Fic: Play You a Song on my Heartstrings
Title: Play You a Song on my Heartstrings
Author: oomnydevvotchka
Fandom: School of Rock
Pairing: Freddy/Zack
Rating: M
Word Count: 625
Summary: Fills the writing on the body square on my kink_bingo card.
A/N: Re-posting some of my old fics. Can also be found on AO3 here.
They’re lying in bed, the two of them, close but barely touching. They’re not the cuddly type of couple, really: the only place where there connected is where Freddy’s hand is on Zack’s hip, tapping out a rhythm.
Zack supposes it must be part of being a drummer: Freddy always has a beat on his mind, and anytime his hands aren’t occupied with something else, he’s bringing it to life. On Zack, like right now, on the walls, tabletops, counters, with his hands, pencils, feet. Hell, sometimes even with his sticks, on actual drums.
Maybe it’s not just the drummer thing, though, because Zack’s met his fair share of them (he’s going to college for music, after all,) and he’d never seen any of them do this as much as Freddy does.
Probably the ADD, then.
Tap, tap, tap, go Freddy’s hands, one moving from Zack’s hip to his stomach, creating a slightly different sound. This is part of the reason why Zack is Freddy’s favorite surface to drum on, bony parts and muscly parts and fleshy parts combining to create a symphony of sound.
Sometimes, Zack wishes that his own instrument of choice translated so well into everyday objects, so that he, too, could create music wherever he went. Alas, guitars are a bit harder to wrangle, given the lack of strings stretched around him.
This gets him thinking, though, and Zack rolls over to rummage through the nightstand, interrupting Freddy’s rhythm. Freddy scoffs, but smiles at Zack when he rolls back over, knowing exactly what it is that Zack’s up to.
Zack holds up the Sharpie he’d retrieved, confirming Freddy’s suspicion. He grabs Freddy’s arm, turns it over so the delicate skin of his underarm is showing, and begins to write.
‘Play you a song on my heartstrings’, the words read, a snippet of lyrics starting at the pulse point in Freddy’s wrist and stretching to his shoulder.
Freddy cranes his head to see, managing to read the words without moving too much, and gives Zack a smirk. It’s wicked and teasing, which means that Freddy’s affected by the words, and is pretending like he isn’t.
That’s the downside of being with someone you’ve known since you were in diapers, Zack thinks, that there’s no hiding anything. Or maybe it’s an upside, because Zack loves it, how well he and Freddy know each other.
Zack shoves lightly on Freddy’s shoulder to get him to turn over onto his back. Freddy goes without any protest, bringing his marked arm up over his head so Zack can still see his words, even though they’re upside down.
Zack uses a corner of their sheet to wipe at the mostly dry come on Freddy’s stomach, resigning himself to a trip to the Laundromat in the near future. He draws a treble clef first, then the time signature, right above Freddy’s belly button. Freddy brings a hand up to Zack’s shoulder, tapping out the time, one two three four, one two three four, as Zack draws the five horizontal lines and begins to ink in the notes.
This particular phrase comes easier to him than most, and he finishes within a few minutes, absently humming the phrase as he goes. He knows he’s probably off key, doesn’t possess the perfect pitch that many of his classmates are so proud of, but he’s not embarrassed: Freddy doesn’t mind.
When Zack’s finished, when he’s replaced the cap on the Sharpie and thrown it back into the nightstand, Freddy sings the line back to him, voice low and rough.
Zack smiles, and lays back down, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Freddy’s shoulder.
The beat Freddy begins to tap on his hip is perfectly in sync with his heartbeat.
Author: oomnydevvotchka
Fandom: School of Rock
Pairing: Freddy/Zack
Rating: M
Word Count: 625
Summary: Fills the writing on the body square on my kink_bingo card.
A/N: Re-posting some of my old fics. Can also be found on AO3 here.
They’re lying in bed, the two of them, close but barely touching. They’re not the cuddly type of couple, really: the only place where there connected is where Freddy’s hand is on Zack’s hip, tapping out a rhythm.
Zack supposes it must be part of being a drummer: Freddy always has a beat on his mind, and anytime his hands aren’t occupied with something else, he’s bringing it to life. On Zack, like right now, on the walls, tabletops, counters, with his hands, pencils, feet. Hell, sometimes even with his sticks, on actual drums.
Maybe it’s not just the drummer thing, though, because Zack’s met his fair share of them (he’s going to college for music, after all,) and he’d never seen any of them do this as much as Freddy does.
Probably the ADD, then.
Tap, tap, tap, go Freddy’s hands, one moving from Zack’s hip to his stomach, creating a slightly different sound. This is part of the reason why Zack is Freddy’s favorite surface to drum on, bony parts and muscly parts and fleshy parts combining to create a symphony of sound.
Sometimes, Zack wishes that his own instrument of choice translated so well into everyday objects, so that he, too, could create music wherever he went. Alas, guitars are a bit harder to wrangle, given the lack of strings stretched around him.
This gets him thinking, though, and Zack rolls over to rummage through the nightstand, interrupting Freddy’s rhythm. Freddy scoffs, but smiles at Zack when he rolls back over, knowing exactly what it is that Zack’s up to.
Zack holds up the Sharpie he’d retrieved, confirming Freddy’s suspicion. He grabs Freddy’s arm, turns it over so the delicate skin of his underarm is showing, and begins to write.
‘Play you a song on my heartstrings’, the words read, a snippet of lyrics starting at the pulse point in Freddy’s wrist and stretching to his shoulder.
Freddy cranes his head to see, managing to read the words without moving too much, and gives Zack a smirk. It’s wicked and teasing, which means that Freddy’s affected by the words, and is pretending like he isn’t.
That’s the downside of being with someone you’ve known since you were in diapers, Zack thinks, that there’s no hiding anything. Or maybe it’s an upside, because Zack loves it, how well he and Freddy know each other.
Zack shoves lightly on Freddy’s shoulder to get him to turn over onto his back. Freddy goes without any protest, bringing his marked arm up over his head so Zack can still see his words, even though they’re upside down.
Zack uses a corner of their sheet to wipe at the mostly dry come on Freddy’s stomach, resigning himself to a trip to the Laundromat in the near future. He draws a treble clef first, then the time signature, right above Freddy’s belly button. Freddy brings a hand up to Zack’s shoulder, tapping out the time, one two three four, one two three four, as Zack draws the five horizontal lines and begins to ink in the notes.
This particular phrase comes easier to him than most, and he finishes within a few minutes, absently humming the phrase as he goes. He knows he’s probably off key, doesn’t possess the perfect pitch that many of his classmates are so proud of, but he’s not embarrassed: Freddy doesn’t mind.
When Zack’s finished, when he’s replaced the cap on the Sharpie and thrown it back into the nightstand, Freddy sings the line back to him, voice low and rough.
Zack smiles, and lays back down, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Freddy’s shoulder.
The beat Freddy begins to tap on his hip is perfectly in sync with his heartbeat.