thing?” Orange coos, hoisting himself forward so his head’s sticking over the front seat.

“The grocery store.”

He gasps. “Did you get any snacks?”

“No sweetheart, I didn’t buy anything,” you smile, starting the engine and pulling off once again.

-

It’s close to an hour later when you finally arrive at Mr. Brown’s place, a messy apartment full of endless crap. Pink was easy (but grumpy) to get to bed, Orange kept trying to run back to the car when you were doing your best to get him in his apartment complex and Brown was surprisingly quiet. You had had to support him over to the elevator, him almost keeled over, and only just managed to get him to his bathroom in time for him to throw up. Delicious.

“That’s it sweetie, get it all out your system,” you encourage, patting his back as he hurls. “Lovely, that smells lovely.”

He can’t help but giggle as you say this, spitting the remains of vomit from his mouth into the toilet. His breathing is calming now, thankfully. “You feeling okay?”

“Mhm,” he nods, staring down at the mess. 

“Alright, just–” you dab at his mouth with a tissue and help him sit upright against the bathroom wall. “–just let me flush the toilet, okay?” You do so as he wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Christ, you’re sure some of that candy bar is in the toilet right now.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, tossing the bit of used tissue into the toilet. “I just don’t wanna stay here by myself tonight, I rewatched The Exorcist the other night and–”

You chuckle at his dumb antics. Typical of him to do that. “Brown, chill out. You’ll be okay. Come on, let’s get you to bed, huh?” you say soothingly.

He agrees and you give him a hand to stand up, stumbling against you to his bedroom. It’s full of movie posters, stacked up VHS tapes, peeling wallpaper and piles of clothing over the floor. “Wow, nice room,” you observe, helping him onto the bed.

“Thanks, I made it myself.”

“You made your room?” you smile, fishing a blanket from the floor and tossing it over him. “Don’t you mean you decorated it?”

Brown looks up at you, eyes narrowed in confusion. “That’s what I said!” He’s obviously still a little tipsy; it’s cute.

“Alright, alright,” you say, perching yourself on his bed. “Will you be okay if I go home now, sweetie?”

“No.”

You weren’t expecting that response. “…No?”

“Can’t you stay?” He sits up as he says this, a hint of panic in his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t been joking about being too scared to stay there alone. As you pause, trying to think of a response, Brown looks at you with the eyes of a petrified child. “Sleep over? Please?”

-

It’s the next morning (or should I say midday?). Brown is still dozing and you’re up & about, admiring his place. It’s just what you had expected– not too clean, not too dirty. Now you think about it, you and Brown are probably the closest in the group but you’d never visited his place before. 

Lost in your thoughts, you wander to his kitchen, taking in the dirty pots & pans sitting beside his sink. There’s toast crumbs on his tiny dining table (he lives alone, why bother with a normal-sized one?) and the kitchen roll slightly unravelled. It looks as though he had attempted to wind it back up and failed horribly. That’s something to ask him about once he gets up! You grin at the thought and proceed to poke around the cupboards looking for something to eat when you hear footsteps.

“Crimson?”

You spin around, hand still on a cupboard handle. “Brown! Good morning!”

“Morning,” he smiles, rubbing his eyes. He yawns and cups his hand over his mouth. “What’cha doing there?”

“Just robbing you. I was gonna take off with these–” you squint at the box in your hand. “–these outdated pop tarts. Yum.”

A grin grows on his face despite how tired he looks from last night. “Oops,” he chuckles. “Can we do breakfast though? Please? I’m starving.”

“I don’t blame you, you must have thrown up a week’s worth of food last night,” you reply, stuffing the pop tarts back in the cupboard. “What’re you wanting to eat? I’m good with anything.”

“Pancakes? Bacon? Maple syrup?!” His eyes light up more with each suggestion.

“YES! You get the ingredients, I’ll sort out the stove.”

Brown nods and does just that, and a minute later you’re standing side-by-side in front of the saucepans. He lays a few strips of bacon down, a satisfying sizzling following it, and you take care of the pancakes. Breakfast doesn’t take long to cook. Although Brown is usually chatty (too chatty that nobody can shut him up), the two of you manage to make breakfast without having to say a word. It’s just pleasant. The kitchen lit gold from the morning sun and the just-right warmth hugging you both, not to mention the smell of the food. It’s just good company in a wonderful environment.

“Voila, bon appetit,” he grins, waving his hands around to mock Pink.

You giggle and swat at his hand. “Siddown! I’m hungry. It smells too good.”

“Wait, wait,” he says, and before you can object he vanishes out of the room. You begin cutting up a pancake anyways– he’s not the type to get offended by that shit but then again neither are you. A minute later he returns with a pathetically small tealight and a gas-lighter, setting it between yours & his breakfasts and lighting it. You can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“What the fuck is that?”

“S’a candle. It makes us look fancy.”

“If you say so,” you smile, tipping some maple syrup over your pancakes. He takes a seat and tucks in, having already drowned his own breakfast in syrup. The two of you continue to chat about the events that transpired the previous day (this mostly consists of bitching about Pink being a miserable cunt) when he suddenly looks up at the candle and then to you. “Wait… are we on a date right now?”

[anoldwound]

No I in Threesome - Jack/Sendhil, Greg/Sendhil - RPS

Title: No I in Threesome Rating: R Characters/Pairings: Jack/Sendhil, Greg/Sendhil Word Count: 1849 Warnings: Sex stuff, infidelity, suggested threesomes. Small spoiler for 2x02. Recipient: medoroa Prompts: Tokyo, cigarettes, “I’m really bad at that” Disclaimer: I am, of course, in no way insinuating that any of this is real. This is entirely fictional, and these guys are merely my puppets being treated as fictional characters. Plz no sue kthnx. Summary: All it takes is one miniscule little incident---one tiny little blip in the grand scheme of things---and suddenly your entire world is thrown off-balance and you are desperately clinging onto the edges of normalcy with a weak, slipping grasp. A/N: For the heroes_rps fic exchange. Enjoy! ^_^ He had this itch, you see. A really bad one. It was in his hair and on his chest and under his arms. It was in his brain. It was on his…well, you know. This itch was Jack Coleman. It was a rather strange phenomenon that had only occurred recently, and seemingly out of nowhere. The universe was odd like that. All it takes is one miniscule little incident---one tiny little blip in the grand scheme of things---and suddenly your entire world is thrown off-balance and you are desperately clinging onto the edges of normalcy with a weak, slipping grasp. The whole thing had started when, upon entering Jack’s dressing room to run over lines, he had caught him dragging on a cigarette.   “Jack! What is this?!” he cried with mock astonishment as Jack noticed him and hastily put out the cigarette in an ashtray. “What’s what?” he asked innocently. Sendhil quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “You were smoking, weren’t you?” “No I wasn’t.” “Sure looked like you were.” “Well, I guess your eyesight isn’t so great. You should get that checked out.” “Just admit that you were smoking, Jack.” “Okay. Fine. I was smoking. Are you happy now?” “Now, sarcasm won’t get you very far, will it?” Jack took a deep breath and fell back in his seat. “Okay, yes, I was smoking.” “Good. Feel any remorse?” “Not really.” “For shame.” Jack smirked and took another cigarette out of his pocket. “You only live once.” He pulled out a lighter, and flames burst up elegantly. Holding the cigarette between two fingers, he brought the tip to the dancing orange and yellow and slowly exhaled, a stream of wispy smoke shooting out from between his lips. Sendhil stared. Jack looked up at him. “What?” “Huh? Oh, nothing…” He felt the oddest little blush creep up his neck, and he made a strange gesture towards his script and mumbled something like “Wasgonnaworkonlinesbutyeahokaybye,” and quickly scampered out the door. Well, shit, he thought as he ran back into his own dressing room. This can’t be good. It wasn’t. It wasn’t good at all. Because now here he was, peering over the top of his newspaper to catch a glimpse of Jack fucking Coleman, all thoughts of his wife and kid totally wiped from his memory. Obviously Jimmy was behind this. He was snapped from his reverie when Greg hit him over the head with the shooting script. “Mr. Daydreamer over here,” he chuckled as Sendhil glared up at him. “It’s not very polite to assault people with scripts, you know,” Sendhil said dryly. “I consider it my personal duty to hit you whenever I possibly can.” Greg beamed. “I mean, c’mon. It’s one of my favorite pastimes!” Sendhil rolled his eyes and let his gaze fall back on Jack. It was like some sort of weird magnetic force field was around him or something. He just couldn’t look away. “What’re you staring at Jack for?” Greg asked, looking also. “No reason,” he said. “Hmm.” Greg stroked his chin and gave Sendhil a mischievous look. “Someone’s got a cru—u—ush,” he sing-songed teasingly, but there was something…odd in the way he said it. “I do not,” Sendhil said, too defensively, and a strange expression flickered across Greg’s face. “I don’t,” he said again, calmly this time, and grabbed an apple from the crafts table. “I’m gonna go over lines now. See you in a bit.” And he strolled casually towards the dressing rooms, taking a large, juicy bite out of his apple while Greg stared after him. *** “You’ve been staring at me an awful lot lately,” Jack commented several weeks later while they were having lunch. “Huh?” The spaghetti hung stupidly out of the side of his mouth. “Whaddaya---” He swallowed. “What do you mean?” “What I said. You’ve kinda been leering at me these past few weeks,” he said casually, wiping his mouth neatly with a napkin. “Any reason why?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, and coughed. “I think you do.” Sendhil stared at him wordlessly, caught in the trap of Jack’s gaze, when suddenly Jack’s lips were brushing against his. “What---” “Shh,” Jack hissed in his ear, and ran his finger tantalizingly down Sendhil’s neck. “I know you want this.” Sendhil shivered. Jack brought his mouth to his again, and Sendhil wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist. The space between them suddenly disappeared as Sendhil sat himself on Jack’s lap and slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. Jack moaned and Sendhil felt an unexplainable rush course through his veins. “Hey, guys, what do you think would happen if---” Jack and Sendhil snapped apart. Greg was standing in the doorway, holding a Krispy Kreme doughnut, his mouth hanging open. “If…if I put this…uh, never mind,” he muttered, and quickly side-stepped out the door, slamming it shut. They looked at each other. “Should we continue?” Sendhil asked. “Don’t see why not,” said Jack, and kissed Sendhil’s jawline. *** “So. You’re gonna be in Asia.” “Yep.” “And I’m going to be in Europe.” “Looks like it.” “Well, this kinda sucks.” “Yeah. I was looking forward to humping you in front of the Eiffel Tower.” “You’re just a barrel of laughs, aren’t you.” “Who else is going with you, again?” “I think it’s…Adrian, Milo…and Hayden. Ali’s going with you, right?” “Yeah, so are Masi and Greg.” “Oh, geez. Greg.” “Ha, yeah.” “I think he has a crush on you.” “Oh, stop. You’re embarrassing me.” “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” “Okay, I’ll be sure to have an orgy with everyone in the cast.” “Laugh riot. You’re a laugh riot.” “You know it.” *** It was their fifth round of sake, and things were getting a bit…friendly. “Tokyo is just the greatest, ain’t it, Sendhil?” Greg asked, playfully shoving Sendhil’s leg with his foot. “It’s awesome. I never, ever wanna leave,” he proclaimed, and downed another cup. “Ever.” “Hey! Me neither! Isn’t that weird? Hey, I wanna show you something!” “Oh my God, what is it?!” He had no idea why he was so excited. “It’s totally friggin awesome. You have to come see it. It will BLOW YOUR MIND.” Greg pulled on his arm and started dragging him out of the bar. “What is this totally amazing thing that you feel the need to show me?” Sendhil asked as he was shoved into a large closet, Greg closing the door shut behind him. “This,” he said, and suddenly slammed Sendhil against the wall and started kissing him fiercely. “What’re you---” But Greg was licking his collarbone, and all thoughts came to a screeching halt. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time,” Greg said softly. Sendhil felt his pants tighten. I’m gonna wind up having sex with everyone in the cast, aren’t I, he thought idly to himself as the pants were discarded. Oh, well. He could live with that. *** “You and Jack,” said Greg after they were finished. “What about me and Jack?” He pulled up his pants and zipped the fly. “That…thing that happened. Is it a regular thing, or…?” “Kinda, yeah. That was the first time, though. When you caught us.” “Oh. Okay.” He looked a little disappointed. “So…yeah. Right. Okay. See you around.” And he hastily pulled on his shirt and left. *** “So, how was Asia?” “It was…fine. How was Europe?” “Completely insane. I sent you those pictures of me in lederhosen, didn’t I?” “Oh, right.” “Something wrong?” “Nope. Everything’s fine.” “Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to do something very inappropriate right now.” “What---oh. Ah…feel free to do this any time you want…” “Oh, I will.” “Urgh…um…something…something happened in Tokyo…” “What happened?” “It---oh, God---um, there was sake involved---ah…” “Maybe we should discuss this some other time?” “Best idea you’ve had yet.” “No. That’s not my best idea. This is.” “Holy---!” “Yes. Yes, I am.” *** Sendhil bit his lip as he stared at his script that he wasn’t actually reading, just staring at. He needed something to focus on, after all. Something to focus on besides the fact that Greg and Jack were in the same room with him and thus the destruction of the world was imminent. He still could not believe that he was even in this situation. “So, Greg,” said Jack, propping his feet up on the coffee table, “I hear you and Sendhil had quite the time in Tokyo.” Greg looked at him, and Sendhil felt himself blush. He raised the script up in front of his face. “Yeah…yeah, we did. Is that…is that a problem, or…?” “What? Oh, no, of course not. Why would I have a problem with it?” “I dunno. I mean, I’d have a problem with it, if I were you.” “Why?” “I wouldn’t want to share him.” Oh, for the love of… Sendhil thought, but said nothing. “I’m sharing him already. In case you forgot.” “What, with me?” He sounded confused. “With his wife.” “Oh, right! Duh. I’m an idiot.” “We’re all sharing each other, really,” Jack continued, as Sendhil listened on, still not believing that this conversation was actually happening. “We all have wives. Families. We’ve got this trinity of infidelity going on here.” “Trinity of Infidelity,” Greg chuckled. “I like that.” “Me too.” It seemed like the discussion was, thankfully, over, so Sendhil lowered his script and actually started to read it. Then Greg had to go and say: “You know, we should have a threesome.” Sendhil choked on his own spit, and Jack looked up in some alarm. “Excuse me?” he asked politely. “You know. A threesome. It would solve all of our problems.” “I didn’t know that we had any problems with this arrangement.” “Just think about it. It would be awesome.” “I…I don’t think so,” Sendhil choked out, his fingernails leaving indents on the pages. “Sure it would! You could have both of us at the same time. It’d be so hot. No lie.” Sendhil shook his head fervently, not daring to look up from the line, You’ve given me everything I need. Wait, why did he have this script? They had shot this episode already… “Are you sure?” Greg sounded rather dejected. “Yeah. I am. I’m just…I’m really bad at that.” “At what?” “Threesomes.” Jack burst out laughing. “How are you bad at threesomes?” “I dunno. I just am. Me and Olga tried it once. It was…a disaster. To put it mildly.” “Well, if you guys ever change your minds, the offer still stands,” said Greg, and chose that opportune moment to leave. Sendhil sighed with relief and tossed his old script to the side. “Thank God that’s over.” “Hmm. I dunno. The idea is intriguing, I have to say.” Sendhil sputtered with indignation. “You’re not suggesting that---!” “Not with Greg, no. But maybe with someone else…” Jack sidled up next to him and kissed his neck. “Like Zach, maybe.” He felt his eyes bulge out of his head, but forgot everything when Jack placed his hand in a strategic location. It was official. His life was completely, totally insane. And he loved it.