End of year WIP/fic-dump! ...mostly Panic. *winning smile*
Okay, so I've almost entirely cleared off my phone now (and twmr!), but because I am a) a packrat and b) a giant loserface who isn't great at finishing stuff, here: go free off into the wild, tiny snippets! (ETA: Help Me, Obi-Wan Flist! Question on mores - ought one pimp WIP-ish stuff like this? Because there's some bits in here I am v v fond of and would like to share, but IDK if I would ever finish them properly. What's the done thing, do you think? *wavers*)
* * *
These first two were written for NZ JWalk DayNational Flip Flop Day (This is an actual trufax Thing, I swear to god! It's raising money for surf life-saving.)
Jon/Brendon; Australia/NZ tour, pigtail-pulling.
The whole affable, easy-going totally mellow dude reputation that Jon Walker had going was, Brendon thought, the most elaborate construction of a tissue of lies and the crazy-glue of gleeful misdirection ever. It was absolutely false advertising, if nothing else. Jon got more Zack piggybacks than Spencer and Brendon put together, he was just better at not getting photographed while doing so.
And then he had to go and do things like lounging about suggestively, and, like, existing with his big brown puppy-dog eyes and wiggly bare feet and truly evil sense of humour. He'd nearly managed to write on Brendon in permanent marker right before their meet and greet the day before, which was so taking things to a new level as it was, but then to have him smack Brendon's ass onstage - and not when he was expecting it!- well, it was clear. Jon Walker was going to have to pay.
* * *
Jon/Brendon; Australia/NZ tour, dorky boys.
I had definite thoughts about Jon shaming the others into swimming in Sydney and then there being some suggestive commentary and bare feet dripping onto hotel carpet and Brendon stalking Jon up against the side of the tv and nearly knocking it over because he's so focused on getting his hands and mouth on Jon, and if he maybe leaves a few obvious bite marks, well, that's just fair payback for people who think it's funny to hum the theme from Jaws at the beach, jeez. Just thinking about it kind of put Brendon's balls into hibernation, which was really unfortunate given the lovely big bed with fresh sheets that they'd scored in their suite.
* * *
Ryan/Brendon, Jon/Spencer; Rockband, Halloween show with the costumes, characterisation a trifle dodgy in the pursuit of implausible nerd jokes that I couldn't resist.
"'Mummies can't vote'? Seriously, Ryan."
"It seemed like a good plan at the time," Ryan shrugged and looked unconcerned. "At least I didn't tell them who to vote for."
"Yeah, cos none of them can use the internet," Spencer snorted, stretching out on the end of the couch, feet knocking into the low table.
"Which isn't to say," Jon continued, and totally didn't ogle Spencer a little where his shirt was riding up as he rolled his shoulders, "that I don't agree. I just figured someone needed to make fun of you for putting it that way."
"Yeah, I think I have that covered," Brendon said, fresh out of the shower and clad only in a thin towel, as he dropped into Ryan's lap and grinned beatifically at him. "Are you my mummy?" he asked Ryan, playing innocent for all he was worth.
"Jesus, Brendon," Spencer groaned and hid his face under a cushion. Jon just threw his, which bounced off Brendon's elbow harmlessly.
"This is the last time I let Greta get us hooked on British science fiction shows," Spencer said to nobody in particular, and Jon nodded before adding, "plus, I really don't want to think about you two being related, especially when you're doing that-"
Brendon leaned away from where he'd been busily engaged in trying to fuse his mouth to Ryan's in a deliberately sloppy kiss (Ryan growled a little and made grabby hands at his face) and said "Then stop just sitting there and eye-fucking Spencer and give us some privacy," and while Jon was busy spluttering, Ryan slid his hands up under Brendon's towel and added, deadpan, "seriously, get out now unless you want to watch."
"One day someone's going to call your bluff, Ryan Ross," Spencer said to him and then dragged Jon out into the corridor.
"Now," he said, "you want to do something about that?"
* * *
Jon/Spencer; technically politics AU but whatever, mostly Boys Being Adorable. And Eating Their Veggies.
The first time Brendon and Ryan visit after they move in, it's pretty clear they're both as charmed by the place as Jon and Spencer are. Of course, being their friends, this takes the form of epic teasing.
"But Spence," Ryan says at the end of dinner, over a mouthful of Jon's pasta, eyes sincere-wide, "you do live in a dollhouse!"
"Please don't have sex in my guest room," Spencer says with perfect, terrible calm.
"Is the kitchen table all right instead, then?" Ryan shoots back without missing a beat, and Spencer says "Jesus, no!"
Jon raises an eyebrow which states eloquently "that's not what you said last night..." and Brendon catches the look, decodes it accurately and promptly chokes on his broccoli.
* * *
And, lastly, what was meant to be my Christmas/holidays fic but didn't entirely get off the ground in time. Set in katrin's and my Canada-verse, where Spencer and Ryan work at a Chapters in Calgary, and Jon and Brendon at the Starbucks attached. This one even had an actual title!
God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman (Cos Working Retail's a Bitch This Time o' Year)
"Hide me," Spencer says flatly, squirming through the gap in the counter, behind Brendon and then ducks behind the espresso machine.
"Any time," Jon says easily, reaching around Spencer for the jug of steamed milk to finish the Red Cup drink he's making. "So, what am I saving you from, anyway?" He hip-checks Spencer to the side so he can grab the 2% milk from the bench.
"Gabe," Spencer says, looking awfully squirrelly for a guy wearing reindeer antlers and a Christmas apron.
"What's Gabe doing?" Jon asks, squeezing Spencer's shoulder and making a brave effort not to laugh. "I think he wants me to remerchandise the Christmas cards." Jon opens his mouth to point out this could perhaps be considered to be part of Spencer's job, but Spencer adds mournfully, "for the third time."
"Ah," Jon says non-commitally.
Spencer makes a face and slumps back against the counter, ass resting on his heels.
"I think he's worried about making target," Spencer says. Jon makes an encouraging noise. "And he's all testy anyway because William's claiming to have given up sex for Advent."
Jon chokes and has to start again on the double-double he's crafting. Okay. Yeah. It's been a while since Sunday School, but- "I don't think that's how it's meant to work," he says carefully, keeping a newly weather eye out for Gabe on the prowl.
Spencer's sigh should by rights lift him a full foot off the ground. "I know. I think he's just seeing how much he can fuck with Gabe. I think it's payback for something to do with Gabe's snake."
They both shudder. No one wants to know.
"So until they quit messing around we're all walking around on pins waiting for Gabe to pop like the cork on bad BC wine."
* * *
These first two were written for NZ JWalk DayNational Flip Flop Day (This is an actual trufax Thing, I swear to god! It's raising money for surf life-saving.)
Jon/Brendon; Australia/NZ tour, pigtail-pulling.
The whole affable, easy-going totally mellow dude reputation that Jon Walker had going was, Brendon thought, the most elaborate construction of a tissue of lies and the crazy-glue of gleeful misdirection ever. It was absolutely false advertising, if nothing else. Jon got more Zack piggybacks than Spencer and Brendon put together, he was just better at not getting photographed while doing so.
And then he had to go and do things like lounging about suggestively, and, like, existing with his big brown puppy-dog eyes and wiggly bare feet and truly evil sense of humour. He'd nearly managed to write on Brendon in permanent marker right before their meet and greet the day before, which was so taking things to a new level as it was, but then to have him smack Brendon's ass onstage - and not when he was expecting it!- well, it was clear. Jon Walker was going to have to pay.
* * *
Jon/Brendon; Australia/NZ tour, dorky boys.
I had definite thoughts about Jon shaming the others into swimming in Sydney and then there being some suggestive commentary and bare feet dripping onto hotel carpet and Brendon stalking Jon up against the side of the tv and nearly knocking it over because he's so focused on getting his hands and mouth on Jon, and if he maybe leaves a few obvious bite marks, well, that's just fair payback for people who think it's funny to hum the theme from Jaws at the beach, jeez. Just thinking about it kind of put Brendon's balls into hibernation, which was really unfortunate given the lovely big bed with fresh sheets that they'd scored in their suite.
* * *
Ryan/Brendon, Jon/Spencer; Rockband, Halloween show with the costumes, characterisation a trifle dodgy in the pursuit of implausible nerd jokes that I couldn't resist.
"'Mummies can't vote'? Seriously, Ryan."
"It seemed like a good plan at the time," Ryan shrugged and looked unconcerned. "At least I didn't tell them who to vote for."
"Yeah, cos none of them can use the internet," Spencer snorted, stretching out on the end of the couch, feet knocking into the low table.
"Which isn't to say," Jon continued, and totally didn't ogle Spencer a little where his shirt was riding up as he rolled his shoulders, "that I don't agree. I just figured someone needed to make fun of you for putting it that way."
"Yeah, I think I have that covered," Brendon said, fresh out of the shower and clad only in a thin towel, as he dropped into Ryan's lap and grinned beatifically at him. "Are you my mummy?" he asked Ryan, playing innocent for all he was worth.
"Jesus, Brendon," Spencer groaned and hid his face under a cushion. Jon just threw his, which bounced off Brendon's elbow harmlessly.
"This is the last time I let Greta get us hooked on British science fiction shows," Spencer said to nobody in particular, and Jon nodded before adding, "plus, I really don't want to think about you two being related, especially when you're doing that-"
Brendon leaned away from where he'd been busily engaged in trying to fuse his mouth to Ryan's in a deliberately sloppy kiss (Ryan growled a little and made grabby hands at his face) and said "Then stop just sitting there and eye-fucking Spencer and give us some privacy," and while Jon was busy spluttering, Ryan slid his hands up under Brendon's towel and added, deadpan, "seriously, get out now unless you want to watch."
"One day someone's going to call your bluff, Ryan Ross," Spencer said to him and then dragged Jon out into the corridor.
"Now," he said, "you want to do something about that?"
* * *
Jon/Spencer; technically politics AU but whatever, mostly Boys Being Adorable. And Eating Their Veggies.
The first time Brendon and Ryan visit after they move in, it's pretty clear they're both as charmed by the place as Jon and Spencer are. Of course, being their friends, this takes the form of epic teasing.
"But Spence," Ryan says at the end of dinner, over a mouthful of Jon's pasta, eyes sincere-wide, "you do live in a dollhouse!"
"Please don't have sex in my guest room," Spencer says with perfect, terrible calm.
"Is the kitchen table all right instead, then?" Ryan shoots back without missing a beat, and Spencer says "Jesus, no!"
Jon raises an eyebrow which states eloquently "that's not what you said last night..." and Brendon catches the look, decodes it accurately and promptly chokes on his broccoli.
* * *
And, lastly, what was meant to be my Christmas/holidays fic but didn't entirely get off the ground in time. Set in katrin's and my Canada-verse, where Spencer and Ryan work at a Chapters in Calgary, and Jon and Brendon at the Starbucks attached. This one even had an actual title!
God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman (Cos Working Retail's a Bitch This Time o' Year)
"Hide me," Spencer says flatly, squirming through the gap in the counter, behind Brendon and then ducks behind the espresso machine.
"Any time," Jon says easily, reaching around Spencer for the jug of steamed milk to finish the Red Cup drink he's making. "So, what am I saving you from, anyway?" He hip-checks Spencer to the side so he can grab the 2% milk from the bench.
"Gabe," Spencer says, looking awfully squirrelly for a guy wearing reindeer antlers and a Christmas apron.
"What's Gabe doing?" Jon asks, squeezing Spencer's shoulder and making a brave effort not to laugh. "I think he wants me to remerchandise the Christmas cards." Jon opens his mouth to point out this could perhaps be considered to be part of Spencer's job, but Spencer adds mournfully, "for the third time."
"Ah," Jon says non-commitally.
Spencer makes a face and slumps back against the counter, ass resting on his heels.
"I think he's worried about making target," Spencer says. Jon makes an encouraging noise. "And he's all testy anyway because William's claiming to have given up sex for Advent."
Jon chokes and has to start again on the double-double he's crafting. Okay. Yeah. It's been a while since Sunday School, but- "I don't think that's how it's meant to work," he says carefully, keeping a newly weather eye out for Gabe on the prowl.
Spencer's sigh should by rights lift him a full foot off the ground. "I know. I think he's just seeing how much he can fuck with Gabe. I think it's payback for something to do with Gabe's snake."
They both shudder. No one wants to know.
"So until they quit messing around we're all walking around on pins waiting for Gabe to pop like the cork on bad BC wine."