One Week Since
Title: One Week Since
Author: Viv
Genre: light angst, smutt, fluff, humor
Rating: PG-13, bordering on R-ish
Fandom: Simple Plan [music - band]
Pairing: Sebastien/David
Disclaimer: *is taking them for a walk*
Summary: It’s been a week since you’ve touched him. [Standalone. Originally intended to be a sequel to All That Matters but... bah.]
Dedication: I’m sending this one out to gibdo (parce que je lui ai manqué, aaw! tu vois, j't'ai pas oublié!) and lovestephenking.
It’s been a week since you’ve touched him.
Really touched him.
Touched the skin that was hidden under his t-shirts, held the rugged but soft hands, kissed the sweet and tempting pink lips of your lover.
One week of holding back, of waiting for your friends to suddenly all disappear and leave you alone to revel in each other’s presence. Seven days spent restraining yourself from devouring him whenever he stepped out of the bathroom, topless and pale chest still glistening with droplets of water from his shower, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he dried them with a towel.
One hundred and sixty eight hours of pushing out the thoughts of kissing him awake each morning as you watched his peaceful face, long dark lashes sweeping across his cheeks, close eyelids hiding bright orbs that you knew were brown, flecks of green appearing whenever he saw you, his slim body curled up on his bunk.
It took all your will to keep yourself from licking that pale throat as he would stretch himself whenever he woke up, exposing his neck to your hungry eyes, his dark hair dishevelled and his cheeks slightly flushed, a telltale sign that he knew how you looked at him and wanted him.
A week since you’ve been able to hold him, to caress those smooth cheeks and to run your fingers through his soft hair. A week since holding his gentle hand in your tan one, of intertwining his thin fingers with yours, of brushing your lips over his knuckles. A week since kissing his forehead, his neck, his jaw, his hair, his ears, the tip of his nose.
All this time and you’ve kept from giving into your urges as he would occasionally hug you in a - what you both hoped to be - friendly manner, as he would regularly and casually drape his arm around your back, lightly brushing your shoulder. All this time as he would playfully sit in your lap or as you would drop loud and sloppy kisses on his cheeks. All this time while you shared food - bags of chips, boxes of crackers, drinks - from coffee to bottled water to cans of beer, boxes of Smarties, bags of Skittles, cartons of ice cream, chocolate bars - and even clothing once.
You missed being able to touch him without the scrutinizing looks of your friends, to inhale the scent of his hair and feel the warmth of his skin leisurely, to kiss him like there was no tomorrow. You missed being able to let yourself sweep him of his feet or him to try to drive you crazy about him. You missed being able to simply snuggle and cuddle together in peace, without the others around to possibly interrupt you.
And beside, they didn’t even know you were together, although it wasn’t as if you were keeping it a secret on purpose. It just happened that both hated to publicly display your strong affection for each other and you preferred showing your intimate feelings in privacy. You were not the types to seriously voice your romantic emotions out loud.
One week since he finally told you he loved you and one week since you blushed and reciprocated his feelings. One week since he smiled that beautiful smile, called you ‘gorgeous’ and pulled your head to his naked chest, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep after a night of particularly intense lovemaking.
A week since he has moaned your name, a week since you cried his name in ecstasy, a week since you’ve felt his erec-
“Hey David.”
Trust the reckless party-animal of your band to interrupt your secret train of thoughts while you were secretly undressing your secret boyfriend with your eyes. Your gaze secretly glared at Pierre’s back, ruining the perfect view you had of your secret lover’s figure sprawled out on the couch/seat at the back of the bus.
Alright, so maybe you glaring daggers at the back of the tall singer and burning holes into his skull at that exact moment wasn’t so secret.
“Ouais?” [Yeah?]
“On sort.” [We’re going out.]
“Où ça?” [Where?]
“Some club that Chuckaroo wants to check out in the corner.”
“Ah?”
“Yeah. And we thought that you could stay back here and take care of lover boy here before he can’t control himself anymore and decides to ravish you right on stage at our next concert.”
David’s form visibly tensed.
“… Pardon?”
Wait.
WAIT.
WAIT!!!
“QUOI?! MAIS QU’EST-CE QUE TU VEUX DIRE PAR ÇA?!” [What?! What do you mean by that?]
A hand clamped itself on your shoulder as you turned your head to find Patrick staring seriously as you.
“We’re leaving the two of you alone tonight.”
Your eyes grew as wide as saucers as the sandy-haired moron that you called a friend suddenly grinned widely, his eyes crinkling in mischief behind the fake innocent look he managed to muster, his voice taking on a singsong quality.
“Seeeeeeeeeuls, les enfaaants!” [Aloooooooone, kiiiiiiids!]
Fortunately, a fist quickly appeared above Patrick’s head, a light thump! echoing throughout the bus, preventing you from clobbering the merch dude. Your glare was then directed to Patrick’s savior - in your opinion, at least - while the idiot was whimpering about how cruel they all were to him and that it ‘really, really, really hurts goddammit! Don’t damage my precious brain, you guys friggin’ need it!’ to which your drummer rewarded with another smack to the head.
“Just get to the fucking point, trou de cul.” [asshole.]
Chuck shook his head then calmly slapped his hand over the web monkey, effectively silencing your friend as Jeff - who was watching the exchange from the front of the bus - rubbed the top of his overly-shiny head and tilted it to the side, chuckling.
“We’re leaving you guys some private time tonight. Get it over with the fucking will you? We’re about ready to snap and shove both of you into the back lounge and not let you out until you get rid of the sexual tension between you. Fran-che-ment.” [Hon-nes-tly.]
David blinked, crossing his arms and letting out an emotionless “Perverts.”
You, on the other hand, all but dropped your jaw to the floor.
“… Ah. Guh. But-” Pierre giggled.
“Quoi? Même un aveugle s’en serait rendu compte.” [What? Even a blind would have noticed.]
Charles smiled and reached over Patrick before lightly ruffling your hair.
“Now, now, sweetie, no imitating a goldfish. That look is not very becoming on you. Wouldn’t you rather be coming on David? Or is it in David? Wait, who’s at the receiving end in this relationship?”
And then you boyfriend blushed profusely and snapped, quickly standing up and shoving Pierre away and out of the lounge area. He then proceeded to push everyone off the bus, with a look that meant ‘getthefuckoffbeforeisendyouflyingtoPlutoandthenback’.
And when the door closed, David turned back to look at you, a strange - yet very familiar and even more welcome - gleam shining in his hazel eyes. You knew the same glazed expression was mirrored in your darkened blue orbs.
“Sébastien…”
One whole week of waiting for this moment.
Your lips met his in a perfectly accurate fit, tongues instantly wildly dancing, hands tangled, fisted in each other’s hair, clothes, hips meeting, shoving roughly for more contact.
Waiting for this, it was worth it.
You would wait even a lifetime for a moment like this.
When the need for air separated your swollen and saliva-coated lips, you both smiled softly, your nose nuzzling his, his fingertips grazing your cheek, your warm breaths clashing and combining and your bodies melted together, snapping into a single beautiful piece as you fell in love with each other all over again.
---
August 7, 2005
Author: Viv
Genre: light angst, smutt, fluff, humor
Rating: PG-13, bordering on R-ish
Fandom: Simple Plan [music - band]
Pairing: Sebastien/David
Disclaimer: *is taking them for a walk*
Summary: It’s been a week since you’ve touched him. [Standalone. Originally intended to be a sequel to All That Matters but... bah.]
Dedication: I’m sending this one out to gibdo (parce que je lui ai manqué, aaw! tu vois, j't'ai pas oublié!) and lovestephenking.
It’s been a week since you’ve touched him.
Really touched him.
Touched the skin that was hidden under his t-shirts, held the rugged but soft hands, kissed the sweet and tempting pink lips of your lover.
One week of holding back, of waiting for your friends to suddenly all disappear and leave you alone to revel in each other’s presence. Seven days spent restraining yourself from devouring him whenever he stepped out of the bathroom, topless and pale chest still glistening with droplets of water from his shower, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he dried them with a towel.
One hundred and sixty eight hours of pushing out the thoughts of kissing him awake each morning as you watched his peaceful face, long dark lashes sweeping across his cheeks, close eyelids hiding bright orbs that you knew were brown, flecks of green appearing whenever he saw you, his slim body curled up on his bunk.
It took all your will to keep yourself from licking that pale throat as he would stretch himself whenever he woke up, exposing his neck to your hungry eyes, his dark hair dishevelled and his cheeks slightly flushed, a telltale sign that he knew how you looked at him and wanted him.
A week since you’ve been able to hold him, to caress those smooth cheeks and to run your fingers through his soft hair. A week since holding his gentle hand in your tan one, of intertwining his thin fingers with yours, of brushing your lips over his knuckles. A week since kissing his forehead, his neck, his jaw, his hair, his ears, the tip of his nose.
All this time and you’ve kept from giving into your urges as he would occasionally hug you in a - what you both hoped to be - friendly manner, as he would regularly and casually drape his arm around your back, lightly brushing your shoulder. All this time as he would playfully sit in your lap or as you would drop loud and sloppy kisses on his cheeks. All this time while you shared food - bags of chips, boxes of crackers, drinks - from coffee to bottled water to cans of beer, boxes of Smarties, bags of Skittles, cartons of ice cream, chocolate bars - and even clothing once.
You missed being able to touch him without the scrutinizing looks of your friends, to inhale the scent of his hair and feel the warmth of his skin leisurely, to kiss him like there was no tomorrow. You missed being able to let yourself sweep him of his feet or him to try to drive you crazy about him. You missed being able to simply snuggle and cuddle together in peace, without the others around to possibly interrupt you.
And beside, they didn’t even know you were together, although it wasn’t as if you were keeping it a secret on purpose. It just happened that both hated to publicly display your strong affection for each other and you preferred showing your intimate feelings in privacy. You were not the types to seriously voice your romantic emotions out loud.
One week since he finally told you he loved you and one week since you blushed and reciprocated his feelings. One week since he smiled that beautiful smile, called you ‘gorgeous’ and pulled your head to his naked chest, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep after a night of particularly intense lovemaking.
A week since he has moaned your name, a week since you cried his name in ecstasy, a week since you’ve felt his erec-
“Hey David.”
Trust the reckless party-animal of your band to interrupt your secret train of thoughts while you were secretly undressing your secret boyfriend with your eyes. Your gaze secretly glared at Pierre’s back, ruining the perfect view you had of your secret lover’s figure sprawled out on the couch/seat at the back of the bus.
Alright, so maybe you glaring daggers at the back of the tall singer and burning holes into his skull at that exact moment wasn’t so secret.
“Ouais?” [Yeah?]
“On sort.” [We’re going out.]
“Où ça?” [Where?]
“Some club that Chuckaroo wants to check out in the corner.”
“Ah?”
“Yeah. And we thought that you could stay back here and take care of lover boy here before he can’t control himself anymore and decides to ravish you right on stage at our next concert.”
David’s form visibly tensed.
“… Pardon?”
Wait.
WAIT.
WAIT!!!
“QUOI?! MAIS QU’EST-CE QUE TU VEUX DIRE PAR ÇA?!” [What?! What do you mean by that?]
A hand clamped itself on your shoulder as you turned your head to find Patrick staring seriously as you.
“We’re leaving the two of you alone tonight.”
Your eyes grew as wide as saucers as the sandy-haired moron that you called a friend suddenly grinned widely, his eyes crinkling in mischief behind the fake innocent look he managed to muster, his voice taking on a singsong quality.
“Seeeeeeeeeuls, les enfaaants!” [Aloooooooone, kiiiiiiids!]
Fortunately, a fist quickly appeared above Patrick’s head, a light thump! echoing throughout the bus, preventing you from clobbering the merch dude. Your glare was then directed to Patrick’s savior - in your opinion, at least - while the idiot was whimpering about how cruel they all were to him and that it ‘really, really, really hurts goddammit! Don’t damage my precious brain, you guys friggin’ need it!’ to which your drummer rewarded with another smack to the head.
“Just get to the fucking point, trou de cul.” [asshole.]
Chuck shook his head then calmly slapped his hand over the web monkey, effectively silencing your friend as Jeff - who was watching the exchange from the front of the bus - rubbed the top of his overly-shiny head and tilted it to the side, chuckling.
“We’re leaving you guys some private time tonight. Get it over with the fucking will you? We’re about ready to snap and shove both of you into the back lounge and not let you out until you get rid of the sexual tension between you. Fran-che-ment.” [Hon-nes-tly.]
David blinked, crossing his arms and letting out an emotionless “Perverts.”
You, on the other hand, all but dropped your jaw to the floor.
“… Ah. Guh. But-” Pierre giggled.
“Quoi? Même un aveugle s’en serait rendu compte.” [What? Even a blind would have noticed.]
Charles smiled and reached over Patrick before lightly ruffling your hair.
“Now, now, sweetie, no imitating a goldfish. That look is not very becoming on you. Wouldn’t you rather be coming on David? Or is it in David? Wait, who’s at the receiving end in this relationship?”
And then you boyfriend blushed profusely and snapped, quickly standing up and shoving Pierre away and out of the lounge area. He then proceeded to push everyone off the bus, with a look that meant ‘getthefuckoffbeforeisendyouflyingtoPlutoandthenback’.
And when the door closed, David turned back to look at you, a strange - yet very familiar and even more welcome - gleam shining in his hazel eyes. You knew the same glazed expression was mirrored in your darkened blue orbs.
“Sébastien…”
One whole week of waiting for this moment.
Your lips met his in a perfectly accurate fit, tongues instantly wildly dancing, hands tangled, fisted in each other’s hair, clothes, hips meeting, shoving roughly for more contact.
Waiting for this, it was worth it.
You would wait even a lifetime for a moment like this.
When the need for air separated your swollen and saliva-coated lips, you both smiled softly, your nose nuzzling his, his fingertips grazing your cheek, your warm breaths clashing and combining and your bodies melted together, snapping into a single beautiful piece as you fell in love with each other all over again.
---
August 7, 2005