holiday exchange: Even The Drummer Gets Some
Author: elessar
Title: Even The Drummer Gets Some
Rating: R (implicit smut)
Pairing: Johnson/Brendon/Spencer
Recipient: cherrygal3
Summary: At the annual FBR/DD holiday party, Johnson arrives alone. Leaving, however, is a completely different story.
If Johnson were asked to rate his own band members in terms of most to least attractive, including himself, he would come in last. There was no contest in his mind. Cash, Singer, Marshall, and Ian all had their perks in their features. Sharp edges or perfect hair. Johnson couldn't compete with their naturally good looks, so he really didn't try. He wasn't the 'hot' guy of the band. He was the fucking drummer.
So it was no surprise when the Fueled by Ramen/Decaydance holiday party came around and all four of his bandmates ended up with dates except for him. He really didn't care. Dates made things that much more complicated and this way, he could enjoy the party without worrying about pleasing his date. His other band mates would worry about what present to get their significant other and Johnson could stay relaxed and just worry about not making an ass out of himself.
Which, surprisingly enough, was actually not that hard. Johnson liked to drink, sure, and it wasn't like Pete Wentz was trying to punish the underage kids like himself by refusing to serve alcohol to him, but he was pretty good at knowing his limit. So all in all, a fun party would be had, he hoped.
When one by one his bandmates started disappearing for the party with their various people attached to their hips, Johnson knew he would be able to get ready in peace and quiet. And surely enough, he picked out his supposedly snazzy party outfit, combed his hair, and even took a chance with a splash of cologne. This party was going to kick ass, arriving solo or not. Besides, in the words of a wise man (aka Patrick Stump, singer and apparent relationship guru extraordinaire) it's not who you arrive with, but who you leave with.
Once Johnson arrived to the party scene, it was already going full throttle. There were a ton of people he knew and didn't know. Some of them were dancing, others socializing, and still others were developing some drinking games that Johnson was pretty sure most college campuses would be jealous to learn about.
It seemed like everyone had their own group of people. There was Patrick talking intently with Travis and Gabe (and Johnson couldn't help but laugh at how Patrick was trying to stretch his short body up and the two giants had to crane their necks just to hear him), Greta and Victoria grinding up against each other while several men watched in awe, and the Panic boys (half of which were clearly high on something) engaged in what appeared to be a philosophical discussion about socks. Or at least, that was what Johnson guessed when he picked up a few choice words.
Johnson would have joined his friends except most of them seemed to be engaged in what he liked to call "extreme heavy petting" and Johnson was pretty sure that if he even tried to pull them from their physical games that he would end up getting his ass kicked back to Vegas. And that was definitely the last thing Johnson wanted right now.
So he stayed off by the drinks, picking up a beer for himself and ignoring the tsking noises he could barely hear coming from Andy Hurley. The guy was a sick drummer at least which made the fact that Hurley was even paying attention to Johnson's existence just freaking awesome. But still, he could have lived without the non-approval.
As he moved to try and initiate a conversation with Hurley, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and who would possibly be looking to talk to him but a certain Spencer Smith. The two often talked about drumming for hours and complained about their band mate's tendencies to abandon all reason and throw their fashion sense out the window. Especially on tour. Spencer was a good guy and Johnson definitely appreciated Spencer looking for him for whatever reason.
"Hey, I wasn't sure if you were coming!" Spencer had to raise his voice from its usual quiet temperance in order to be heard over the party's din. "Your band mates weren't very helpful."
Johnson didn't expect them to be, though. When it came to the ladies (or the men, in some cases), his band mates and friends had a tendency to get highly involved in their dates and completely forget about the world around them. Luckily Johnson was used to this by now.
"Yeah, I came. You know I couldn't miss an epic party." Johnson offered Spencer a small smile and then spotted Brendon coming into the kitchen, probably looking for Spencer.
Spencer looked pointedly at Brendon before motioning over to Johnson and whispering something in the singer's ear. Brendon nodded and whispered something back. Even if Johnson were good at reading lips, there was no way he would be able to figure out what they were saying. They were very good at hiding their lips moving.
"You here with anyone?" Brendon asked after Johnson started fidgeting, waiting for something from the two musicians.
"Nope, no one," Johnson replied nonchalantly, wondering where this was headed. Because he figured that if Brendon and Spencer were together (as he sort of assumed - even if the band as a group were often all over each other, Brendon and Spencer seemed to glide across the room together) then they would surely be abandoning him soon, right?
"Then you're gonna come with us. Be both our dates," Spencer piped up, grabbing Johnson's left wrist while Brendon took his right wrist. Johnson would have objected to being dragged if he weren't secretly happy that this was happening. Because the party seemed to be becoming one big coupling and Johnson was starting to get bored at being the only single guy.
"Well, okay but only on one condition," Johnson begins eyeing both his friends closely. "You don't ditch me afterwards. I hate that."
"Babe, we will wine and dine you," Brendon insisted, ruffling Johnson's perpetually lengthening hair. "You stick around with us, you won't want anyone ever again."
And so it came to pass that the singer and the drummer led Johnson to a spare bedroom on the second storey. There they spent the next hour or so, taking their time getting to know each other, undressing each other, lips pressed to skin and to hair and to lips.
It felt like the most heavenly bliss as Johnson lay sandwiched between the two men. They took their time to acquaint themselves with Johnson's body. And although they were in the bedroom, they didn't dive quite for the intimacy that Johnson had expected from them. He got off, but it wasn't the lengthy procedure that he anticipated.
When he reached climax, and the other two took care of themselves, he felt spent but he felt satisfied, which was certainly a change from usual. He was often left wanting more. But for once, as his eyes started to close with exhaustion, he fell asleep with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. And he knew that when he would later wake up, that everything would be as perfect as it could be.
In the meantime, he just knew that this would be the best goddamn night's sleep he will have gotten in a long, long time.
Title: Even The Drummer Gets Some
Rating: R (implicit smut)
Pairing: Johnson/Brendon/Spencer
Recipient: cherrygal3
Summary: At the annual FBR/DD holiday party, Johnson arrives alone. Leaving, however, is a completely different story.
If Johnson were asked to rate his own band members in terms of most to least attractive, including himself, he would come in last. There was no contest in his mind. Cash, Singer, Marshall, and Ian all had their perks in their features. Sharp edges or perfect hair. Johnson couldn't compete with their naturally good looks, so he really didn't try. He wasn't the 'hot' guy of the band. He was the fucking drummer.
So it was no surprise when the Fueled by Ramen/Decaydance holiday party came around and all four of his bandmates ended up with dates except for him. He really didn't care. Dates made things that much more complicated and this way, he could enjoy the party without worrying about pleasing his date. His other band mates would worry about what present to get their significant other and Johnson could stay relaxed and just worry about not making an ass out of himself.
Which, surprisingly enough, was actually not that hard. Johnson liked to drink, sure, and it wasn't like Pete Wentz was trying to punish the underage kids like himself by refusing to serve alcohol to him, but he was pretty good at knowing his limit. So all in all, a fun party would be had, he hoped.
When one by one his bandmates started disappearing for the party with their various people attached to their hips, Johnson knew he would be able to get ready in peace and quiet. And surely enough, he picked out his supposedly snazzy party outfit, combed his hair, and even took a chance with a splash of cologne. This party was going to kick ass, arriving solo or not. Besides, in the words of a wise man (aka Patrick Stump, singer and apparent relationship guru extraordinaire) it's not who you arrive with, but who you leave with.
Once Johnson arrived to the party scene, it was already going full throttle. There were a ton of people he knew and didn't know. Some of them were dancing, others socializing, and still others were developing some drinking games that Johnson was pretty sure most college campuses would be jealous to learn about.
It seemed like everyone had their own group of people. There was Patrick talking intently with Travis and Gabe (and Johnson couldn't help but laugh at how Patrick was trying to stretch his short body up and the two giants had to crane their necks just to hear him), Greta and Victoria grinding up against each other while several men watched in awe, and the Panic boys (half of which were clearly high on something) engaged in what appeared to be a philosophical discussion about socks. Or at least, that was what Johnson guessed when he picked up a few choice words.
Johnson would have joined his friends except most of them seemed to be engaged in what he liked to call "extreme heavy petting" and Johnson was pretty sure that if he even tried to pull them from their physical games that he would end up getting his ass kicked back to Vegas. And that was definitely the last thing Johnson wanted right now.
So he stayed off by the drinks, picking up a beer for himself and ignoring the tsking noises he could barely hear coming from Andy Hurley. The guy was a sick drummer at least which made the fact that Hurley was even paying attention to Johnson's existence just freaking awesome. But still, he could have lived without the non-approval.
As he moved to try and initiate a conversation with Hurley, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and who would possibly be looking to talk to him but a certain Spencer Smith. The two often talked about drumming for hours and complained about their band mate's tendencies to abandon all reason and throw their fashion sense out the window. Especially on tour. Spencer was a good guy and Johnson definitely appreciated Spencer looking for him for whatever reason.
"Hey, I wasn't sure if you were coming!" Spencer had to raise his voice from its usual quiet temperance in order to be heard over the party's din. "Your band mates weren't very helpful."
Johnson didn't expect them to be, though. When it came to the ladies (or the men, in some cases), his band mates and friends had a tendency to get highly involved in their dates and completely forget about the world around them. Luckily Johnson was used to this by now.
"Yeah, I came. You know I couldn't miss an epic party." Johnson offered Spencer a small smile and then spotted Brendon coming into the kitchen, probably looking for Spencer.
Spencer looked pointedly at Brendon before motioning over to Johnson and whispering something in the singer's ear. Brendon nodded and whispered something back. Even if Johnson were good at reading lips, there was no way he would be able to figure out what they were saying. They were very good at hiding their lips moving.
"You here with anyone?" Brendon asked after Johnson started fidgeting, waiting for something from the two musicians.
"Nope, no one," Johnson replied nonchalantly, wondering where this was headed. Because he figured that if Brendon and Spencer were together (as he sort of assumed - even if the band as a group were often all over each other, Brendon and Spencer seemed to glide across the room together) then they would surely be abandoning him soon, right?
"Then you're gonna come with us. Be both our dates," Spencer piped up, grabbing Johnson's left wrist while Brendon took his right wrist. Johnson would have objected to being dragged if he weren't secretly happy that this was happening. Because the party seemed to be becoming one big coupling and Johnson was starting to get bored at being the only single guy.
"Well, okay but only on one condition," Johnson begins eyeing both his friends closely. "You don't ditch me afterwards. I hate that."
"Babe, we will wine and dine you," Brendon insisted, ruffling Johnson's perpetually lengthening hair. "You stick around with us, you won't want anyone ever again."
And so it came to pass that the singer and the drummer led Johnson to a spare bedroom on the second storey. There they spent the next hour or so, taking their time getting to know each other, undressing each other, lips pressed to skin and to hair and to lips.
It felt like the most heavenly bliss as Johnson lay sandwiched between the two men. They took their time to acquaint themselves with Johnson's body. And although they were in the bedroom, they didn't dive quite for the intimacy that Johnson had expected from them. He got off, but it wasn't the lengthy procedure that he anticipated.
When he reached climax, and the other two took care of themselves, he felt spent but he felt satisfied, which was certainly a change from usual. He was often left wanting more. But for once, as his eyes started to close with exhaustion, he fell asleep with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. And he knew that when he would later wake up, that everything would be as perfect as it could be.
In the meantime, he just knew that this would be the best goddamn night's sleep he will have gotten in a long, long time.