Slayer'verse: Welcome to Paradise
Fandom: BtVS, HSM, and Bandom (MCR)
Pairing: Bob/Frank, Brian/Ray/Gerard
Rating: R
Word Count: 675
Spoilers: For saekokato’s Perhaps Vampire is a Bit Strong But…
Warnings: sexual content?
Author's Note: I’m going to eventually stop apologizing for the crack that seeps out of my brain. For saekokato! Title from Green Day and stardustonsable, who created the fanmix for PViaBSB.
Disclaimer: HSM is that of Disney and Ortega. Buffy is that of Joss. MCR belong to themselves.
Summary: It’s the last part of Kilky’s prophesy, and it’s a bitch.
Welcome to Paradise
Bob’s phone rings at the exact same time as Frank’s. They’ve just returned from a hunt, and Bob is covered in bits and pieces of several different types of demons that happened to have green blood. He wants a shower, to fuck Frank into the mattress, then shower again. Maybe fuck Frank in the shower. Bob still needs to make good on his promise to fuck Frank up against the wall.
Bob pushes the heel of his hand against his dick through his jeans as he scowls at his phone, whereas Frank answers his immediately. But Frank’s watching Bob’s hand with sharp eyes.
Brain is calling Bob, so he figures either Ray or Gerard is calling Frank. He’s about to say that gossip can wait until they’re clean and fucked out, but Frank answers his phone, answering with “This is he,” and Bob’s scowl deepens.
He answers his own phone. “What is it, Cupcake?” If Brian’s going to call to complain about the latest demon to crawl out of the Hellmouth, Bob’ll be damned if he won’t have the upper hand.
“We had visitors today,” Brian says, not even bothering with the niceties. Bob can hear Brian’s glower over the phone.
“You finally won Publisher’s Clearing House?” Bob grumbles.
“Shut the fuck up,” Brian says moodily. “This is important. If I interrupted your Special Time with Frank, you can damn well wait a moment.”
Bob looks across the room to Frank, who’s still staring at Bob, but his expression has changed.
“The WC asked me to be a Watcher to a new Slayer,” Brian says.
“Okay,” Bob says, because seriously? What the hell else should he say? Other than “Did you take it?”
“Hell no,” Brian scoffs.
“You’re going to stay in Snowflake with your husbands?” Bob teases. “Did the WC want you to stop playing house?”
“Shut the fuck up, Bryar,” Brian grumbles. “I just wanted to warn you that they might try to contact you. You’d better be prepared.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Bob says. “Can I go back to fu- ”
“Fuck yeah!” Frank shouts. “I’m going to be the best fucking Watcher ever!”
“Shit,” Bob says, sighing. “I fucking hate you, Schechter.”
“What?” Brian says. Bob can barely hear it over the sound of Frank jumping on him and whooping.
Bob drops Frank onto the floor. “They fucking called Frank,” Bob says dryly, stumbling over a few words as Frank winds his arms around Bob’s legs, and one stray hand traces the seam of Bob’s jeans that lies just above his ass crack. Bob has no idea why Frank’s molesting Bob’s legs when they’re covered in demon chunks - other than the fact that Frank is insane. It’s just that normally he’s insane and clean.
“Think of it this way,” Brain says diplomatically. “At least the blue feathers will stop.”
“I fucking hate you,” Bob repeats, growling into the phone. He hangs up when Brain starts laughing at him. “Asshole.”
Bob looks down at Frank, who grins up at him. Bob takes a deep breath, and says, “You need someone to watch you.”
Frank scrambles to his feet. “All this time, Bryar, and I never knew you were into voyeurism…”
Bob flushes slightly - not on purpose or anything, but Frank catches it. He licks the side of Bob’s face, and it’s not at all sexy.
Bob pushes Frank away. “Let me shower, and then you can convince me that you are not out of your damn mind.”
Frank waggles his eyebrows, and Bob amends, “Let me shower, fuck you, and then you can attempt to convince me that this is a good idea.”
“It’s in New Mexico. We’d be really close to Snowflake,” Frank says. “And we’d have a fully furnished apartment paid in full - with a washer and drier. A huge monthly stipend with - ”
“I haven’t showered yet - or fucked you, Iero. Why the hell are you talking?” Bob demands.
Frank smirks, wriggles out of his jeans, and yanks his shirt over his head before he races into the bathroom.
Pairing: Bob/Frank, Brian/Ray/Gerard
Rating: R
Word Count: 675
Spoilers: For saekokato’s Perhaps Vampire is a Bit Strong But…
Warnings: sexual content?
Author's Note: I’m going to eventually stop apologizing for the crack that seeps out of my brain. For saekokato! Title from Green Day and stardustonsable, who created the fanmix for PViaBSB.
Disclaimer: HSM is that of Disney and Ortega. Buffy is that of Joss. MCR belong to themselves.
Summary: It’s the last part of Kilky’s prophesy, and it’s a bitch.
Welcome to Paradise
Bob’s phone rings at the exact same time as Frank’s. They’ve just returned from a hunt, and Bob is covered in bits and pieces of several different types of demons that happened to have green blood. He wants a shower, to fuck Frank into the mattress, then shower again. Maybe fuck Frank in the shower. Bob still needs to make good on his promise to fuck Frank up against the wall.
Bob pushes the heel of his hand against his dick through his jeans as he scowls at his phone, whereas Frank answers his immediately. But Frank’s watching Bob’s hand with sharp eyes.
Brain is calling Bob, so he figures either Ray or Gerard is calling Frank. He’s about to say that gossip can wait until they’re clean and fucked out, but Frank answers his phone, answering with “This is he,” and Bob’s scowl deepens.
He answers his own phone. “What is it, Cupcake?” If Brian’s going to call to complain about the latest demon to crawl out of the Hellmouth, Bob’ll be damned if he won’t have the upper hand.
“We had visitors today,” Brian says, not even bothering with the niceties. Bob can hear Brian’s glower over the phone.
“You finally won Publisher’s Clearing House?” Bob grumbles.
“Shut the fuck up,” Brian says moodily. “This is important. If I interrupted your Special Time with Frank, you can damn well wait a moment.”
Bob looks across the room to Frank, who’s still staring at Bob, but his expression has changed.
“The WC asked me to be a Watcher to a new Slayer,” Brian says.
“Okay,” Bob says, because seriously? What the hell else should he say? Other than “Did you take it?”
“Hell no,” Brian scoffs.
“You’re going to stay in Snowflake with your husbands?” Bob teases. “Did the WC want you to stop playing house?”
“Shut the fuck up, Bryar,” Brian grumbles. “I just wanted to warn you that they might try to contact you. You’d better be prepared.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Bob says. “Can I go back to fu- ”
“Fuck yeah!” Frank shouts. “I’m going to be the best fucking Watcher ever!”
“Shit,” Bob says, sighing. “I fucking hate you, Schechter.”
“What?” Brian says. Bob can barely hear it over the sound of Frank jumping on him and whooping.
Bob drops Frank onto the floor. “They fucking called Frank,” Bob says dryly, stumbling over a few words as Frank winds his arms around Bob’s legs, and one stray hand traces the seam of Bob’s jeans that lies just above his ass crack. Bob has no idea why Frank’s molesting Bob’s legs when they’re covered in demon chunks - other than the fact that Frank is insane. It’s just that normally he’s insane and clean.
“Think of it this way,” Brain says diplomatically. “At least the blue feathers will stop.”
“I fucking hate you,” Bob repeats, growling into the phone. He hangs up when Brain starts laughing at him. “Asshole.”
Bob looks down at Frank, who grins up at him. Bob takes a deep breath, and says, “You need someone to watch you.”
Frank scrambles to his feet. “All this time, Bryar, and I never knew you were into voyeurism…”
Bob flushes slightly - not on purpose or anything, but Frank catches it. He licks the side of Bob’s face, and it’s not at all sexy.
Bob pushes Frank away. “Let me shower, and then you can convince me that you are not out of your damn mind.”
Frank waggles his eyebrows, and Bob amends, “Let me shower, fuck you, and then you can attempt to convince me that this is a good idea.”
“It’s in New Mexico. We’d be really close to Snowflake,” Frank says. “And we’d have a fully furnished apartment paid in full - with a washer and drier. A huge monthly stipend with - ”
“I haven’t showered yet - or fucked you, Iero. Why the hell are you talking?” Bob demands.
Frank smirks, wriggles out of his jeans, and yanks his shirt over his head before he races into the bathroom.