why_me_why_not (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
why_me_why_not) wrote2011-01-16 08:52 pm
why_me_why_not) wrote2011-01-16 08:52 pm
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Safely home, laying on my heating pad and listening to Transformers (I can't see the TV from where I'm at) and trying to get the motivation to get back up in order to take my crazy meds. My life, so hard.
A lot of the songs that I was listening to today would be GREAT for fic purposes. But we all know I fail at writing things lately. Haha, I wrote comment fic in like October? And kinda wrote fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
irisgirl12000 and thebunnyknows for their birthdays. But really, other than tormenting irisgirl12000 with emails about what I'd write if I was writing fic, I haven't done anything in for-ev-er.
So, while I'm looking at my most recently played songs, give me a number between 1 and 25 and a character or pairing from one of the fandoms you know I write it, and we'll see if I can manage to come up with something.Give me a reason to procrastinate job searching and finishing my CEUs, lol.
A lot of the songs that I was listening to today would be GREAT for fic purposes. But we all know I fail at writing things lately. Haha, I wrote comment fic in like October? And kinda wrote fic for
irisgirl12000 and thebunnyknows for their birthdays. But really, other than tormenting irisgirl12000 with emails about what I'd write if I was writing fic, I haven't done anything in for-ev-er.So, while I'm looking at my most recently played songs, give me a number between 1 and 25 and a character or pairing from one of the fandoms you know I write it, and we'll see if I can manage to come up with something.
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Aaron/Christian, 16
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Also, I'm on brother's laptop, since I stole it from him for the purpose of finishing some CEUs, so I can't upload the actual song, but number 16 on my list is a country song called "Are You Gonna Kiss Me or Not" by Thompson Square. (I have the most eclectic mix of music ever, sorry, *g*)
Are you gonna kiss me or not
Are we gonna do this or what
I think you know I love you a lot
I think we’ve got a real good shot
Are you gonna kiss me or not
So, let's see if I remember how to write these two. 500 words, Aaron/Christian, Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not?
It’s not a lavish affair. When Aaron accepted his proposal, Christian was all for compromising and choosing a small gathering at Lila’s over an actual wedding. Now that they’re standing here, Christian is starting to regret their decision not to have a rehearsal. He didn’t want it to feel like an act, like a role he was starring in. This is their life; this is real. But he’s having a hard time focusing on the words that are being said, words that are tying him and Aaron together in a legal kind of forever that means more than just their names on a shared lease. It doesn’t help that Aaron’s sister is directly in his line of sight. She’s crying, and Christian hopes the tears are the happy kind and has to hold his breath when the justice asks if there are any objections. She doesn’t say anything, though, and they skip ahead to the “I do”s.
Christian thinks maybe they should have made their own vows. There’s nothing wrong with traditional, except he and Aaron are anything but traditional. Their love deserves something more unique, more theatrical. Maybe they can plan something for their first anniversary; maybe by then he’ll have found the words to describe the peace that Aaron brought into his life.
Despite his wandering thoughts, he manages to say his “I do, yes, definitely” at the appropriate moment and with enough conviction that several people laugh. He must miss Aaron’s affirmative, though, because suddenly everyone is quiet and looking at him expectantly.
“Chris, if you don’t seal the deal, I’m going to take Aaron back to New York with me, introduce him to some of my real friends.”
“Not on your life, sister.” Christian anchors one hand firmly in the fabric of Aaron’s jacket before he glances behind him at Julie. He’s glad to see she’s crying too, evil wench, even though she’ll probably find the hit single for her second album from their wedding and he’ll have to go back to hating her.
Aaron’s laugh draws Christian’s attention back where it belongs. Aaron’s grinning at him, his eyes light and happy, and Christian can’t help but smile back, even though he’s pretty sure there’s something else he’s supposed to be doing right now.
“Well?” Aaron asks, tilting his head just a little. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
Oh yeah. This part didn’t need rehearsal. He’s vaguely aware of their friends cheering, of the justice pronouncing them officially married, but none of that matters. All the words, the approval of their friends, the piece of paper he knows they’ll have framed to hang in a prominent place in their home – it all pales in comparison to this, to him and Aaron and what they share. The kiss is more enthusiastic than he intends, partially because he’s trying to keep himself from blurting out the sappy nonsense that’s on the tip of his tongue, but that’s okay. He’s pretty sure Aaron gets it anyway.
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"I cannot believe you got onto a ski mobile with Person."
"Hey, he got us through Iraq in a piece of shit humvee, a ski mobile should've been safer!"
"Yeah, except there were no trees in the desert," Doc mumbled, focusing on redressing the bandages over the scrapes on Walt's arm. The resort doctor had done a decent enough job patching Walt up, but Doc was a little protective of his men, even if they were all technically on leave. "And no snowbunnies either."
"Oh, Ray would've been going out of his way to impress those Hajji chicks just as well, but Brad probably would've shot him. Accidentally on purpose."
Walt's words had that slow, almost-slurred cadence of someone influenced by painkillers, and Doc frowned, wondering what the doctor had given him. He tried to remember if Walt had any known allergies in his med history.
"Hey, Doc." Walt waited until Doc was looking up before continuing, "You're kinda cute when you're grumpy, didja know?"
Doc decided that was probably his cue to leave. He was hoping he could catch back up with his new friend Sam and finish the discussion they had been having, maybe turn that into a dinner invite. "Get some rest; I'll be back to check on you in a few hours." He was almost to the door when Walt caught his attention again.
"Aren't you going to ask if I need anything?" Hasser's eyes were suspiciously bright, like he was up to something, but Doc still took the bait.
"Do you need anything before I go?"
"Yeah, a blowjob to help me relax." Walt's smile was pure evil. "Although I'd settle for a spongebath and a handjob."
It was nothing Doc hadn't heard before - one thing Person was right about was how homoerotic their entire culture was - but he wasn't used to hearing it from Walt. And he couldn't blame it all on the painkillers. "You have spent entirely too much time around Person."
"It's true," Walt said, shaking his head with exaggerated sadness. "But I can't help it; he's my favorite degenerate."
Doc sighed. "Rest. We'll talk about finding you some better friends later."
Doc didn’t find Sam, but he did find Ray holding court in the bar, telling some complete falsehood about his heroic deeds. Sometimes Doc wondered if Ray’s delusions didn’t reach just a little too far.
“Doc Bryan!” Ray greeted him enthusiastically. “How’s our patient? Dear little Walt didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”
“No, Ray, you seem to be providing enough trouble for everyone.”
“Yeah, yeah, reckless behavior, combat readiness, yaddayadda.” Ray discarded those concerns with a wave of his hand. “Brad already read me the riot act. But look at the bright side! Now you don’t have to sit up in this big ol’ resort all alone all day while the rest of us are outside, just ‘cause you’re allergic to snow or fun or what the fuck ever!”
Doc bit back a growl. He wasn’t allergic to snow, or fun, even if that were possible. He just wasn’t a fan of cold and didn’t see the point in making a fool out of himself by dressing like a marshmallow and riding a couple sticks down a mountain. Besides, he wasn’t alone, he had been making friends. Intelligent, attractive, non-Marine friends.
“Thanks for looking out for Walt,” Ray was saying, oblivious to Doc’s irritation. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy the company.”
Apparently the rest of Doc’s week at the ski resort had been planned out for him, courtesy of one Ray Person. Maybe he should be worried.
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(See how I encourage other people to write without doing anything myself?)
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Don't make me tell you about Brendon, Spencer, Shane, and Zack (and Pete, because he refuses to be left out) being in a plane crash on a desert island and having to befriend some of their planemates, who turn out to be former Marines...
yeah, idek either, I'm just making shit up today. MY LIFE NEEDS MORE BDEN, OKAY?
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You could feed it to me bit by bit as a reward if I ever write any more of the college AU. For motivational purposes. :D
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Also, fucking-A, Brendon would be totally happy doing covers of bands like Air Supply and Journey for the rest of his life! If, y'know, he and Spencer weren't totally successful, legit, too-cool-for-(high)-school rockstars. (also, throw in a little Stevie Nicks? and he'd be totally set.)
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Idk why the few country songs on my recently played list are the ones that get picked first, but 19 is a country song too, called What Do You Want From Me. And this is 700 words of pure bushlit. ♥
Evan's not even pretending to be quiet as he unlocks the door to the room he's sharing with John. The last song from the karaoke rotation is still stuck in his head and on his tongue, and he's relatively certain John went home with the pretty little thing he'd been buying drinks for earlier that night.
He doesn't bother turning on any of the lights as he kicks off his sneakers and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it over a chair. He'll worry with the mess in the morning; right now the alcohol and the long week are catching up with him and he wants his bed.
Only, when he sits on the edge of the bed and goes to stretch out, he finds there's already someone in his bed, and it sure as shit ain't Goldilocks. He sits up and stares at the dark shape of his roommate for a minute before shoving at John's shoulder. "Yo, Christenson, man, what the fuck? This is my bed!" He could just as easily move over and sleep in the other bed, but it's the principle of the matter.
John rolls halfway over and rubs a hand over his face. "I know, man, it's just..."
Evan waits for an answer, an excuse. Maybe the A/C is stuck and John's bed's too cold, or the housekeeper didn't change the sheets and there are still crumbs in John's bed from the cold pizza they'd had for breakfast. John doesn't say anything else, but Evan has his answer when he sees the phone lying open on the nightstand.
"Tell me you didn't bail on Miss Guaranteed Good Time because Carri called," he says with a frown, even though he knows that's exactly what happened.
"I walked her home!" John's defensive, and Evan sighs. "Carri needed to talk; she thinks she made a mistake."
Of course she made a fucking mistake, Evan wants to say, but he bites his tongue. John may be his brother, his best friend, and a damn fine soldier, but he's still young, dumb, and in love. Evan just wishes he'd realize he's in love with the wrong person.
When Evan doesn't say anything, John adds, "She loves me, and when I go home, we're going to figure things out."
Evan thinks, yeah, she's keeping her hold on you because she knows you're a good thing, and she doesn't deserve you, but what he says is, "So every time she calls, you gonna turn into a pussy teenage girl who crawls in your best friend's bed because your heart is broke?"
"Fuck you!" John glares and starts to roll off the bed, but Even grabs his arm and pulls him back, shifting around so they're lying side by side.
"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep." Evan closes his eyes and pretends to do just that, waiting for John to relax again beside him, for his breaths to even out.
John ending up in Evan's bed is becoming a post-Carri thing. The night they broke up - and who the fuck breaks up with someone with a text message? That’s just wrong! - he took John out to get plastered. When they stumbled back to their room, it was more that Evan's bed was closer to the door than something intentional, but it's happened a few times since. And Evan doesn't mind, it's not like he's gonna kick John out of his bed, but at the same time...
He reaches for John's phone, scrolling through to find Carri's number. He's tempted to call her himself, tell her to back the fuck off, but he doesn't want that to interfere with his and John's friendship. Luckily, he knows other ways to handle the situation.
He fires off a message to Ray, who John will totally forgive for being an asshole who talks before he thinks because... well, because Ray is an asshole who talks before he thinks, but his heart is in the right place. He hesitates for a moment, then erases both the sent message and Carri's number from the phone before putting it back on the nightstand.
He plans on drunken deniability being his friend in the morning.
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2. Wait, you want me to right you something Ray-related? I am shocked, Jess. Shocked.
3. Hmmmm, let me see what I can come up with... :)
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Had he really said all that?
The details of the night before were a little sketchy after he and Walt had downed that fourth or fifth round of shots. And after the pitchers of beer. Double fuck. Ray hoped all that shit hadn't ended up on his bar tab.
For some stupid fucking reason, his phone was on the opposite side of the room, even though he was still fully dressed. His shirt stuck to his belly when he moved, rough and gross where something had spilled. The room spun when he stood up; his hangover was almost enough to rival that weekend they had spent in Mexico. He wasn’t quite sure what he had done, but it had better have been fun, because he was sure as shit paying for it. And his goddamn phone was still ringing.
Ray glanced out the window as he stumbled across the room. His car was in one piece, even if it was also parked sideways across the yard with one of the tires in the middle of Mrs Verdena's flowerbed. It was a good thing his landlady loved him, and an even better one that she was away visiting her grandchildren for a couple weeks.
"What?" Ray's grouchiness was only made worse by Brad laughing on the other end of the phone line.
"Good morning, sunshine! Just calling to make sure you're alive this morning."
"Fuck you. What happened last night?"
"What do you remember?"
"Er... Alcohol? Q-Tip dancing on the bar? Lilley and Garza doing Britney karaoke?"
"Do you remember trying to undo my belt in the middle of the bar in front of those college girls?"
Oops. "Uh, yeah, not really... Sorry about that, Brad."
"Oh, I got you back, don't worry."
Ray was afraid to ask what exactly Brad meant by that, so he just hung up the phone and turned the ringer off. Fucking Brad.
It wasn’t until he started stripping for the shower that Ray caught sight of the marks on his back. He had to do some fancy maneuvering in front of the mirror to read what it said.
Property of Brad Colbert.
At least it was only sharpie. Ray wondered who had the pictures.
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Thank you! :DDDDD
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molestundress Brad in public.Thank YOU for encouraging me!
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(Why yes, I'm avoiding work, and everyone in my lab. NOT HAPPY WITH THEM RIGHT NOW.)
♥
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Ray is my favorite. I can't help it.
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