Ficbits...
So, simplemitosis and I accidentally created an AU full of bandom kids. Not canonical bandom kids, of course, because that would be way too easy. Anyway, we made up all the bandom!bb's, and then, because we couldn't just leave well enough alone we paired them off.
Because I'm in the sharing mood at the moment, have some fic that I've started writing about said band!bb's.
(For the record, Harvey Way is five years older than Tugger Bryar. Corey Bryar, Tug's older brother, is one of Harvey's best friends. ...just so you guys know who the fuck I'm talking about.)
It doesn’t really become a thing for Tug to call Harvey when he gets into trouble, because he doesn’t generally call unless he’s legitimately in a situation that he can’t get himself out of, so Harvey’s a little worried when he wakes up at three in the morning to his phone ringing. He flips it open and makes a groggy sound that might be considered a greeting in some far-off places.
“Harvey?” Tug asks, and Harvey groans and rubs his hands over his face.
“It’s three o’clock, Tugger,” Harvey mutters, not unkindly. He can hear music and people in the background and he wonders where Tug is.
“I know, I know, ‘m sorry,” Tug replies, and his words are slurring a little bit and Harvey frowns because that is not good news. “I just, ‘m sorry, I’ll call some’n else, sorry.”
“No, no, hey wait,” Harvey says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong, kid? Where are you?”
“’m at Matt’s birthday party,” Tug replies. “I was,” he stops and swallows. “I smoked with, um, with Matt ‘n Kara but I dun’ feel good. I think I had too much, ‘n I had a drink but, dunno wha’ was in it.”
“Shit,” Harvey hisses. He was out of bed and tugging on a questionable pair of jeans the minute Tugger said he’d smoked with some of his friends. Harvey’s not against smoking, not exactly. He doesn’t particularly enjoy it though a lot of his friends do, but he’s met Tugger’s friends and while they’re all sweet kids they’re not necessarily the brightest crayons in the box. “Okay, Tug, tell me where you are, okay? Give me directions and I’ll be there soon.”
Tug rattles off a list of instructions that’s just barely comprehendible and fifteen minutes later Harvey pulls up at a nondescript house in the suburbs with about fifty cars parked outside. Harvey doesn’t bother knocking on the door, and the minute he steps inside a swaying blonde giggles and stumbles over, grabbing his elbow to keep herself upright.
“Hi,” she says, “who’re you?”
Harvey smiles as politely as he can and gently takes her hand off his elbow. “I’m here for Tugger,” he says. “You know where he is?”
The girl’s eyes widen and she nods, “Yeah, yeah, Tug’s sleeping, man. He conked out after he took a coupla hits with me and Matt.” She leads him into a guest bedroom where Tug is curled up atop the covers, eyes closed. Harvey sits down slowly on the edge of the bed and shakes Tugger’s shoulder a little bit.
“Tug, hey,” he whispers. Tug shifts and moans and slowly cracks an eye, grinning when he sees that it’s Harvey. He sits up and sways a little bit, closing his eyes and breathing harshly for a few seconds while Harvey absently rubs his fingers up and down Tugger’s back.
“Hey, Harv,” he greets, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. “Sorry. Fell ‘sleep.”
Harvey smiles at him. “No worries, kid. What do you say we get you out of here, huh?” Tug nods and rises to his feet. The blonde that Harvey assumes is Kara hugs him and says goodbye. Tug stops to grab his hoodie from the hall closet on the way out, and when he gets to Harvey’s car he collapses in the passenger’s seat.
“Sorry,” he says, once Harvey has pulled out of the neighborhood. “Sorry, I didn’ mean t’fuck up your night.”
Harvey glances over and says with a smirk, “You didn’t fuck up my night, Tug. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Tugger grins and snuggles down into the seat, his head leaning against the window and crossing his arms over his chest. “You always take good care a’ me,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. He’s quiet then, and when they come to a long stoplight, Harvey glances over to make sure he’s still breathing. He’s pretty sure Uncle Bob and Corey would never forgive him if he picked Tugger up from a party and then let him choke on his own tongue while driving him home.
Tugger’s hair is at his shoulders now, and Harvey stares at it for awhile. It’s got a weird kind of wave to it, and it’s that sun-bleached blond color that no dye can recreate exactly. A few stray strands are falling into Tugger’s face, and Harvey reaches over before he can stop himself and tucks it back behind Tug’s ear. Tug smiles faintly in his sleep and Harvey bites his lips and plants his hands on the steering wheel and stares forward.
It’s entirely possible that he is completely and totally whipped by his best friend’s younger brother.
*
Yeah, I'm kind of lame. *facepalm*
Because I'm in the sharing mood at the moment, have some fic that I've started writing about said band!bb's.
(For the record, Harvey Way is five years older than Tugger Bryar. Corey Bryar, Tug's older brother, is one of Harvey's best friends. ...just so you guys know who the fuck I'm talking about.)
It doesn’t really become a thing for Tug to call Harvey when he gets into trouble, because he doesn’t generally call unless he’s legitimately in a situation that he can’t get himself out of, so Harvey’s a little worried when he wakes up at three in the morning to his phone ringing. He flips it open and makes a groggy sound that might be considered a greeting in some far-off places.
“Harvey?” Tug asks, and Harvey groans and rubs his hands over his face.
“It’s three o’clock, Tugger,” Harvey mutters, not unkindly. He can hear music and people in the background and he wonders where Tug is.
“I know, I know, ‘m sorry,” Tug replies, and his words are slurring a little bit and Harvey frowns because that is not good news. “I just, ‘m sorry, I’ll call some’n else, sorry.”
“No, no, hey wait,” Harvey says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong, kid? Where are you?”
“’m at Matt’s birthday party,” Tug replies. “I was,” he stops and swallows. “I smoked with, um, with Matt ‘n Kara but I dun’ feel good. I think I had too much, ‘n I had a drink but, dunno wha’ was in it.”
“Shit,” Harvey hisses. He was out of bed and tugging on a questionable pair of jeans the minute Tugger said he’d smoked with some of his friends. Harvey’s not against smoking, not exactly. He doesn’t particularly enjoy it though a lot of his friends do, but he’s met Tugger’s friends and while they’re all sweet kids they’re not necessarily the brightest crayons in the box. “Okay, Tug, tell me where you are, okay? Give me directions and I’ll be there soon.”
Tug rattles off a list of instructions that’s just barely comprehendible and fifteen minutes later Harvey pulls up at a nondescript house in the suburbs with about fifty cars parked outside. Harvey doesn’t bother knocking on the door, and the minute he steps inside a swaying blonde giggles and stumbles over, grabbing his elbow to keep herself upright.
“Hi,” she says, “who’re you?”
Harvey smiles as politely as he can and gently takes her hand off his elbow. “I’m here for Tugger,” he says. “You know where he is?”
The girl’s eyes widen and she nods, “Yeah, yeah, Tug’s sleeping, man. He conked out after he took a coupla hits with me and Matt.” She leads him into a guest bedroom where Tug is curled up atop the covers, eyes closed. Harvey sits down slowly on the edge of the bed and shakes Tugger’s shoulder a little bit.
“Tug, hey,” he whispers. Tug shifts and moans and slowly cracks an eye, grinning when he sees that it’s Harvey. He sits up and sways a little bit, closing his eyes and breathing harshly for a few seconds while Harvey absently rubs his fingers up and down Tugger’s back.
“Hey, Harv,” he greets, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. “Sorry. Fell ‘sleep.”
Harvey smiles at him. “No worries, kid. What do you say we get you out of here, huh?” Tug nods and rises to his feet. The blonde that Harvey assumes is Kara hugs him and says goodbye. Tug stops to grab his hoodie from the hall closet on the way out, and when he gets to Harvey’s car he collapses in the passenger’s seat.
“Sorry,” he says, once Harvey has pulled out of the neighborhood. “Sorry, I didn’ mean t’fuck up your night.”
Harvey glances over and says with a smirk, “You didn’t fuck up my night, Tug. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Tugger grins and snuggles down into the seat, his head leaning against the window and crossing his arms over his chest. “You always take good care a’ me,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. He’s quiet then, and when they come to a long stoplight, Harvey glances over to make sure he’s still breathing. He’s pretty sure Uncle Bob and Corey would never forgive him if he picked Tugger up from a party and then let him choke on his own tongue while driving him home.
Tugger’s hair is at his shoulders now, and Harvey stares at it for awhile. It’s got a weird kind of wave to it, and it’s that sun-bleached blond color that no dye can recreate exactly. A few stray strands are falling into Tugger’s face, and Harvey reaches over before he can stop himself and tucks it back behind Tug’s ear. Tug smiles faintly in his sleep and Harvey bites his lips and plants his hands on the steering wheel and stares forward.
It’s entirely possible that he is completely and totally whipped by his best friend’s younger brother.
*
Yeah, I'm kind of lame. *facepalm*