Sticks, Stones, and Techno s/a
Title: Sticks, Stones, and Techno
Author: summerdownturn
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Alex Gaskarth/Jack Barakat
POV: Alex's
Summary: Not many people know this, but Jack loves to dance.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people in this story, they rightfully belong to themselves. This is purely fiction and never happened to my knowledge in real life. Please don't sue.
Warning: Unbeta-ed. Language.
Dedications: To anyone reading this, I salute you.
Author Notes: Rated for the use of fuck lol. Wrote this a long time ago. Really short. Hope you enjoy =]
Heart pounding bass shook the entire building, sending out simultaneous shock waves of adrenaline. The thousands of feet jumping all at once made the floor come alive along with the massive crowd of dancing people.
Neon paint and white surfaces glowed under the black lights, creating random spots of illumination from within. But it wasn’t the crowd, or the glow sticks, or the blasting techno music under the control of the DJ that got my attention.
My attention was fixed solely on one thing only. And that thing was currently dancing his heart out, obscured by only a few others dancing at the edge of the mass as well.
I sat, bathing in the strobe light that cascaded the bar in the corner of the dance club, occasionally sipping my beer. Rian, Kara, and Zack were sitting in one of the booths that ran along the wall of the club. What they were doing---it doesn’t matter.
He was what mattered at the moment.
The black and blonde strands of his hair were glued to his forehead with sweat and his shirt was soaked with it also. His short-sleeved black band shirt clinged to his figure and his flat stomach swayed along with his hips to the fast beat. Residue of neon paint was smeared on his shirt and shorts but a fresh coat was applied in random patterns on his face, arms, and legs.
His arms snaked up in the air when the beat sped up. His eyes slipped closed while his hips rocked back and forth. His fluid movements met such skill that all of the people around him could not compare. Words could not even describe the beauty in his dancing.
Warmth spread though out my body and a smile made its self known on my lips. I took the last sip of my beer and made a beeline through the small amount of people observing the dancing mass as well.
He opened his eyes, sensing my presence, when I was a few yards away from him. He let out a breathtaking smile and met me halfway, pushing through the edge of inexperienced dancers.
My smile widened as he laced his arms around my neck. Our eyes locked. His warm chocolate puppy dog eyes stared right through my defenses. He was the only one who saw the real me. And I was the only one who could see the true him.
I could tell that this was his medium, where he excelled and where he truly enjoyed himself. Nobody can say, “You could do better,” or, “You’re good but not great.” He didn’t do well in school; he had a short attention span. He plays guitar well enough, but he never practices enough to master it.
But on the dance floor, squished by all of the other so-called dancers, he let his true self come out. And very few people can say that they’ve seen this side of him. He was the God of the dance floor.
He danced against me, hips bumping into mine intentionally, but his grin faltered when he noticed that I wasn’t dancing with him. He moved his mouth near my ear.
“Move,” he simply said, his voice easily registering through my mind.
I moved my arms around his neck as well, and he slipped his eyes closed once he felt me shuffle my feet and move my hips along with his. I rested my forehead against his, knowing that I was the only other he would share this side of him with.
And he is my other half.
He’s unique and completely himself.
He’s Jack.
And he may not have game, but fuck, he can dance.
He’s the one that I fell in love with.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
AN2: Okay, for those of you that are interested, I have a Jonathan Cook/Kyle Burns story called I Swear This Time I Mean It being posted on my journal, because I am not yet apart of ftskslash and I didn't want to wait. So if you would like to read it, head on over and maybe leave a comment =D Thanks.
Author: summerdownturn
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Alex Gaskarth/Jack Barakat
POV: Alex's
Summary: Not many people know this, but Jack loves to dance.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people in this story, they rightfully belong to themselves. This is purely fiction and never happened to my knowledge in real life. Please don't sue.
Warning: Unbeta-ed. Language.
Dedications: To anyone reading this, I salute you.
Author Notes: Rated for the use of fuck lol. Wrote this a long time ago. Really short. Hope you enjoy =]
Heart pounding bass shook the entire building, sending out simultaneous shock waves of adrenaline. The thousands of feet jumping all at once made the floor come alive along with the massive crowd of dancing people.
Neon paint and white surfaces glowed under the black lights, creating random spots of illumination from within. But it wasn’t the crowd, or the glow sticks, or the blasting techno music under the control of the DJ that got my attention.
My attention was fixed solely on one thing only. And that thing was currently dancing his heart out, obscured by only a few others dancing at the edge of the mass as well.
I sat, bathing in the strobe light that cascaded the bar in the corner of the dance club, occasionally sipping my beer. Rian, Kara, and Zack were sitting in one of the booths that ran along the wall of the club. What they were doing---it doesn’t matter.
He was what mattered at the moment.
The black and blonde strands of his hair were glued to his forehead with sweat and his shirt was soaked with it also. His short-sleeved black band shirt clinged to his figure and his flat stomach swayed along with his hips to the fast beat. Residue of neon paint was smeared on his shirt and shorts but a fresh coat was applied in random patterns on his face, arms, and legs.
His arms snaked up in the air when the beat sped up. His eyes slipped closed while his hips rocked back and forth. His fluid movements met such skill that all of the people around him could not compare. Words could not even describe the beauty in his dancing.
Warmth spread though out my body and a smile made its self known on my lips. I took the last sip of my beer and made a beeline through the small amount of people observing the dancing mass as well.
He opened his eyes, sensing my presence, when I was a few yards away from him. He let out a breathtaking smile and met me halfway, pushing through the edge of inexperienced dancers.
My smile widened as he laced his arms around my neck. Our eyes locked. His warm chocolate puppy dog eyes stared right through my defenses. He was the only one who saw the real me. And I was the only one who could see the true him.
I could tell that this was his medium, where he excelled and where he truly enjoyed himself. Nobody can say, “You could do better,” or, “You’re good but not great.” He didn’t do well in school; he had a short attention span. He plays guitar well enough, but he never practices enough to master it.
But on the dance floor, squished by all of the other so-called dancers, he let his true self come out. And very few people can say that they’ve seen this side of him. He was the God of the dance floor.
He danced against me, hips bumping into mine intentionally, but his grin faltered when he noticed that I wasn’t dancing with him. He moved his mouth near my ear.
“Move,” he simply said, his voice easily registering through my mind.
I moved my arms around his neck as well, and he slipped his eyes closed once he felt me shuffle my feet and move my hips along with his. I rested my forehead against his, knowing that I was the only other he would share this side of him with.
And he is my other half.
He’s unique and completely himself.
He’s Jack.
And he may not have game, but fuck, he can dance.
He’s the one that I fell in love with.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
AN2: Okay, for those of you that are interested, I have a Jonathan Cook/Kyle Burns story called I Swear This Time I Mean It being posted on my journal, because I am not yet apart of ftskslash and I didn't want to wait. So if you would like to read it, head on over and maybe leave a comment =D Thanks.