anything you say can and will be held against you...
So, I decided I wanted to finish the 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge; here's day 8.
Day 8, prompt: voyeurism and telling someone about their kinky relationship (two-for-one, go me, lol)
a/n: the original prompt was to tell someone disapproving about their relationship, but I couldn't quite get that note here, sorry. Also, this is the first time I've ever written Dallon (bassist for Panic), so I apologize if he's terribly OOC.
"Thanks for letting me stay here, guys," Dallon said as he dragged his suitcase in the front door. "I really didn't want to shell out God only knows how much for a hotel room and Brendon and Spencer already left for Vegas."
"It's no problem," Pete assured him with a grin. "Delays suck ass. 'Trick, Dallon's here."
"Hey, man," Patrick greeted as he came out of the kitchen; he handed off a beer to both of them before opening his own. "We were just going to order some Chinese, you want?"
"Fuck, yeah," Dallon answered enthusiastically. "I'm fucken starving."
*
A couple movies and some General Tso's later and Dallon was ready to pass out and call it done for the day.
"Dude, why don't you go lay down?" Pete told him once the end credits for The Avengers finished. "We can clean this up."
Dallon hesitated; he was exhausted but his mother had done a good job of drilling some manners into him when he was a kid and he could practically feel the smack across the back of his head for not cleaning up after himself.
"Seriously, you look wrecked," Patrick added. He got up and started piling empty containers together. "Go get a few hours before you have to drag yourself to the Hellmouth that calls itself LAX."
"Alright," Dallon said with a slight smile. "I give, I'll go lay down.
"If I don't see you guys when I leave, thanks again. Sincerely, guys."
"We're friends, yeah? It's no big deal," Pete waved him off and turned to help Patrick clean up.
*
Dallon startled awake and flailed for a second before he remembered where he was.
He grabbed his phone and frowned after he swiped a finger across the screen and saw it was only a little after three.
Dallon cursed to himself as he got up to go take a piss; he probably wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep for the two hours he had left.
He briefly wondered if he should see if Pete was awake still -the other man's insomnia was no secret- but dismissed it almost immediately; they might be friends but they weren't that good of friends.
On his way back to the guest room, Dallon heard some noises that made him veer over to the master bedroom.
He paused a couple inches from the closed door; there was a murmur of voices he could barely hear over the almost rhythmic background noise.
"Listen to all that noise you're making, I bet the whole neighborhood can hear you. I bet Dallon can hear you."
"Patrick, I, please-"
"Oh, you like that idea, don't you? You love the idea of someone hearing you, coming to see how slutty you are, tied to the bed and begging me for more."
The words were interspersed with gasping and moaning and it wasn't until he heard a heavy 'crack' followed by a keening noise Dallon had never heard before (and one that, for the record, he hoped to God that he never heard again) that he realized what was going on and he had never moved so in his life as he did going down that hallway.
Once he was back in the guest room, he collapsed onto the bed and tried to calm his racing heart.
On the list of things he never wanted to see or hear, listening to one of his friends beat another one was on the fucken top.
There was no fucken way he was getting back to sleep now.
*
Dallon snuck downstairs, trying to be quiet; even without the show last night, he wouldn't have wanted to wake his friends up and now he had even more reason for avoiding both of them for a little while.
"Hey, want some coffee?" A voice from the kitchen asked.
"Jesus fuck," Dallon whisper-yelled; he turned around to glare at a smirking Patrick. "What the fuck, asshole? You almost gave me a heart attack."
"Sorry," Patrick said unconvincingly. "I just figured you might want some caffeine before you braved hell."
"Yeah. Thanks," Dallon told him and took the coffee mug out of his outstretched hand. "What are you doing up this early, anyway? Lying in wait for me?"
It was said with a slight chuckle, but when Patrick just looked at him, Dallon almost choked on his coffee.
"I just wanted to talk to you about what you may have heard last night," Patrick said once the coughing stopped. "I wanted to let you know that Pete likes- "
"OK, that's enough," Dallon interrupted with a pained look; he took a second to gulp down the rest of the coffee. It burned his throat slightly, but he needed the boost. "Look, I don't- do we have to talk about this? Pete sounded like he was enjoying himself plenty last night and, really, anything you guys do is none of my business. Let's just forget about it, alright? Please."
"Alright," Patrick agreed with a slight smile. He took the empty cup from Dallon and wandered into the kitchen to put it in the sink.
"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but why isn't Pete down here, too?" Dallon wondered as he got his sneakers and jacket on.
"He didn't hear you last night," Patrick answered, sounding smug; he leaned against the doorway in between the kitchen and living room. "Once he gets that far under, he's not very aware of anything around him except me."
"Stop right there," Dallon demanded. "It's like hearing about my brother's sex life, Jesus."
He closed the front door as Patrick laughed at him; he tossed his suitcase into the rental and then climbed in the front seat.
As he backed up down the drive way, Dallon promised himself that next time he was staying at a friend's house, he was not going to investigate any noises he heard, no matter what the fuck they were.