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Hi! *waves* We're still around! We apologize for not posting anything in a while! We've got several things in the mix, but we've been busy with Real Life and individual stories and all kinds of stuff, but we still love writing together, so there will be more. :)
Perception
by why_me_why_not and irisgirl12000
bandom || teen || Jon Walker, Tom Conrad/Shane Valdez || ~2000 words
Disclaimer: Not ours, no harm intended. This is fiction, and is not meant to imply anything about the people whose names are used.
Self-beta'd, so hit us up with stuff we missed. (or, well, any mistakes are all why_me_why_not's fault!) Also, we are aware that this needs a sequel of some sort; it's on the list. Comments help feed the muses!
Summary: Tom's supposed to be out of town, but when Jon goes over to his apartment, he gets a surprise.
Jon’s had a key to Tom’s apartment for forever, so when his apartment gets flooded after a minor disaster upstairs, he doesn’t think anything of packing Dylan and Clover in their carriers, throwing some stuff in a backpack, and heading for Tom’s. Tom is supposed to be out of town, something about taking some time for himself before Empires goes on their East Coast tour. Jon kinda understands that, even if he had come back to Chicago hoping to spend some time with his best friend. His best friend who isn’t even answering his phone, the fucker. Jon is thinking about maybe talking to Tom about tagging along for part of the Empires tour - he’s got a few weeks before he’s supposed to meet up with his band and it’ll help take his mind off the whole Cassie thing - when he lets himself into Tom’s and drops his bag in the floor. He’s letting the cats out when he hears something from the bedroom.
Jon steps lightly down the hall, wondering if the voices he’s hearing are maybe from next door or if maybe he wasn’t the only one with a spare key. He stops short when someone who is vaguely familiar but not Tom appears in the doorway of the bedroom, looking back over his shoulder and laughing at whoever is still in the room. His laughter stops when Dylan rubs up against his foot.
“What the fuck? Dylan?” He looks up at Jon. “Jon?”
Jon hears Tom’s voice echoing his name from inside the room, but he’s a little too distracted to respond to that, what with the way Shane’s staring at him, wide-eyed and wearing nothing but a pair of boxers that Jon knows for certain belong to Tom.
Tom comes into view seconds later, the comforter from his bed wrapped around him and his arm wrapped around Shane in a way that’s entirely too familiar. “What are you doing here?”
Yeah, like he should be asking that, like Jon is the one who’s supposed to be on some tropical beach half a world away. “Uh, my apartment is flooded. I'm just gonna...” Jon starts backing towards the door. “Can you keep the cats for me for a couple days?”
Jon doesn't wait for an answer, just turns and practically runs out the door. He walks a few blocks over from Tom's building, not really heading anywhere specific, and finds a bench to sit on before pulling out his phone. Tom hasn't tried to call, which probably means he’s just going to come after Jon. Great. Jon’ll let himself be found, but he has a phone call to make first.
As soon as Brendon answers, Jon blurts out, “Tom and Shane are fucking.”
Brendon laughs. “Right now? Are you watching? Jonathan Walker, you dirty dirty perv! ... Wait, do you have your camera? Because that's really kinda hot.”
Jon covers his face with his hand and reminds himself that he honestly, truly loves Brendon. “Did you know about this?”
Brendon’s still laughing, which isn’t helping his case at all. “Really, Jon? You seriously didn’t know?”
Jon doesn’t answer, because he’s not really as amused by the entire situation as Brendon is and because Brendon is usually the one that’s clueless about this shit.
“Maybe it’s just obvious because you know Shane?” Jon finally says, even though that doesn’t make sense because he knows Tom. Or at least he thinks he does. He apparently doesn’t know him as well as he thought.
“Well, yeah, plus I can recognize the signs in Tom from when he and I had our own thing, back when he was touring with us, you know? Besides, I came home early one night and interrupted sexytimes on the sofa. Totally hot. Hot like burning. I’d hit that. Well, I have hit that, but I’d definitely do it again.”
Jon has an honest-to-god facepalm moment, because there are some things he did not need to know. Ever.
Jon knows that Tom is always easy when he and Danielle are in one of their “off-again” phases, wants to say something about Shane taking advantage of that, of Tom. But if he says it, it’s going to come out sounding like Tom’s the one taking advantage of Shane, and Jon knows Tom isn’t in the wrong here. Not that Shane is either. They’re both his friends, and yeah, maybe they do know what they’re doing, but Tom’s between-Danielle flings always end in disaster. Except apparently the one with Brendon, and fuck, how did Jon not know that?
Brendon, seriously.
“Look, Brendon, I’m gonna hang up on you and go find a cup of coffee and someone sane to talk to.”
Brendon laughs. “As far as I’m concerned, any sane person would take Tom or Shane when they’re offered.”
“Brendon,” Jon warns.
“Okay, okay, whatever. Tell Shane I’m letting Dylan use his pillow as a dogbed because he took my Journey t-shirt.”
Brendon is still laughing when Jon hits 'end'. Jon shakes his head and heads for the coffee shop. As soon as he hits the door, he sees Tom at a corner table, two cups in front of him and Shane nowhere in sight. Jon ignores his sex-hair as he goes to sit down across from him.
“You're so predictable,” Tom says as he pushes one of the cups across the table at Jon. He's smiling, but there's a hesitation to it, like he's not sure of Jon's reaction.
“At least one of us is,” Jon grumbles. “Seriously, you and Shane? Never would've saw that shit coming.”
Tom halfway shrugs, still looking a little sheepish. “It just kinda happened.”
Jon doesn't call him on his bullshit - it had to have been going on for weeks if Brendon had walked in on them, and with the lies Tom's been telling, there's a lot more thought that's gone into this for it to be something that just happened. “Sorry for interrupting your sexytimes.” He also doesn’t point out that that wouldn't have happened if Tom hadn’t lied and said he was out of town, or if he'd had his phone on.
Tom laughs. “Sexytimes? You must've called Brendon.”
Jon is about to say something about that - about Brendon knowing but Jon not, or maybe about Brendon and Tom, but Tom doesn't give him a chance.
“Come back to the apartment.”
Jon shakes his head. “Nah, I can go crash at Mom's. Want me to come pick up Dylan and Clover first?”
“No, I want for you to come back to the apartment and hang out. And what the fuck, man, you know your cats are always welcome.”
Jon's got another protest lined up, but Tom just shakes his head. “C'mon, it's just me and Shane. Let's go.”
Shane’s pouring pancake batter - totally Brendon’s influence, Jon knows - into a sizzling pan when they get back, and he smiles tentatively at Jon. “Hey.”
Jon smiles back and distracts himself from Shane’s sexhair and the fact that he’s still wearing Tom’s boxers with no pants by telling him, “Brendon’ll give your last boxes of Polaroid film to Dylan as a chew toy if you damage that shirt with butter or syrup.”
Shane flips over a pancake, then puts the spatula down and flips Jon the bird. “Whatever, you know he’s gotten worse shit on his clothes. He’d never even notice a new grease stain.”
Jon crosses the kitchen and pretends to busy himself with the coffeemaker, but he doesn't miss the way Shane leans back into Tom's touch when he walks up behind him or the way Tom smiles at Shane as they have a quick, whispered conversation. Jon feels a little guilty about busting in on their time together. Maybe he should have gone to his parents' after all.
"Don't even think about it, Jonny Boy," Tom says, coming back to throw an arm over Jon's shoulder. "You're here now. Make me some coffee, have some breakfast."
"It's three in the afternoon," Jon points out.
"At least it's not nine in the afternoon!" Shane calls from where he's dividing the pancakes onto plates.
All three of them laugh, even though that shit stopped being funny before Pretty. Odd. even dropped, and then Jon says, "Besides, I really don't wanna interrupt whatever you two have going on. More than I have already."
"Nah, we're good. I need to go pick up a few things from the store. You can keep me company so Valdez here can take a nap."
"Valdez is going to do a couple loads of laundry."
"You can still take a nap. You might need the energy later. Unless you want to do some other house-wifey things; I'm pretty sure the bathroom could use a good cleaning."
"Fuck you, Conrad, I'm not your housewife. And the bed sheets are pretty disgusting."
"I really, really didn't need to hear that." Jon pushes Tom away from him and grabs three mugs from the cabinet.
After breakfast, Tom and Jon do go out, and while Jon's trying to figure out how to ask the questions to learn what he wants to know - there is some knowledge he could do without - Tom starts talking at him.
When they get back, Shane’s got the laundry done, including the sheets. Jon can just imagine the “thankyouverymuch” that would go along with that declaration if Shane was awake, but Shane is fast asleep on the sofa. Tom shakes him awake and nudges him in the direction of the bedroom, and Jon's not sure how he feels about Tom's expression when he looks at sleepy-Shane.
He mostly tries not to think about it as he collapses on the sofa. Dylan comes and sits on his lap, meowing softly until Jon starts petting him. Jon’s tired. He should want nothing more than to sink into the cushions that are still warm from Shane’s body heat and take a nap, but he can't stop all the thoughts in his head, which are mostly like, Brendon? Seriously? Because Tom's reminiscing comments about Brendon, while not insulting in any way, were just not things that Jon wanted to think about. He has his phone in his hand again and doesn't even realize he's calling Brendon until he hears, "Jon Walker, you better have an entire memory stick of pictures if you're calling and interrupting while I school Spencer at Resident Evil."
"You fucked my best friend."
"Well, yeah, but that was a long time ago. And I thought we already covered that, last time you called." The sound of the video game and Spencer's voice in the background gets quieter, like Brendon's leaving the room. "Are you seriously freaking out about this?"
"Yeah," Jon admits, running his fingers through Dylan's fur and wishing the gesture was more calming than it was. "I am, a little bit, yeah."
"It's not a big deal." Brendon's voice is softer than Jon expects. "Jon, c'mon, don't freak out. Really, it's nothing. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I really thought you knew, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Shane and Tom."
Jon makes a frustrated noise and runs his hand through his hair as Dylan jumps off his lap and stalks off towards the kitchen. He is freaking out a little, but he doesn't know if it's about being lied to, or being left out of the loop, or jealously.
"Do I need to come out there?" Brendon asks, all serious and concerned and what the hell?
"No," Jon says, shaking his head even though he knows Brendon can't see him. "It's just a lot to take in, I guess. I'm gonna take a nap; call me later?"
Brendon's answer is cut off as Jon ends the call and drops his phone on the floor before he stretches out on the sofa. Maybe this will make more sense after he's had some sleep.
Perception
by why_me_why_not and irisgirl12000
bandom || teen || Jon Walker, Tom Conrad/Shane Valdez || ~2000 words
Disclaimer: Not ours, no harm intended. This is fiction, and is not meant to imply anything about the people whose names are used.
Self-beta'd, so hit us up with stuff we missed. (or, well, any mistakes are all why_me_why_not's fault!) Also, we are aware that this needs a sequel of some sort; it's on the list. Comments help feed the muses!
Summary: Tom's supposed to be out of town, but when Jon goes over to his apartment, he gets a surprise.
Jon’s had a key to Tom’s apartment for forever, so when his apartment gets flooded after a minor disaster upstairs, he doesn’t think anything of packing Dylan and Clover in their carriers, throwing some stuff in a backpack, and heading for Tom’s. Tom is supposed to be out of town, something about taking some time for himself before Empires goes on their East Coast tour. Jon kinda understands that, even if he had come back to Chicago hoping to spend some time with his best friend. His best friend who isn’t even answering his phone, the fucker. Jon is thinking about maybe talking to Tom about tagging along for part of the Empires tour - he’s got a few weeks before he’s supposed to meet up with his band and it’ll help take his mind off the whole Cassie thing - when he lets himself into Tom’s and drops his bag in the floor. He’s letting the cats out when he hears something from the bedroom.
Jon steps lightly down the hall, wondering if the voices he’s hearing are maybe from next door or if maybe he wasn’t the only one with a spare key. He stops short when someone who is vaguely familiar but not Tom appears in the doorway of the bedroom, looking back over his shoulder and laughing at whoever is still in the room. His laughter stops when Dylan rubs up against his foot.
“What the fuck? Dylan?” He looks up at Jon. “Jon?”
Jon hears Tom’s voice echoing his name from inside the room, but he’s a little too distracted to respond to that, what with the way Shane’s staring at him, wide-eyed and wearing nothing but a pair of boxers that Jon knows for certain belong to Tom.
Tom comes into view seconds later, the comforter from his bed wrapped around him and his arm wrapped around Shane in a way that’s entirely too familiar. “What are you doing here?”
Yeah, like he should be asking that, like Jon is the one who’s supposed to be on some tropical beach half a world away. “Uh, my apartment is flooded. I'm just gonna...” Jon starts backing towards the door. “Can you keep the cats for me for a couple days?”
Jon doesn't wait for an answer, just turns and practically runs out the door. He walks a few blocks over from Tom's building, not really heading anywhere specific, and finds a bench to sit on before pulling out his phone. Tom hasn't tried to call, which probably means he’s just going to come after Jon. Great. Jon’ll let himself be found, but he has a phone call to make first.
As soon as Brendon answers, Jon blurts out, “Tom and Shane are fucking.”
Brendon laughs. “Right now? Are you watching? Jonathan Walker, you dirty dirty perv! ... Wait, do you have your camera? Because that's really kinda hot.”
Jon covers his face with his hand and reminds himself that he honestly, truly loves Brendon. “Did you know about this?”
Brendon’s still laughing, which isn’t helping his case at all. “Really, Jon? You seriously didn’t know?”
Jon doesn’t answer, because he’s not really as amused by the entire situation as Brendon is and because Brendon is usually the one that’s clueless about this shit.
“Maybe it’s just obvious because you know Shane?” Jon finally says, even though that doesn’t make sense because he knows Tom. Or at least he thinks he does. He apparently doesn’t know him as well as he thought.
“Well, yeah, plus I can recognize the signs in Tom from when he and I had our own thing, back when he was touring with us, you know? Besides, I came home early one night and interrupted sexytimes on the sofa. Totally hot. Hot like burning. I’d hit that. Well, I have hit that, but I’d definitely do it again.”
Jon has an honest-to-god facepalm moment, because there are some things he did not need to know. Ever.
Jon knows that Tom is always easy when he and Danielle are in one of their “off-again” phases, wants to say something about Shane taking advantage of that, of Tom. But if he says it, it’s going to come out sounding like Tom’s the one taking advantage of Shane, and Jon knows Tom isn’t in the wrong here. Not that Shane is either. They’re both his friends, and yeah, maybe they do know what they’re doing, but Tom’s between-Danielle flings always end in disaster. Except apparently the one with Brendon, and fuck, how did Jon not know that?
Brendon, seriously.
“Look, Brendon, I’m gonna hang up on you and go find a cup of coffee and someone sane to talk to.”
Brendon laughs. “As far as I’m concerned, any sane person would take Tom or Shane when they’re offered.”
“Brendon,” Jon warns.
“Okay, okay, whatever. Tell Shane I’m letting Dylan use his pillow as a dogbed because he took my Journey t-shirt.”
Brendon is still laughing when Jon hits 'end'. Jon shakes his head and heads for the coffee shop. As soon as he hits the door, he sees Tom at a corner table, two cups in front of him and Shane nowhere in sight. Jon ignores his sex-hair as he goes to sit down across from him.
“You're so predictable,” Tom says as he pushes one of the cups across the table at Jon. He's smiling, but there's a hesitation to it, like he's not sure of Jon's reaction.
“At least one of us is,” Jon grumbles. “Seriously, you and Shane? Never would've saw that shit coming.”
Tom halfway shrugs, still looking a little sheepish. “It just kinda happened.”
Jon doesn't call him on his bullshit - it had to have been going on for weeks if Brendon had walked in on them, and with the lies Tom's been telling, there's a lot more thought that's gone into this for it to be something that just happened. “Sorry for interrupting your sexytimes.” He also doesn’t point out that that wouldn't have happened if Tom hadn’t lied and said he was out of town, or if he'd had his phone on.
Tom laughs. “Sexytimes? You must've called Brendon.”
Jon is about to say something about that - about Brendon knowing but Jon not, or maybe about Brendon and Tom, but Tom doesn't give him a chance.
“Come back to the apartment.”
Jon shakes his head. “Nah, I can go crash at Mom's. Want me to come pick up Dylan and Clover first?”
“No, I want for you to come back to the apartment and hang out. And what the fuck, man, you know your cats are always welcome.”
Jon's got another protest lined up, but Tom just shakes his head. “C'mon, it's just me and Shane. Let's go.”
Shane’s pouring pancake batter - totally Brendon’s influence, Jon knows - into a sizzling pan when they get back, and he smiles tentatively at Jon. “Hey.”
Jon smiles back and distracts himself from Shane’s sexhair and the fact that he’s still wearing Tom’s boxers with no pants by telling him, “Brendon’ll give your last boxes of Polaroid film to Dylan as a chew toy if you damage that shirt with butter or syrup.”
Shane flips over a pancake, then puts the spatula down and flips Jon the bird. “Whatever, you know he’s gotten worse shit on his clothes. He’d never even notice a new grease stain.”
Jon crosses the kitchen and pretends to busy himself with the coffeemaker, but he doesn't miss the way Shane leans back into Tom's touch when he walks up behind him or the way Tom smiles at Shane as they have a quick, whispered conversation. Jon feels a little guilty about busting in on their time together. Maybe he should have gone to his parents' after all.
"Don't even think about it, Jonny Boy," Tom says, coming back to throw an arm over Jon's shoulder. "You're here now. Make me some coffee, have some breakfast."
"It's three in the afternoon," Jon points out.
"At least it's not nine in the afternoon!" Shane calls from where he's dividing the pancakes onto plates.
All three of them laugh, even though that shit stopped being funny before Pretty. Odd. even dropped, and then Jon says, "Besides, I really don't wanna interrupt whatever you two have going on. More than I have already."
"Nah, we're good. I need to go pick up a few things from the store. You can keep me company so Valdez here can take a nap."
"Valdez is going to do a couple loads of laundry."
"You can still take a nap. You might need the energy later. Unless you want to do some other house-wifey things; I'm pretty sure the bathroom could use a good cleaning."
"Fuck you, Conrad, I'm not your housewife. And the bed sheets are pretty disgusting."
"I really, really didn't need to hear that." Jon pushes Tom away from him and grabs three mugs from the cabinet.
After breakfast, Tom and Jon do go out, and while Jon's trying to figure out how to ask the questions to learn what he wants to know - there is some knowledge he could do without - Tom starts talking at him.
When they get back, Shane’s got the laundry done, including the sheets. Jon can just imagine the “thankyouverymuch” that would go along with that declaration if Shane was awake, but Shane is fast asleep on the sofa. Tom shakes him awake and nudges him in the direction of the bedroom, and Jon's not sure how he feels about Tom's expression when he looks at sleepy-Shane.
He mostly tries not to think about it as he collapses on the sofa. Dylan comes and sits on his lap, meowing softly until Jon starts petting him. Jon’s tired. He should want nothing more than to sink into the cushions that are still warm from Shane’s body heat and take a nap, but he can't stop all the thoughts in his head, which are mostly like, Brendon? Seriously? Because Tom's reminiscing comments about Brendon, while not insulting in any way, were just not things that Jon wanted to think about. He has his phone in his hand again and doesn't even realize he's calling Brendon until he hears, "Jon Walker, you better have an entire memory stick of pictures if you're calling and interrupting while I school Spencer at Resident Evil."
"You fucked my best friend."
"Well, yeah, but that was a long time ago. And I thought we already covered that, last time you called." The sound of the video game and Spencer's voice in the background gets quieter, like Brendon's leaving the room. "Are you seriously freaking out about this?"
"Yeah," Jon admits, running his fingers through Dylan's fur and wishing the gesture was more calming than it was. "I am, a little bit, yeah."
"It's not a big deal." Brendon's voice is softer than Jon expects. "Jon, c'mon, don't freak out. Really, it's nothing. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I really thought you knew, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Shane and Tom."
Jon makes a frustrated noise and runs his hand through his hair as Dylan jumps off his lap and stalks off towards the kitchen. He is freaking out a little, but he doesn't know if it's about being lied to, or being left out of the loop, or jealously.
"Do I need to come out there?" Brendon asks, all serious and concerned and what the hell?
"No," Jon says, shaking his head even though he knows Brendon can't see him. "It's just a lot to take in, I guess. I'm gonna take a nap; call me later?"
Brendon's answer is cut off as Jon ends the call and drops his phone on the floor before he stretches out on the sofa. Maybe this will make more sense after he's had some sleep.