drabbles are finished!
I'm just going to post them here, so that they end up on all of your F-lists. Hopefully you guys like them, I got ~inspired~ today if you will.
1. Conor Oberst/Ryan Ross for chokeonirony
390 words
It’s Nick that really introduces them, and it’s surreal, because Ryan blinks and says, “Yeah, when I was a kid I used to be a really big fan,” and Conor sort of smirks (his smile is crooked, and it sort of reminds Ryan of Alex), shrugging. They’ve met each other before, talked to each other a couple of times, but never - just never like this.
“And look at you now.”
Ryan’s not sure - he thinks that may be an insult, and blinks again, because Conor is sort of cynical, isn’t he? And Nick told him this (Yeah, he’s kind of depressing. Actually, he sort of reminds me of you, thinking about it…) but it’s pretty surreal, looking at him and seeing it.
“Yeah. I stole your keyboardist.”
And Conor kind of laughs.
And Ryan kind of smiles because it seems appropriate. And maybe it’s also a little awkward, just because.
Of course, maybe Ryan fucks it up. Just a little too much. Maybe he becomes close to someone he shouldn’t, and maybe everyone around him gets pissy because he starts missing the important things around him and stops paying attention and starts blinking every time he sees Conor, like his face - like his face just kind of startles him. And it’s not fair (To Nick to Nick to Andy to Z to Alex to Jon to himself to - the list goes on) and Ryan knows that - but he can’t help it because of the first time when Conor had laughed and then dipped his head down and kissed him, and Ryan had kissed back like it was a leisure activity.
And then one day, Ryan wakes up to a text from Conor that says, short and sweet The album came out 2day. buy it. and Ryan does, and then he calls Conor but the number isn’t in service anymore. And Conor doesn’t come around. And Ryan doesn’t know where Conor lives.
And now, all of the sudden, he’s lonely, and Conor has disappeared.
And Nick tells him, “Yeah, he does that,” with a shrug, like it’s no big deal, like people just leave the person they’re intimate with all of the sudden and only leave them with some shitty songs about alcohol and broken hearts and then realizes - that’s what he did to all of the rest of them. Ever.
2. Alex Greenwald/Z Berg for 1842
352 words
Maybe because it’s dark, that makes it easier. No, not easier, it’s still way too hard. It’s impossibly hard. But he’s doing it anyway, he’s there, and he’s touching the smooth skin of Z’s back (she arches up against him and maybe whispers something he doesn’t hear into his ear), and he can feel her spine. He rolls his nails up her spine (ironic) and she twists a leg around his hips, her own fingernails scraping against the skin of his shoulders, leaving marks that will probably only last a few minutes and then fade.
He kisses her pale white skin, the skin of her shoulder, and she conforms against his shape, almost like his second skin because she’s so tiny. Her feet are cold, and she presses the heel of her left foot into the crease of his knee - her skin is searching for warmth in his, and when she finds it, her hands slip down his back, pulling him somehow closer.
“Your hair’s still too long,” she whispers, and Alex freezes for a moment because hers are the first words said tonight. “You need a god damned hair cut,” she continues to whisper, tangling her fingers through his too long hair and kissing him on the mouth. The contact somehow feels more intimate than what they’re doing (some would say fucking is greater than kissing, but right now, Alex would disagree) because her mouth is so warm (it contrasts with her smooth legs and rough feet, cold from her ankles to her thighs) and velvet soft over his, and he hasn’t kissed in so long.
Longing curls up in his stomach, and somehow the situation makes a spark and she’s scraping her fingers across his skin, pressing her face tight into his shoulder and kissing (gently, as his hips snap, maybe leaving bruises against her) and she seems so delicate like this. She seems so different.
Right now, they’re just what they need.
Z tilts her head and brushes her lips against the corner of Alex’s mouth and whispers, “I wish I could see you, but it’s just so dark.”
3. Tom Gabel/Jon Walker for restlesslikeme
325 words
Tom’s fingers are calloused - rough - but so are Jon’s. It’s awkward, because they’re basically both scrambling for control (it doesn’t make sense, but Jon’s senses are out the window) and the clacking of teeth is uncomfortable but somehow right.
For some reason, the air smells like salt (it reminds Tom, momentarily, of being at an ocean home, maybe overlooking the beach and just breathing in the humidity - he kind of misses that) and seawater and they’re still just scrambling, trying to figure out some kind of pattern when really, all it is Tom unbuttoning Jon’s shirt and Jon yanking at Tom’s belt.
“It’s too fucking hot,” Tom growls as he moves his mouth from Jon’s (he’s never felt this possessive - he doesn’t get why this man, with his stupid short curly hair and rough chin and short legs is doing this to him), instead biting on his neck. Jon hisses, sharp air through his teeth and presses his knee between Tom’s legs.
Tom twitches (flinches is maybe more accurate) but manages to somehow his closer, rubbing against Jon’s knee in a way he hadn’t expected.
“There’s nowhere else to go,” Jon says, sounding out of breath but not breathy. He gulps in the hot, summer air, and wonders vaguely how he got himself into this mess.
“You’re right,” Tom agrees, his barely-nails scraping over Jon’s now bare chest. “But…” Jon stops him from saying anything else with a rough, pushy kiss, pressing Tom back against the brick wall. Outside a venue - God knows what time it is, maybe 1 in the morning? As Jon kisses Tom, Tom wonders why he’s even here. He had initially come to check out the Rooney show, and somewhere along the line it had clicked that those two kids who left Panic! At The Disco or whatever that shit band was, their band was playing.
Not that any of that mattered.
God, he and Jon are both such douche bags.
4. Jon Walker/Ryan Ross - Babysitting - for afterxbirth
269 words
“How do you take care of babies?”
There’s silence on the other line, and Jon almost expects Ryan to hang up.
“Dude. Please don’t tell me Cassie is pregnant. You cannot fuck this up.”
“No, no,” Jon says, calm as usual - he waves his hand and Dylan reaches his head out - Jon scratches idly behind his ears and Clover rubs against his leg, obviously jealous. “Pete just called me. He wants me to babysit Bronx.”
Jon can almost hear Ryan’s astonishment on the other line. “You’re joking. Right? Why would Pete trust you with Bronx? Doesn’t he have a nanny? It’s not like they can’t afford it.”
Jon shrugs, knowing Ryan can’t see him. “I dunno, he called me a couple of days ago and said he wanted me to babysit Bronx. Just for tonight. I said yes. I mean. We’re still buds, you know? And he’s never not done me favors. I couldn’t say no.”
“You’ve got to be the only person left, then. I mean. In Chicago.”
Jon scowls, because Ryan is implying bad things about him. “You should come and hang.”
Ryan laughs loudly. “Yeah, that makes total sense. Dude, I’m in New York. Sorry.”
Jon hesitates, considering. “I’ve got my laptop on me. Wanna video chat? I’m sure Bronx misses you.”
“Dude. That is totally inappropriate.”
Jon shrugs, again knowing Ryan can’t see him. “Who cares? They’ll be here in like, twenty minutes. Wanna set up now, or later?”
Jon can almost hear Ryan rolling his eyes on the other line, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. “Now.”
Jon grins. “I thought you might say that.”
5. House/Wilson for meiloslyther
321 words
Wilson twitches.
House leans on his cane.
Typical.
That’s all they really are.
Wilson starts, “What would you do…”
But then he doesn’t finish his sentence, casting his eyes to his desk. Papers are scattered - they’re arranged to look disorganized, and OCD of an OCD. Or, something like that. Wilson’s not really sure. Not that’s he’s really sure of anything, anymore. He looks up from his desk, all of the papers placed perfectly and strategically so that he can grab what he needs at exactly the right moment and look like a hero.
House clears his throat. “You’re not…”
He doesn’t finish his thought either and Wilson quirks an eyebrow. “I’m not…?” he inquires, and then he stands, resting his tired hands against the papers on his desk. One of the things he notices is how he can feel the hard scratched ink words that Cuddy had furiously written earlier that day, maybe last week, last month. Sometimes about a patient. Usually about House.
“Going to leave me.”
This time, House isn’t asking a question - rather, he’s making a statement. He lets out a breath and Wilson blinks at him. “Of course I’m not,” he answers sharply, shaking his head and closing his eyes. He frowns as he thinks about it. “Maybe I’ve thought about it,” he admits, and he hears House shuffle - shift his weight, maybe - and feels guilty. “But it’s not going to happen.”
House lets out a breath (He was holding his breath? Wilson wonders) and says, oddly softly, “Oh.”
Wilson meets his gaze. “Did you think I was going to?” he asks with an almost wry smile.
House just frowns. “No,” he says, sternly, as if he’s sure of himself. “I knew you weren’t going to leave me.”
Wilson just smiles.
This is why he can’t leave House. Because House is so dependant.
And maybe.
Maybe for something else.
Wilson just hasn’t quite figured it out yet.
6. Jon Walker/Tom Conrad - Tour lonelyness - for coldmero
314 words
Jon has been meeting a lot of awesome people.
Fans.
Friends.
It’s all fantastic, it really is.
Especially when a fan comes up to him and starts talking to him about Empires and is about as stupid and girlishly in love with Tom as he is.
Not that Jon is actually in love with Tom, it’s just - well, it’s nice to see that people share his enthusiasm! That’s all.
And it makes him just a little less lonely.
Whatever, Jon’s a pussy and he knows it. And fuck, he misses Tom. A lot.
“Oh, fucking hell, Jon, would you just…stop?”
Jon turns his head and looks at Ryan, pouting. It’s raining, and the glass on the van window is cold - Jon’s been breathing hot air over it and drawing little hearts with his finger for the past hour, then drawing a quick crack through the middle and sighing heavily.
Jon sighs again and looks back at the glass. “What are you acting like such a lovesick girl for, anyway?”
Jon hesitates. “Well…” he mumbles, a little shyly, “you know how you get when you don’t see Z for a couple of weeks?” Jon twists, smiling a little at Ryan who’s gone stiff. Ryan scowls and huffs, but nods.
“That’s how I feel. Except worse. I haven’t seen Tom in months.”
“Tom…?” Ryan furrows his eyebrows, trying to figure it out.
“Conrad!” Jon says, throwing himself onto Ryan’s lap. God, he feels like a girl. God, he doesn’t care. Ryan lets him do this sometimes. “I miss him so much.”
Lifting his bony knee and pressing it hard into Jon’s back, Ryan says darkly, “Then call the man for Christ’s sake. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
Jon sits up, blinking incredulously. “You’re right! I should call him!”
Jon scrambles over to his seat and yanks his iPhone from his pocket.
Ryan just rolls his eyes.
7. Andy Soukal/Nick Murray for pinkichan
337 words
“Hey.”
Nick blinks. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“It’s your last Black Apples show for a while, right?”
“Possibly forever,” Nick admits, frowning. He doesn’t like the thought, but he also would hate to have to balance the Young Veins with Black Apples full time. He shrugs, showing his uncertainty. “Who knows.”
Andy glances at the fans milling around and the rest of the band. “It’s a lot different. Than our shows, I mean. I guess.”
“Yeah, it’s a totally different element. I like that, though. It reminds me…I mean, Jon and Ryan came from something totally different…So did Nick…so did I…so did you.”
Andy smiles. “Do you…”
Nick smiles a little. “I could go for some barbeque ribs.”
Andy’s smile goes even softer and he steps a little closer to Nick, reaching out and touching his hip for a second - he then drops his hand. “Sorry,” he says, shortly, frowning. No one’s watching them, but for some reason the environment seems wrong - off, maybe. It’s not the same as the Young Veins van, where they’re all crushed together anyway. It’s not the same because Andy’s not sure if he’s allowed to press his lips against Nick’s throat and whisper all of those stupid precious things to him.
“So. Dinner,” Andy manages when he finally gets a hold of his breath. Nick tilts his head and smiles again, though he looks confused. This time he steps closer, so that they’re almost touching, and slips an arm around Andy’s waist. He squeezes Andy’s side, kind of protectively, and presses his mouth to his ear.
“I don’t care. What they think. If they even do,” Nick whispers softly with his lips against Andy’s ear. “Okay?”
“…Okay,” Andy agrees, kissing Nick on the mouth (maybe he’s trying to surprise him, trying to be obnoxious) but Nick just laughs and hugs him closer and they kiss in the middle of a loud bar full of noisy teenagers who probably don’t even see them or even know who they are.
1. Conor Oberst/Ryan Ross for chokeonirony
390 words
It’s Nick that really introduces them, and it’s surreal, because Ryan blinks and says, “Yeah, when I was a kid I used to be a really big fan,” and Conor sort of smirks (his smile is crooked, and it sort of reminds Ryan of Alex), shrugging. They’ve met each other before, talked to each other a couple of times, but never - just never like this.
“And look at you now.”
Ryan’s not sure - he thinks that may be an insult, and blinks again, because Conor is sort of cynical, isn’t he? And Nick told him this (Yeah, he’s kind of depressing. Actually, he sort of reminds me of you, thinking about it…) but it’s pretty surreal, looking at him and seeing it.
“Yeah. I stole your keyboardist.”
And Conor kind of laughs.
And Ryan kind of smiles because it seems appropriate. And maybe it’s also a little awkward, just because.
Of course, maybe Ryan fucks it up. Just a little too much. Maybe he becomes close to someone he shouldn’t, and maybe everyone around him gets pissy because he starts missing the important things around him and stops paying attention and starts blinking every time he sees Conor, like his face - like his face just kind of startles him. And it’s not fair (To Nick to Nick to Andy to Z to Alex to Jon to himself to - the list goes on) and Ryan knows that - but he can’t help it because of the first time when Conor had laughed and then dipped his head down and kissed him, and Ryan had kissed back like it was a leisure activity.
And then one day, Ryan wakes up to a text from Conor that says, short and sweet The album came out 2day. buy it. and Ryan does, and then he calls Conor but the number isn’t in service anymore. And Conor doesn’t come around. And Ryan doesn’t know where Conor lives.
And now, all of the sudden, he’s lonely, and Conor has disappeared.
And Nick tells him, “Yeah, he does that,” with a shrug, like it’s no big deal, like people just leave the person they’re intimate with all of the sudden and only leave them with some shitty songs about alcohol and broken hearts and then realizes - that’s what he did to all of the rest of them. Ever.
2. Alex Greenwald/Z Berg for 1842
352 words
Maybe because it’s dark, that makes it easier. No, not easier, it’s still way too hard. It’s impossibly hard. But he’s doing it anyway, he’s there, and he’s touching the smooth skin of Z’s back (she arches up against him and maybe whispers something he doesn’t hear into his ear), and he can feel her spine. He rolls his nails up her spine (ironic) and she twists a leg around his hips, her own fingernails scraping against the skin of his shoulders, leaving marks that will probably only last a few minutes and then fade.
He kisses her pale white skin, the skin of her shoulder, and she conforms against his shape, almost like his second skin because she’s so tiny. Her feet are cold, and she presses the heel of her left foot into the crease of his knee - her skin is searching for warmth in his, and when she finds it, her hands slip down his back, pulling him somehow closer.
“Your hair’s still too long,” she whispers, and Alex freezes for a moment because hers are the first words said tonight. “You need a god damned hair cut,” she continues to whisper, tangling her fingers through his too long hair and kissing him on the mouth. The contact somehow feels more intimate than what they’re doing (some would say fucking is greater than kissing, but right now, Alex would disagree) because her mouth is so warm (it contrasts with her smooth legs and rough feet, cold from her ankles to her thighs) and velvet soft over his, and he hasn’t kissed in so long.
Longing curls up in his stomach, and somehow the situation makes a spark and she’s scraping her fingers across his skin, pressing her face tight into his shoulder and kissing (gently, as his hips snap, maybe leaving bruises against her) and she seems so delicate like this. She seems so different.
Right now, they’re just what they need.
Z tilts her head and brushes her lips against the corner of Alex’s mouth and whispers, “I wish I could see you, but it’s just so dark.”
3. Tom Gabel/Jon Walker for restlesslikeme
325 words
Tom’s fingers are calloused - rough - but so are Jon’s. It’s awkward, because they’re basically both scrambling for control (it doesn’t make sense, but Jon’s senses are out the window) and the clacking of teeth is uncomfortable but somehow right.
For some reason, the air smells like salt (it reminds Tom, momentarily, of being at an ocean home, maybe overlooking the beach and just breathing in the humidity - he kind of misses that) and seawater and they’re still just scrambling, trying to figure out some kind of pattern when really, all it is Tom unbuttoning Jon’s shirt and Jon yanking at Tom’s belt.
“It’s too fucking hot,” Tom growls as he moves his mouth from Jon’s (he’s never felt this possessive - he doesn’t get why this man, with his stupid short curly hair and rough chin and short legs is doing this to him), instead biting on his neck. Jon hisses, sharp air through his teeth and presses his knee between Tom’s legs.
Tom twitches (flinches is maybe more accurate) but manages to somehow his closer, rubbing against Jon’s knee in a way he hadn’t expected.
“There’s nowhere else to go,” Jon says, sounding out of breath but not breathy. He gulps in the hot, summer air, and wonders vaguely how he got himself into this mess.
“You’re right,” Tom agrees, his barely-nails scraping over Jon’s now bare chest. “But…” Jon stops him from saying anything else with a rough, pushy kiss, pressing Tom back against the brick wall. Outside a venue - God knows what time it is, maybe 1 in the morning? As Jon kisses Tom, Tom wonders why he’s even here. He had initially come to check out the Rooney show, and somewhere along the line it had clicked that those two kids who left Panic! At The Disco or whatever that shit band was, their band was playing.
Not that any of that mattered.
God, he and Jon are both such douche bags.
4. Jon Walker/Ryan Ross - Babysitting - for afterxbirth
269 words
“How do you take care of babies?”
There’s silence on the other line, and Jon almost expects Ryan to hang up.
“Dude. Please don’t tell me Cassie is pregnant. You cannot fuck this up.”
“No, no,” Jon says, calm as usual - he waves his hand and Dylan reaches his head out - Jon scratches idly behind his ears and Clover rubs against his leg, obviously jealous. “Pete just called me. He wants me to babysit Bronx.”
Jon can almost hear Ryan’s astonishment on the other line. “You’re joking. Right? Why would Pete trust you with Bronx? Doesn’t he have a nanny? It’s not like they can’t afford it.”
Jon shrugs, knowing Ryan can’t see him. “I dunno, he called me a couple of days ago and said he wanted me to babysit Bronx. Just for tonight. I said yes. I mean. We’re still buds, you know? And he’s never not done me favors. I couldn’t say no.”
“You’ve got to be the only person left, then. I mean. In Chicago.”
Jon scowls, because Ryan is implying bad things about him. “You should come and hang.”
Ryan laughs loudly. “Yeah, that makes total sense. Dude, I’m in New York. Sorry.”
Jon hesitates, considering. “I’ve got my laptop on me. Wanna video chat? I’m sure Bronx misses you.”
“Dude. That is totally inappropriate.”
Jon shrugs, again knowing Ryan can’t see him. “Who cares? They’ll be here in like, twenty minutes. Wanna set up now, or later?”
Jon can almost hear Ryan rolling his eyes on the other line, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. “Now.”
Jon grins. “I thought you might say that.”
5. House/Wilson for meiloslyther
321 words
Wilson twitches.
House leans on his cane.
Typical.
That’s all they really are.
Wilson starts, “What would you do…”
But then he doesn’t finish his sentence, casting his eyes to his desk. Papers are scattered - they’re arranged to look disorganized, and OCD of an OCD. Or, something like that. Wilson’s not really sure. Not that’s he’s really sure of anything, anymore. He looks up from his desk, all of the papers placed perfectly and strategically so that he can grab what he needs at exactly the right moment and look like a hero.
House clears his throat. “You’re not…”
He doesn’t finish his thought either and Wilson quirks an eyebrow. “I’m not…?” he inquires, and then he stands, resting his tired hands against the papers on his desk. One of the things he notices is how he can feel the hard scratched ink words that Cuddy had furiously written earlier that day, maybe last week, last month. Sometimes about a patient. Usually about House.
“Going to leave me.”
This time, House isn’t asking a question - rather, he’s making a statement. He lets out a breath and Wilson blinks at him. “Of course I’m not,” he answers sharply, shaking his head and closing his eyes. He frowns as he thinks about it. “Maybe I’ve thought about it,” he admits, and he hears House shuffle - shift his weight, maybe - and feels guilty. “But it’s not going to happen.”
House lets out a breath (He was holding his breath? Wilson wonders) and says, oddly softly, “Oh.”
Wilson meets his gaze. “Did you think I was going to?” he asks with an almost wry smile.
House just frowns. “No,” he says, sternly, as if he’s sure of himself. “I knew you weren’t going to leave me.”
Wilson just smiles.
This is why he can’t leave House. Because House is so dependant.
And maybe.
Maybe for something else.
Wilson just hasn’t quite figured it out yet.
6. Jon Walker/Tom Conrad - Tour lonelyness - for coldmero
314 words
Jon has been meeting a lot of awesome people.
Fans.
Friends.
It’s all fantastic, it really is.
Especially when a fan comes up to him and starts talking to him about Empires and is about as stupid and girlishly in love with Tom as he is.
Not that Jon is actually in love with Tom, it’s just - well, it’s nice to see that people share his enthusiasm! That’s all.
And it makes him just a little less lonely.
Whatever, Jon’s a pussy and he knows it. And fuck, he misses Tom. A lot.
“Oh, fucking hell, Jon, would you just…stop?”
Jon turns his head and looks at Ryan, pouting. It’s raining, and the glass on the van window is cold - Jon’s been breathing hot air over it and drawing little hearts with his finger for the past hour, then drawing a quick crack through the middle and sighing heavily.
Jon sighs again and looks back at the glass. “What are you acting like such a lovesick girl for, anyway?”
Jon hesitates. “Well…” he mumbles, a little shyly, “you know how you get when you don’t see Z for a couple of weeks?” Jon twists, smiling a little at Ryan who’s gone stiff. Ryan scowls and huffs, but nods.
“That’s how I feel. Except worse. I haven’t seen Tom in months.”
“Tom…?” Ryan furrows his eyebrows, trying to figure it out.
“Conrad!” Jon says, throwing himself onto Ryan’s lap. God, he feels like a girl. God, he doesn’t care. Ryan lets him do this sometimes. “I miss him so much.”
Lifting his bony knee and pressing it hard into Jon’s back, Ryan says darkly, “Then call the man for Christ’s sake. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
Jon sits up, blinking incredulously. “You’re right! I should call him!”
Jon scrambles over to his seat and yanks his iPhone from his pocket.
Ryan just rolls his eyes.
7. Andy Soukal/Nick Murray for pinkichan
337 words
“Hey.”
Nick blinks. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“It’s your last Black Apples show for a while, right?”
“Possibly forever,” Nick admits, frowning. He doesn’t like the thought, but he also would hate to have to balance the Young Veins with Black Apples full time. He shrugs, showing his uncertainty. “Who knows.”
Andy glances at the fans milling around and the rest of the band. “It’s a lot different. Than our shows, I mean. I guess.”
“Yeah, it’s a totally different element. I like that, though. It reminds me…I mean, Jon and Ryan came from something totally different…So did Nick…so did I…so did you.”
Andy smiles. “Do you…”
Nick smiles a little. “I could go for some barbeque ribs.”
Andy’s smile goes even softer and he steps a little closer to Nick, reaching out and touching his hip for a second - he then drops his hand. “Sorry,” he says, shortly, frowning. No one’s watching them, but for some reason the environment seems wrong - off, maybe. It’s not the same as the Young Veins van, where they’re all crushed together anyway. It’s not the same because Andy’s not sure if he’s allowed to press his lips against Nick’s throat and whisper all of those stupid precious things to him.
“So. Dinner,” Andy manages when he finally gets a hold of his breath. Nick tilts his head and smiles again, though he looks confused. This time he steps closer, so that they’re almost touching, and slips an arm around Andy’s waist. He squeezes Andy’s side, kind of protectively, and presses his mouth to his ear.
“I don’t care. What they think. If they even do,” Nick whispers softly with his lips against Andy’s ear. “Okay?”
“…Okay,” Andy agrees, kissing Nick on the mouth (maybe he’s trying to surprise him, trying to be obnoxious) but Nick just laughs and hugs him closer and they kiss in the middle of a loud bar full of noisy teenagers who probably don’t even see them or even know who they are.