Fiction : Enjoy The Silence
Short, pointless, fluffy story.
Title: Enjoy The Silence
Author: breakmouth/psychoticpony
Rating: PG
Summary: Silence and ordinary mundane routines.
A/N: Um. Totally pointless fluff. With a pregnant Ville.
It was a familiar kind of silence. The warm, comforting silence that hung in the air when there was nothing that needed to be said. The kind of silence that could only be achieved between close lovers. Bam smiled at the silence. It was something new and interesting for him, and it fascinated him. Not that he would break the silence to ask about it to the other, but he longed to bottle this silence, to keep it with him for when things got hectic.
This particular round of quiet came when Bam was up to his elbows in warm, sudsy water. He was washing dishes, specifically those that couldn’t, or wouldn’t, go in the dishwasher. He lifted his hands out, grabbed another plate and scrubbed at it underwater. Several seconds later he placed it on the dish rack to his left, where a thinner, paler pair of hands brushed against his as they took the plate to be dried. Bam looked over to his left, and smiled at what he saw.
Ville had his head bent in concentration as he dried the plate off, before adding it to a stack of three others. His dark hair was even with his jaw line, just beginning to curve and curl. His lips turned up slightly in a smile, as some pleasing thought passed through his head. Bam trailed his eyes down Ville’s body, to the growing bump that was his stomach. Even though Ville’s initial reaction to the pregnancy was something less then pleasing, he had quickly gotten used to the idea. Although he tried to hide it, Bam had often caught him looking over a book detailing various baby names, or resting a hand on his stomach as he sung softly. At first, he’d nearly gone into a panic attack at having something more then his near-concave stomach. Now, with only months to go, he was glowing, extended stomach and all. He looked healthy, even in his current dishevelled, tired state.
It was just after nine, and Bam knew that once these dishes had been done, Ville would climb the stairs to their bedroom and retire for the night. Bam would not join him for several hours, at the least. This pregnancy had taken its toll on his body, making Ville do things he normally wouldn’t. The first thing was his cigarettes, that Bam had made sure of. Despite all of Ville’s whining and pleading, Bam had thrown them out, and expressed strong orders to his band mates not to let him have any more. The drinking and staying up until obscene hours of the morning was next. Bam made sure Ville ate more, slept more and slowly began to tour less. Stress, he had said, was not something Ville needed. Eventually, though, Ville had conceded, and soon found that he didn’t need Bam to make sure he slept enough. His body demanded it of him.
Bam handed over the last plate, before pulling the sink plug and watching the water slowly drain. He turned the tap, rising off his arms and drying them off on the hand towel. He moved to pick up Ville’s stack of plates, putting them away where they belonged, before turning to his lover. Ville was watching him with a smile.
“What?” Bam said, tilting his head curiously. Ville laughed and stepped closer, leaning down to brush his lips against Bam’s cheek.
“Nothing sweetheart. Just enjoying the silence.” He said.
“Make the most of it.” Bam grumbled. “Once the brat comes, you’re going to be wishing it was legal to smother them.”
Ville hit his arm, before turning and walking slowly over to the stairs. It wasn’t so much the pregnancy, as the fatigue that slowed him down. He looked over his shoulder at Bam. “No I won’t. You’re going to have night duty.”
Bam scrunched his nose, just as Ville disappeared, before going over to the fridge and pulling out a single bottle of beer. He’d watch TV for a while, before heading upstairs.
---
Colours flickered over his face, as Bam jerked out of a light doze. His head was pillowed on his arm, his body stretched out over the couch. He focused briefly on the TV, watching an infomercial on some anti-acne cream that could be his for a ridiculously high price. He recognised it for a some reason, as if he’d heard one of his many celebrity friends talk about it. Bam looked over at the clock, groaning softly as the numbers read twenty to two, before looking back at the TV. Jessica Simpson was on, singing her praise over this ache cream.
He didn’t even know she had acne.
Bam pulled himself upright, fumbling for the remote and turning off the TV. He yawned, stretched and stood, finding his way to the stairs. Ville would be out cold by this time, and Bam doubted the end of the world could wake him. His footsteps were a muffled creak on the stairs, as he made his way towards the bedroom. He’d lived here for years without Ville, this house being part of his MTV escapades. It was very much a dream house; with it purple walls and dark floors. It was thick with memories of the times his friends lived here, of when there was cameras following his every move. Although, that had all faded. The show had ended, his friends had moved out. A matter of principle, they had said. Just because he was rich and famous, didn’t mean they couldn’t support themselves. It was just he and Ville here now, with their own set of memories. Here was where he had interrogated each of his friends over his missing Lamborghini, but it was also where Ville had treated him to a romantic dinner the night before he had to leave on tour.
Bam pushed open their bedroom door slowly. The room was dark, but he could make out the bed and the figure wrapped in its covers. He stripped out of his clothes blindly, leaving them on the floor for now as he cautiously made his way to the bed. He was being careful not to wake Ville, even though he was certain that it was rather impossible at this moment. Bam pulled back the covers, sliding in carefully and feeling the mattress sink beneath his weight. Ville shifted, and looked over his shoulder.
“Bammie?” He asked, suddenly awake in a way only a lover could be. His speech was slurred, bleary from sleep. Bam smiled, moving onto his side to kiss Ville’s shoulder.
“I fell asleep on the couch. Go back to sleep.” He said soothingly. Ville murmured something unintelligible and curled back up, falling quickly back into sleep. Bam noted that Ville had shifted closer, soaking in the warmth and comfort of Bam’s body. Bam moved his arm around Ville’s body, hand splayed out on his stomach. He yawned and felt his eyes slip shut. This was a different kind of silence, he reasoned. Sleepy silence. The silence of night time, and darkness, and dreams. Except it really wasn’t that silence. He could hear Ville’s slightly rasping breathing, the wind against the windows, the sound of a cat bell in the hallway. He breathed in deeply, and was asleep by the time he exhaled.
---
More dishes. More silence that accompanied Bam’s dish washing. It was the same routine as every night, his arms wet and covered with soap bubbles. It was a nice routine, familiar and reassuring. He’d scrub at the dishes, then move them to the rack, where Ville would take them, dry them and add them to the stack. He could hear Ville humming faintly under his breath, and Bam had to smile. He would never tire of Ville’s voice. It was essentially, part of this familiar silence. It belonged here.
Bam looked over, and furrowed his brow. Ville had paused, looking distant for a moment. Bam opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Ville beat him, shaking his head and drying the plate in his hand. Bam shrugged, and handed over another dish.
There was the sound of china shattering.
“The fuck?” Bam said, looking down at the broken plate on the floor, then up at Ville. Ville’s face looked confused, and a little surprised. He had a hand braced against the counter, his head dipped slightly.
“Ville?” Bam asked cautiously. Ville looked up suddenly, recognition passing over his face, followed by a wide grin. Bam blinked in confusion as Ville grabbed his hand, pulling it from the water filled sink and pressing it against his stomach. Bam waited patiently, staring at Ville in deeper confusion.
“What are you…?” He trailed off, looking down at Ville’s stomach in amazement. He had barely felt it, but something had moved. A long pause, before Bam felt it again. The baby kicked.
He gained a wide smile, cupping Ville’s cheeks his both his hands and kissing his lover deeply. Ville happily returned the kiss, completely ignoring the way Bam’s hands dripped with water. The smashed plate on the floor and the dishes in the sink all lay forgotten as the two lovers kissed.
After all, Bam would reason later, there were some things worth interrupting the silence for.
Comments for cookies.
Title: Enjoy The Silence
Author: breakmouth/psychoticpony
Rating: PG
Summary: Silence and ordinary mundane routines.
A/N: Um. Totally pointless fluff. With a pregnant Ville.
It was a familiar kind of silence. The warm, comforting silence that hung in the air when there was nothing that needed to be said. The kind of silence that could only be achieved between close lovers. Bam smiled at the silence. It was something new and interesting for him, and it fascinated him. Not that he would break the silence to ask about it to the other, but he longed to bottle this silence, to keep it with him for when things got hectic.
This particular round of quiet came when Bam was up to his elbows in warm, sudsy water. He was washing dishes, specifically those that couldn’t, or wouldn’t, go in the dishwasher. He lifted his hands out, grabbed another plate and scrubbed at it underwater. Several seconds later he placed it on the dish rack to his left, where a thinner, paler pair of hands brushed against his as they took the plate to be dried. Bam looked over to his left, and smiled at what he saw.
Ville had his head bent in concentration as he dried the plate off, before adding it to a stack of three others. His dark hair was even with his jaw line, just beginning to curve and curl. His lips turned up slightly in a smile, as some pleasing thought passed through his head. Bam trailed his eyes down Ville’s body, to the growing bump that was his stomach. Even though Ville’s initial reaction to the pregnancy was something less then pleasing, he had quickly gotten used to the idea. Although he tried to hide it, Bam had often caught him looking over a book detailing various baby names, or resting a hand on his stomach as he sung softly. At first, he’d nearly gone into a panic attack at having something more then his near-concave stomach. Now, with only months to go, he was glowing, extended stomach and all. He looked healthy, even in his current dishevelled, tired state.
It was just after nine, and Bam knew that once these dishes had been done, Ville would climb the stairs to their bedroom and retire for the night. Bam would not join him for several hours, at the least. This pregnancy had taken its toll on his body, making Ville do things he normally wouldn’t. The first thing was his cigarettes, that Bam had made sure of. Despite all of Ville’s whining and pleading, Bam had thrown them out, and expressed strong orders to his band mates not to let him have any more. The drinking and staying up until obscene hours of the morning was next. Bam made sure Ville ate more, slept more and slowly began to tour less. Stress, he had said, was not something Ville needed. Eventually, though, Ville had conceded, and soon found that he didn’t need Bam to make sure he slept enough. His body demanded it of him.
Bam handed over the last plate, before pulling the sink plug and watching the water slowly drain. He turned the tap, rising off his arms and drying them off on the hand towel. He moved to pick up Ville’s stack of plates, putting them away where they belonged, before turning to his lover. Ville was watching him with a smile.
“What?” Bam said, tilting his head curiously. Ville laughed and stepped closer, leaning down to brush his lips against Bam’s cheek.
“Nothing sweetheart. Just enjoying the silence.” He said.
“Make the most of it.” Bam grumbled. “Once the brat comes, you’re going to be wishing it was legal to smother them.”
Ville hit his arm, before turning and walking slowly over to the stairs. It wasn’t so much the pregnancy, as the fatigue that slowed him down. He looked over his shoulder at Bam. “No I won’t. You’re going to have night duty.”
Bam scrunched his nose, just as Ville disappeared, before going over to the fridge and pulling out a single bottle of beer. He’d watch TV for a while, before heading upstairs.
---
Colours flickered over his face, as Bam jerked out of a light doze. His head was pillowed on his arm, his body stretched out over the couch. He focused briefly on the TV, watching an infomercial on some anti-acne cream that could be his for a ridiculously high price. He recognised it for a some reason, as if he’d heard one of his many celebrity friends talk about it. Bam looked over at the clock, groaning softly as the numbers read twenty to two, before looking back at the TV. Jessica Simpson was on, singing her praise over this ache cream.
He didn’t even know she had acne.
Bam pulled himself upright, fumbling for the remote and turning off the TV. He yawned, stretched and stood, finding his way to the stairs. Ville would be out cold by this time, and Bam doubted the end of the world could wake him. His footsteps were a muffled creak on the stairs, as he made his way towards the bedroom. He’d lived here for years without Ville, this house being part of his MTV escapades. It was very much a dream house; with it purple walls and dark floors. It was thick with memories of the times his friends lived here, of when there was cameras following his every move. Although, that had all faded. The show had ended, his friends had moved out. A matter of principle, they had said. Just because he was rich and famous, didn’t mean they couldn’t support themselves. It was just he and Ville here now, with their own set of memories. Here was where he had interrogated each of his friends over his missing Lamborghini, but it was also where Ville had treated him to a romantic dinner the night before he had to leave on tour.
Bam pushed open their bedroom door slowly. The room was dark, but he could make out the bed and the figure wrapped in its covers. He stripped out of his clothes blindly, leaving them on the floor for now as he cautiously made his way to the bed. He was being careful not to wake Ville, even though he was certain that it was rather impossible at this moment. Bam pulled back the covers, sliding in carefully and feeling the mattress sink beneath his weight. Ville shifted, and looked over his shoulder.
“Bammie?” He asked, suddenly awake in a way only a lover could be. His speech was slurred, bleary from sleep. Bam smiled, moving onto his side to kiss Ville’s shoulder.
“I fell asleep on the couch. Go back to sleep.” He said soothingly. Ville murmured something unintelligible and curled back up, falling quickly back into sleep. Bam noted that Ville had shifted closer, soaking in the warmth and comfort of Bam’s body. Bam moved his arm around Ville’s body, hand splayed out on his stomach. He yawned and felt his eyes slip shut. This was a different kind of silence, he reasoned. Sleepy silence. The silence of night time, and darkness, and dreams. Except it really wasn’t that silence. He could hear Ville’s slightly rasping breathing, the wind against the windows, the sound of a cat bell in the hallway. He breathed in deeply, and was asleep by the time he exhaled.
---
More dishes. More silence that accompanied Bam’s dish washing. It was the same routine as every night, his arms wet and covered with soap bubbles. It was a nice routine, familiar and reassuring. He’d scrub at the dishes, then move them to the rack, where Ville would take them, dry them and add them to the stack. He could hear Ville humming faintly under his breath, and Bam had to smile. He would never tire of Ville’s voice. It was essentially, part of this familiar silence. It belonged here.
Bam looked over, and furrowed his brow. Ville had paused, looking distant for a moment. Bam opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Ville beat him, shaking his head and drying the plate in his hand. Bam shrugged, and handed over another dish.
There was the sound of china shattering.
“The fuck?” Bam said, looking down at the broken plate on the floor, then up at Ville. Ville’s face looked confused, and a little surprised. He had a hand braced against the counter, his head dipped slightly.
“Ville?” Bam asked cautiously. Ville looked up suddenly, recognition passing over his face, followed by a wide grin. Bam blinked in confusion as Ville grabbed his hand, pulling it from the water filled sink and pressing it against his stomach. Bam waited patiently, staring at Ville in deeper confusion.
“What are you…?” He trailed off, looking down at Ville’s stomach in amazement. He had barely felt it, but something had moved. A long pause, before Bam felt it again. The baby kicked.
He gained a wide smile, cupping Ville’s cheeks his both his hands and kissing his lover deeply. Ville happily returned the kiss, completely ignoring the way Bam’s hands dripped with water. The smashed plate on the floor and the dishes in the sink all lay forgotten as the two lovers kissed.
After all, Bam would reason later, there were some things worth interrupting the silence for.
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