No Place Like The Bed You Never Sleep In [cash/singer, pg, standalone]
Title: No Place Like The Bed You Never Sleep In
Author: silver_etoile
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cash/Singer
Disclaimer: Not true.
Summary: After a long tour, Singer just wants to relax but a surprise visitor won't make it easy.
A/N: written for schmoop_bingo prompt of "coming home from long trip." See my card for master posting.
*
Warped tour is exhausting and Alex is glad to finally find himself back in Las Vegas, stepping out of the car into the still-uncomfortably warm autumn air and staring up at his small little house, his first real purchase since they signed the record deal. It’s not huge but it’s home.
Johnson and Marshall have gone to their own homes and Alex is standing in front of his own, watching the way the setting sun gilds over the two saguaro cacti bordering the front walk up to the door. The beige pebbles in the front lawn are landscaped just like every other house on the street and Alex rummages for his keys, trying to remember where they even are.
He finally finds them in one of the many pockets of his bag and goes to the front door, unlocking it and pushing it inward.
The living room is flooded with the setting sun, golden yellow spilling in through the front windows and falling over the dark blue couch that faces the TV in the corner. The room is pretty sparsely furnished, but he hasn’t been home much since he bought it.
He tosses his duffle bag on the floor in the entrance hall, breathing in the new house smell that still lingers in all corners.
“Didn’t your mommy tell you not to leave your things lying around?”
Alex nearly jumps out of his skin at the voice coming from the doorway that leads to the kitchen. Turning around, he’s surprised to see Cash leaning against the frame, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
“Cash,” Alex says, taken aback. It’s been months since he’s talked to Cash, longer since he’s seen him. “What are you doing here?”
Cash shrugs, tilting his head against the frame like he shows up in Alex’s house all the time, and Alex can’t even remember the last time he was.
“Found the hide-a-key. You seriously need a better spot than under the gnome, dude.”
Confused, Alex doesn’t move from the entrance hall, trying to figure out why Cash is in his house since they haven’t talked in a while, since Alex isn’t even sure how their friendship stands anymore. But Cash is standing there in his doorway and doesn’t look uncomfortable at all.
“Cash,” he says, louder and more forceful. He frowns, shaking his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Visiting,” Cash replies simply, and Alex stares.
“You don’t v-what?”
“Come on, what is this? An interrogation?” Cash grins, pushing away from the frame. “Get in the kitchen, Singer.”
Cash calling him Singer isn’t what does it, but he sighs because he’s known Cash practically all his life and he knows that refusing him just won’t work. Cash will stay, and if he has to, will drag Alex into the kitchen for whatever it is.
So he follows Cash, confused and really just wanting to make some popcorn and spend the rest of the evening watching movies until he’s tired enough to drag himself to bed. He’s been gone for months and he’s glad to be home, but dealing with Cash might be too much.
“What are we doing?” Alex asks as they enter the kitchen and he can’t see anything different than when he left it last time. “What are you doing?”
“So little faith,” Cash comments, waltzing to the fridge as Alex stops, still confused. He pulls it open to reveal the very empty contents within. The door rattles with condiments that are probably out of date, and Cash reaches in to the very back, and Alex has absolutely no idea what he’s looking to find.
Alex edges back against the counter, frowning slightly, hands against the counter. It feels weird, Cash acting like the whole band-breakup never happened, like he hadn’t walked out and left everything a mess.
“Here. You like chocolate, right?”
Cash knows damn well that Alex loves chocolate, and that the chocolate mousse topped with way too much whipped cream in Cash’s hands will be gone in two seconds if he lets Alex have it.
“I’m confused,” Alex says finally when Cash pulls out another and rummages in a few drawers for spoons.
“What’s to be confused about?” Cash asks. “It’s chocolate. Take your spoon.”
“No,” Alex says, ignoring the spoon Cash holds out. “I’m confused why you’re here, why you swiped my hide-a-key, how you even knew I’d be back?”
“You were on Warped,” Cash says, mouth full of mousse and talking around his spoon. “It ended.”
Alex frowns slightly. He never told Cash he was on Warped. He never told him anything about it. For months, years, he’s been thinking that Cash doesn’t even care anymore. They’re not friends like they used to be. They’re not anything else either.
“You don’t want yours?” Cash asks, nodding at the glass on the counter, and Alex leans back against the counter instead.
“Is this some weird apology thing?”
Cash has never apologized to Alex about anything except one time in high school when he ran into Alex and knocked him into a huge puddle in the parking lot, and that had only been because a hot girl was watching. Cash had even helped him up on that singular occasion.
Cash pauses, spoon in his mouth again, and scrunches up his nose, and Alex thinks vaguely that his hair is too short and he should really stop the buzz-cut thing since it’s so military 2004.
“Apology?” he asks finally and Alex shrugs helplessly.
“I don’t know! You just show up here, unannounced, and break in, and I’m tired and gross, and I don’t remember the last time I had a real shower, and you’re not explaining anything about why you’re here, and coming home is supposed to be nice and relaxing, and I’m just supposed to order out food and put in a movie and I don’t understand, Cash! I just don’t understand. It’s mousse and whipped cream and things you can’t even pronounce and you made this? Like, you really made this? Or you bought it or something, because, fuck, you are confusing me and I don’t get it and I just really really want to sit down somewhere and not think about this and why-”
“Holy fuck, take a breath,” Cash interrupts finally, and Alex stops. He just wants to sleep. Groaning, he slumps against the counter.
“What are you really doing here, Cash? And don’t say eating chocolate.”
“I can’t come and see you?” Cash asks obviously, setting down his empty glass, the spoon clinking lightly. “We used to be friends.”
Alex stares. “Yeah, before you left the band.”
Cash doesn’t respond to that. “I saw you, you know.”
“Huh?”
“In LA,” Cash goes on. “You guys sounded pretty good but that guy you got on bass sucks.”
“Well, I’ll tell him that next time I see him,” Alex snaps a little. “What were you doing coming to see us? Why didn’t you come talk to us or something? We wouldn’t have shunned you. Well, maybe Johnson.”
Cash shrugs again. “Just went to see.”
“I don’t get you,” Alex says finally, pushing away from the counter and leaving for the living room. He knows Cash is following him without even having to look. He’s knows Cash like the back of his hand.
“What’s to get?”
Alex sinks down into his sofa and revels for just a second in how comfortable it is and how could he have forgotten that? The curtains on the living room windows are pulled back halfway, but the sun has sunk beyond the houses. It’s still light out, and as Alex glances out the window, he notices Cash’s car parked down the street and he wonders how he missed it. He’d just been so glad to finally be home.
Tours are long and hard, and it’s five guys plus techs and other random people, and there’s absolutely no privacy, and as much as Alex loves it, he stills needs his own space and his own time, and coming home is bliss, or it’s supposed to be, when former band members aren’t confusing him in his own house and not letting him relax like he wants to.
Cash doesn’t sit, but stands by the couch for a minute while Alex sighs and glances up.
“I don’t know,” he mutters finally. “Maybe I never understood you.”
Although, he’d thought he had, all those years ago. Cash may have been a jerk, but Alex still thought he’d had some sort of insight into his actions.
It’s another minute before Cash sighs, loudly and harshly, and he climbs onto the couch, perching on the arm, and Alex doesn’t even think to reprimand him or preach about furniture damage.
“I missed you, okay?” Cash says, like it’s a confession he doesn’t want to admit, something he’ll be tarred and feathered for later.
“Huh?” Alex asks, flummoxed.
Rolling his eyes, Cash slinks down off the arm and onto the couch. “Were you always this slow?” Alex frowns at that, but Cash isn’t meeting his eyes and is picking at the cushion. “You were my best friend, Alex. You know, it’s just weird sometimes that we don’t talk anymore.”
Alex wants to say that it’s not his fault, what happened, but he bites his tongue for once and lets Cash finish.
“So I just came over to see, like, how you were and shit. Is that a crime? I can’t miss you?”
“No,” Alex says slowly. “It’s just… weird.”
Cash makes a face, tapping his fingers idly on the arm.
“Well… yeah,” he says finally into the awkward silence.
Alex doesn’t know what to say. They don’t have the rhythm like they used to, and really, they used to argue more than anything else, so this isn’t too far off.
In truth, he’s missed Cash too, even if it was just for their many pointless arguments that would have Marshall and Johnson rolling their eyes and wandering away to be anywhere else. There’s always been something else there, something they never really explored, always shied away from, and Alex doesn’t want to look right now.
After a few minutes of silence, Alex glances over at Cash. Cash is still drumming his fingers against the arm slowly, eyes on the window.
“So you broke into my house and made chocolate mousse?” he asks finally, and Cash looks over.
“You should hide your key in a better place.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alex replies with a ghost of a smile. Then he sighs, letting his head fall back against the couch. “God, I’m so tired.”
“So take a shower and put on a movie,” Cash says like it’s the only logical solution. “There’s already a snack in the kitchen.”
Casting a curious glance at Cash, Alex pushes himself forward, ready to climb up. “What are you gonna do?”
Cash stretches out, legs sprawling in front of him. “Make sure you watch something other than Disney crap.”
Alex laughs once, more a puff of air, and he pushes himself up. He glances back at Cash as he heads towards his bedroom, watching the way he just sprawls there, taking up half the couch. The words welcome home are unspoken as he turns away and finally goes to take his shower and revel in being home.
*
FIN.
Author: silver_etoile
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cash/Singer
Disclaimer: Not true.
Summary: After a long tour, Singer just wants to relax but a surprise visitor won't make it easy.
A/N: written for schmoop_bingo prompt of "coming home from long trip." See my card for master posting.
*
Warped tour is exhausting and Alex is glad to finally find himself back in Las Vegas, stepping out of the car into the still-uncomfortably warm autumn air and staring up at his small little house, his first real purchase since they signed the record deal. It’s not huge but it’s home.
Johnson and Marshall have gone to their own homes and Alex is standing in front of his own, watching the way the setting sun gilds over the two saguaro cacti bordering the front walk up to the door. The beige pebbles in the front lawn are landscaped just like every other house on the street and Alex rummages for his keys, trying to remember where they even are.
He finally finds them in one of the many pockets of his bag and goes to the front door, unlocking it and pushing it inward.
The living room is flooded with the setting sun, golden yellow spilling in through the front windows and falling over the dark blue couch that faces the TV in the corner. The room is pretty sparsely furnished, but he hasn’t been home much since he bought it.
He tosses his duffle bag on the floor in the entrance hall, breathing in the new house smell that still lingers in all corners.
“Didn’t your mommy tell you not to leave your things lying around?”
Alex nearly jumps out of his skin at the voice coming from the doorway that leads to the kitchen. Turning around, he’s surprised to see Cash leaning against the frame, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
“Cash,” Alex says, taken aback. It’s been months since he’s talked to Cash, longer since he’s seen him. “What are you doing here?”
Cash shrugs, tilting his head against the frame like he shows up in Alex’s house all the time, and Alex can’t even remember the last time he was.
“Found the hide-a-key. You seriously need a better spot than under the gnome, dude.”
Confused, Alex doesn’t move from the entrance hall, trying to figure out why Cash is in his house since they haven’t talked in a while, since Alex isn’t even sure how their friendship stands anymore. But Cash is standing there in his doorway and doesn’t look uncomfortable at all.
“Cash,” he says, louder and more forceful. He frowns, shaking his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Visiting,” Cash replies simply, and Alex stares.
“You don’t v-what?”
“Come on, what is this? An interrogation?” Cash grins, pushing away from the frame. “Get in the kitchen, Singer.”
Cash calling him Singer isn’t what does it, but he sighs because he’s known Cash practically all his life and he knows that refusing him just won’t work. Cash will stay, and if he has to, will drag Alex into the kitchen for whatever it is.
So he follows Cash, confused and really just wanting to make some popcorn and spend the rest of the evening watching movies until he’s tired enough to drag himself to bed. He’s been gone for months and he’s glad to be home, but dealing with Cash might be too much.
“What are we doing?” Alex asks as they enter the kitchen and he can’t see anything different than when he left it last time. “What are you doing?”
“So little faith,” Cash comments, waltzing to the fridge as Alex stops, still confused. He pulls it open to reveal the very empty contents within. The door rattles with condiments that are probably out of date, and Cash reaches in to the very back, and Alex has absolutely no idea what he’s looking to find.
Alex edges back against the counter, frowning slightly, hands against the counter. It feels weird, Cash acting like the whole band-breakup never happened, like he hadn’t walked out and left everything a mess.
“Here. You like chocolate, right?”
Cash knows damn well that Alex loves chocolate, and that the chocolate mousse topped with way too much whipped cream in Cash’s hands will be gone in two seconds if he lets Alex have it.
“I’m confused,” Alex says finally when Cash pulls out another and rummages in a few drawers for spoons.
“What’s to be confused about?” Cash asks. “It’s chocolate. Take your spoon.”
“No,” Alex says, ignoring the spoon Cash holds out. “I’m confused why you’re here, why you swiped my hide-a-key, how you even knew I’d be back?”
“You were on Warped,” Cash says, mouth full of mousse and talking around his spoon. “It ended.”
Alex frowns slightly. He never told Cash he was on Warped. He never told him anything about it. For months, years, he’s been thinking that Cash doesn’t even care anymore. They’re not friends like they used to be. They’re not anything else either.
“You don’t want yours?” Cash asks, nodding at the glass on the counter, and Alex leans back against the counter instead.
“Is this some weird apology thing?”
Cash has never apologized to Alex about anything except one time in high school when he ran into Alex and knocked him into a huge puddle in the parking lot, and that had only been because a hot girl was watching. Cash had even helped him up on that singular occasion.
Cash pauses, spoon in his mouth again, and scrunches up his nose, and Alex thinks vaguely that his hair is too short and he should really stop the buzz-cut thing since it’s so military 2004.
“Apology?” he asks finally and Alex shrugs helplessly.
“I don’t know! You just show up here, unannounced, and break in, and I’m tired and gross, and I don’t remember the last time I had a real shower, and you’re not explaining anything about why you’re here, and coming home is supposed to be nice and relaxing, and I’m just supposed to order out food and put in a movie and I don’t understand, Cash! I just don’t understand. It’s mousse and whipped cream and things you can’t even pronounce and you made this? Like, you really made this? Or you bought it or something, because, fuck, you are confusing me and I don’t get it and I just really really want to sit down somewhere and not think about this and why-”
“Holy fuck, take a breath,” Cash interrupts finally, and Alex stops. He just wants to sleep. Groaning, he slumps against the counter.
“What are you really doing here, Cash? And don’t say eating chocolate.”
“I can’t come and see you?” Cash asks obviously, setting down his empty glass, the spoon clinking lightly. “We used to be friends.”
Alex stares. “Yeah, before you left the band.”
Cash doesn’t respond to that. “I saw you, you know.”
“Huh?”
“In LA,” Cash goes on. “You guys sounded pretty good but that guy you got on bass sucks.”
“Well, I’ll tell him that next time I see him,” Alex snaps a little. “What were you doing coming to see us? Why didn’t you come talk to us or something? We wouldn’t have shunned you. Well, maybe Johnson.”
Cash shrugs again. “Just went to see.”
“I don’t get you,” Alex says finally, pushing away from the counter and leaving for the living room. He knows Cash is following him without even having to look. He’s knows Cash like the back of his hand.
“What’s to get?”
Alex sinks down into his sofa and revels for just a second in how comfortable it is and how could he have forgotten that? The curtains on the living room windows are pulled back halfway, but the sun has sunk beyond the houses. It’s still light out, and as Alex glances out the window, he notices Cash’s car parked down the street and he wonders how he missed it. He’d just been so glad to finally be home.
Tours are long and hard, and it’s five guys plus techs and other random people, and there’s absolutely no privacy, and as much as Alex loves it, he stills needs his own space and his own time, and coming home is bliss, or it’s supposed to be, when former band members aren’t confusing him in his own house and not letting him relax like he wants to.
Cash doesn’t sit, but stands by the couch for a minute while Alex sighs and glances up.
“I don’t know,” he mutters finally. “Maybe I never understood you.”
Although, he’d thought he had, all those years ago. Cash may have been a jerk, but Alex still thought he’d had some sort of insight into his actions.
It’s another minute before Cash sighs, loudly and harshly, and he climbs onto the couch, perching on the arm, and Alex doesn’t even think to reprimand him or preach about furniture damage.
“I missed you, okay?” Cash says, like it’s a confession he doesn’t want to admit, something he’ll be tarred and feathered for later.
“Huh?” Alex asks, flummoxed.
Rolling his eyes, Cash slinks down off the arm and onto the couch. “Were you always this slow?” Alex frowns at that, but Cash isn’t meeting his eyes and is picking at the cushion. “You were my best friend, Alex. You know, it’s just weird sometimes that we don’t talk anymore.”
Alex wants to say that it’s not his fault, what happened, but he bites his tongue for once and lets Cash finish.
“So I just came over to see, like, how you were and shit. Is that a crime? I can’t miss you?”
“No,” Alex says slowly. “It’s just… weird.”
Cash makes a face, tapping his fingers idly on the arm.
“Well… yeah,” he says finally into the awkward silence.
Alex doesn’t know what to say. They don’t have the rhythm like they used to, and really, they used to argue more than anything else, so this isn’t too far off.
In truth, he’s missed Cash too, even if it was just for their many pointless arguments that would have Marshall and Johnson rolling their eyes and wandering away to be anywhere else. There’s always been something else there, something they never really explored, always shied away from, and Alex doesn’t want to look right now.
After a few minutes of silence, Alex glances over at Cash. Cash is still drumming his fingers against the arm slowly, eyes on the window.
“So you broke into my house and made chocolate mousse?” he asks finally, and Cash looks over.
“You should hide your key in a better place.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alex replies with a ghost of a smile. Then he sighs, letting his head fall back against the couch. “God, I’m so tired.”
“So take a shower and put on a movie,” Cash says like it’s the only logical solution. “There’s already a snack in the kitchen.”
Casting a curious glance at Cash, Alex pushes himself forward, ready to climb up. “What are you gonna do?”
Cash stretches out, legs sprawling in front of him. “Make sure you watch something other than Disney crap.”
Alex laughs once, more a puff of air, and he pushes himself up. He glances back at Cash as he heads towards his bedroom, watching the way he just sprawls there, taking up half the couch. The words welcome home are unspoken as he turns away and finally goes to take his shower and revel in being home.
*
FIN.