Brand New::Vinnie/Pete (Soco Amaretto Lime)::PG::November to Remember
Title: November to Remember
Author: dejectedmadness
Rating: PG... PG-13 maybe, but I seriously doubt it. (man, this is the most soft core thing I have written in... ever)
Pairing: Vinnie/Pete
Band(s): Brand New
Disclaimer: I don't own Brand New or the song Soco Amaretto Lime. I don't know Vinnie, Jesse, Garrett, Brian or Pete. Don't sue, I'm poor.
Summary: My take on Soco Amaretto Lime.
Notes: The lyrics you can actually HEAR of this song are different from the lyrics in the CD jacket, which are back up lyrics done by Vinnie (far as I can tell). I am going to post both so you get an idea of where the fuck this came from. If you don't care, the whole damn story is going to seem really fucking random.
Also, another note, this is in first person and present tense, two things I NEVER EVER do. Except for the last little scene thinger. If there are errors, kiss my ass, it's 2:30am. Alternatively, let me know and I will fix up any problems with the story. Thanks.
Passed out on the overpass
Sunday best and broken glass
Broken down from the bikes and bars
Suspended like spirits over speeding cars
You and me were kings over the parkway tonight
And tonight will go on forever while we
walk around this town like we own the streets
and stay awake through summer like we own the heat
Singing "everybody wake up(wake up)it's time to get down"
(everybody, everybody wake up its time to get down)
And when I pass the bottle back to Pete
on the overpass tonight, I bet we laugh
I'm gonna stay eighteen forever
So we can stay like this forever
And we'll never miss a party
cause we keep them going constantly
And we'll never have to listen
to anyone about anything
cause it's all been done and it's all been said
we're the coolest kids and we take what we can get
The hell out of this town
Find some conversation
The low fule lights been on for days
It doesn't mean anyhting
I've got another 500 nother 500 miles
before we shut this engine down,
we shut it down
I'm gonna stay eighteen forever
So we can stay like this forever
And we'll never miss a party
cause we keep them going constantly
And we'll never have to listen
to anyone about anything
cause it's all been done and it's all been said
we're the coolest kids and we take what we can get
Eighteen forever
So we can stay like this forever
And we'll never miss a party
cause we keep them going constantly
And we'll never have to listen
to anyone about anything cause it's all been done
and it's all been said
we're the coolest kids and we take what we can get
Just jealous cause we're young and in love
You're just jealous cause we're young and in love
You're just jealous cause we're young and in love
You're just jealous cause we're young and in love
You're just jealous cause we're young and in love
You're just jealous cause we're young and in love
Cut me open. Sun poisoned. This offer stands forever. New haircut. New bracelet. Eyeliner. Wait forever. First kisses. New stitches. November to remember. Nighswimmers. Collar weekend. Appearance ticket. Watch her from the roof as she walks across her backyard... now go cry in your car. You're just jealous cause I'm young and in love. Your stomach's filled up but you're starved for conversation. You're spending all your nights growing old in your bed. And you're tearing up your photos cause you want to forget... it's over.
[november to remember]
A laugh breaks the silence like the road breaks the brown bottle dropped from the bridge above the interstate and catches like the cold from the chill of the uncharacteristically cool summer night. He missteps and falls into me. I grab his arm to keep him from teetering over the railing, dangling over cars like the ghost he’d be if he fell, but he won’t fall. I pull him back.
We sit down, and I pass him another beer. There are so many ways that this is illegal: the fact that we’re both underage, the fact that we parked the car in the trees beside the highway, the fact that it’s not even his car, it’s his mother’s car, a busted up old beater with a fucked fuel gauge that forces us to have to write down how many gallons we buy and guess how many we use per mile driven. I can’t force myself to care. Tonight is ours. It’s our summer, and so far it’s perfect.
He rests his head against the tree and takes a drag off his cigarette, then trades me for the bottle so I can do the same. He asks me about my girlfriend.
“Kelly’s gone,” I say.
He doesn’t mean to cut me open, but I insist he didn’t. Then we share a gaze. I don’t know what it means. The darkness is hazy at best, and I try to focus my eyes on his, but that only makes the rest of him twist into distortion.
It doesn’t matter in a moment because he’s jumping up and dragging me to my feet. He can’t find his keys because I have them, so we start walking into town.
“What time is it?”
***
Two in the morning, which makes it two hours later than the last time he asked me the same question. I laugh, sobered slightly since having left the beer at the car. He still seems as wasted as ever.
“Everybody wake up!” he yells, running down the middle of the vacant street.
No one does.
He sits on the curb beside the only open convenience store we’d seen for a mile. He’s out of cigarettes, and I have the fake ID.
“What would I do without you?” he asks when I return. “You buy me smokes and beer… next time you need something, ask me, and I‘ll give it to you.” I try to protest, but he touches my hand, and my heart stops. “No,” he says severely, “seriously, man. Anytime. Anything.”
I try to tell myself I’m still drunk enough to have imagined the meaningful, lingering stare he shot me, but he’s up and running again before I can control my accelerating heart.
***
“There’s gum in my hair!” I can’t see it, but there’s a clump of rubbery stickiness that won’t detach.
He offers to get it out. I sit up to let him try. His hands pick tentatively at it, and his elbow rests on my shoulder. I try to tell myself the heart palpitations and stomach moths are just from the beer, but I’m sober now. My eyes drift shut. His breath rustles the hair at the base of my neck, and I want to know why it makes me breathe harder to think that his lips are that near my skin.
Snip.
My eyes fly open, and my head whirls around. He’s dangling the culprit from a lock of my hair, cut with his Swiss Army Knife.
“I didn’t need a haircut,” I lie.
He shrugs and offers me the six-pack rings he’s wearing around his wrist in exchange for forgiveness. I gladly accept the new bracelets.
***
“Look what I found,” he says, holding up what appears to be a pencil that he found in the glove compartment. “Come here.”
Oh, it’s eyeliner. I shrug and lean forward, toward him in the passenger’s seat. I suppress the urge to flinch in favour of his hand steadying his fingers on my cheek while he lines my upper lid. He has a harder time doing the other eye. His hand stays there for too long without the pencil touching me, but I don’t want to open my eyes, lest he poke one out. I wait forever.
I don’t flinch when his lips touch mine, even though I don’t expect it. I do open my eyes, though.
He leans back to gauge my reaction. I smile hesitantly, then look down at my hands. I’m not drunk anymore, and neither is he.
***
“When was the last time we got gas?” I ask when he wakes up. He doesn’t know, but he asks me to pull over.
“Sun poisoned,” he says with a sick smile when he finishes throwing up in the ditch, but he rinses his mouth with a beer.
We keep driving. It’s only been three-hundred miles.
***
I’m not nearly as drunk as he is, but I’m not about to stop him stripping off his clothes and jumping into the water. I glance at the dark windows of the strange house whose backyard we broke into briefly before undressing as well, taking care to tie our clothes into a bundle with my pant for a quick getaway. I dive in.
He’s a swimmer. I’m not. Regardless, I agree when he challenges me to laps. The winner’s prize is a kiss. I’m about due for one of those.
He swims up to me, and I give him his reward, reaching blindly for his shoulders and stability. He floats closer. I try to keep a generous bubble of space between us; he tries to eliminate it. When his body touches mine, I forget my reasoning.
The lights flick on, and we scramble to escape, naked and aroused, running down the street, pressing our boxers to our groins. We collapse laughing in his car. I don’t have the chance to catch my breath before he kisses me again, dropping his cover and reaching for me.
***
“I don’t ever want to be like that,” he says about his mother. She married for money, then wasn’t in the will. “You’re not hungry, but for conversation.”
“And love.”
“And you’re just growing old, spending half your life in your own bed, alone, cutting up pictures of the way things used to be because you can’t bear the reminder that it’s over, that’s all you had, and you blew it.”
I don’t want to blow it.
***
He passes me a cigarette, and we stroll down the sidewalk, smoke rising from our lips. The heat does the same from the pavement. It’s still early. The sun’s rays bend over the horizon as the star itself is hidden by the ground.
I stop beside a house.
“It’s Kelly’s,” I say.
With a smirk, he hands me the cigarette again and glances over his shoulder and around, down the street, then jogs to the house. I glance, too, and follow. He leads me to the roof by way of the large maple in the front yard. I light another when we get up there.
She’s in the backyard reclining in a chair wearing a bathing suit and talking on the phone.
“To Dave,” he says when he hears bits of the conversation. My hearing isn’t that good. “Now go cry in your car,” he snickers and nudges me.
I roll my eyes and kiss him. He wonders what she’d say.
“She’d be jealous,” I confirm, watching her walk to the garden, then the fence.
“Why?”
I shrug. “Because we’re young,” I suppose, “ and in love.”
***
He smiles and brushes my hair out of my eyes. I grin up at him from my position on my back in the backseat of his car.
“This is a November to remember,” he says with a smile.
“It’s August,” I comment.
“But that doesn’t rhyme.”
***
“Are you sure?” I ask. He kisses me again, fingers undoing my fly.
“Of course I am.”
I shudder as he releases me, and my eyes drift shut. “Because I was just joking-”
“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll stop.” I grunt. Then I moan when he descends on me with his mouth. He’d said anything, anytime. I hadn’t expected him to agree to my request, but here he was, on his knees. I sigh, feeling my supporting arms shake behind me. I collapse onto my back on my bed, giving up trying to keep myself sitting up.
When I come, his name is on my lips, a sigh. “Pete!”
***
“You’ve really only ever written that one song?”
“Garrett, be nice!”
“No, I mean, I liked it! It’s a shame you haven’t written more,” he clarified to satisfy Brian.
Jesse nodded. “I think it’s best acoustic. It’s not really like the rest of the album, though, so maybe we should leave it for the last song.”
“What are those lyrics again?” Garrett took a pen from behind his ear.
Vinnie cleared his throat to recite them.
“Do you want to take this one?” Jesse offered. It was his song, after all.
“No!” he exclaimed. “No, there’s another part. I’ll sing that. It’s sort of background stuff. You stick to the lead. I’ll just play the guitar.” He smiled and laughed nervously, not really meeting anyone’s eyes. He scratched his head. “You know, if you don’t like it, we don’t have-”
“No!” Brian chastised.
“It’s good,” Jesse insisted.
Vinnie nodded acquiescently. “Okay.”
“Hey,” Garrett said, looking at his notes of the lyrics, “who’s Pete?”
Author: dejectedmadness
Rating: PG... PG-13 maybe, but I seriously doubt it. (man, this is the most soft core thing I have written in... ever)
Pairing: Vinnie/Pete
Band(s): Brand New
Disclaimer: I don't own Brand New or the song Soco Amaretto Lime. I don't know Vinnie, Jesse, Garrett, Brian or Pete. Don't sue, I'm poor.
Summary: My take on Soco Amaretto Lime.
Notes: The lyrics you can actually HEAR of this song are different from the lyrics in the CD jacket, which are back up lyrics done by Vinnie (far as I can tell). I am going to post both so you get an idea of where the fuck this came from. If you don't care, the whole damn story is going to seem really fucking random.
Also, another note, this is in first person and present tense, two things I NEVER EVER do. Except for the last little scene thinger. If there are errors, kiss my ass, it's 2:30am. Alternatively, let me know and I will fix up any problems with the story. Thanks.
Passed out on the overpass
Sunday best and broken glass
Broken down from the bikes and bars
Suspended like spirits over speeding cars
You and me were kings over the parkway tonight
And tonight will go on forever while we
walk around this town like we own the streets
and stay awake through summer like we own the heat
Singing "everybody wake up(wake up)it's time to get down"
(everybody, everybody wake up its time to get down)
And when I pass the bottle back to Pete
on the overpass tonight, I bet we laugh
I'm gonna stay eighteen forever
So we can stay like this forever
And we'll never miss a party
cause we keep them going constantly
And we'll never have to listen
to anyone about anything
cause it's all been done and it's all been said
we're the coolest kids and we take what we can get
The hell out of this town
Find some conversation
The low fule lights been on for days
It doesn't mean anyhting
I've got another 500 nother 500 miles
before we shut this engine down,
we shut it down
I'm gonna stay eighteen forever
So we can stay like this forever
And we'll never miss a party
cause we keep them going constantly
And we'll never have to listen
to anyone about anything
cause it's all been done and it's all been said
we're the coolest kids and we take what we can get
Eighteen forever
So we can stay like this forever
And we'll never miss a party
cause we keep them going constantly
And we'll never have to listen
to anyone about anything cause it's all been done
and it's all been said
we're the coolest kids and we take what we can get
Just jealous cause we're young and in love
You're just jealous cause we're young and in love
You're just jealous cause we're young and in love
You're just jealous cause we're young and in love
You're just jealous cause we're young and in love
You're just jealous cause we're young and in love
Cut me open. Sun poisoned. This offer stands forever. New haircut. New bracelet. Eyeliner. Wait forever. First kisses. New stitches. November to remember. Nighswimmers. Collar weekend. Appearance ticket. Watch her from the roof as she walks across her backyard... now go cry in your car. You're just jealous cause I'm young and in love. Your stomach's filled up but you're starved for conversation. You're spending all your nights growing old in your bed. And you're tearing up your photos cause you want to forget... it's over.
[november to remember]
A laugh breaks the silence like the road breaks the brown bottle dropped from the bridge above the interstate and catches like the cold from the chill of the uncharacteristically cool summer night. He missteps and falls into me. I grab his arm to keep him from teetering over the railing, dangling over cars like the ghost he’d be if he fell, but he won’t fall. I pull him back.
We sit down, and I pass him another beer. There are so many ways that this is illegal: the fact that we’re both underage, the fact that we parked the car in the trees beside the highway, the fact that it’s not even his car, it’s his mother’s car, a busted up old beater with a fucked fuel gauge that forces us to have to write down how many gallons we buy and guess how many we use per mile driven. I can’t force myself to care. Tonight is ours. It’s our summer, and so far it’s perfect.
He rests his head against the tree and takes a drag off his cigarette, then trades me for the bottle so I can do the same. He asks me about my girlfriend.
“Kelly’s gone,” I say.
He doesn’t mean to cut me open, but I insist he didn’t. Then we share a gaze. I don’t know what it means. The darkness is hazy at best, and I try to focus my eyes on his, but that only makes the rest of him twist into distortion.
It doesn’t matter in a moment because he’s jumping up and dragging me to my feet. He can’t find his keys because I have them, so we start walking into town.
“What time is it?”
***
Two in the morning, which makes it two hours later than the last time he asked me the same question. I laugh, sobered slightly since having left the beer at the car. He still seems as wasted as ever.
“Everybody wake up!” he yells, running down the middle of the vacant street.
No one does.
He sits on the curb beside the only open convenience store we’d seen for a mile. He’s out of cigarettes, and I have the fake ID.
“What would I do without you?” he asks when I return. “You buy me smokes and beer… next time you need something, ask me, and I‘ll give it to you.” I try to protest, but he touches my hand, and my heart stops. “No,” he says severely, “seriously, man. Anytime. Anything.”
I try to tell myself I’m still drunk enough to have imagined the meaningful, lingering stare he shot me, but he’s up and running again before I can control my accelerating heart.
***
“There’s gum in my hair!” I can’t see it, but there’s a clump of rubbery stickiness that won’t detach.
He offers to get it out. I sit up to let him try. His hands pick tentatively at it, and his elbow rests on my shoulder. I try to tell myself the heart palpitations and stomach moths are just from the beer, but I’m sober now. My eyes drift shut. His breath rustles the hair at the base of my neck, and I want to know why it makes me breathe harder to think that his lips are that near my skin.
Snip.
My eyes fly open, and my head whirls around. He’s dangling the culprit from a lock of my hair, cut with his Swiss Army Knife.
“I didn’t need a haircut,” I lie.
He shrugs and offers me the six-pack rings he’s wearing around his wrist in exchange for forgiveness. I gladly accept the new bracelets.
***
“Look what I found,” he says, holding up what appears to be a pencil that he found in the glove compartment. “Come here.”
Oh, it’s eyeliner. I shrug and lean forward, toward him in the passenger’s seat. I suppress the urge to flinch in favour of his hand steadying his fingers on my cheek while he lines my upper lid. He has a harder time doing the other eye. His hand stays there for too long without the pencil touching me, but I don’t want to open my eyes, lest he poke one out. I wait forever.
I don’t flinch when his lips touch mine, even though I don’t expect it. I do open my eyes, though.
He leans back to gauge my reaction. I smile hesitantly, then look down at my hands. I’m not drunk anymore, and neither is he.
***
“When was the last time we got gas?” I ask when he wakes up. He doesn’t know, but he asks me to pull over.
“Sun poisoned,” he says with a sick smile when he finishes throwing up in the ditch, but he rinses his mouth with a beer.
We keep driving. It’s only been three-hundred miles.
***
I’m not nearly as drunk as he is, but I’m not about to stop him stripping off his clothes and jumping into the water. I glance at the dark windows of the strange house whose backyard we broke into briefly before undressing as well, taking care to tie our clothes into a bundle with my pant for a quick getaway. I dive in.
He’s a swimmer. I’m not. Regardless, I agree when he challenges me to laps. The winner’s prize is a kiss. I’m about due for one of those.
He swims up to me, and I give him his reward, reaching blindly for his shoulders and stability. He floats closer. I try to keep a generous bubble of space between us; he tries to eliminate it. When his body touches mine, I forget my reasoning.
The lights flick on, and we scramble to escape, naked and aroused, running down the street, pressing our boxers to our groins. We collapse laughing in his car. I don’t have the chance to catch my breath before he kisses me again, dropping his cover and reaching for me.
***
“I don’t ever want to be like that,” he says about his mother. She married for money, then wasn’t in the will. “You’re not hungry, but for conversation.”
“And love.”
“And you’re just growing old, spending half your life in your own bed, alone, cutting up pictures of the way things used to be because you can’t bear the reminder that it’s over, that’s all you had, and you blew it.”
I don’t want to blow it.
***
He passes me a cigarette, and we stroll down the sidewalk, smoke rising from our lips. The heat does the same from the pavement. It’s still early. The sun’s rays bend over the horizon as the star itself is hidden by the ground.
I stop beside a house.
“It’s Kelly’s,” I say.
With a smirk, he hands me the cigarette again and glances over his shoulder and around, down the street, then jogs to the house. I glance, too, and follow. He leads me to the roof by way of the large maple in the front yard. I light another when we get up there.
She’s in the backyard reclining in a chair wearing a bathing suit and talking on the phone.
“To Dave,” he says when he hears bits of the conversation. My hearing isn’t that good. “Now go cry in your car,” he snickers and nudges me.
I roll my eyes and kiss him. He wonders what she’d say.
“She’d be jealous,” I confirm, watching her walk to the garden, then the fence.
“Why?”
I shrug. “Because we’re young,” I suppose, “ and in love.”
***
He smiles and brushes my hair out of my eyes. I grin up at him from my position on my back in the backseat of his car.
“This is a November to remember,” he says with a smile.
“It’s August,” I comment.
“But that doesn’t rhyme.”
***
“Are you sure?” I ask. He kisses me again, fingers undoing my fly.
“Of course I am.”
I shudder as he releases me, and my eyes drift shut. “Because I was just joking-”
“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll stop.” I grunt. Then I moan when he descends on me with his mouth. He’d said anything, anytime. I hadn’t expected him to agree to my request, but here he was, on his knees. I sigh, feeling my supporting arms shake behind me. I collapse onto my back on my bed, giving up trying to keep myself sitting up.
When I come, his name is on my lips, a sigh. “Pete!”
***
“You’ve really only ever written that one song?”
“Garrett, be nice!”
“No, I mean, I liked it! It’s a shame you haven’t written more,” he clarified to satisfy Brian.
Jesse nodded. “I think it’s best acoustic. It’s not really like the rest of the album, though, so maybe we should leave it for the last song.”
“What are those lyrics again?” Garrett took a pen from behind his ear.
Vinnie cleared his throat to recite them.
“Do you want to take this one?” Jesse offered. It was his song, after all.
“No!” he exclaimed. “No, there’s another part. I’ll sing that. It’s sort of background stuff. You stick to the lead. I’ll just play the guitar.” He smiled and laughed nervously, not really meeting anyone’s eyes. He scratched his head. “You know, if you don’t like it, we don’t have-”
“No!” Brian chastised.
“It’s good,” Jesse insisted.
Vinnie nodded acquiescently. “Okay.”
“Hey,” Garrett said, looking at his notes of the lyrics, “who’s Pete?”