[FIC] Let Me Sign [SMA verse.]
Title; Let Me Sign.
Pairing; always-a-girl!Brendon/Mikey, always-a-girl!Brendon/OMC, Jon/Spencer, always-a-girl!Brendon/Spencer [implied], always-a-girl!Brendon/Jon [implied.]
Summary; Okay, so Brenna’s aware she’s more than a little drunk, but in all fairness, her husband has just run off with some fucking harlot, she’s entitled to a little oblivion, fun, whatever, isn’t she?
Warning; non-con drug use.
Author's Notes; A little melancholy. From the Sing Me Anything verse.
Okay, so Brenna’s aware she’s more than a little drunk, but in all fairness, her husband has just run off with some fucking harlot, she’s entitled to a little oblivion, fun, whatever, isn’t she? That’s how she tries to justify it to Spencer, but the words come out in one big rush and she’s afraid she’s just confused him further. She hugs him, tells him how much she loves him, because she does love him, she always loved Spencer, loved how he made her better, stronger than she used to be. Even drunk she’s careful not to mention that night, the one that they should have both forgotten, but hangs between them every time she gets drunk and clings to him. It’s both her biggest fear and her greatest desire right now, to have someone just take control, tell her she’s out of line and take possession of her, and she knows Spencer can do this. So when she tells him she loves him, it’s not without an ulterior motive - but hey, guys do this all the time right? Mind you, she bets that pathetic little slut of Mikey’s had dropped her pants for him before he even got past the first syllable. The thought makes her giggle a little, and okay, she’s maybe more drunk than she realised.
She’s not stupid, she sees the look Jon and Spencer exchange, and it makes her angry. She’s a big girl now, she can take care of herself, it’s not like she needs them to baby her. She gets up to leave, but the room’s spinning and before she knows it Jon’s arms are around her waist, pulling her back against him, and just the feel of another human being against her makes her want to beg, plead with him to just take her, make her into someone new, someone worth loving. She tilts her head back until she’s inches away from his face, and she wishes he’d stop moving so she could focus, but the realisation dawns that it’s her who’s swaying, that if Jon let her go now she’d just fall to the ground. (Her mind tells her it’s not the end of the world if she does, so she should have another drink, blot it out, throw herself away.) The world focuses for just a second, but it’s enough for her to see the look in Jon’s eyes, that old, familiar look, that tells her that if she leaned back just a little further, if she pressed her lips to his, pushed herself against him, that she wouldn’t need to ask him, he would know what she needed. However, Brenna also knows that no matter how drunk she is, she won’t do it, she couldn’t ask Jon or Spencer to be that for her, not when you only have to be around them to see the depth of how they feel about each other, and she couldn’t disturb that, especially not now.
The thought unleashes the pent-up anger in her again, and this is good, it lets her push away their concern and stagger up to the bar, the wave of her hand letting the bartender choose whatever for her to drink. She balances on the barstool, not trusting herself to stand, and she realises the man next to her is holding out a drink for her. “You looked like you needed it,” he says, and it’s almost conspiratorial. She feels finally like she has an ally, someone who understands that maybe this is what she needs tonight. She focuses on trying to figure out what he looks like. Tall, dark, good enough looking if you like that sort of thing, but Brenna has firmly decided she doesn’t. He looks friendly and he’s bought her a drink so she’ll sit by him and tell him whatever he wants to hear before she leaves.
She puts the empty glass back on top of the bar, her mind fleetingly acknowledging his arm tight around her waist as he takes her outside to smoke. The area’s empty and her legs feel shaky as she lights up, taking a long drag in to try and centre herself. She didn’t feel this drunk two minutes ago, and the cloudy feeling in her head isn’t getting any better with the air and smoke. He’s talking to her now, words all blurring into one, and she only catches the words beautiful and mine before he’s trying to kiss her. She pushes him away, a wave of revulsion washing over her at the way he’s pawing at her, holding her tight against him, and she wants to move, but her whole body feels heavy. What can only be seconds later she realises he’s gone and she almost falls, grabbing on to the wooden beam for support. There are voices coming from somewhere, not far away, and Brenna looks up to see Jon pushing the guy against the wall, Spencer yelling at the bouncer at the door. She feels like her arms are going to give way, her only support, but there is someone here now, holding her up, keeping her safe, and her last thought before she loses consciousness is it’s Ryan, thank god, it’s Ryan.
Pairing; always-a-girl!Brendon/Mikey, always-a-girl!Brendon/OMC, Jon/Spencer, always-a-girl!Brendon/Spencer [implied], always-a-girl!Brendon/Jon [implied.]
Summary; Okay, so Brenna’s aware she’s more than a little drunk, but in all fairness, her husband has just run off with some fucking harlot, she’s entitled to a little oblivion, fun, whatever, isn’t she?
Warning; non-con drug use.
Author's Notes; A little melancholy. From the Sing Me Anything verse.
Okay, so Brenna’s aware she’s more than a little drunk, but in all fairness, her husband has just run off with some fucking harlot, she’s entitled to a little oblivion, fun, whatever, isn’t she? That’s how she tries to justify it to Spencer, but the words come out in one big rush and she’s afraid she’s just confused him further. She hugs him, tells him how much she loves him, because she does love him, she always loved Spencer, loved how he made her better, stronger than she used to be. Even drunk she’s careful not to mention that night, the one that they should have both forgotten, but hangs between them every time she gets drunk and clings to him. It’s both her biggest fear and her greatest desire right now, to have someone just take control, tell her she’s out of line and take possession of her, and she knows Spencer can do this. So when she tells him she loves him, it’s not without an ulterior motive - but hey, guys do this all the time right? Mind you, she bets that pathetic little slut of Mikey’s had dropped her pants for him before he even got past the first syllable. The thought makes her giggle a little, and okay, she’s maybe more drunk than she realised.
She’s not stupid, she sees the look Jon and Spencer exchange, and it makes her angry. She’s a big girl now, she can take care of herself, it’s not like she needs them to baby her. She gets up to leave, but the room’s spinning and before she knows it Jon’s arms are around her waist, pulling her back against him, and just the feel of another human being against her makes her want to beg, plead with him to just take her, make her into someone new, someone worth loving. She tilts her head back until she’s inches away from his face, and she wishes he’d stop moving so she could focus, but the realisation dawns that it’s her who’s swaying, that if Jon let her go now she’d just fall to the ground. (Her mind tells her it’s not the end of the world if she does, so she should have another drink, blot it out, throw herself away.) The world focuses for just a second, but it’s enough for her to see the look in Jon’s eyes, that old, familiar look, that tells her that if she leaned back just a little further, if she pressed her lips to his, pushed herself against him, that she wouldn’t need to ask him, he would know what she needed. However, Brenna also knows that no matter how drunk she is, she won’t do it, she couldn’t ask Jon or Spencer to be that for her, not when you only have to be around them to see the depth of how they feel about each other, and she couldn’t disturb that, especially not now.
The thought unleashes the pent-up anger in her again, and this is good, it lets her push away their concern and stagger up to the bar, the wave of her hand letting the bartender choose whatever for her to drink. She balances on the barstool, not trusting herself to stand, and she realises the man next to her is holding out a drink for her. “You looked like you needed it,” he says, and it’s almost conspiratorial. She feels finally like she has an ally, someone who understands that maybe this is what she needs tonight. She focuses on trying to figure out what he looks like. Tall, dark, good enough looking if you like that sort of thing, but Brenna has firmly decided she doesn’t. He looks friendly and he’s bought her a drink so she’ll sit by him and tell him whatever he wants to hear before she leaves.
She puts the empty glass back on top of the bar, her mind fleetingly acknowledging his arm tight around her waist as he takes her outside to smoke. The area’s empty and her legs feel shaky as she lights up, taking a long drag in to try and centre herself. She didn’t feel this drunk two minutes ago, and the cloudy feeling in her head isn’t getting any better with the air and smoke. He’s talking to her now, words all blurring into one, and she only catches the words beautiful and mine before he’s trying to kiss her. She pushes him away, a wave of revulsion washing over her at the way he’s pawing at her, holding her tight against him, and she wants to move, but her whole body feels heavy. What can only be seconds later she realises he’s gone and she almost falls, grabbing on to the wooden beam for support. There are voices coming from somewhere, not far away, and Brenna looks up to see Jon pushing the guy against the wall, Spencer yelling at the bouncer at the door. She feels like her arms are going to give way, her only support, but there is someone here now, holding her up, keeping her safe, and her last thought before she loses consciousness is it’s Ryan, thank god, it’s Ryan.