not!fic amnesty
I have a ton of random snippets of fic that will never be rounded out into actual stories. In an effort to clear my hard-drive (and because my OCD and antisocial tendencies needed indulgence after a week in a loud, disorganized, people-occupied place) I spent the last hour deciding what to toss and what I might reasonably work on. That stuff is staying.
These are the snippets of stuff that I finally admit will never be written in their entirety.
Bandom, Brendon/Spencer, Pure Country AU.
I've never actually seen Pure Country, so I don't know how this fits. I watched it once, when Tabby (I think?) requested the bandom AU. But, yeah. Barn make-outs. (Also? Imagine that Spencer's sisters are about a decade younger than they are IRL, kthnx?)
Spencer's not sure what he's expecting when Brendon says he'll stay and help to make up for being such a jackass the night before. He's a singer, not a rancher, and he looks like he's never lifted a weight outside of a gym. But Jackie and Crystal light up at the idea of having one of their idols around. And they don't waste time asking him to sign their copies of Teen Beat or sing to them.
He sings all the time, really. He sings while he's making them coffee and breakfast (the pancakes are a little overdone, but Spencer is fine with any breakfast that HE did not have to get up earlier to make) and he sings while he washes dishes, and he hums under his breath while Spencer lists the chores they're all assigned for the day. He's got fence to check - he's pretty sure there are a couple of posts down, and he's lucky none of the cattle have wander through it. J&C express extreme disappointment that they are relegated to weeding the house garden and cleaning out the chicken coop. Gross, and separate from Brendon. (Spencer really doesn't think they need to moon over him any more than they already do; it's got nothing to do with wanting to see those tight jeans stretch and Brendon's ass bounce in the saddle as they ride. Really.)
Brendon admits, somewhat sheepishly, that he's okay around animals, but he's never actually ridden a horse, so Spencer loads stuff up in the old truck for checking the fenceline.
Spencer packed an extra set of gloves, and it's a good thing, because they get out to the back acreage and find that several posts are down, with a fair amount of tangled barbed wire. Spencer's not sure what caused it - there's some fur caught at different spots in the wire, but not enough that it's obvious - so he sets Brendon to work untangling wire. And Brendon's got calluses, yeah, but guitar-playing is not the same as rough work, and Spencer doesn't want to be the one responsible for him losing a finger or something because he's soft.
So, yeah, the spend the morning together, and it's not bad. Brendon has lots of questions about the land and the animals and how Spencer came to be working it, with only his two 12-yr-old sisters and a part time ranch-hand for help.
It's sort of nice, having company. Especially company that looks as hot as Brendon, who sweats through his shirt in no time in the June heat, and ends up first wiping his face and neck absently with his sleeve, and then taking the shirt off completely.
His skin is smooth and tan, with freckles dotting the shoulders, unlike Spencer, who burns the second he takes his shirt off. Spencer tries not to stare. But not really hard. Brendon glances at him under his eyelashes in a way that makes Spencer think the shirt removal was not entirely for Brendon's benefit.
Spencer makes no effort not to stare when, during one of their breaks, Brendon downs half a liter of water and splashes the rest on his face and neck. Drops cling lovingly to his chin before sliding down his neck and over his Adam's apple to his shoulders and chest, and Spencer fantasizes for a long moment about licking them off before he forces himself back to digging the next post hole.
So, yeah, there's a bunch of sexual tension that is mainly sublimated by lifting heavy objects and getting sweaty and dirty. They finally drive back to the house in time for supper, which is a crock-pot meal (Spencer really doesn't want Jackie & Crystal to be working a gas stove when he's not there), and after supper Spencer heads out to the barn to take care of the horses while the girls settle in the great room with the TV tuned to VH1. Brendon joins them, tells them stories about people in the videos, people he KNOWS (they just can't get over it), until one of his own video comes on. Then he escapes to the barn.
Spencer's cleaning out stalls and giving the horses (he's only got four, really; that's not what they're raising on his ranch) new food and water.
Brendon helps, spraying things down, but when he stretches to reach for a fresh bale of hay to line the stalls, Spencer catches him wincing.
"Lifting weights works different muscles than lifting hay bales, I guess." Brendon laughs it off, but then Spencer's in front of him, with his hands on Brendon's shoulders, digging in right *there*, where the muscle is the tightest. Brendon's eyes fall closed and makes this noise in the back of his throat, like it's the best and worst pain he's ever felt, and Spencer has to bite his lip and concentrate on not scooping him up and carrying him over to the hayloft and making him make that sound over and over again. He rubs a little more, and then his hands still. Brendon hums, a query in the sound, and pushes forward, lifting his chin without looking, and that's not an invitation Spencer is going to refuse.
He gets lost in a haze of sensation: the feel of hot, damp skin beneath the fabric under his hands, tempting him to tug up loose cotton and touch it directly; the scent of hay and sweat and dust and sun, and under that Brendon mixed with the scent of Spencer's own soap and shampoo; the slick slide of tongue and lips and the push of denim-covered hips against his own. Spencer's backs Brendon up, pressing him against the rough wood of the stall's half-door without thought, and Brendon goes without protest, dragging Spencer down to kiss harder, so that his weight pins him in place, his fingers digging into Spencer's waist and anchoring there. Spencer's got no complaints, because that puts Brendon's ass within reach and their cocks against each other (although, seriously, he'd like to get rid of the layers between them, like, YESTERDAY), and there is no part of his body or brain that does not think that is BRILLIANT.
The only thing that keeps Spencer upright, rather than horizontal, is the knowledge that hay is scratchy and rough, and he really doesn't want it poking in some of the places he'd like to bare (touch, lick, fuck, oh god). He flexes his hands on Brendon's ass, and decides that Brendon's slim enough that Spencer can hold his weight if they try this upright, when Crystal's voice yelling from the house that Ryan's on the phone. Spencer curses Ryan and Crystal both, but the moment is broken. They return to the house and say awkward goodnights.
Bandom, Brendon/Regan/Shane
I started this ages ago, back when Shane and Bden still lived together. So. Yeah.
Brendon is surprised when Lana objects so vocally when he suggests a threesome with Shane. She was the one who asked her friend Mandi to join them, and it'd been amazingly fucking hot.
He wasn't even really serious about it, although he and Shane had joked about sharing a girl when they were high. But Lana gets her bitch on online, and then they're done. In the meantime, Shane starts seeing Regan again, whom Brendon likes a lot, as much as he likes Cassie and Haley and Keltie, and Brendon enjoys the freedom to hook up whenever and with whomever he wants. With all that going on, the threesome thing is out of sight and out of mind.
Brendon's mind, anyway.
They have nearly a month off between the Asia/Australia gigs and the start of promotional stuff for the Rock Band Live tour, with only birthday parties and the VMAs interrupting Brendon's plan to hang out with Dylan and sleep and maybe smoke some. A lot. Whatever.
Brendon loves his apartment, okay? He likes being in a band, on the road, singing and playing for a new crowd in a new city every night, and the bus is pretty comfortable for, you know, a bus, but Brendon loves his king-sized bed, his normal-sized refrigerator (which holds more beer and Red Bull, than the one on the bus) with the list of pizza places that deliver stuck to its side with the brilliantly tacky magnets he and Shane picked up while they were on the road. He loves the sofa, with its squishy cushions, and the fact that he can sit on it naked and Shane won't object, and he even loves the coffee table. Not like people on the internet seem to think (that was an accident, okay?) but because he can prop his feet on it and not block his view of the TV and it's no problem to set his beer bottle on it without a coaster because he doesn't have to worry about condensation leaving rings or it spilling when the bus takes a sharp curve. The only thing that's different about his apartment now is that Regan is around. A lot. When she and Shane are home, there's a fair amount of whispering and touching, and Brendon, he's glad they're happy and he has nothing against PDAs, but seriously, he feels like a voyeur sometimes. Shane's quick to include him when they go out and when they stay in, but it gets to the point that Brendon has to force himself to give them alone-time.
So, yeah, Brendon likes Regan. They share a love of classic rock (most of the women he picks up are scene queens or into his own band, so he doesn't often get to debate the merits of David Gilmour vs. Roger Waters vs. Syd Barrett like he can with her), and Regan's got as few personal boundaries as Brendon, so they get along fine.
Plus, Regan's hot. Call him shallow, but at least he's honest with himself. Brendon's not going to poach his roommate's girl or anything, but she's easy on the eyes and she's good company, so he's not going to complain if she spends more nights at their condo than her own apartment.
It's not even weird when she comes over to hang out when Shane's out of town on a job. He's gone for a week, doing some filming for an independent outfit, some stuff he hopes to incorporate into his next short, and Regan comes over three days out of five. The night Shane is supposed to come back, she arrives at 6pm with a half pepperoni/half veggie-lovers pizza and a six pack of Corona. When Brendon waves her through the door, she heads directly for the living room, setting the pizza on the coffee table and taking a piece as she drops onto the sofa. Brendon stops in the kitchen to get some napkins, then takes a spot at the other end of the sofa. Regan plops her feet into his lap, and they eat the entire pie while they watch a VH1Classic special about Boston.
(They end up arguing semi-seriously about the reunion tour. Brendon is adamantly against it. Seriously, how can they tour without Brad Delp? He was their lead singer. It's not like Brendon's going to off himself or anything, but he'd be bummed if he died and Panic moved on like he never even existed. Regan, on the other hand, holds that the lineup retains only one founding member, so the band is Boston in name only, and thus the identity of the singer is unimportant.)
VH1 gives way to fuse's rebroadcasts of Bill and Ted's journeys, and the next thing Brendon knows, he's waking to a crick in his neck and an infomercial for male enhancement products on the TV. Regan is curled up against him, her breath warm on his collarbone, her hand tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Sleep-muddled, he spends a long, disoriented moment studying the way her eyelashes rest on the curve of her cheek, and he can't think how they ended up this way. Usually when he wakes up with someone asleep on him, they're naked, and the night started out differently. To be sure he doesn't say something to that effect, he waits until his brain/mouth filter is functional before he wakes Regan enough to send her to bed in Shane's room.
He drinks a glass of water and heads to his own room, but he lies there in the dark, not clear why he can't sleep again. He watches the glowing digits on his bedside clock tick an hour before he hears the front door open. Shane's home. Quiet footsteps pass Brendon's bedroom door, then there's the low murmur of conversation that peters out into silence.
The next morning, Brendon stumbles out to the kitchen in his boxers as usual, and makes coffee. He's standing there, bleary-eyed, waiting for the drip to stop, when Regan comes out. She nudges him out of the way and opens the cabinet to find mugs, fills them. Then she picks one up and offers it to Brendon, following it with a soft kiss. He's not coherent, that's the only excuse he can think of, because he kisses back.
They're still standing there, and his fingers are getting warm from the heat of the coffee, but his lips and other parts are getting even warmer, when he hears a gasp.
He rears back, wide-eyed, to find Shane gaping at them.
"Shane--"
"Fuck, that's hot."
Shane crowds them against the counter, *both of them*, and kisses Regan, tipping her head, and when she tugs Brendon closer he can see Shane's tongue stretch out and swipe shiny gloss Bden'd left on her lips.
(and then they have awesome sex that doesn't end their friendship, and it's not awkward the day after or anything. the end.)
Brendon/Spencer, bandom firefighter/EMT AU
A long time ago, vic_ramsey asked for Spencer-as-a-hot-firefighter and nurse-Brendon taking care of him, but I liked the idea of EMT-Brendon better, and she agreed that it would work. They're not in the same house - their companies are close, geographically, though, so sometimes they get called to the same scenes. Like this one:
There are people still in that building, people who worked there. Spencer's company and two others still have men inside, even though it's clear now that their efforts will only contain the fire. The structure is beyond saving now. Spencer should be IN THERE, getting people out. His lungs are tight, but it's not a big deal, he's worked through worse. He tries to stand up, but the weight of tank and mask make it easy for the EMT who's been fussing over him to push him back down.
"Shut up and sit down. A couple of guys from the Forty-third are bringing the last of the plant's employees out now."
The guy - his name tag says B. Urie - slaps an oxygen mask onto Spencer's face and snaps the elastic band over his head, then Spencer's heavy coat and equipment is being efficiently removed.
By the time the scene is under control, Spencer feels better. He really does NOT need to see a doctor, no matter what Brendon and his smirking partner, Shane, think. Spencer tries to climb out of the back of the van, but his lieutenant, Zack, glares him into submission, and he falls back against the gurney, closing his eyes until he hears the thump of the doors closing.
There is no need for the sirens. He can't believe he has to actually say it - yell it, really. But he does.
"Turn that OFF! This isn't an emergency."
"Dude, you are a firefighter. You can't tell me half the reason you didn't become one was for the ladder truck and the sirens."
Point. But still.
Whatever he's about to say in response is muffled when they take a corner sharply, and Spencer grabs onto Brendon's arm to keep from tumbling onto the floor.
"You shoulda let me strap you in."
"Yeah no." Spencer straightens. "Should he be driving without supervision?"
"Shane's gotta learn to drive the rig at some point. Next trip will probably actually require the flash and noise." Shane cuts off a Mustang convertible when he changes lanes, and earns a loud honk and rude hand gestures. Brendon laughs. "Rock on, man. That car is a midlife-crisis waiting to happen."
Spencer relaxes a little when he realizes that no matter what he says, he's still going to the hospital. Brendon keeps up non-stop patter about the fire, about the day's shift, about Shane, who just qualified for the EMT spot after spending a few years as an RN.
Brendon bitches when Shane changes the radio to country music, but he knows all the words to the perky Shania Twain song that filters back to them. Spencer is amused. He's even more amused when Brendon, who's been moving around the van, putting equipment away and inventorying supplies, does a little dance and wiggles his ass to the beat. It's a nice ass, and it's right in front of him, so he doesn't allow himself to feel guilty when Brendon catches him mid-ogle. He feels like he deserves some sort of compensation since he knows that he's going to spend the lion's share of his day writing up paperwork to satisfy HR and workman's comp board.
When they pull into the ambulance bay, Spencer tries to climb out on his own, but Brendon manages to keep him on the gurney, and then he and Shane are trundling him in the doors. Shane and Brendon are all efficiency and business, and soon he's propped up on a table behind a curtain, and there's a white-coat with a stethoscope, telling him to unbutton.
Although it feels like Spencer is in the ER for an interminably long time, it's probably only thirty minutes from the time the harried resident listened to his lungs, requested a pulse-ox and chest x-ray, and told him he had a severe case of smoke inhalation.
Duh.
It's not like Spencer's expecting Brendon and Shane to take him back to his house, or anything, but he does look around expectantly when the doctor signs his release and he finds his way back toward the entrance.
He's totally NOT disappointed when he spots Pete flirtng with the intake nurse, a tall guy with a curly 'fro and some interesting tattoos.
He will admit, however, that he is more than a little curious about the hot EMT who treated him, and Pete's happy to share the gossip about the Thirty-Ninth, housed two districts over. He's never been that interested in the city-wide football tournaments that the FD hosts, but when he hears that Brendon usually attends, he decides he might have a change of heart.
Everything goes swimmingly until Brendon and his partner Shane end up in danger, either hurt when they get called into a still-active gang/drive-by situation or maybe just in danger in a hostage situation, and then Spencer is all YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO PUT YOURSELF IN THAT TYPE OF SITUATION EVER AGAIN! because he was worried sick, and he's a a control freak who cannot express emotions clearly. Brendon's like, BUT IT'S MY JOB, I CAN'T MAKE ANY PROMISES!
Spencer's freaking out, and they fight. HE WANTS BRENDON NOT TO DO THAT TO HIM EVER AGAIN! But Brendon loves his job! He likes saving people and he'll admit he's an adrenaline junkie just like Spencer is.
They go for a couple of weeks without talking and it's awkward when their houses get called to the same fires and accidents, but their buddies don't know what to do. Spencer *seethes*, because Shane is getting all the smiles and free time that should be *his*, but he's not backing down. Brendon could get HURT! He shouldn't be doing dangerous calls like that!
And then someone in his ladder gets hurt and Spencer ends up having a long talk with his/her spouse (lol, IDK, maybe Pete and Patrick?), who accepts that that is just the way it is, and you can't change people and shouldn't WANT to, and their acceptance makes him see what a hypocrite he's being.
And Spencer WANTS to apologize to Brendon, but Shane, who is very protective of the dude who helped him when he first moved to the new house and was nervous about switching from being a regular nurse to being an EMT, is ALWAYS THERE. Spencer never gets a chance to talk to Brendon alone. And he's getting growly and cranky about it, starting to be REALLY jealous, but then he meets Regan and realizes he doesn't need to be. After threatening that he knows where Spencer sleeps when he's on duty, Shane finally relents and allows Spencer some alone-time with Brendon, and Spencer apologizes.
Queue makeup sex and cuddles.
GK, Brad/OFC with Brad/Nate UST
Nurses gossiping at the registration desk was nothing new; Molly generally listened without contributing, and often without giving much weight to whatever rumor was being circulated. It never hurt, though, to catch up on hospital scuttlebutt before getting back into the swing of things, especially before a weekend of night shifts.
Nita, Michelle, and Randi huddled together, talking animatedly. She dropped her stuff in her locker in the doctor's lounge, and when she returned they were still chattering. Evidently whatever had happened while she was off for three days (three consecutive midweek days off, for the first time in months) had the ER staff abuzz.
"Did you watch--"
"Yes! And then I found the articles--"
"Is it really him?"
"Yes. And he's even hotter than the actor who played him."
Before they broke into outright giggles, Molly interrupted. "He who, and what actor?"
This was going to be the beginning of a long Brad/OFC fic with reference to UST between Brad & Nate. Most of it is just copy-pasted notes from emails and texts to why_me_why_not.
Basically, Brad and Nate were well aware that of UST, but since Brad is a Marine for life, he's never going to act on it, and Nate's plan to move back to the East Coast and get involved in politics/analysis means that he can let it go. They never talk about it, but they communicate well enough without words. The possibility of what *might* be (or might've been) can't overshadow what *is*. Nate goes to Harvard, gets his degrees, meets his future wife, and settles in MD/DC happily enough. Brad does his stint with the Royal Marines, then he's back with 1st Recon for a couple more tours of Iraq, and then he gets sent to Quantico, to train baby officers at OCS.
He meets Molly McKenna at DC General, when he takes a bunch of the recruits to see the physical effects of trauma patients up close and personal.
At first he's indifferent - she's just another doctor - and she's annoyed because he's TAKING UP SPACE in her ER. And the nurses spend a ridiculous amount of time ogling him.
She doesn't watch a lot of TV so she never saw GK, and most of the reading she does is work-related, so no idea about the books, but she's got her own baggage, so when they finally become more friendly, she gets that Brad's spent a lot of time being emotionally unavailable, even if he's worked through it (a little - he dated a few people, but not seriously).
Molly loves her job - it's hard, and most of her med school classmates have cushy private practices now, but she's an adrenaline junkie, and she can't give up the ER, even if it means working at an understaffed, underfunded inner city hospital. And she's not afraid to bitch at Brad when one of his probies gets in the way in the middle of a weekend night flood of gunshot and knife-fight wounds.
Brad sort of likes that about her. He's unwillingly charmed by her sarcasm and competence. And the way her ass looks in scrubs. She isnt' a big fan of soldiers. (Relationship and family baggage.) But he grows on her. Plus, once they all learn to fade into the background, out of her way, it's nice to have eyecandy decorating the place early in the evening, before it gets crazy busy and she forgets there are observers there.
In any case, it's not a big deal - a working relationship, where he's in her workspace to take care of his - until there's gang violence in the ER and Molly *has it under control*, she's *dealt with this shit before, okay; what is she, a noob?* but then Brad interferes, and it all ends without anymore casualties, but Molly is *pissed*. He usurped her authority and now she's going to have to deal with them once Colbert's GONE, and there's some yelling and her drilling her finger into his chest (ouch, there's no give there) before she stomps off.
Which could've been the end of it, but the next weekend is the first one after the Killology/ER visits end, and it also happens to be one when Nate - he and his wife didn't just *disappear* from Brad's life, esp now that he's in the DC area - invite him to some fancy fundraising shindig, and Molly's there. (Um... I don't know what the RL!Nate Fick's wife does - I don't WANT to know - but in my imaginary world, she does something non-profit-organization related, something involved with fund-raising, and there are less than six degrees of separation between Molly and Brad via Nate & his wife.) He almost doesn't recognize her all dressed up.
I think he apologizes without *actually* apologizing. And she's really bored with (or possibly offended by) her date for the evening. So they end up chatting. And Nate's all, "Srsly? I have never seen you like that with a woman before. Did you find someone you actually LIKE, outside of fucking?"
And Brad's like, "We are so not fucking. She's the ER doc." Who he'd been telling Nate about, in terms of competence and skill, without actually admitting that she was a SHE. So Nate's all O.o and maybe a bit wistful b/c he remembers being the one in whom Brad had complete confidence, although he's pretty sure Brad doesn't even realize that yet.
At the end of the evening of socializing - Molly and Margaret (*facepalm* Let's not talk about how creepy it is that I know RL!Nate's wife's name; DAMN YOU, ANDREW EXUM, FOR TELLING ME THIS VIA TWITTER) get on pretty well, which is good since she's going to be doing more PR-related stuff for the hospital board - Brad sees Molly off from the fundraiser where they ran into each other. The next day Molly does all her usual errand-type things and chores, and when she gets home - she deliberately doesn't take a beeper or cell phone with her when she's not on call - there's a message from Maggie inviting her to a dinner party. It's a cook-out really. (I totally imagine them living in Bethesda, which is ridic expensive but whatever; there are a lot of military ppl around and sciency people, b/c Uniformed Health Services, Walter Reed, and NIH are there.)
Brad, who's staying with them for the weekend, rather than going back and forth between DC & Quantico every day, ends up taking Molly home, b/c she took the Metro, and he's polite - he knows that Maggie (and Nate, b/c Nate thinks he's sneaky, trying to encourage Brad to find someone that makes him happy but he is totally NOT SUBTLE; he lost the blank officer's expression he used to wear all the time when he didn't have to practice not laughing at Person's ridiculousness 24/7) invited her for his sake. Which wasn't necessary - Brad has no problem talking to Andrew and Tom and John and David, or even being polite to their GFs and wives, even though he's not particularly good at small talk - but he appreciates it. He also appreciates the sundress that Molly wore, although he does not care for the fact that Andrew clearly admires it just as much.
Brad maybe takes the longer, city-street route to get her home when she climbs on the back of his bike without hesitation, tucking her skirt between her thighs and his.
.
.
But there is also some really sad it never even got to the idea of sex discussion between Molly and Brad about Nate because Molly has *eyes* and she's not stupid. She's an Army brat, and she totally thinks that Don't Ask Don't Tell is a shitty policy for a career Marine and for someone who clearly has political ambitions, because Molly can totally see that the two of them *get* each other. (The entire conversations they have without actually speaking are fucking weird. She's seen that in friends and couples that have been together for a long time, and she's vaguely surprised that Brad and Nate can still communicate that way.)
Also, there's Brad thinking that when he gets transferred back to 1st Marines at Pendleton to gear up for another tour in Iraq (even though he's going to be with H&S instead of Bravo Company, which makes him D:) that Molly's going to be done with it, or that things'll go south, and there's some attempt on his part to be cool and unemotional, but she ends up actually reading the book, and talking to Nate, and even if Brad doesn't quite believe it, she's not going to be his ex, giving up when things get hard. She got through med school, she dealt with *her own* ex's bullshit, and she's got enough to do to keep her busy. Which is not to say that she doesn't worry.
But he makes it back from the next tour (he might have a minor injury? and she's all, "What butcher stitched this? IT IS GOING TO SCAR, I COULD'VE DONE A MUCH BETTER JOB, WTF!" when she sees it - he didn't tell her when it happened), and she visits at Pendleton, and there's omg-i-missed-you sex, and talking, and eventually she takes a job at a hospital in LA, which isn't ideal, but is closer to Pendleton than DC, and they live (mostly) happily ever after.
These are the snippets of stuff that I finally admit will never be written in their entirety.
Bandom, Brendon/Spencer, Pure Country AU.
I've never actually seen Pure Country, so I don't know how this fits. I watched it once, when Tabby (I think?) requested the bandom AU. But, yeah. Barn make-outs. (Also? Imagine that Spencer's sisters are about a decade younger than they are IRL, kthnx?)
Spencer's not sure what he's expecting when Brendon says he'll stay and help to make up for being such a jackass the night before. He's a singer, not a rancher, and he looks like he's never lifted a weight outside of a gym. But Jackie and Crystal light up at the idea of having one of their idols around. And they don't waste time asking him to sign their copies of Teen Beat or sing to them.
He sings all the time, really. He sings while he's making them coffee and breakfast (the pancakes are a little overdone, but Spencer is fine with any breakfast that HE did not have to get up earlier to make) and he sings while he washes dishes, and he hums under his breath while Spencer lists the chores they're all assigned for the day. He's got fence to check - he's pretty sure there are a couple of posts down, and he's lucky none of the cattle have wander through it. J&C express extreme disappointment that they are relegated to weeding the house garden and cleaning out the chicken coop. Gross, and separate from Brendon. (Spencer really doesn't think they need to moon over him any more than they already do; it's got nothing to do with wanting to see those tight jeans stretch and Brendon's ass bounce in the saddle as they ride. Really.)
Brendon admits, somewhat sheepishly, that he's okay around animals, but he's never actually ridden a horse, so Spencer loads stuff up in the old truck for checking the fenceline.
Spencer packed an extra set of gloves, and it's a good thing, because they get out to the back acreage and find that several posts are down, with a fair amount of tangled barbed wire. Spencer's not sure what caused it - there's some fur caught at different spots in the wire, but not enough that it's obvious - so he sets Brendon to work untangling wire. And Brendon's got calluses, yeah, but guitar-playing is not the same as rough work, and Spencer doesn't want to be the one responsible for him losing a finger or something because he's soft.
So, yeah, the spend the morning together, and it's not bad. Brendon has lots of questions about the land and the animals and how Spencer came to be working it, with only his two 12-yr-old sisters and a part time ranch-hand for help.
It's sort of nice, having company. Especially company that looks as hot as Brendon, who sweats through his shirt in no time in the June heat, and ends up first wiping his face and neck absently with his sleeve, and then taking the shirt off completely.
His skin is smooth and tan, with freckles dotting the shoulders, unlike Spencer, who burns the second he takes his shirt off. Spencer tries not to stare. But not really hard. Brendon glances at him under his eyelashes in a way that makes Spencer think the shirt removal was not entirely for Brendon's benefit.
Spencer makes no effort not to stare when, during one of their breaks, Brendon downs half a liter of water and splashes the rest on his face and neck. Drops cling lovingly to his chin before sliding down his neck and over his Adam's apple to his shoulders and chest, and Spencer fantasizes for a long moment about licking them off before he forces himself back to digging the next post hole.
So, yeah, there's a bunch of sexual tension that is mainly sublimated by lifting heavy objects and getting sweaty and dirty. They finally drive back to the house in time for supper, which is a crock-pot meal (Spencer really doesn't want Jackie & Crystal to be working a gas stove when he's not there), and after supper Spencer heads out to the barn to take care of the horses while the girls settle in the great room with the TV tuned to VH1. Brendon joins them, tells them stories about people in the videos, people he KNOWS (they just can't get over it), until one of his own video comes on. Then he escapes to the barn.
Spencer's cleaning out stalls and giving the horses (he's only got four, really; that's not what they're raising on his ranch) new food and water.
Brendon helps, spraying things down, but when he stretches to reach for a fresh bale of hay to line the stalls, Spencer catches him wincing.
"Lifting weights works different muscles than lifting hay bales, I guess." Brendon laughs it off, but then Spencer's in front of him, with his hands on Brendon's shoulders, digging in right *there*, where the muscle is the tightest. Brendon's eyes fall closed and makes this noise in the back of his throat, like it's the best and worst pain he's ever felt, and Spencer has to bite his lip and concentrate on not scooping him up and carrying him over to the hayloft and making him make that sound over and over again. He rubs a little more, and then his hands still. Brendon hums, a query in the sound, and pushes forward, lifting his chin without looking, and that's not an invitation Spencer is going to refuse.
He gets lost in a haze of sensation: the feel of hot, damp skin beneath the fabric under his hands, tempting him to tug up loose cotton and touch it directly; the scent of hay and sweat and dust and sun, and under that Brendon mixed with the scent of Spencer's own soap and shampoo; the slick slide of tongue and lips and the push of denim-covered hips against his own. Spencer's backs Brendon up, pressing him against the rough wood of the stall's half-door without thought, and Brendon goes without protest, dragging Spencer down to kiss harder, so that his weight pins him in place, his fingers digging into Spencer's waist and anchoring there. Spencer's got no complaints, because that puts Brendon's ass within reach and their cocks against each other (although, seriously, he'd like to get rid of the layers between them, like, YESTERDAY), and there is no part of his body or brain that does not think that is BRILLIANT.
The only thing that keeps Spencer upright, rather than horizontal, is the knowledge that hay is scratchy and rough, and he really doesn't want it poking in some of the places he'd like to bare (touch, lick, fuck, oh god). He flexes his hands on Brendon's ass, and decides that Brendon's slim enough that Spencer can hold his weight if they try this upright, when Crystal's voice yelling from the house that Ryan's on the phone. Spencer curses Ryan and Crystal both, but the moment is broken. They return to the house and say awkward goodnights.
Bandom, Brendon/Regan/Shane
I started this ages ago, back when Shane and Bden still lived together. So. Yeah.
Brendon is surprised when Lana objects so vocally when he suggests a threesome with Shane. She was the one who asked her friend Mandi to join them, and it'd been amazingly fucking hot.
He wasn't even really serious about it, although he and Shane had joked about sharing a girl when they were high. But Lana gets her bitch on online, and then they're done. In the meantime, Shane starts seeing Regan again, whom Brendon likes a lot, as much as he likes Cassie and Haley and Keltie, and Brendon enjoys the freedom to hook up whenever and with whomever he wants. With all that going on, the threesome thing is out of sight and out of mind.
Brendon's mind, anyway.
They have nearly a month off between the Asia/Australia gigs and the start of promotional stuff for the Rock Band Live tour, with only birthday parties and the VMAs interrupting Brendon's plan to hang out with Dylan and sleep and maybe smoke some. A lot. Whatever.
Brendon loves his apartment, okay? He likes being in a band, on the road, singing and playing for a new crowd in a new city every night, and the bus is pretty comfortable for, you know, a bus, but Brendon loves his king-sized bed, his normal-sized refrigerator (which holds more beer and Red Bull, than the one on the bus) with the list of pizza places that deliver stuck to its side with the brilliantly tacky magnets he and Shane picked up while they were on the road. He loves the sofa, with its squishy cushions, and the fact that he can sit on it naked and Shane won't object, and he even loves the coffee table. Not like people on the internet seem to think (that was an accident, okay?) but because he can prop his feet on it and not block his view of the TV and it's no problem to set his beer bottle on it without a coaster because he doesn't have to worry about condensation leaving rings or it spilling when the bus takes a sharp curve. The only thing that's different about his apartment now is that Regan is around. A lot. When she and Shane are home, there's a fair amount of whispering and touching, and Brendon, he's glad they're happy and he has nothing against PDAs, but seriously, he feels like a voyeur sometimes. Shane's quick to include him when they go out and when they stay in, but it gets to the point that Brendon has to force himself to give them alone-time.
So, yeah, Brendon likes Regan. They share a love of classic rock (most of the women he picks up are scene queens or into his own band, so he doesn't often get to debate the merits of David Gilmour vs. Roger Waters vs. Syd Barrett like he can with her), and Regan's got as few personal boundaries as Brendon, so they get along fine.
Plus, Regan's hot. Call him shallow, but at least he's honest with himself. Brendon's not going to poach his roommate's girl or anything, but she's easy on the eyes and she's good company, so he's not going to complain if she spends more nights at their condo than her own apartment.
It's not even weird when she comes over to hang out when Shane's out of town on a job. He's gone for a week, doing some filming for an independent outfit, some stuff he hopes to incorporate into his next short, and Regan comes over three days out of five. The night Shane is supposed to come back, she arrives at 6pm with a half pepperoni/half veggie-lovers pizza and a six pack of Corona. When Brendon waves her through the door, she heads directly for the living room, setting the pizza on the coffee table and taking a piece as she drops onto the sofa. Brendon stops in the kitchen to get some napkins, then takes a spot at the other end of the sofa. Regan plops her feet into his lap, and they eat the entire pie while they watch a VH1Classic special about Boston.
(They end up arguing semi-seriously about the reunion tour. Brendon is adamantly against it. Seriously, how can they tour without Brad Delp? He was their lead singer. It's not like Brendon's going to off himself or anything, but he'd be bummed if he died and Panic moved on like he never even existed. Regan, on the other hand, holds that the lineup retains only one founding member, so the band is Boston in name only, and thus the identity of the singer is unimportant.)
VH1 gives way to fuse's rebroadcasts of Bill and Ted's journeys, and the next thing Brendon knows, he's waking to a crick in his neck and an infomercial for male enhancement products on the TV. Regan is curled up against him, her breath warm on his collarbone, her hand tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Sleep-muddled, he spends a long, disoriented moment studying the way her eyelashes rest on the curve of her cheek, and he can't think how they ended up this way. Usually when he wakes up with someone asleep on him, they're naked, and the night started out differently. To be sure he doesn't say something to that effect, he waits until his brain/mouth filter is functional before he wakes Regan enough to send her to bed in Shane's room.
He drinks a glass of water and heads to his own room, but he lies there in the dark, not clear why he can't sleep again. He watches the glowing digits on his bedside clock tick an hour before he hears the front door open. Shane's home. Quiet footsteps pass Brendon's bedroom door, then there's the low murmur of conversation that peters out into silence.
The next morning, Brendon stumbles out to the kitchen in his boxers as usual, and makes coffee. He's standing there, bleary-eyed, waiting for the drip to stop, when Regan comes out. She nudges him out of the way and opens the cabinet to find mugs, fills them. Then she picks one up and offers it to Brendon, following it with a soft kiss. He's not coherent, that's the only excuse he can think of, because he kisses back.
They're still standing there, and his fingers are getting warm from the heat of the coffee, but his lips and other parts are getting even warmer, when he hears a gasp.
He rears back, wide-eyed, to find Shane gaping at them.
"Shane--"
"Fuck, that's hot."
Shane crowds them against the counter, *both of them*, and kisses Regan, tipping her head, and when she tugs Brendon closer he can see Shane's tongue stretch out and swipe shiny gloss Bden'd left on her lips.
(and then they have awesome sex that doesn't end their friendship, and it's not awkward the day after or anything. the end.)
Brendon/Spencer, bandom firefighter/EMT AU
A long time ago, vic_ramsey asked for Spencer-as-a-hot-firefighter and nurse-Brendon taking care of him, but I liked the idea of EMT-Brendon better, and she agreed that it would work. They're not in the same house - their companies are close, geographically, though, so sometimes they get called to the same scenes. Like this one:
There are people still in that building, people who worked there. Spencer's company and two others still have men inside, even though it's clear now that their efforts will only contain the fire. The structure is beyond saving now. Spencer should be IN THERE, getting people out. His lungs are tight, but it's not a big deal, he's worked through worse. He tries to stand up, but the weight of tank and mask make it easy for the EMT who's been fussing over him to push him back down.
"Shut up and sit down. A couple of guys from the Forty-third are bringing the last of the plant's employees out now."
The guy - his name tag says B. Urie - slaps an oxygen mask onto Spencer's face and snaps the elastic band over his head, then Spencer's heavy coat and equipment is being efficiently removed.
By the time the scene is under control, Spencer feels better. He really does NOT need to see a doctor, no matter what Brendon and his smirking partner, Shane, think. Spencer tries to climb out of the back of the van, but his lieutenant, Zack, glares him into submission, and he falls back against the gurney, closing his eyes until he hears the thump of the doors closing.
There is no need for the sirens. He can't believe he has to actually say it - yell it, really. But he does.
"Turn that OFF! This isn't an emergency."
"Dude, you are a firefighter. You can't tell me half the reason you didn't become one was for the ladder truck and the sirens."
Point. But still.
Whatever he's about to say in response is muffled when they take a corner sharply, and Spencer grabs onto Brendon's arm to keep from tumbling onto the floor.
"You shoulda let me strap you in."
"Yeah no." Spencer straightens. "Should he be driving without supervision?"
"Shane's gotta learn to drive the rig at some point. Next trip will probably actually require the flash and noise." Shane cuts off a Mustang convertible when he changes lanes, and earns a loud honk and rude hand gestures. Brendon laughs. "Rock on, man. That car is a midlife-crisis waiting to happen."
Spencer relaxes a little when he realizes that no matter what he says, he's still going to the hospital. Brendon keeps up non-stop patter about the fire, about the day's shift, about Shane, who just qualified for the EMT spot after spending a few years as an RN.
Brendon bitches when Shane changes the radio to country music, but he knows all the words to the perky Shania Twain song that filters back to them. Spencer is amused. He's even more amused when Brendon, who's been moving around the van, putting equipment away and inventorying supplies, does a little dance and wiggles his ass to the beat. It's a nice ass, and it's right in front of him, so he doesn't allow himself to feel guilty when Brendon catches him mid-ogle. He feels like he deserves some sort of compensation since he knows that he's going to spend the lion's share of his day writing up paperwork to satisfy HR and workman's comp board.
When they pull into the ambulance bay, Spencer tries to climb out on his own, but Brendon manages to keep him on the gurney, and then he and Shane are trundling him in the doors. Shane and Brendon are all efficiency and business, and soon he's propped up on a table behind a curtain, and there's a white-coat with a stethoscope, telling him to unbutton.
Although it feels like Spencer is in the ER for an interminably long time, it's probably only thirty minutes from the time the harried resident listened to his lungs, requested a pulse-ox and chest x-ray, and told him he had a severe case of smoke inhalation.
Duh.
It's not like Spencer's expecting Brendon and Shane to take him back to his house, or anything, but he does look around expectantly when the doctor signs his release and he finds his way back toward the entrance.
He's totally NOT disappointed when he spots Pete flirtng with the intake nurse, a tall guy with a curly 'fro and some interesting tattoos.
He will admit, however, that he is more than a little curious about the hot EMT who treated him, and Pete's happy to share the gossip about the Thirty-Ninth, housed two districts over. He's never been that interested in the city-wide football tournaments that the FD hosts, but when he hears that Brendon usually attends, he decides he might have a change of heart.
Everything goes swimmingly until Brendon and his partner Shane end up in danger, either hurt when they get called into a still-active gang/drive-by situation or maybe just in danger in a hostage situation, and then Spencer is all YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO PUT YOURSELF IN THAT TYPE OF SITUATION EVER AGAIN! because he was worried sick, and he's a a control freak who cannot express emotions clearly. Brendon's like, BUT IT'S MY JOB, I CAN'T MAKE ANY PROMISES!
Spencer's freaking out, and they fight. HE WANTS BRENDON NOT TO DO THAT TO HIM EVER AGAIN! But Brendon loves his job! He likes saving people and he'll admit he's an adrenaline junkie just like Spencer is.
They go for a couple of weeks without talking and it's awkward when their houses get called to the same fires and accidents, but their buddies don't know what to do. Spencer *seethes*, because Shane is getting all the smiles and free time that should be *his*, but he's not backing down. Brendon could get HURT! He shouldn't be doing dangerous calls like that!
And then someone in his ladder gets hurt and Spencer ends up having a long talk with his/her spouse (lol, IDK, maybe Pete and Patrick?), who accepts that that is just the way it is, and you can't change people and shouldn't WANT to, and their acceptance makes him see what a hypocrite he's being.
And Spencer WANTS to apologize to Brendon, but Shane, who is very protective of the dude who helped him when he first moved to the new house and was nervous about switching from being a regular nurse to being an EMT, is ALWAYS THERE. Spencer never gets a chance to talk to Brendon alone. And he's getting growly and cranky about it, starting to be REALLY jealous, but then he meets Regan and realizes he doesn't need to be. After threatening that he knows where Spencer sleeps when he's on duty, Shane finally relents and allows Spencer some alone-time with Brendon, and Spencer apologizes.
Queue makeup sex and cuddles.
GK, Brad/OFC with Brad/Nate UST
Nurses gossiping at the registration desk was nothing new; Molly generally listened without contributing, and often without giving much weight to whatever rumor was being circulated. It never hurt, though, to catch up on hospital scuttlebutt before getting back into the swing of things, especially before a weekend of night shifts.
Nita, Michelle, and Randi huddled together, talking animatedly. She dropped her stuff in her locker in the doctor's lounge, and when she returned they were still chattering. Evidently whatever had happened while she was off for three days (three consecutive midweek days off, for the first time in months) had the ER staff abuzz.
"Did you watch--"
"Yes! And then I found the articles--"
"Is it really him?"
"Yes. And he's even hotter than the actor who played him."
Before they broke into outright giggles, Molly interrupted. "He who, and what actor?"
This was going to be the beginning of a long Brad/OFC fic with reference to UST between Brad & Nate. Most of it is just copy-pasted notes from emails and texts to why_me_why_not.
Basically, Brad and Nate were well aware that of UST, but since Brad is a Marine for life, he's never going to act on it, and Nate's plan to move back to the East Coast and get involved in politics/analysis means that he can let it go. They never talk about it, but they communicate well enough without words. The possibility of what *might* be (or might've been) can't overshadow what *is*. Nate goes to Harvard, gets his degrees, meets his future wife, and settles in MD/DC happily enough. Brad does his stint with the Royal Marines, then he's back with 1st Recon for a couple more tours of Iraq, and then he gets sent to Quantico, to train baby officers at OCS.
He meets Molly McKenna at DC General, when he takes a bunch of the recruits to see the physical effects of trauma patients up close and personal.
At first he's indifferent - she's just another doctor - and she's annoyed because he's TAKING UP SPACE in her ER. And the nurses spend a ridiculous amount of time ogling him.
She doesn't watch a lot of TV so she never saw GK, and most of the reading she does is work-related, so no idea about the books, but she's got her own baggage, so when they finally become more friendly, she gets that Brad's spent a lot of time being emotionally unavailable, even if he's worked through it (a little - he dated a few people, but not seriously).
Molly loves her job - it's hard, and most of her med school classmates have cushy private practices now, but she's an adrenaline junkie, and she can't give up the ER, even if it means working at an understaffed, underfunded inner city hospital. And she's not afraid to bitch at Brad when one of his probies gets in the way in the middle of a weekend night flood of gunshot and knife-fight wounds.
Brad sort of likes that about her. He's unwillingly charmed by her sarcasm and competence. And the way her ass looks in scrubs. She isnt' a big fan of soldiers. (Relationship and family baggage.) But he grows on her. Plus, once they all learn to fade into the background, out of her way, it's nice to have eyecandy decorating the place early in the evening, before it gets crazy busy and she forgets there are observers there.
In any case, it's not a big deal - a working relationship, where he's in her workspace to take care of his - until there's gang violence in the ER and Molly *has it under control*, she's *dealt with this shit before, okay; what is she, a noob?* but then Brad interferes, and it all ends without anymore casualties, but Molly is *pissed*. He usurped her authority and now she's going to have to deal with them once Colbert's GONE, and there's some yelling and her drilling her finger into his chest (ouch, there's no give there) before she stomps off.
Which could've been the end of it, but the next weekend is the first one after the Killology/ER visits end, and it also happens to be one when Nate - he and his wife didn't just *disappear* from Brad's life, esp now that he's in the DC area - invite him to some fancy fundraising shindig, and Molly's there. (Um... I don't know what the RL!Nate Fick's wife does - I don't WANT to know - but in my imaginary world, she does something non-profit-organization related, something involved with fund-raising, and there are less than six degrees of separation between Molly and Brad via Nate & his wife.) He almost doesn't recognize her all dressed up.
I think he apologizes without *actually* apologizing. And she's really bored with (or possibly offended by) her date for the evening. So they end up chatting. And Nate's all, "Srsly? I have never seen you like that with a woman before. Did you find someone you actually LIKE, outside of fucking?"
And Brad's like, "We are so not fucking. She's the ER doc." Who he'd been telling Nate about, in terms of competence and skill, without actually admitting that she was a SHE. So Nate's all O.o and maybe a bit wistful b/c he remembers being the one in whom Brad had complete confidence, although he's pretty sure Brad doesn't even realize that yet.
At the end of the evening of socializing - Molly and Margaret (*facepalm* Let's not talk about how creepy it is that I know RL!Nate's wife's name; DAMN YOU, ANDREW EXUM, FOR TELLING ME THIS VIA TWITTER) get on pretty well, which is good since she's going to be doing more PR-related stuff for the hospital board - Brad sees Molly off from the fundraiser where they ran into each other. The next day Molly does all her usual errand-type things and chores, and when she gets home - she deliberately doesn't take a beeper or cell phone with her when she's not on call - there's a message from Maggie inviting her to a dinner party. It's a cook-out really. (I totally imagine them living in Bethesda, which is ridic expensive but whatever; there are a lot of military ppl around and sciency people, b/c Uniformed Health Services, Walter Reed, and NIH are there.)
Brad, who's staying with them for the weekend, rather than going back and forth between DC & Quantico every day, ends up taking Molly home, b/c she took the Metro, and he's polite - he knows that Maggie (and Nate, b/c Nate thinks he's sneaky, trying to encourage Brad to find someone that makes him happy but he is totally NOT SUBTLE; he lost the blank officer's expression he used to wear all the time when he didn't have to practice not laughing at Person's ridiculousness 24/7) invited her for his sake. Which wasn't necessary - Brad has no problem talking to Andrew and Tom and John and David, or even being polite to their GFs and wives, even though he's not particularly good at small talk - but he appreciates it. He also appreciates the sundress that Molly wore, although he does not care for the fact that Andrew clearly admires it just as much.
Brad maybe takes the longer, city-street route to get her home when she climbs on the back of his bike without hesitation, tucking her skirt between her thighs and his.
.
.
But there is also some really sad it never even got to the idea of sex discussion between Molly and Brad about Nate because Molly has *eyes* and she's not stupid. She's an Army brat, and she totally thinks that Don't Ask Don't Tell is a shitty policy for a career Marine and for someone who clearly has political ambitions, because Molly can totally see that the two of them *get* each other. (The entire conversations they have without actually speaking are fucking weird. She's seen that in friends and couples that have been together for a long time, and she's vaguely surprised that Brad and Nate can still communicate that way.)
Also, there's Brad thinking that when he gets transferred back to 1st Marines at Pendleton to gear up for another tour in Iraq (even though he's going to be with H&S instead of Bravo Company, which makes him D:) that Molly's going to be done with it, or that things'll go south, and there's some attempt on his part to be cool and unemotional, but she ends up actually reading the book, and talking to Nate, and even if Brad doesn't quite believe it, she's not going to be his ex, giving up when things get hard. She got through med school, she dealt with *her own* ex's bullshit, and she's got enough to do to keep her busy. Which is not to say that she doesn't worry.
But he makes it back from the next tour (he might have a minor injury? and she's all, "What butcher stitched this? IT IS GOING TO SCAR, I COULD'VE DONE A MUCH BETTER JOB, WTF!" when she sees it - he didn't tell her when it happened), and she visits at Pendleton, and there's omg-i-missed-you sex, and talking, and eventually she takes a job at a hospital in LA, which isn't ideal, but is closer to Pendleton than DC, and they live (mostly) happily ever after.