Songs about the Ways and their tiny guitarist
Title: Songs about the Ways and their tiny guitarist
Author: creepylicious/alles_luege
Pairing: Gerard/Lindsey/Frank
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's basically like this: Travis sprays the Ways' garage, gets caught, gets involved and kind of maybe (and he's not saying he is, okay? What does Gabe know anyway!) falls in love with the Ways and their tiny guitarist Frank.
“Got your stupid acrylics for fuck's sake, why these particular shade of freaking red?” The guy entering asks, throwing a bag on the counter and strolling over to grab Gerard by his hair to kiss him senseless. When he let's go of Gerard he exhales smoke and snatches Gerard's cigarette away.
“Who's that?” he asks as Travis says, “Does your wife know about that?”
Warning(s): threesome
Author’s Notes: Written for anon_lovefest. First part in the 'Songs about the Ways'-verse. I'm dedicating this with much L.O.V.E. To the OP gala_apples, draconic_girl, sydneysconverse, exoticway, tygermine and everyone who didn't leave their names in the comments. You guys, I LOVE you! *hugs *
Masterlist: Songs about the Ways-verse
Word Count: 1.383
Beta: stones_at_moons
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real
“Dude, you don't have to do it just because some guy and his chick told you to,” Gabe says, peering down at the paper. Travis nods. He knows that.
“I know.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So why are you doing it anyway?” Gabe asks, grabbing the paper and holding it close so he can look at it better. Travis leans back against the couch. There are a lot of answers to that question; Because that chick is seriously hot with sweet tats, because every other guy would've called the cops and Way didn't, because it's something to do, but the truth is he wants to see them again.
“What do you think?” he asks Gabe.
“Looks fine to me. But that's not about me, that's about you and that Way chick. You know, if I wouldn't know better I would say you have some stupid crush on that woman.”
“They didn't call the cops and they did catch me with my hands in the fucking cookie jar - so to speak.”
“It was pretty stupid to try and spray their garage on a Sunday morning, Travie.”
“I was rest-drunk, okay? It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Maybe you should stop carrying cans with you all the fucking time,” Gabe answers, handing him the paper back.
“You think they'll like it?”
“If they're into zombie-ducks, sure.”
“You're right, it sucks,” Travis answers, frustrated.
~+~
He's sitting in the Ways' kitchen, nursing a glass of coke nervously while Gerard shuffles through his designs.
“I don't feel the flowers,” he says putting all of the drawings aside.
“Uhmm...”
“It doesn't look like you connected with your inner self,” Gerard goes on, he is waving a cigarette with one hand while he's clutching a mug of coffee in the other.
“But flowers would look good on your garage. They would fit in with the rest of the street...” Travis answers and Gerard looks at him. He kind of pins Travis down with his gaze.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“They look inoffensive,” Travis tries again.
“And again: What does that have to do with anything? I'm not looking for inoffensive, I'm looking for art. I want you-”
“Gee!” A voice shouts from the hall.
“Kitchen!” Gerard shouts back.
“Got your stupid acrylics for fuck's sake, why these particular shade of freaking red?” The guy entering asks, throwing a bag on the counter and strolling over to grab Gerard by his hair to kiss him senseless. When he let's go of Gerard he exhales smoke and snatches Gerard's cigarette away.
“Who's that?” he asks as Travis says, “Does your wife know about that?”
“That is Frank. Frank, Travis, he's working on our garage,” Gerard says a bit breathless. Travis can't blame him, this Frank-guy looks like he's a hell of a kisser.
“Awesome,” Frank answers.
“She does know,” Gerard supplies helpfully after a short silence.
“He staying for dinner?” Frank asks as he pushes his sleeves up. “I'm making pasta with cherry tomatoes and olives.”
“Are you staying for dinner, Travis?” Gerard asks, he sounds amused, maybe because Travis was staring at Frank's tattoos.
He nods.
“Great,” Frank says with a grin and takes out a knife.
~+~
“You are so screwed,” Gabe says laughing.
Travis groans and buries his sorrows in a bottle of Jack. Whatever people say, 17 is not too young to drink. Even the Arctic Monkeys sing about that problem. It must be true. He knows that too, that he's so screwed that is. It's not even funny.
“I know, trust me I know.” He does know. He’s going over with some crappy designs and not his inner self zombie-ducks week after week now just to spend time with the Ways and their boyfriend/lover Frank the tiny guitarist.
“The Den of Sin. You should connect with that, dude,” Gabe says.
“I wish,” Travis answers, Gabe laughs and doesn't ask who the hell Travis wants to fuck so badly. They know each other a long time now, Gabe doesn't need to ask.
“Maybe, you know. They don't seem to be the monogamous type what with the threesome.”
“Doesn't mean they take people in like they're candy, man.”
“What? Give me that bottle! You need to be sober when you go over there tomorrow.”
“I need to be a lot more drunk,” Travis answers, but Gabe doesn't give him back the bottle. Fucker that he is.
~+~
“You're early,” Frank says upon opening the door.
“Yeah, I guess?” Travis answers. The truth is he couldn't sleep. All this shit messes seriously with his head.
“Coffee?” Frank asks as Travis follows him into the kitchen.
“Sure, thanks,” he replies, sitting down.
“I thought you would freak,” Frank says, preparing coffee.
“Why?”
“Because of the whole us thing,” Frank answers, he doesn't seem bothered by anything. Travis wants to be like that when he grows up one day. Or like Gerard - even if he'll never have these pretty lips.
“Nah...it's cool.”
Frank grins as he puts a mug in front of Travis. “You have no idea.”
“Oh good, coffee,” Gerard says from the door. His hair is a a mess and his shirt is rumbled, also he only wears his boxers with that rumpled shirt. Travis takes a careful sip of his coffee and tries not to stare. It's pretty fucking hard.
Gerard grabs a mug and makes a noise that could be straight out of a porno. Travis nearly chokes on his coffee. Frank gives him a knowing look.
Great, now he's fucked.
~+~
Gabe is not his friend, Travis decides. Seriously, he needs new friends. Supportive friends. Gabe hands over the joint and Travis reconsiders for a second until Gabe opens his mouth.
“You’re crushing on a threesome relationship,” he says laughing.
Definitively not a friend of Travis'.
“You didn't see how hot they are. All of them. Straight out of my personal fantasy book. That woman's thighs? And knees and hair and Frank's tattoos and Way's lips... and they’re doing it. Together.” He stresses the last word.
“Okay...so what? You're hanging around their house on every Sunday just to crush on them like whoa?”
“Yeah...I know how pathetic that is, no need to tell me.”
“Oh no, bro, you need to hear it. It's that freaking pathetic.”
“I hate you.”
~+~
His life is a Maroon 5 song. If he should ever write and record an album he'll call it 'Songs about the Ways' and that totally includes Frank. Or maybe 'Songs about the Ways and their tiny guitarist'.
“Did you find your inner artist yet?” Lindsey asks. There is a bit of paint peaking out of the collar of her shirt. Blue, it looks a bit like a hand. Travis so isn't going there.
“Don't think so,” he answers.
She smiles at him in that way that older women have. Like she knows something he doesn't want her to know.
“You're really cute, you now,” she says it like it’s a statement, a fact.
“Uhm...thanks?”
“Gerard loves contrasts,” she goes on.
Travis so isn't going there. “I should do something in black and white then?”
“If you feel like it,” she answers. He catches the scent of her skin, strawberry and paint. Well, fuck.
~+~
“You need to show them the zombie-ducks or, you know, all the other things you've done. Lindsey's tattoos and lips with cigarettes and Frank's knuckles. I like the picture of the knuckles and the cherry tomatoes,” Gabe says. He's being reasonable, and Travis hates it to death. He can't show the Ways how fucking obsessed he is with them and their tiny guitarist. It borders on creepy - stalkerish.
“I'm going to show them the zombie-ducks tomorrow and then paint them on the garage door and be done with it all.”
“You drew them anew, didn't you?”
“In fucking black and white,” Travis confesses.
~end~
next
Author: creepylicious/alles_luege
Pairing: Gerard/Lindsey/Frank
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's basically like this: Travis sprays the Ways' garage, gets caught, gets involved and kind of maybe (and he's not saying he is, okay? What does Gabe know anyway!) falls in love with the Ways and their tiny guitarist Frank.
“Got your stupid acrylics for fuck's sake, why these particular shade of freaking red?” The guy entering asks, throwing a bag on the counter and strolling over to grab Gerard by his hair to kiss him senseless. When he let's go of Gerard he exhales smoke and snatches Gerard's cigarette away.
“Who's that?” he asks as Travis says, “Does your wife know about that?”
Warning(s): threesome
Author’s Notes: Written for anon_lovefest. First part in the 'Songs about the Ways'-verse. I'm dedicating this with much L.O.V.E. To the OP gala_apples, draconic_girl, sydneysconverse, exoticway, tygermine and everyone who didn't leave their names in the comments. You guys, I LOVE you! *hugs *
Masterlist: Songs about the Ways-verse
Word Count: 1.383
Beta: stones_at_moons
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real
“Dude, you don't have to do it just because some guy and his chick told you to,” Gabe says, peering down at the paper. Travis nods. He knows that.
“I know.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So why are you doing it anyway?” Gabe asks, grabbing the paper and holding it close so he can look at it better. Travis leans back against the couch. There are a lot of answers to that question; Because that chick is seriously hot with sweet tats, because every other guy would've called the cops and Way didn't, because it's something to do, but the truth is he wants to see them again.
“What do you think?” he asks Gabe.
“Looks fine to me. But that's not about me, that's about you and that Way chick. You know, if I wouldn't know better I would say you have some stupid crush on that woman.”
“They didn't call the cops and they did catch me with my hands in the fucking cookie jar - so to speak.”
“It was pretty stupid to try and spray their garage on a Sunday morning, Travie.”
“I was rest-drunk, okay? It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Maybe you should stop carrying cans with you all the fucking time,” Gabe answers, handing him the paper back.
“You think they'll like it?”
“If they're into zombie-ducks, sure.”
“You're right, it sucks,” Travis answers, frustrated.
~+~
He's sitting in the Ways' kitchen, nursing a glass of coke nervously while Gerard shuffles through his designs.
“I don't feel the flowers,” he says putting all of the drawings aside.
“Uhmm...”
“It doesn't look like you connected with your inner self,” Gerard goes on, he is waving a cigarette with one hand while he's clutching a mug of coffee in the other.
“But flowers would look good on your garage. They would fit in with the rest of the street...” Travis answers and Gerard looks at him. He kind of pins Travis down with his gaze.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“They look inoffensive,” Travis tries again.
“And again: What does that have to do with anything? I'm not looking for inoffensive, I'm looking for art. I want you-”
“Gee!” A voice shouts from the hall.
“Kitchen!” Gerard shouts back.
“Got your stupid acrylics for fuck's sake, why these particular shade of freaking red?” The guy entering asks, throwing a bag on the counter and strolling over to grab Gerard by his hair to kiss him senseless. When he let's go of Gerard he exhales smoke and snatches Gerard's cigarette away.
“Who's that?” he asks as Travis says, “Does your wife know about that?”
“That is Frank. Frank, Travis, he's working on our garage,” Gerard says a bit breathless. Travis can't blame him, this Frank-guy looks like he's a hell of a kisser.
“Awesome,” Frank answers.
“She does know,” Gerard supplies helpfully after a short silence.
“He staying for dinner?” Frank asks as he pushes his sleeves up. “I'm making pasta with cherry tomatoes and olives.”
“Are you staying for dinner, Travis?” Gerard asks, he sounds amused, maybe because Travis was staring at Frank's tattoos.
He nods.
“Great,” Frank says with a grin and takes out a knife.
~+~
“You are so screwed,” Gabe says laughing.
Travis groans and buries his sorrows in a bottle of Jack. Whatever people say, 17 is not too young to drink. Even the Arctic Monkeys sing about that problem. It must be true. He knows that too, that he's so screwed that is. It's not even funny.
“I know, trust me I know.” He does know. He’s going over with some crappy designs and not his inner self zombie-ducks week after week now just to spend time with the Ways and their boyfriend/lover Frank the tiny guitarist.
“The Den of Sin. You should connect with that, dude,” Gabe says.
“I wish,” Travis answers, Gabe laughs and doesn't ask who the hell Travis wants to fuck so badly. They know each other a long time now, Gabe doesn't need to ask.
“Maybe, you know. They don't seem to be the monogamous type what with the threesome.”
“Doesn't mean they take people in like they're candy, man.”
“What? Give me that bottle! You need to be sober when you go over there tomorrow.”
“I need to be a lot more drunk,” Travis answers, but Gabe doesn't give him back the bottle. Fucker that he is.
~+~
“You're early,” Frank says upon opening the door.
“Yeah, I guess?” Travis answers. The truth is he couldn't sleep. All this shit messes seriously with his head.
“Coffee?” Frank asks as Travis follows him into the kitchen.
“Sure, thanks,” he replies, sitting down.
“I thought you would freak,” Frank says, preparing coffee.
“Why?”
“Because of the whole us thing,” Frank answers, he doesn't seem bothered by anything. Travis wants to be like that when he grows up one day. Or like Gerard - even if he'll never have these pretty lips.
“Nah...it's cool.”
Frank grins as he puts a mug in front of Travis. “You have no idea.”
“Oh good, coffee,” Gerard says from the door. His hair is a a mess and his shirt is rumbled, also he only wears his boxers with that rumpled shirt. Travis takes a careful sip of his coffee and tries not to stare. It's pretty fucking hard.
Gerard grabs a mug and makes a noise that could be straight out of a porno. Travis nearly chokes on his coffee. Frank gives him a knowing look.
Great, now he's fucked.
~+~
Gabe is not his friend, Travis decides. Seriously, he needs new friends. Supportive friends. Gabe hands over the joint and Travis reconsiders for a second until Gabe opens his mouth.
“You’re crushing on a threesome relationship,” he says laughing.
Definitively not a friend of Travis'.
“You didn't see how hot they are. All of them. Straight out of my personal fantasy book. That woman's thighs? And knees and hair and Frank's tattoos and Way's lips... and they’re doing it. Together.” He stresses the last word.
“Okay...so what? You're hanging around their house on every Sunday just to crush on them like whoa?”
“Yeah...I know how pathetic that is, no need to tell me.”
“Oh no, bro, you need to hear it. It's that freaking pathetic.”
“I hate you.”
~+~
His life is a Maroon 5 song. If he should ever write and record an album he'll call it 'Songs about the Ways' and that totally includes Frank. Or maybe 'Songs about the Ways and their tiny guitarist'.
“Did you find your inner artist yet?” Lindsey asks. There is a bit of paint peaking out of the collar of her shirt. Blue, it looks a bit like a hand. Travis so isn't going there.
“Don't think so,” he answers.
She smiles at him in that way that older women have. Like she knows something he doesn't want her to know.
“You're really cute, you now,” she says it like it’s a statement, a fact.
“Uhm...thanks?”
“Gerard loves contrasts,” she goes on.
Travis so isn't going there. “I should do something in black and white then?”
“If you feel like it,” she answers. He catches the scent of her skin, strawberry and paint. Well, fuck.
~+~
“You need to show them the zombie-ducks or, you know, all the other things you've done. Lindsey's tattoos and lips with cigarettes and Frank's knuckles. I like the picture of the knuckles and the cherry tomatoes,” Gabe says. He's being reasonable, and Travis hates it to death. He can't show the Ways how fucking obsessed he is with them and their tiny guitarist. It borders on creepy - stalkerish.
“I'm going to show them the zombie-ducks tomorrow and then paint them on the garage door and be done with it all.”
“You drew them anew, didn't you?”
“In fucking black and white,” Travis confesses.
~end~
next