[ficlet] Bedtime Stories Are My Favourite.
You have to come up with a special punishment for someone who cockblocks you and, like, cockbeats you at the same time. Beats you to the cockpunch. No, that's ... when someone gets cock before you do when you totally got the cock (and the attached man, okay) for yourself, not as a present for a greedy pretty cockwhore who already gets more than his far share of ... stuff. You have to be really smart to come up with something that actually counts as a punishment and not just "something Jepha will get off on", because that list is loooooong. Leave him tied up in a basement and he'll probably have an orgasm all on his fucking pervert own without anyone even touching him. Freak.
Quinn's really really smart when it comes to, y'know, disguising that he used the same chord progression for all the songs on an album. Sneaky, almost. But the intri...tracies... of proper vengeance have always been Bert's strong point, not his. Quinn's quite happy to settle for sticking a turd through the letterbox of everyone who ever dissed them, but when the shit's coming from inside the house you have to be subtle.
Quinn's not good at subtle.
Also he can't ask Bert because Bert has this slight minor tiny problem with not just blurting shit the minute he hears it. It's like talking to a, a, a loudhailer with Tourette's.
So Quinn's got his thinking cap on. It's... it's definitely a cap. And he's thinking in it. And maybe it's more of a bobble hat with ear flaps, and maybe it's a really pukesome colour, but it's for thinking in, and he is fucking going to think up a way to get back at Jeph for jumping in line, and he is thinking this shit through while shitting, and smoking some shit, and ... Dan is filming him.
"WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING OBSESSION WITH FILMING ME WHILE I SHIT?" is what Quinn intends to shout. Because seriously, it's been two weeks and Daniel Whitesides has already filmed him on the can three times.
What Quinn actually yells is, "DAN -- /fo ghoewhdvoakihca ow my face -- ow my --- YOU MADE ME DROWN MY SMOKE YOU WHORE."
Dan waves amiably from behind the camera. "So I heard you like peanut butter twix."
Quinn scrabbles for TP and his smoke before he can set fire to the bathroom. It won't be the first time. Then he realises he just got asked a question ... told a thing ... which Dan has known for freaking years anyhow.
"... you know that."
"Yeah but I heard it again."
Quinn finds his smoke. It is still lit, it's just wet at the mouth end. He wonders if he will die if he just sticks it back in his mouth.
He compromises by blowing on it to get the worst of the death germs off - it works with pizza Bert's licked and thrown at the bus wall, doesn't it? - and sticking it back in the corner of his mouth, away from where his tongue can catch floor-AIDS. "Does that mean you're gonna tell me every time you hear it?"
Dan gives him the thumbs up, watching through the viewfinder. "Guess where I heard that you like peanutbutter twix?"
"I told you like twenty thousand times."
"Nope."
"Your mom had to dig it out of her ass," Quinn says, temporarily forgetting that he's not talking to Bert.
"Nope," Dan zooms in on Quinn's ... Quinn hopes it's his knees. He stuffs a wad of TP between his thighs and wonders where the hell he left his underwear. The search for the thinking cap might, in retro...fit... have been better conduceded before he got stoned. "Your mom yelled it when I fucked her in the ass."
"Dan," Quinn says, sticking his smoke behind his ear. Something stings him on the ear. It is a lit smoke. Who the fu-- "By 'my mom' do you actually mean Jepha?"
Dan lowers the camera and shrugs noncomittally. "Kinda. I had to beat it out of him. He is a very committed secret-keeper."
Quinn stuffs the TP in his ears instead. "I don't want to know."
"Dude, that's gonna catch fire."
"I can't hear you. La. La." It would have been better maybe if he hadn't heard them before, but Jepha's a yelper.
"I SAID THAT'S GONNA CATCH ON FIRE," Dan bawls helpfully, the camera dangling from one of his stupidly huge hands. Those should have been *my* new toy, Quinn thinks sulkily. Dan's hands have been a fucking fixture in his jerk-off fantasies since he first saw them, and Jepha's just wasted them on asphyxychoking and slaps.
And Quinn had plans and those plans involved the shitload of lube Bert stole for his plans, and those plans involved Dan's hands being all new to the band and then pretty fucking huge up Quinn's ass. But noooo.
The TP catches fire.
Dan's hugelong monkey arms reach out and yank it out of Quinn's ears, and he stamps it out on the bathroom floor in two stomps. Quinn reminds himself that Jepha is the swooning asshole princess who goes squashy at the knees whenever someone pulls a manly (usually out of sarcasm); Quinn is not impressed. He will be impressed when Dan can start a fucking huge fire.
Somewhere other than Quinn's crotch.
"So," Dan says, like nothing happened and the bathroom doesn't smell of burnt TP and weed and like Quinn is not sitting on the can wearing his thinking cap and Bert's YOUR MOM LIKES IT HARD shirt inside-out, "I got you a box of PB Twix."
Quinn can feel his brow furrowing, if furrowing is the same as frowning, which he's pretty sure it probably is. "... did you smoke all my weed or something? That is not cool. No deal."
"Yes. Also I fucked your bendy little bassist until he told me what kind of candy you liked."
"You already knew," Quinn says, sticking his fingers in his ears again. It's not good, sitting here on the can getting cold. Not a good time to think too much about Dan whaling away at Jepha's ass, because it is kinda, kinda hot. Kinda. And he can't be getting himself a boner sitting on the can where Dan can see it.
"Okay, I lied," Dan says, spreading his enormous fingering-fisting hands which are now irrec...omber...ly...some...ly Jepha-choking and Jepha-smacking hands, a great big whaddayagunnado, "I already knew you liked PB Twix. But."
There is a big long pause. Quinn pulls his hat down over his ears. Just because he's totally fucked Jepha a few ... twenty ... sort of times doesn't mean it's cool for Dan to. That's ... rude.
"But?" Quinn says when enough time has passed that he's in danger of falling asleep, or off the seat.
"Butt butt butt," Dan agrees, swinging the camera. "Butter."
"What?"
"Butt," Dan explains not at all explainily.
Quinn rubs his hat over his head. It feels good against stoned scalp. It also feels like he is fisting a tea cosy.
"But," Dan swings the camera again. "You have TP on your face."
"Do not," Quinn says automatically. Then he pulls the TP off his eyebrows. He points the white fluffy gook at Dan's face. "You assfucked my bassist, Whitesides."
"If it helps, he was really into it."
It doesn't help, and Quinn's got ears so he fucking knew that already. He squints and tries to do Badass Boss Voice like Jepha's stupid pretend Boss voice. "I didn't bring you into my band to assfuck my bassist."
"Whose band?" Dan holds the camera up and pretends to film him, but the light is off.
Quinn gives him the finger. "My band. My band. My bassist. My band, my Bert, my bassist, my bathroom, my ... butt..."
Dan makes clack-clack motions with one hand like he's using a real old camera. "Quinn's band; Quinn says he did not bring in his friend Dan to buttfuck his eager little buttfuckable bassist. The crowd waits. What was Quinn's intention? Did he expect Dan to play drums?"
Quinn gives him the finger again, more slowly this time, and rotates it so Dan can see that it is a fucking bird being flipped right at him.
Dan makes one of those faces Quinn has yet to figure out how to describe. It looks like he's trying to punch someone with his chin and waggle his tongue at the same time. It looks fucking bizarre.
"Also," Dan says, right in the middle of this dumb-ass fucking face, "I already know."
"What?"
"I'm just waiting for you to say it."
"What?"
"Quinnereeee."
"Dan...er...eee," Quinn puts his head on one side. There is TP in his ear, what the actual hell. "You'd better not be filming me pooping."
Dan shakes his head. "No battery left."
Quinn scowls suspiciously. He's heard that argument before and it wasn't true. Okay, that time it was him making the ... claim ... but that doesn't mean anyone else isn't a liar. Is a liar. Whichever. There's TP in his ear, and Dan's being ... weird. Also, Dan assfucked Jepha and Quinn's still pissed about it. He is. When he remembers to be.
"Also," Dan says again, tapping the wall with the camera. That shit is going to break. Quinn checks to make sure it isn't his camera.
"Also?"
"Also."
"Also what?"
"Also your mom."
Quinn rubs his hat over his head again, like he's polishing a bowling ball. "Where's my Twix?"
Dan grins like he got Vaseline stuck to his teeth and can't shut his mouth. "I lied."
"What?"
"There is no Twix, Neo." Dan makes spooky fingers at him and ends by offering his hand for Quinn to get up. Quinn takes it cautiously and Dan pulls him to his feet.
It's a fucking good thing Quinn's never been too attached to his dignity.
You can't really hang onto shit like that if you're BFF hetero/homo/abnormal lifepartners with McCracken, and standing here in his thinking hat with the flaps, his underpants around his ankles and the head of his dick hanging down below the hem of a stretched-out t-shirt while Dan shakes his hand enthusiastically would have killed if fucking dead anyhow,
"You even gypped me on me candy," Quinn says sadly, looking at Dan's hands with wist...y... face. "You suck. You are a suck friend."
"Am not," Dan shakes his hand again. "I am Dan. I am awesome. I saved your ass from getting fat by not getting you candy."
Quinn tries to look over his own shoulder to see if his ass - which is virtually a non-ass most of the time anyhow - has shrunk more. This turns out to be a bad idea.
He untangles his feet from his pants and snaps, "Look what you made me do."
"I can see your peen," Dan says gravely.
Quinn tries to kick his pants off his other foot, but they're pretty into him.
"I can see your plums," Dan adds, in fake-British voice. Quinn will not admit to being jealous of that voice. Just because his fake-British sounds like Bert with a cold.
Then there's a hand on Quinn's naked thigh and the bathroom is either very cold or Quinn's face is very very hot. He puts his hands on top of his head in case his hat is at fault here.
"I can see your bluuuuush," Dan adds, rubbing his nose on Quinn's nose. Quinn's not sure when he got this close, but it's not good for his peen. It's getting all ... awake.
"That ... doesn't ... begin with P," Quinn says uncertainly.
"Know what else doesn't begin with P?" Dan asks, squeezing Quinn's thigh. His hands are fucking enormous.
"Uh?" Quinn offers. Because that doesn't begin with P and nor does anything else he can think of to say, which right now amounts to "fucking nothing".
"I lied doesn't begin with P," Dan says confi...confident...ial...ly. He shoves his nose up against Quinn's again but stops just short of kissing him. "It starts wiiiiith I was waiting for you to say something, but you didn't so ..."
"Uh?" Quinn suggests. He can't quite figure out what he's doing with his hands but they seem to be on the back of Dan's head and he's just going to have to live with that.
"Sooooo," Dan says, and Quinn can feel his breath on his mouth, "I figured I'd go take it out on someone else."
Quinn makes a noise he didn't actually know he could make.
Dan's hand is quite close to his dick now. His dick is really awake, too. It's probably stealing all the blood from his head. That would explain a lot.
"Onleeeee," Dan adds, butting his forehead against Quinn's, "I did-unt, and you thought I diiiid, and you're a ... you're a ... what are you?"
Quinn looks down at his dick and catches his mouth on Dan's, so the homofag part of the conversation ends up as mushy noises, followed by tongue.
"Uh," he says when Dan lets him have air again. "Now what?"
"Well," Dan admits, laying his hand flat on Quinn's belly, where his pubes climb towards his bellybutton, "I didn't think much past getting my hand up your ass."
"Oh good," Quinn agrees, patting Dan on the back of the head. "That ... sounds good."
Quinn's really really smart when it comes to, y'know, disguising that he used the same chord progression for all the songs on an album. Sneaky, almost. But the intri...tracies... of proper vengeance have always been Bert's strong point, not his. Quinn's quite happy to settle for sticking a turd through the letterbox of everyone who ever dissed them, but when the shit's coming from inside the house you have to be subtle.
Quinn's not good at subtle.
Also he can't ask Bert because Bert has this slight minor tiny problem with not just blurting shit the minute he hears it. It's like talking to a, a, a loudhailer with Tourette's.
So Quinn's got his thinking cap on. It's... it's definitely a cap. And he's thinking in it. And maybe it's more of a bobble hat with ear flaps, and maybe it's a really pukesome colour, but it's for thinking in, and he is fucking going to think up a way to get back at Jeph for jumping in line, and he is thinking this shit through while shitting, and smoking some shit, and ... Dan is filming him.
"WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING OBSESSION WITH FILMING ME WHILE I SHIT?" is what Quinn intends to shout. Because seriously, it's been two weeks and Daniel Whitesides has already filmed him on the can three times.
What Quinn actually yells is, "DAN -- /fo ghoewhdvoakihca ow my face -- ow my --- YOU MADE ME DROWN MY SMOKE YOU WHORE."
Dan waves amiably from behind the camera. "So I heard you like peanut butter twix."
Quinn scrabbles for TP and his smoke before he can set fire to the bathroom. It won't be the first time. Then he realises he just got asked a question ... told a thing ... which Dan has known for freaking years anyhow.
"... you know that."
"Yeah but I heard it again."
Quinn finds his smoke. It is still lit, it's just wet at the mouth end. He wonders if he will die if he just sticks it back in his mouth.
He compromises by blowing on it to get the worst of the death germs off - it works with pizza Bert's licked and thrown at the bus wall, doesn't it? - and sticking it back in the corner of his mouth, away from where his tongue can catch floor-AIDS. "Does that mean you're gonna tell me every time you hear it?"
Dan gives him the thumbs up, watching through the viewfinder. "Guess where I heard that you like peanutbutter twix?"
"I told you like twenty thousand times."
"Nope."
"Your mom had to dig it out of her ass," Quinn says, temporarily forgetting that he's not talking to Bert.
"Nope," Dan zooms in on Quinn's ... Quinn hopes it's his knees. He stuffs a wad of TP between his thighs and wonders where the hell he left his underwear. The search for the thinking cap might, in retro...fit... have been better conduceded before he got stoned. "Your mom yelled it when I fucked her in the ass."
"Dan," Quinn says, sticking his smoke behind his ear. Something stings him on the ear. It is a lit smoke. Who the fu-- "By 'my mom' do you actually mean Jepha?"
Dan lowers the camera and shrugs noncomittally. "Kinda. I had to beat it out of him. He is a very committed secret-keeper."
Quinn stuffs the TP in his ears instead. "I don't want to know."
"Dude, that's gonna catch fire."
"I can't hear you. La. La." It would have been better maybe if he hadn't heard them before, but Jepha's a yelper.
"I SAID THAT'S GONNA CATCH ON FIRE," Dan bawls helpfully, the camera dangling from one of his stupidly huge hands. Those should have been *my* new toy, Quinn thinks sulkily. Dan's hands have been a fucking fixture in his jerk-off fantasies since he first saw them, and Jepha's just wasted them on asphyxychoking and slaps.
And Quinn had plans and those plans involved the shitload of lube Bert stole for his plans, and those plans involved Dan's hands being all new to the band and then pretty fucking huge up Quinn's ass. But noooo.
The TP catches fire.
Dan's hugelong monkey arms reach out and yank it out of Quinn's ears, and he stamps it out on the bathroom floor in two stomps. Quinn reminds himself that Jepha is the swooning asshole princess who goes squashy at the knees whenever someone pulls a manly (usually out of sarcasm); Quinn is not impressed. He will be impressed when Dan can start a fucking huge fire.
Somewhere other than Quinn's crotch.
"So," Dan says, like nothing happened and the bathroom doesn't smell of burnt TP and weed and like Quinn is not sitting on the can wearing his thinking cap and Bert's YOUR MOM LIKES IT HARD shirt inside-out, "I got you a box of PB Twix."
Quinn can feel his brow furrowing, if furrowing is the same as frowning, which he's pretty sure it probably is. "... did you smoke all my weed or something? That is not cool. No deal."
"Yes. Also I fucked your bendy little bassist until he told me what kind of candy you liked."
"You already knew," Quinn says, sticking his fingers in his ears again. It's not good, sitting here on the can getting cold. Not a good time to think too much about Dan whaling away at Jepha's ass, because it is kinda, kinda hot. Kinda. And he can't be getting himself a boner sitting on the can where Dan can see it.
"Okay, I lied," Dan says, spreading his enormous fingering-fisting hands which are now irrec...omber...ly...some...ly Jepha-choking and Jepha-smacking hands, a great big whaddayagunnado, "I already knew you liked PB Twix. But."
There is a big long pause. Quinn pulls his hat down over his ears. Just because he's totally fucked Jepha a few ... twenty ... sort of times doesn't mean it's cool for Dan to. That's ... rude.
"But?" Quinn says when enough time has passed that he's in danger of falling asleep, or off the seat.
"Butt butt butt," Dan agrees, swinging the camera. "Butter."
"What?"
"Butt," Dan explains not at all explainily.
Quinn rubs his hat over his head. It feels good against stoned scalp. It also feels like he is fisting a tea cosy.
"But," Dan swings the camera again. "You have TP on your face."
"Do not," Quinn says automatically. Then he pulls the TP off his eyebrows. He points the white fluffy gook at Dan's face. "You assfucked my bassist, Whitesides."
"If it helps, he was really into it."
It doesn't help, and Quinn's got ears so he fucking knew that already. He squints and tries to do Badass Boss Voice like Jepha's stupid pretend Boss voice. "I didn't bring you into my band to assfuck my bassist."
"Whose band?" Dan holds the camera up and pretends to film him, but the light is off.
Quinn gives him the finger. "My band. My band. My bassist. My band, my Bert, my bassist, my bathroom, my ... butt..."
Dan makes clack-clack motions with one hand like he's using a real old camera. "Quinn's band; Quinn says he did not bring in his friend Dan to buttfuck his eager little buttfuckable bassist. The crowd waits. What was Quinn's intention? Did he expect Dan to play drums?"
Quinn gives him the finger again, more slowly this time, and rotates it so Dan can see that it is a fucking bird being flipped right at him.
Dan makes one of those faces Quinn has yet to figure out how to describe. It looks like he's trying to punch someone with his chin and waggle his tongue at the same time. It looks fucking bizarre.
"Also," Dan says, right in the middle of this dumb-ass fucking face, "I already know."
"What?"
"I'm just waiting for you to say it."
"What?"
"Quinnereeee."
"Dan...er...eee," Quinn puts his head on one side. There is TP in his ear, what the actual hell. "You'd better not be filming me pooping."
Dan shakes his head. "No battery left."
Quinn scowls suspiciously. He's heard that argument before and it wasn't true. Okay, that time it was him making the ... claim ... but that doesn't mean anyone else isn't a liar. Is a liar. Whichever. There's TP in his ear, and Dan's being ... weird. Also, Dan assfucked Jepha and Quinn's still pissed about it. He is. When he remembers to be.
"Also," Dan says again, tapping the wall with the camera. That shit is going to break. Quinn checks to make sure it isn't his camera.
"Also?"
"Also."
"Also what?"
"Also your mom."
Quinn rubs his hat over his head again, like he's polishing a bowling ball. "Where's my Twix?"
Dan grins like he got Vaseline stuck to his teeth and can't shut his mouth. "I lied."
"What?"
"There is no Twix, Neo." Dan makes spooky fingers at him and ends by offering his hand for Quinn to get up. Quinn takes it cautiously and Dan pulls him to his feet.
It's a fucking good thing Quinn's never been too attached to his dignity.
You can't really hang onto shit like that if you're BFF hetero/homo/abnormal lifepartners with McCracken, and standing here in his thinking hat with the flaps, his underpants around his ankles and the head of his dick hanging down below the hem of a stretched-out t-shirt while Dan shakes his hand enthusiastically would have killed if fucking dead anyhow,
"You even gypped me on me candy," Quinn says sadly, looking at Dan's hands with wist...y... face. "You suck. You are a suck friend."
"Am not," Dan shakes his hand again. "I am Dan. I am awesome. I saved your ass from getting fat by not getting you candy."
Quinn tries to look over his own shoulder to see if his ass - which is virtually a non-ass most of the time anyhow - has shrunk more. This turns out to be a bad idea.
He untangles his feet from his pants and snaps, "Look what you made me do."
"I can see your peen," Dan says gravely.
Quinn tries to kick his pants off his other foot, but they're pretty into him.
"I can see your plums," Dan adds, in fake-British voice. Quinn will not admit to being jealous of that voice. Just because his fake-British sounds like Bert with a cold.
Then there's a hand on Quinn's naked thigh and the bathroom is either very cold or Quinn's face is very very hot. He puts his hands on top of his head in case his hat is at fault here.
"I can see your bluuuuush," Dan adds, rubbing his nose on Quinn's nose. Quinn's not sure when he got this close, but it's not good for his peen. It's getting all ... awake.
"That ... doesn't ... begin with P," Quinn says uncertainly.
"Know what else doesn't begin with P?" Dan asks, squeezing Quinn's thigh. His hands are fucking enormous.
"Uh?" Quinn offers. Because that doesn't begin with P and nor does anything else he can think of to say, which right now amounts to "fucking nothing".
"I lied doesn't begin with P," Dan says confi...confident...ial...ly. He shoves his nose up against Quinn's again but stops just short of kissing him. "It starts wiiiiith I was waiting for you to say something, but you didn't so ..."
"Uh?" Quinn suggests. He can't quite figure out what he's doing with his hands but they seem to be on the back of Dan's head and he's just going to have to live with that.
"Sooooo," Dan says, and Quinn can feel his breath on his mouth, "I figured I'd go take it out on someone else."
Quinn makes a noise he didn't actually know he could make.
Dan's hand is quite close to his dick now. His dick is really awake, too. It's probably stealing all the blood from his head. That would explain a lot.
"Onleeeee," Dan adds, butting his forehead against Quinn's, "I did-unt, and you thought I diiiid, and you're a ... you're a ... what are you?"
Quinn looks down at his dick and catches his mouth on Dan's, so the homofag part of the conversation ends up as mushy noises, followed by tongue.
"Uh," he says when Dan lets him have air again. "Now what?"
"Well," Dan admits, laying his hand flat on Quinn's belly, where his pubes climb towards his bellybutton, "I didn't think much past getting my hand up your ass."
"Oh good," Quinn agrees, patting Dan on the back of the head. "That ... sounds good."