fic exchange: First Add The Fruit Onto A Yellow Backdrop
Written by: tristafantastic
Title: First Add The Fruit Onto A Yellow Backdrop
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ian/Johnson
Recipient: kirokiro
Summary: Johnson finds Ian in a compromising position. He tells no one, but Ian doesn't know that.
Ian sneaks into the dressing room while he knows that no one else will be there. He can't have any of the other guys seeing what he's up to. It's too embarrassing, too... weird. He can't have them knowing about this particular character quirk, no way. He knows that Johnson is outside smoking and that Marshall, Cash and Singer are far down the street looking for a Starbucks or something similar. He's safe for now because he knows that Johnson doesn't like being cooped up in the dressing room right before a show and that the other three aren't close enough to get back on time.
He sets his bag down on the horrible green sofa against the wall and begins to dig through it. He smiles when he finds what he's looking for, when he feels the soft material against his calloused fingertips. He pulls the garment out from the bottom of his bag, smoothes the wrinkles out and then holds it up to his chest. He'd gotten it at the last stop, said he was buying it for his mom but there was no way that he was giving this little gem to his mother. He's definitely going to keep it.
Immediately he drops the dress down onto the couch and undresses himself. He leaves his boxers on only and then reaches for the garment. He pulls it on over his head and delights in the way the silkiness slides against his legs. He pushes his arms through the holes and settles the dress around his shoulders. Ian does a little spin, causing the flowing skirt of the dress to bounce and curl around his thighs. Ian likes the way the colour, yellow, contrasts his pale skin. He does one more twirl before rushing to the bathroom to look in the mirror.
The only thing Ian notices as wrong is the fact that the chest is too big for him. He had expected that, so it doesn't bother him. He knows that despite the fact that he's in the cutest yellow fruit covered sundress he's ever seen, he's still a boy and therefore lacks the body parts to fill out the top part of a woman's dress. Ian likes being a boy so this doesn't upset him at all. He likes being a boy but he also likes wearing dresses, is there really something wrong with that?
"Holy shit dude, you look like you're wearing a fruit salad! Did you lose a fucking bet?" comes Johnson's voice from the doorway to the washroom. Ian flips around to stare at him, wide eyed in horror. "What?" Johnson asks, coming further into the washroom, forcing Ian to back up.
He doesn't want Johnson seeing him like this, he doesn't want Johnson to know. He wishes that Johnson would just leave and never mention this again. "Get out!" Ian cries. "Get out, Johnson." He knows immediately that yelling at Johnson to get the fuck out is likely the last way he should have gone about handling this situation. He knows by the look on Johnson's face that he's just realized the delicacy of what he's just walked in on. He knows that this isn't anything about a lost bet; this is about how Ian is a freak.
"Ian-" Johnson says as he reaches his arms forward. The action is futile because it only serves to force Ian back further into the washroom. He's almost in the bathtub now and he hopes that Johnson doesn't try to corner him because he's not sure how he'll react if Johnson does. The only thing he does know is that it will end badly. Johnson seems to get the point though because Ian is staring at him, wide eyed and terrified. Johnson slowly backs out. "I'll just... smoking yeah. I'll be outside." He turns around and rushes out.
Ian slumps against the wall when Johnson leaves, knees buckling and sending him to the floor with a thud. He settles his hands over his face and bites his lip. That definitely was not supposed to happen. Not at all.
***
Ian ignores Johnson that night. He shoves his headphones in and curls up by himself on one of the benches in the van. He doesn't want to talk to Johnson, he doesn't want to talk to anyone because he figures that Johnson has already let the rest of the band know about his little embarrassment. He doesn't want to answer the questions that he's sure they'll ask; he doesn't want to deal with the teasing. Ian doesn't even look up when someone plops down onto the bench beside him, he just stays curled up, eyes staring out the window seemingly staring at the trees as they fly by but not actually focusing on anything.
***
Ian wakes with his head pillowed on someone's shoulder. The van is at a standstill and that's likely why he'd woken. Ian finds it fairly easy to sleep in the van, not as easy as Singer does, but he always seems to wake when they stop. The van is empty except for the person he's leaning on so Ian figures they've stopped to fuel up, to get some food; take a piss. He looks out the window quickly to see Cash leaning against a tree, smoking. Ian looks beside him, expecting to see Johnson but Cash is alone. He watches as Singer runs up to Cash, holding a bag from the convenience store and doing a little dance. He can't see Marshall or Johnson but he knows that it must be one of them that he's still leaning against. His playlist on his ipod has long since ended so all he can hear is breathing from beside him.
"You're awake." It's a statement, not a question so Ian finds himself nodding. Johnson is the one beside him. Johnson is the last person that he wants to be talking to. Ian shies away from his touch. "Ian, about earli-"
"I need to piss," Ian says. He stands up, pushes past Johnson and heads to the grungy truck stop washroom.
When he gets back to the van, Marshall is the one driving. Ian clicks his Rockstar open and climbs into the passenger seat. This leaves Johnson alone on his bench and Singer and Cash together in the middle, sharing a giant bag of candy. Ian flashes a smile to Marshall and clicks his can against his friend's. "How about some company?"
Marshall smiles at him, "Promise you won't fall asleep like Singer did?"
Ian holds up his energy drink again, "Fat chance of that," he says.
"Sounds good to me," Marshall grins. "I bet even after eating all that candy, Singer is asleep before we leave the city."
Ian smirks and nods because he knows that Marshall is right.
***
It's days later, the next time Johnson manages to get Ian alone. He backs him into this tiny room off the side of the stage. The room is full of mops, mop buckets, brooms and the like. Ian can only assume that it's a janitor's closet. By this time Ian realizes that Johnson hasn't told anyone about what he'd seen and for that Ian is thankful. He's not thankful enough to talk to Johnson though, he's not thankful enough to want to talk about it.
"You're avoiding me." Again, it's a statement and Ian can only find himself nodding to the fact. "Why?" Ian doesn't even dignify that question with an answer. He backs up against the far wall and refuses to meet Johnson's eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks pointedly at the floor instead. "Ian... "
"Can you just fuck off? I appreciate that you didn't tell anyone what you saw, okay? Thank you, is that what you fucking wanted from me?" Ian demands. He finally meets Johnson's eyes, his fiery with anger and Johnson's dull with confusion. "If that's what you want, you've got it now can you fucking just leave me alone?"
"No, I can't," comes Johnson's reply. Ian can feel him, he's close, too close and Ian just wants to run away. Johnson is blocking the door to the room though and even though Johnson's not very big, he's bigger than Ian and Ian knows that he can't get past. "I want you to talk to me."
"That's not something I want to do right now," Ian states. "Now move, please."
"I can't. I can't until we talk this out. We're not even fucking friends anymore and that's not cool. We were all so close before... before that thing and now you're pushing yourself away from everyone. It's not just me that misses you Ian, you're not the moody one in this band. We all miss you."
Ian wants to ignore what Johnson is saying, to dismiss it entirely as untrue but he can't. He knows that Johnson is right. He's been distancing himself away from everyone even though he knows that Johnson is the only one armed with the embarrassing knowledge that Ian likes to wear dresses. He's been keeping himself away from the rest of the band because he's been keeping himself away from Johnson and someone is bound to start to notice, if they haven't already. This isn't what Ian is like at all. He misses himself as much as he misses the rest of the band. Ian wishes that he could go back, back before the incident so that he can just be Ian again.
"I don't feel like talking to anyone," Ian states. It's not true though. Now that Johnson has pointed it out, Ian realizes that Johnson is right and that he misses them all desperately. They are his best friends, after all.
"You're a liar. You don't want to talk to me because you're afraid that I'll talk about that thing that I walked in on you doing. Frankly Ian, you're a fucking idiot. I don't give a damn if you want to wear a frilly fruit salad every once in a while. I'm not going to tell the other guys so you can relax about that just... be Ian again." It's like Johnson is reading his thoughts, the way he'd just taken exactly what Ian had been thinking about and put it into words.
Ian looks up, this time not in anger, this time in confusion. "You don't care about it?" Ian asks. "Seriously? You don't think it's fucked up?"
"It's a bit quirky but it's not even a big deal. Cash has a fucking tattoo that says thirtizzle." Johnson smirks at the idea. "Seriously, that cute little dress you had on has nothing on that. At least you can take the dress off."
"You thought it was cute?" Ian asks.
Now it's Johnson's turn to be embarrassed. His cheeks flame with redness and he drops his eyes to the floor. "It made your legs look really good."
Ian smiles at him shyly. "You think my legs look good?" He starts to walk forward, getting closer to Johnson, crowding him up against the door.
"Maybe." Johnson takes a step back so that he's right against the door. Ian walks closer to him again.
It seems like the entirety of the past week is forgotten when Ian presses against Johnson lightly, pulling his friend in for a hug. He has missed Johnson even though the whole not talking thing is his fault entirely. He nuzzles Johnson's shoulder and then grins up at him. "What else is nice about me?" he asks, teasing. Johnson only blushes harder. Ian takes this as an invitation and pushes himself up, pressing his lips against Johnson's. He pulls away immediately, just in case Johnson hadn't wanted it only to find the drummer pulling him back, kissing him in earnest.
When they part, Ian grins up at Johnson who is smiling back at him. "I wouldn't mind seeing you in that fruit salad again... " Johnson says quietly, shyly.
"Well you can't," Ian states. "I threw it out but... I can always get a new one. Maybe I can get a fruit hat to match." He kisses Johnson once more before pushing him out of the janitor's closet and back out into the venue. He hadn't expected this turn of events but he's not complaining either.
***
After the show when they're all back in the van, Johnson plops down beside Ian and stretches his legs out. Instead of avoiding his gaze and staring out the window, Ian takes his headphones out and moves closer. "Hey," he says, suddenly nervous about the events that had transpired in the janitor's closet.
"Hey," Johnson replies with a small smile. Ian watches as Johnson studies his lips, the drummer's eyes giving away the thoughts that were racing through his mind. Ian knows that Johnson is thinking about the shared kisses, the way their bodies felt against each other. Ian can tell that he's not regretting it at all. "So next time we have a hotel night, I'm claiming you."
"Maybe I can find some fruit salad," Ian grins. He knows too that Johnson knows exactly what he means by this. He sees a mirroring grin on Johnson's face. He watches as Johnson's hand jerks toward his but doesn't quite brush over his skin.
"Dude, you can't just claim Ian," Singer protests. "That's not fair; Ian is totally the best one to cuddle."
"Fine then, I claim Johnson," Ian replies. "I want to room with him, so there." Ian says and then sticks out his tongue. The resulting argument is immature to say the least. They finally do decide to let Johnson and Ian room together, ‘just this once' and Ian knows that everything is going to be okay. His little secret is safe with Johnson and to be honest, Ian's glad that it's Johnson that knows. Sometimes being quiet isn't necessarily a bad thing, really. Ian thinks it fits Johnson's personality perfectly.
End.
Title: First Add The Fruit Onto A Yellow Backdrop
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ian/Johnson
Recipient: kirokiro
Summary: Johnson finds Ian in a compromising position. He tells no one, but Ian doesn't know that.
Ian sneaks into the dressing room while he knows that no one else will be there. He can't have any of the other guys seeing what he's up to. It's too embarrassing, too... weird. He can't have them knowing about this particular character quirk, no way. He knows that Johnson is outside smoking and that Marshall, Cash and Singer are far down the street looking for a Starbucks or something similar. He's safe for now because he knows that Johnson doesn't like being cooped up in the dressing room right before a show and that the other three aren't close enough to get back on time.
He sets his bag down on the horrible green sofa against the wall and begins to dig through it. He smiles when he finds what he's looking for, when he feels the soft material against his calloused fingertips. He pulls the garment out from the bottom of his bag, smoothes the wrinkles out and then holds it up to his chest. He'd gotten it at the last stop, said he was buying it for his mom but there was no way that he was giving this little gem to his mother. He's definitely going to keep it.
Immediately he drops the dress down onto the couch and undresses himself. He leaves his boxers on only and then reaches for the garment. He pulls it on over his head and delights in the way the silkiness slides against his legs. He pushes his arms through the holes and settles the dress around his shoulders. Ian does a little spin, causing the flowing skirt of the dress to bounce and curl around his thighs. Ian likes the way the colour, yellow, contrasts his pale skin. He does one more twirl before rushing to the bathroom to look in the mirror.
The only thing Ian notices as wrong is the fact that the chest is too big for him. He had expected that, so it doesn't bother him. He knows that despite the fact that he's in the cutest yellow fruit covered sundress he's ever seen, he's still a boy and therefore lacks the body parts to fill out the top part of a woman's dress. Ian likes being a boy so this doesn't upset him at all. He likes being a boy but he also likes wearing dresses, is there really something wrong with that?
"Holy shit dude, you look like you're wearing a fruit salad! Did you lose a fucking bet?" comes Johnson's voice from the doorway to the washroom. Ian flips around to stare at him, wide eyed in horror. "What?" Johnson asks, coming further into the washroom, forcing Ian to back up.
He doesn't want Johnson seeing him like this, he doesn't want Johnson to know. He wishes that Johnson would just leave and never mention this again. "Get out!" Ian cries. "Get out, Johnson." He knows immediately that yelling at Johnson to get the fuck out is likely the last way he should have gone about handling this situation. He knows by the look on Johnson's face that he's just realized the delicacy of what he's just walked in on. He knows that this isn't anything about a lost bet; this is about how Ian is a freak.
"Ian-" Johnson says as he reaches his arms forward. The action is futile because it only serves to force Ian back further into the washroom. He's almost in the bathtub now and he hopes that Johnson doesn't try to corner him because he's not sure how he'll react if Johnson does. The only thing he does know is that it will end badly. Johnson seems to get the point though because Ian is staring at him, wide eyed and terrified. Johnson slowly backs out. "I'll just... smoking yeah. I'll be outside." He turns around and rushes out.
Ian slumps against the wall when Johnson leaves, knees buckling and sending him to the floor with a thud. He settles his hands over his face and bites his lip. That definitely was not supposed to happen. Not at all.
***
Ian ignores Johnson that night. He shoves his headphones in and curls up by himself on one of the benches in the van. He doesn't want to talk to Johnson, he doesn't want to talk to anyone because he figures that Johnson has already let the rest of the band know about his little embarrassment. He doesn't want to answer the questions that he's sure they'll ask; he doesn't want to deal with the teasing. Ian doesn't even look up when someone plops down onto the bench beside him, he just stays curled up, eyes staring out the window seemingly staring at the trees as they fly by but not actually focusing on anything.
***
Ian wakes with his head pillowed on someone's shoulder. The van is at a standstill and that's likely why he'd woken. Ian finds it fairly easy to sleep in the van, not as easy as Singer does, but he always seems to wake when they stop. The van is empty except for the person he's leaning on so Ian figures they've stopped to fuel up, to get some food; take a piss. He looks out the window quickly to see Cash leaning against a tree, smoking. Ian looks beside him, expecting to see Johnson but Cash is alone. He watches as Singer runs up to Cash, holding a bag from the convenience store and doing a little dance. He can't see Marshall or Johnson but he knows that it must be one of them that he's still leaning against. His playlist on his ipod has long since ended so all he can hear is breathing from beside him.
"You're awake." It's a statement, not a question so Ian finds himself nodding. Johnson is the one beside him. Johnson is the last person that he wants to be talking to. Ian shies away from his touch. "Ian, about earli-"
"I need to piss," Ian says. He stands up, pushes past Johnson and heads to the grungy truck stop washroom.
When he gets back to the van, Marshall is the one driving. Ian clicks his Rockstar open and climbs into the passenger seat. This leaves Johnson alone on his bench and Singer and Cash together in the middle, sharing a giant bag of candy. Ian flashes a smile to Marshall and clicks his can against his friend's. "How about some company?"
Marshall smiles at him, "Promise you won't fall asleep like Singer did?"
Ian holds up his energy drink again, "Fat chance of that," he says.
"Sounds good to me," Marshall grins. "I bet even after eating all that candy, Singer is asleep before we leave the city."
Ian smirks and nods because he knows that Marshall is right.
***
It's days later, the next time Johnson manages to get Ian alone. He backs him into this tiny room off the side of the stage. The room is full of mops, mop buckets, brooms and the like. Ian can only assume that it's a janitor's closet. By this time Ian realizes that Johnson hasn't told anyone about what he'd seen and for that Ian is thankful. He's not thankful enough to talk to Johnson though, he's not thankful enough to want to talk about it.
"You're avoiding me." Again, it's a statement and Ian can only find himself nodding to the fact. "Why?" Ian doesn't even dignify that question with an answer. He backs up against the far wall and refuses to meet Johnson's eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks pointedly at the floor instead. "Ian... "
"Can you just fuck off? I appreciate that you didn't tell anyone what you saw, okay? Thank you, is that what you fucking wanted from me?" Ian demands. He finally meets Johnson's eyes, his fiery with anger and Johnson's dull with confusion. "If that's what you want, you've got it now can you fucking just leave me alone?"
"No, I can't," comes Johnson's reply. Ian can feel him, he's close, too close and Ian just wants to run away. Johnson is blocking the door to the room though and even though Johnson's not very big, he's bigger than Ian and Ian knows that he can't get past. "I want you to talk to me."
"That's not something I want to do right now," Ian states. "Now move, please."
"I can't. I can't until we talk this out. We're not even fucking friends anymore and that's not cool. We were all so close before... before that thing and now you're pushing yourself away from everyone. It's not just me that misses you Ian, you're not the moody one in this band. We all miss you."
Ian wants to ignore what Johnson is saying, to dismiss it entirely as untrue but he can't. He knows that Johnson is right. He's been distancing himself away from everyone even though he knows that Johnson is the only one armed with the embarrassing knowledge that Ian likes to wear dresses. He's been keeping himself away from the rest of the band because he's been keeping himself away from Johnson and someone is bound to start to notice, if they haven't already. This isn't what Ian is like at all. He misses himself as much as he misses the rest of the band. Ian wishes that he could go back, back before the incident so that he can just be Ian again.
"I don't feel like talking to anyone," Ian states. It's not true though. Now that Johnson has pointed it out, Ian realizes that Johnson is right and that he misses them all desperately. They are his best friends, after all.
"You're a liar. You don't want to talk to me because you're afraid that I'll talk about that thing that I walked in on you doing. Frankly Ian, you're a fucking idiot. I don't give a damn if you want to wear a frilly fruit salad every once in a while. I'm not going to tell the other guys so you can relax about that just... be Ian again." It's like Johnson is reading his thoughts, the way he'd just taken exactly what Ian had been thinking about and put it into words.
Ian looks up, this time not in anger, this time in confusion. "You don't care about it?" Ian asks. "Seriously? You don't think it's fucked up?"
"It's a bit quirky but it's not even a big deal. Cash has a fucking tattoo that says thirtizzle." Johnson smirks at the idea. "Seriously, that cute little dress you had on has nothing on that. At least you can take the dress off."
"You thought it was cute?" Ian asks.
Now it's Johnson's turn to be embarrassed. His cheeks flame with redness and he drops his eyes to the floor. "It made your legs look really good."
Ian smiles at him shyly. "You think my legs look good?" He starts to walk forward, getting closer to Johnson, crowding him up against the door.
"Maybe." Johnson takes a step back so that he's right against the door. Ian walks closer to him again.
It seems like the entirety of the past week is forgotten when Ian presses against Johnson lightly, pulling his friend in for a hug. He has missed Johnson even though the whole not talking thing is his fault entirely. He nuzzles Johnson's shoulder and then grins up at him. "What else is nice about me?" he asks, teasing. Johnson only blushes harder. Ian takes this as an invitation and pushes himself up, pressing his lips against Johnson's. He pulls away immediately, just in case Johnson hadn't wanted it only to find the drummer pulling him back, kissing him in earnest.
When they part, Ian grins up at Johnson who is smiling back at him. "I wouldn't mind seeing you in that fruit salad again... " Johnson says quietly, shyly.
"Well you can't," Ian states. "I threw it out but... I can always get a new one. Maybe I can get a fruit hat to match." He kisses Johnson once more before pushing him out of the janitor's closet and back out into the venue. He hadn't expected this turn of events but he's not complaining either.
***
After the show when they're all back in the van, Johnson plops down beside Ian and stretches his legs out. Instead of avoiding his gaze and staring out the window, Ian takes his headphones out and moves closer. "Hey," he says, suddenly nervous about the events that had transpired in the janitor's closet.
"Hey," Johnson replies with a small smile. Ian watches as Johnson studies his lips, the drummer's eyes giving away the thoughts that were racing through his mind. Ian knows that Johnson is thinking about the shared kisses, the way their bodies felt against each other. Ian can tell that he's not regretting it at all. "So next time we have a hotel night, I'm claiming you."
"Maybe I can find some fruit salad," Ian grins. He knows too that Johnson knows exactly what he means by this. He sees a mirroring grin on Johnson's face. He watches as Johnson's hand jerks toward his but doesn't quite brush over his skin.
"Dude, you can't just claim Ian," Singer protests. "That's not fair; Ian is totally the best one to cuddle."
"Fine then, I claim Johnson," Ian replies. "I want to room with him, so there." Ian says and then sticks out his tongue. The resulting argument is immature to say the least. They finally do decide to let Johnson and Ian room together, ‘just this once' and Ian knows that everything is going to be okay. His little secret is safe with Johnson and to be honest, Ian's glad that it's Johnson that knows. Sometimes being quiet isn't necessarily a bad thing, really. Ian thinks it fits Johnson's personality perfectly.
End.