(no subject)
Ville just blinked widely as the boy in his arms started crying, face scrunched and red, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks, clinging to dark lashes, choked sobs escaping his throat.
Bye-bye cuteness.
He blinked again as Brendon started wailing, the sound hurting his ears, hugging him tight and uttering quietly, “What’s wrong?”
Ville was so close to losing his rag completely it was ridiculous. He was crying because of that? Of course he knew hormones were flying about every which way… but seriously. Give a guy a break.
“I don’t want an evil baby!” Brendon cried, sobbing his little American heart out. His eyes suddenly widened. “THE BABY’S GONNA HATE ME!” he howled, a mere sentence away from throwing a tantrum.
Luckily, soon enough, Ville would be on hand to provide that sentence like the helpful lover he was.
“666 isn’t an evil number,” he sighed, “It’s 616 that’s the real issue here.”
Suddenly a memory clouded his mind, bringing a smile to his lips that only made Brendon cry more.
“All these.. Heavy metal bands.. Thinking’ they’re so street. 616 is where it’s at, man,” Ville managed, Sylvester protectively in his lap, eyes meeting a grinning Bam.
Simultaneously they both uttered a low, “Your six one six in my heart…”
With another snuffle and a wail Ville gave up, deciding he’d do anything for peace, even hold a screaming tomato creature…
“Aw… don’t be sad…” he muttered, nuzzling the boy’s now damp neck.
He pouted, silencing slightly, crawling into the Finn’s lap as he sat down, pulling tattooed arms around himself. “…alright…” he muttered begrudgingly. Ville had learnt by now that Brendon didn’t like allowing peace to echo through their shared home.
Yup. Shared.
The 18 year old had of course invited himself around as soon as possible. Next thing Ville knew there was a tooth brush beside his own and a wardrobe full of drainpipe jeans.
He sat, thinking silently, mind skipping to that one little radio show. One hour of laughs and happiness and singing and beer and hands on thighs…
He stroked Brendon’s tummy, humming softly under his breath, mind somewhere completely different. He was in Bam’s living room, mics dotted around the place, sitting right beside the skater extraordinaire himself.
Well.. Not beside…
Bam was laying between his thighs, back against his chest, swigging happily from his bottle of beer as Ville absently stroked his hair.
“Ville Valo will you marry me?”
Ville simply smiled, glancing down on the simple silver ring that was already on his finger and had been there for a week or so.
“Uhmm…” he uttered, voice small, green eyes meeting blue, the sparks of electricity between them almost audible. “If I had to…” he replied cheekily, grinning as Bam whacked his thigh lightly.
And then it was gone, replaced with a yawning boy on his lap. “M‘tired…” he muttered, cuddling against Ville’s slim chest.
“Then sleep..” the older man replied, mind still lost with his own fantasies; own memories.