NEW. READ. NOW.
uhm...something is up.
Go look.
Title: Power Outtage
Chapter: 1 - Of Windows and Candles.
Summary: The power goes off. David is...uncomfortable. Things go down. (not in this chapter, though.)
Pairing: P/D <3
Rating: This chapter shall remain PG for now...Unless I become severely disatisfied and re-write it. I doubt that will happen though, sorry.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN PIERRE BOUVIER OR DAVID DESROSIERS. IF I DID, I'D BE MAKING BILLIONS OF DOLLARS OF THEIR SEXTAPE.
Warnings: None, really for this chapter. Things will...progress as time goes on, though.
Dedication: This chapter (and probably further chapters ahead) will be dedicated to shapiroluke for being extremely amazing and dedicating a sexchapter to me. ( :
That is all. Please continue.
The power was off in the entire city.
Nobody within a 30 mile radius had electricity of any sort unless it came from batteries…
Or candles…
Pierre was old-school, or so he liked to think. Whenever there was a big power outage like this one, he’d light a candle instead of whipping out a flashlight. It just felt so much more traditional to carry around a candle.
There was one lit on his bedside table.
He had gone into his kitchen downstairs to find more matches and another candle holder when he thought he heard something coming from upstairs. He stared at the stairwell that led up to his bedroom. Raising an eyebrow, he grabbed the pack of matches he’d located and stuffed them in his back pocket, picked up his candle from the table and slowly headed upstairs to investigate.
Clink.
If Pierre didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn it was rocks on his window.
But who would be throwing rocks at his window?
…
But what else could it be?
Pierre racked his brain as he slowly and tiredly climbed the stairs. He couldn’t think of a single thing that sounded like that that could be even remotely believable. When he reached the top of the stairs, the clinking came more often. First it came at 10 second intervals, then at 5, then 3. Then all at once, he heard about 12 “clinks” on his window.
“I really hope it’s a squirrel…”
Pierre, once he had reached his bedroom door, cautiously stepped forward toward his window. He placed the candle down, knowing he’d probably get a surprise out of all of this. Not three seconds after the candle holder’s bottom touched the bedside table, a noise that was even louder resonated from the window.
Bang.
“OUCH! MOTHER-…damn it…”
Pierre knew that voice.
“David?” He asked and stepped toward the window, opening the shades. The black silhouette nodded on the other side of the glass. Pierre rolled his eyes and lifted the window frame. “What are you doing here? It’s two in the morning.”
The bassist shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, thought I’d…you know…drop by?” He offered.
Pierre raised an eyebrow. “Really? I mean…really? What was the purpose of coming through my window? Enlighten me…” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at David, wondering why he didn’t just ring the fucking doorbell like a normal person.
Then again, David wasn’t all that normal to begin with.
…
And maybe that was one of the things Pierre liked most about him. Pierre liked…loved everything about the bassist. His eyes, his smile, his absolute inability to sit still for more than 10 minutes, his erratic behavior patterns, his blonde spiked hair; everything. Though Pierre would never admit it to David or anybody else - he’d had trouble admitting it to himself, never mind David.
Pierre shook his thoughts and raised an eyebrow at David.
The blonde sighed, looking at his hands as he sat on the windowsill. He looked up at Pierre. “Can I come in before I explain? Sitting up here is kinda starting to freak me out a little bit…” Pierre went to help him in, but apparently surprised him off the edge of the window.
“OH, MY GOD! DAVID!”
“I’m okay…” Pierre sighed with relief and looked out of his window. The tree branch just a foot below had caught him. “Gimmie a hand?” He asked. Pierre leaned out of the window and grabbed his arms, pulling him up through the window, his legs being the last thing in the house.
“Now,” Pierre started, “would you mind telling me why you’re in my room?”
David smiled mischievously. “Because,” he began, “you pulled me in.” Pierre sighed and ran a hand through his own hair, stopping to rub his eyes with the heel of his hand. David saw he wasn’t amused. “Alright…” he confessed, “okay…I’m here because…I’m afraid of the dark…”
Pierre blinked. “What?”
David blushed and held his arm, looking down at the floor. “I know, it’s stupid, but…I never seem to have gotten over it from when I was little. I…the power went out at my place and…I didn’t know where else to go…” He looked at Pierre sadly. “I’m sorry…This was a really bad idea. I’m just…gonna go home.”
Pierre sighed and stopped him. “You can stay here if you want.”
David turned and bit his lip, and Pierre guessed he didn’t want to impose. “Are you sure, man? You really don’t mind?” Pierre chuckled and stepped forward, putting a hand on David’s shoulder comfortingly.
“Dude, since when do I mind?”
David smiled and hugged the taller man, giving a four-year-old giggle of gratitude as he did so. “Thanks, man. I owe you.” Pierre gave him a face and shook his head, giving a small smile at David’s response.
“No, you don’t. You can crash here whenever you want, you know that. I’m just…cranky, I guess. I haven’t slept myself in a while.”
David bit his lip again, wondering if he should say what was on his mind.
“Well…I can keep you company?” He offered and Pierre laughed.
“Don’t you always…?” He said to no one in particular and gave David a pat on the back before letting him go and walking toward a few lit candles on his bureau.
David frowned, but didn’t say anything.
Pierre turned and looked at him after he’d blown the candles out and saw through the dark the silhouette of his frown. “Oh…right…dark…” he said to himself thoughtfully and bit his own lip. “Why are you afraid of the dark, anyway?” He asked, sitting on his dresser.
The blonde sighed and sat on the bed, unaware of where to start.
Or whether he should tell the truth.
He decided against it.
“I’m not sure…” he lied, “I guess I just never got over those stupid horror movies you watch when you’re a kid even when your parents tell you not to…” he sighed, aware that he sounded like a little kid. “I guess I never got over the monster in the closet…”
Pierre looked at him and knew he was lying.
“Who was the monster, Dave?” He asked quietly. David sighed and put his hand on his shoulder, rubbing it and feeling tears coming on.
“My dad…” David’s voice cracked.
That was all Pierre needed to know.
The last thing that the bassist needed was a trip down that road right now. David’s family wasn’t exactly the warm fuzzy family you see on those Christmas specials. They were the family you saw on “FBI’s most wanted”. Well, his dad anyway. Pierre remembered how in high school, David came to school one day and looked like he had just been in a bar fight…
“Dude! What happened?!” Pierre asked as the small framed boy sat down in his homeroom seat. He was sporting a black eye.
David shrugged and rolled his shoulder, holding it. “Got in a fight…” he offered. Pierre didn’t believe that shit, not for a second. David was so not a fighter. But he decided to let the bassist keep his pride, so he kept his mouth shut.
It wasn’t until later on that Pierre learned that David’s father had been abusing him and his mother for years and that he hit the bassist just a little too hard that time and left a mark for everyone to see. He was arrested shortly after David’s mother died from one too many “falls” down the staircase.
Pierre stood up and made his way to the bed, sitting down beside him.
David was holding his shoulders, knees to his chest, fetal position and all. Pierre looked at him, saddened and wrapped his arms around the blonde form sitting next to him. The young bassist leaned into the hug, resting his head on the singer’s shoulder.
“Are you sure I can stay the night, Pierre?” David asked, looking up at the older man.
He’d accidentally let slip his accent and said Pierre’s name exactly the way he’d always loved to hear it. Of course, he’d never told David this, but it was still a nice thought to keep…
Pierre smiled.
“Are you deaf? Of course you can stay.” David gave a small smile back as he kept his gaze on Pierre’s chocolate colored irises.
“Thank you…” he mumbled, his accent still not fading away, which made Pierre smile just a little bit. “I’ll go downstairs or something.” Pierre sighed.
“Dude, the whole point was to be with someone. You can stay here…” he offered, quickly tacking on an “if you want…”
David smiled.
“You’re right; I guess I’m just…still kinda jumpy…” David guessed and flopped down onto Pierre’s bed, facing the ceiling. He put his hands behind his head and played with a lock of his own blonde hair, wondering if tonight would be a good night to talk to Pierre about…
Certain things…
---
comments?
please don't hurt me.
i'll finish it soon, i promise.
[x] Lyssa
Go look.
Title: Power Outtage
Chapter: 1 - Of Windows and Candles.
Summary: The power goes off. David is...uncomfortable. Things go down. (not in this chapter, though.)
Pairing: P/D <3
Rating: This chapter shall remain PG for now...Unless I become severely disatisfied and re-write it. I doubt that will happen though, sorry.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN PIERRE BOUVIER OR DAVID DESROSIERS. IF I DID, I'D BE MAKING BILLIONS OF DOLLARS OF THEIR SEXTAPE.
Warnings: None, really for this chapter. Things will...progress as time goes on, though.
Dedication: This chapter (and probably further chapters ahead) will be dedicated to shapiroluke for being extremely amazing and dedicating a sexchapter to me. ( :
That is all. Please continue.
The power was off in the entire city.
Nobody within a 30 mile radius had electricity of any sort unless it came from batteries…
Or candles…
Pierre was old-school, or so he liked to think. Whenever there was a big power outage like this one, he’d light a candle instead of whipping out a flashlight. It just felt so much more traditional to carry around a candle.
There was one lit on his bedside table.
He had gone into his kitchen downstairs to find more matches and another candle holder when he thought he heard something coming from upstairs. He stared at the stairwell that led up to his bedroom. Raising an eyebrow, he grabbed the pack of matches he’d located and stuffed them in his back pocket, picked up his candle from the table and slowly headed upstairs to investigate.
Clink.
If Pierre didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn it was rocks on his window.
But who would be throwing rocks at his window?
…
But what else could it be?
Pierre racked his brain as he slowly and tiredly climbed the stairs. He couldn’t think of a single thing that sounded like that that could be even remotely believable. When he reached the top of the stairs, the clinking came more often. First it came at 10 second intervals, then at 5, then 3. Then all at once, he heard about 12 “clinks” on his window.
“I really hope it’s a squirrel…”
Pierre, once he had reached his bedroom door, cautiously stepped forward toward his window. He placed the candle down, knowing he’d probably get a surprise out of all of this. Not three seconds after the candle holder’s bottom touched the bedside table, a noise that was even louder resonated from the window.
Bang.
“OUCH! MOTHER-…damn it…”
Pierre knew that voice.
“David?” He asked and stepped toward the window, opening the shades. The black silhouette nodded on the other side of the glass. Pierre rolled his eyes and lifted the window frame. “What are you doing here? It’s two in the morning.”
The bassist shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, thought I’d…you know…drop by?” He offered.
Pierre raised an eyebrow. “Really? I mean…really? What was the purpose of coming through my window? Enlighten me…” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at David, wondering why he didn’t just ring the fucking doorbell like a normal person.
Then again, David wasn’t all that normal to begin with.
…
And maybe that was one of the things Pierre liked most about him. Pierre liked…loved everything about the bassist. His eyes, his smile, his absolute inability to sit still for more than 10 minutes, his erratic behavior patterns, his blonde spiked hair; everything. Though Pierre would never admit it to David or anybody else - he’d had trouble admitting it to himself, never mind David.
Pierre shook his thoughts and raised an eyebrow at David.
The blonde sighed, looking at his hands as he sat on the windowsill. He looked up at Pierre. “Can I come in before I explain? Sitting up here is kinda starting to freak me out a little bit…” Pierre went to help him in, but apparently surprised him off the edge of the window.
“OH, MY GOD! DAVID!”
“I’m okay…” Pierre sighed with relief and looked out of his window. The tree branch just a foot below had caught him. “Gimmie a hand?” He asked. Pierre leaned out of the window and grabbed his arms, pulling him up through the window, his legs being the last thing in the house.
“Now,” Pierre started, “would you mind telling me why you’re in my room?”
David smiled mischievously. “Because,” he began, “you pulled me in.” Pierre sighed and ran a hand through his own hair, stopping to rub his eyes with the heel of his hand. David saw he wasn’t amused. “Alright…” he confessed, “okay…I’m here because…I’m afraid of the dark…”
Pierre blinked. “What?”
David blushed and held his arm, looking down at the floor. “I know, it’s stupid, but…I never seem to have gotten over it from when I was little. I…the power went out at my place and…I didn’t know where else to go…” He looked at Pierre sadly. “I’m sorry…This was a really bad idea. I’m just…gonna go home.”
Pierre sighed and stopped him. “You can stay here if you want.”
David turned and bit his lip, and Pierre guessed he didn’t want to impose. “Are you sure, man? You really don’t mind?” Pierre chuckled and stepped forward, putting a hand on David’s shoulder comfortingly.
“Dude, since when do I mind?”
David smiled and hugged the taller man, giving a four-year-old giggle of gratitude as he did so. “Thanks, man. I owe you.” Pierre gave him a face and shook his head, giving a small smile at David’s response.
“No, you don’t. You can crash here whenever you want, you know that. I’m just…cranky, I guess. I haven’t slept myself in a while.”
David bit his lip again, wondering if he should say what was on his mind.
“Well…I can keep you company?” He offered and Pierre laughed.
“Don’t you always…?” He said to no one in particular and gave David a pat on the back before letting him go and walking toward a few lit candles on his bureau.
David frowned, but didn’t say anything.
Pierre turned and looked at him after he’d blown the candles out and saw through the dark the silhouette of his frown. “Oh…right…dark…” he said to himself thoughtfully and bit his own lip. “Why are you afraid of the dark, anyway?” He asked, sitting on his dresser.
The blonde sighed and sat on the bed, unaware of where to start.
Or whether he should tell the truth.
He decided against it.
“I’m not sure…” he lied, “I guess I just never got over those stupid horror movies you watch when you’re a kid even when your parents tell you not to…” he sighed, aware that he sounded like a little kid. “I guess I never got over the monster in the closet…”
Pierre looked at him and knew he was lying.
“Who was the monster, Dave?” He asked quietly. David sighed and put his hand on his shoulder, rubbing it and feeling tears coming on.
“My dad…” David’s voice cracked.
That was all Pierre needed to know.
The last thing that the bassist needed was a trip down that road right now. David’s family wasn’t exactly the warm fuzzy family you see on those Christmas specials. They were the family you saw on “FBI’s most wanted”. Well, his dad anyway. Pierre remembered how in high school, David came to school one day and looked like he had just been in a bar fight…
“Dude! What happened?!” Pierre asked as the small framed boy sat down in his homeroom seat. He was sporting a black eye.
David shrugged and rolled his shoulder, holding it. “Got in a fight…” he offered. Pierre didn’t believe that shit, not for a second. David was so not a fighter. But he decided to let the bassist keep his pride, so he kept his mouth shut.
It wasn’t until later on that Pierre learned that David’s father had been abusing him and his mother for years and that he hit the bassist just a little too hard that time and left a mark for everyone to see. He was arrested shortly after David’s mother died from one too many “falls” down the staircase.
Pierre stood up and made his way to the bed, sitting down beside him.
David was holding his shoulders, knees to his chest, fetal position and all. Pierre looked at him, saddened and wrapped his arms around the blonde form sitting next to him. The young bassist leaned into the hug, resting his head on the singer’s shoulder.
“Are you sure I can stay the night, Pierre?” David asked, looking up at the older man.
He’d accidentally let slip his accent and said Pierre’s name exactly the way he’d always loved to hear it. Of course, he’d never told David this, but it was still a nice thought to keep…
Pierre smiled.
“Are you deaf? Of course you can stay.” David gave a small smile back as he kept his gaze on Pierre’s chocolate colored irises.
“Thank you…” he mumbled, his accent still not fading away, which made Pierre smile just a little bit. “I’ll go downstairs or something.” Pierre sighed.
“Dude, the whole point was to be with someone. You can stay here…” he offered, quickly tacking on an “if you want…”
David smiled.
“You’re right; I guess I’m just…still kinda jumpy…” David guessed and flopped down onto Pierre’s bed, facing the ceiling. He put his hands behind his head and played with a lock of his own blonde hair, wondering if tonight would be a good night to talk to Pierre about…
Certain things…
---
comments?
please don't hurt me.
i'll finish it soon, i promise.
[x] Lyssa