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Dec. 14th, 2008 11:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notAutofocus
Bandom || Jon/Tom/Cassie || Adult || 1732 words
Disclaimer: Fabrications and lies, no harm intended.
Summary: He’s sure as hell not expecting Cassie to sneak up beside him in the small bar, snag his beer out of his hand, and call him a fucking idiot. Sequel to 8X10.
A/N: Much love to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
irisgirl12000 for betaing and helping me with a title, and to reallythateasy for her "Oh Thomas. You precious precious retard." comment when I texted some of this to her months ago. Comments/feedback is love.
Tom knows he’s being moody and unreasonable, but he really can’t help it. He wouldn’t blame Sean if he gave in and punched him in the fucking face for being an asshole, almost wished one of them would take a swing at him. He’s tense, full of nervous energy and adrenaline, and he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to take it out on someone.
It’s been two weeks since the morning he woke up in Jon’s bed, tangled in the empty sheets that smelled like Jon and Cassie and sex. He could hear them in the shower, the low rumble of Jon’s laugh mingled with Cassie’s slow, sexy giggle. What had seemed so simple and easy the night before was now fraught with complication. He hadn’t known what to say to them, wasn’t sure what the protocol was. The three of them, it was more than just sex; Jon and Cassie mattered to him, and he… well, he was a pussy and he ran. Slipped out while they were otherwise occupied, struggling into the first clothes that came to hand (ending up wearing Jon’s shirt, which so didn’t help anything) and barely remembering to grab his camera before he left.
He hid out in Max’s basement for a few days, knowing Jon wouldn’t look for him there, and erased his voicemails without listening to them. Jon went back on the road with his band and Cassie quit calling him, so Tom figures he’s in the clear until Panic’s tour rolls through Chicago, but he still jumps a little whenever his phone rings.
This morning, he finally locked himself in his darkroom and developed the roll of film from That Night. He printed copies for Cassie, slid them carefully into a manila envelope, and had them delivered to her along with a cookie bouquet.
He’s sure as hell not expecting Cassie to sneak up beside him in the small bar, snag his beer out of his hand, and call him a fucking idiot. That’s seriously what she says, “Thomas Conrad, you are a fucking idiot,” before she turns around to say hi to everyone else and to thank Ryan (fucking filthy traitor) for telling her where to find Tom. She slips effortlessly into their conversations, and Tom tries to follow what they’re saying, but Cassie has one of her hands in his back pocket and is snuggled up against his side like she belongs there, and Tom’s freaking a little as he signals the waitress for another couple beers.
Tom nearly chokes on a mouthful of beer when Cassie leans close and says “So the pictures I took weren’t good enough to share?” because that’s definitely not why Tom didn’t include them. The pics of him and Jon… god. Tom’s getting hard just thinking about it and he can feel himself flushing from more than the alcohol as he shifts awkwardly beside Cassie. She laughs, low and knowing, and runs her hand up under his shirt. Someone kicks Tom and he looks up to find Sean glaring at him. He excuses himself, makes Cassie promise to order him another beer since she won’t promise not to drink his, and isn’t surprised when Sean enters the mens room right behind him.
“What the fuck, Conrad? I know you’re not that drunk. Did you somehow forget that Cassie’s boyfriend is Jon, your best friend?”
It’s not funny but Tom laughs anyway. “Nah, man, I’m certain Jon knows exactly where Cass is and what she’s doing.” Sean watches him for a minute, doesn’t say anything, so Tom turns away from him – he really did come in here to piss. He wants to ignore Sean when he says, “What about you, do you know what you’re doing?” but instead he laughs again and answers with, “Do I ever?”
“Not usually,” Sean sighs, “just be careful, okay?”
Tom appreciates the sentiment but he thinks it may be coming a little late.
Back in the bar, Tom notices the careful and deliberate amount of personal space she keeps between herself and everyone else, not unfriendly but definitely at odds with the way she was pressed up against him and the way she twists his shirt in her hand to pull him closer when he gets back to the table. Tom picks up the beer sitting in front of her, watching her on the phone. He has no idea how the hell she can hear anything, and her side of the conversation seems to be just as much smiles and nods as actual words, so he figures she’s talking to Jon. She grins at him and winks as she ends the call. “Jon says you’re responsible for making sure I get home okay and that we should call him when we get there.”
Tom passes his nearly-full beer off to Sean and ignores the looks he’s getting from his current bandmates (especially the one from Sean that looks more like sympathy than suspicion or irritation) and lets Cassie lead him out of the bar with her fingers tucked between his belt and his stomach.
It’s not all that long a walk back to the apartment (Jon’s apartment, not Tom’s, where he could take comfort in his own surroundings and maybe lock himself in the bedroom, or Cassie’s, where he’s only been a handful of times and has no memories of naked best friends, Jon’s) but it’s long enough for Tom’s nerves to be completely shot by the time they get there. Cassie doesn’t say anything the entire time, which isn’t helping. Is she waiting to get him alone to call Jon so the two of them can give him the equivalent of a break up speech together? Or is he going to be led into something that could damage their friendship even more irrevocably?
Cassie lets go of Tom to find her keys and unlock the apartment door. She leaves it open behind her as she walks in, warning him not to let the cats out. Tom steps in quickly and shuts the door behind him – he knows Clover’s been getting a little adventurous lately – but fidgets nervously just inside. Fuck it, he thinks. It’s been years since he felt uncomfortable in Jon’s place, and he really shouldn’t be now, not just because his understanding of the world and his relationship with Jon is completely topsy-turvy.
He makes his way to the couch and Dylan’s in his lap as soon as he sits down. He pulls out his phone, turning it over in his hands, thinking maybe he should call Jon and get it over with so he can leave. He got Cassie home, right? That’s all Jon asked of him.
Before he can make himself dial Jon’s number, Cassie reappears from the bedroom, laughing. “Yeah, Jon, he’s right here, on the couch stroking your pussy.” She winks at Tom as she shoos Dylan away and straddles Tom’s lap. “No, no handcuffs. I thought we’d maybe save those for next time you’re in town. I’m pretty sure Tom’ll stay here and listen to us without being tied up.”
Cassie is in his lap, so he either listens or he pushes her off, and if he puts his hands on his hips intending to do just that, he’s more likely to pull her closer.
Cassie turns the phone on speaker and holds it between the two of them. “Jon?”
“Thomas Conrad, you are a fucking idiot.”
Tom laughs. “Funny, your girl told me the same thing a little bit ago.”
“She’s a smart one.
Tom makes a noise of agreement, but waits for Jon to continue.
“I can’t believe you left, you dick. Cass and I got out of the shower, planning on bringing you coffee in bed, and you were gone. Plus, you still owe me a blowjob.”
Cassie flashes a fake pout at Tom before grinning. “I was looking forward to that, too.”
Tom tries to figure out what to say. “Look, I love you two, seriously, and I’m not trying to ruin that. I don’t want to lose my best friends just for sex.”
“Good sex,” Cassie corrects him.
Jon adds, “Really good sex.”
Tom laughs and shakes his head. “You two are completely ridiculous, did you know?”
“We aren’t the ones who ran away and then hid. What the hell, man? If you were freaked, you should have at least talked to us. Or maybe, I don’t know, answered your phone. I don’t want to fuck us up either, but I don’t think this will. Cassie and I talked about it, after, and I’m pretty sure it was inevitable even if we hadn’t realized it before.”
“Jon…”
“No. Quit overthinking it. You know we’re good, you know I wouldn’t do anything that I thought would hurt either of you. If you have to think about it, fine, but know that we want this, want you, and that’s not going to change. And if you want to say no, that’s fine too; we’re not going to stop being your friends.”
“I might stop being your friend,” Cassie teases as she leans in to coax Tom into a kiss. He can taste the beer on her tongue, but underneath is something sweeter, something undeniably Cassie and he wants, doesn’t even resist.
Cassie's hands are soft, her touch gentle and just a little uncertain as she slides them under his shirt, down to flick the button of his jeans, and it's not enough; it's a tease, like promising something that can't be fulfilled because Jon is nowhere near Chicago and there’s only so much they can do without him. But here, in this moment, it's easy enough for Tom to close his eyes and imagine it's the three of them, and it's automatic that both their names slip off his tongue godCassieJonfuck as he arches into Cassie's touch.
“Fuck, Tom.”
Tom's eyes fly open at the sound of Jon's voice. He had forgotten about Jon being on speakerphone. He covers Cassie’s hands with his own, stilling her movements, and breathes heavy for a few seconds. “Are you – is this okay?”
“Yeah, as long as you keep me on speaker. I’ve only got an hour ‘til soundcheck or I’d make Cass break out the webcam.” The affection in his voice is evident when he adds, “And I expect you both to be there to meet me when I get home.”
Bandom || Jon/Tom/Cassie || Adult || 1732 words
Disclaimer: Fabrications and lies, no harm intended.
Summary: He’s sure as hell not expecting Cassie to sneak up beside him in the small bar, snag his beer out of his hand, and call him a fucking idiot. Sequel to 8X10.
A/N: Much love to
irisgirl12000 for betaing and helping me with a title, and to reallythateasy for her "Oh Thomas. You precious precious retard." comment when I texted some of this to her months ago. Comments/feedback is love.Tom knows he’s being moody and unreasonable, but he really can’t help it. He wouldn’t blame Sean if he gave in and punched him in the fucking face for being an asshole, almost wished one of them would take a swing at him. He’s tense, full of nervous energy and adrenaline, and he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to take it out on someone.
It’s been two weeks since the morning he woke up in Jon’s bed, tangled in the empty sheets that smelled like Jon and Cassie and sex. He could hear them in the shower, the low rumble of Jon’s laugh mingled with Cassie’s slow, sexy giggle. What had seemed so simple and easy the night before was now fraught with complication. He hadn’t known what to say to them, wasn’t sure what the protocol was. The three of them, it was more than just sex; Jon and Cassie mattered to him, and he… well, he was a pussy and he ran. Slipped out while they were otherwise occupied, struggling into the first clothes that came to hand (ending up wearing Jon’s shirt, which so didn’t help anything) and barely remembering to grab his camera before he left.
He hid out in Max’s basement for a few days, knowing Jon wouldn’t look for him there, and erased his voicemails without listening to them. Jon went back on the road with his band and Cassie quit calling him, so Tom figures he’s in the clear until Panic’s tour rolls through Chicago, but he still jumps a little whenever his phone rings.
This morning, he finally locked himself in his darkroom and developed the roll of film from That Night. He printed copies for Cassie, slid them carefully into a manila envelope, and had them delivered to her along with a cookie bouquet.
He’s sure as hell not expecting Cassie to sneak up beside him in the small bar, snag his beer out of his hand, and call him a fucking idiot. That’s seriously what she says, “Thomas Conrad, you are a fucking idiot,” before she turns around to say hi to everyone else and to thank Ryan (fucking filthy traitor) for telling her where to find Tom. She slips effortlessly into their conversations, and Tom tries to follow what they’re saying, but Cassie has one of her hands in his back pocket and is snuggled up against his side like she belongs there, and Tom’s freaking a little as he signals the waitress for another couple beers.
Tom nearly chokes on a mouthful of beer when Cassie leans close and says “So the pictures I took weren’t good enough to share?” because that’s definitely not why Tom didn’t include them. The pics of him and Jon… god. Tom’s getting hard just thinking about it and he can feel himself flushing from more than the alcohol as he shifts awkwardly beside Cassie. She laughs, low and knowing, and runs her hand up under his shirt. Someone kicks Tom and he looks up to find Sean glaring at him. He excuses himself, makes Cassie promise to order him another beer since she won’t promise not to drink his, and isn’t surprised when Sean enters the mens room right behind him.
“What the fuck, Conrad? I know you’re not that drunk. Did you somehow forget that Cassie’s boyfriend is Jon, your best friend?”
It’s not funny but Tom laughs anyway. “Nah, man, I’m certain Jon knows exactly where Cass is and what she’s doing.” Sean watches him for a minute, doesn’t say anything, so Tom turns away from him – he really did come in here to piss. He wants to ignore Sean when he says, “What about you, do you know what you’re doing?” but instead he laughs again and answers with, “Do I ever?”
“Not usually,” Sean sighs, “just be careful, okay?”
Tom appreciates the sentiment but he thinks it may be coming a little late.
Back in the bar, Tom notices the careful and deliberate amount of personal space she keeps between herself and everyone else, not unfriendly but definitely at odds with the way she was pressed up against him and the way she twists his shirt in her hand to pull him closer when he gets back to the table. Tom picks up the beer sitting in front of her, watching her on the phone. He has no idea how the hell she can hear anything, and her side of the conversation seems to be just as much smiles and nods as actual words, so he figures she’s talking to Jon. She grins at him and winks as she ends the call. “Jon says you’re responsible for making sure I get home okay and that we should call him when we get there.”
Tom passes his nearly-full beer off to Sean and ignores the looks he’s getting from his current bandmates (especially the one from Sean that looks more like sympathy than suspicion or irritation) and lets Cassie lead him out of the bar with her fingers tucked between his belt and his stomach.
It’s not all that long a walk back to the apartment (Jon’s apartment, not Tom’s, where he could take comfort in his own surroundings and maybe lock himself in the bedroom, or Cassie’s, where he’s only been a handful of times and has no memories of naked best friends, Jon’s) but it’s long enough for Tom’s nerves to be completely shot by the time they get there. Cassie doesn’t say anything the entire time, which isn’t helping. Is she waiting to get him alone to call Jon so the two of them can give him the equivalent of a break up speech together? Or is he going to be led into something that could damage their friendship even more irrevocably?
Cassie lets go of Tom to find her keys and unlock the apartment door. She leaves it open behind her as she walks in, warning him not to let the cats out. Tom steps in quickly and shuts the door behind him – he knows Clover’s been getting a little adventurous lately – but fidgets nervously just inside. Fuck it, he thinks. It’s been years since he felt uncomfortable in Jon’s place, and he really shouldn’t be now, not just because his understanding of the world and his relationship with Jon is completely topsy-turvy.
He makes his way to the couch and Dylan’s in his lap as soon as he sits down. He pulls out his phone, turning it over in his hands, thinking maybe he should call Jon and get it over with so he can leave. He got Cassie home, right? That’s all Jon asked of him.
Before he can make himself dial Jon’s number, Cassie reappears from the bedroom, laughing. “Yeah, Jon, he’s right here, on the couch stroking your pussy.” She winks at Tom as she shoos Dylan away and straddles Tom’s lap. “No, no handcuffs. I thought we’d maybe save those for next time you’re in town. I’m pretty sure Tom’ll stay here and listen to us without being tied up.”
Cassie is in his lap, so he either listens or he pushes her off, and if he puts his hands on his hips intending to do just that, he’s more likely to pull her closer.
Cassie turns the phone on speaker and holds it between the two of them. “Jon?”
“Thomas Conrad, you are a fucking idiot.”
Tom laughs. “Funny, your girl told me the same thing a little bit ago.”
“She’s a smart one.
Tom makes a noise of agreement, but waits for Jon to continue.
“I can’t believe you left, you dick. Cass and I got out of the shower, planning on bringing you coffee in bed, and you were gone. Plus, you still owe me a blowjob.”
Cassie flashes a fake pout at Tom before grinning. “I was looking forward to that, too.”
Tom tries to figure out what to say. “Look, I love you two, seriously, and I’m not trying to ruin that. I don’t want to lose my best friends just for sex.”
“Good sex,” Cassie corrects him.
Jon adds, “Really good sex.”
Tom laughs and shakes his head. “You two are completely ridiculous, did you know?”
“We aren’t the ones who ran away and then hid. What the hell, man? If you were freaked, you should have at least talked to us. Or maybe, I don’t know, answered your phone. I don’t want to fuck us up either, but I don’t think this will. Cassie and I talked about it, after, and I’m pretty sure it was inevitable even if we hadn’t realized it before.”
“Jon…”
“No. Quit overthinking it. You know we’re good, you know I wouldn’t do anything that I thought would hurt either of you. If you have to think about it, fine, but know that we want this, want you, and that’s not going to change. And if you want to say no, that’s fine too; we’re not going to stop being your friends.”
“I might stop being your friend,” Cassie teases as she leans in to coax Tom into a kiss. He can taste the beer on her tongue, but underneath is something sweeter, something undeniably Cassie and he wants, doesn’t even resist.
Cassie's hands are soft, her touch gentle and just a little uncertain as she slides them under his shirt, down to flick the button of his jeans, and it's not enough; it's a tease, like promising something that can't be fulfilled because Jon is nowhere near Chicago and there’s only so much they can do without him. But here, in this moment, it's easy enough for Tom to close his eyes and imagine it's the three of them, and it's automatic that both their names slip off his tongue godCassieJonfuck as he arches into Cassie's touch.
“Fuck, Tom.”
Tom's eyes fly open at the sound of Jon's voice. He had forgotten about Jon being on speakerphone. He covers Cassie’s hands with his own, stilling her movements, and breathes heavy for a few seconds. “Are you – is this okay?”
“Yeah, as long as you keep me on speaker. I’ve only got an hour ‘til soundcheck or I’d make Cass break out the webcam.” The affection in his voice is evident when he adds, “And I expect you both to be there to meet me when I get home.”
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Date: 2008-12-14 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-14 08:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-15 12:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-15 12:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-15 01:41 am (UTC)You know in my head, Jon's sprawled out in the back lounge, door locked. He was in his bunk when Cassie called the first time, and they had this planned, and he knew if he did it in his bunk, the other guys would hear. Which would be fine if it were just him, but this isn't the same thing at all.
Ryan actually has his headphones on, tuned to the Garage Band demos they recorded the other night, and he's thinking about song lyrics to go along with Brendon's keyboards.
Brendon and Spencer, on the other hand, are happy to have the front lounge to themselves. :D
no subject
Date: 2008-12-15 01:47 am (UTC)I totally agree with everything you've said.