Mark Has Got His Work

PWPA: So Tender and Mild

2009-07-21T00:11:28Z

Title: So Tender and Mild
Characters: Jean and 11-year-old Marie.
Notes: Happy early birthday Laura :D

The coffee maker was still broken. The drip gave nothing more than slightly bean-tinted warm water, and it tasted absolutely awful. Jean rolled his eyes, switching it off and unplugging the appliance, giving up on it. He would have tried tinkering with it, but he would probably just start an electrical fire. Electronics was never his forte.

He looked around his small kitchenette of his apartment for something to do. He didn't have work for another hour, and he's just gone on a cleaning spree... he'd put all the bills in the mail yesterday, his checkbook was balanced, and the reports for his manager were all ready.

Just as he was about to walk into the living room to turn on his old used television to see if he could find anything interesting on, the notepad next to the phone caught his eye. He went over to it and saw a phone number with the name 'McHaffy's' scrawled above it.

A few days ago, Taylor had called him. Saying that he had told Marie about her real father. Said that she wanted to know him, wondered why her real daddy didn't love her. If only it was as simple as loving.

Jean picked up the pen next to the pad and doodled a bit on the paper. Curly-Qs and little spirals circled around the name written on the paper. That would be Riordan's last name. Taylor must have taken it on. Did that mean they were married now? Marie would be eleven now... what color hair did she have? What kind of things did she like doing? What were her first words?

It wasn't until he saw the water droplet fall to the piece of paper that he realized that he was beginning to cry. He quickly went over to the sink, rubbing his eyes free of any tears, taking a washcloth and wiping his face clean. After a moment or two, he had gotten a hold of himself.

Jean had made it perfectly clear to Taylor that he didn't want back in Marie's life because he loved her. Taylor and Riordan were good parents. Jean was sick, still struggling to make monthly bills, and nowhere near worthy of having any part in her life. The more he stayed out of it, the better Marie would be. ...The happier she would be.

But Taylor hadn't made it sound like that. He said Marie wanted to know her dad. She was eleven and had the right to make her own decisions if she knew her dad or not. Maybe just one visit... just a few hours spent with her...

Before he could stop himself, he was picking up the phone and calling the McHaffy household. He would talk to Taylor about it some more. Ask him if it would be okay. He didn't want to do anything that would make Riordan uncomfortable, and they were her parents now, not him. He'd signed the papers. But still, it wasn't out of his rights to want to see her now and then, was it? Just to talk to her...

"Hello?"

Jean froze. The voice on the other end of the phone wasn't male. It was that of a girl. It was as if his heart had literally stopped beating. But just as Jean was about to try breathing again, suddenly he couldn't breathe fast enough. Was it...??

"...Is this Marie?" Somehow he was able to keep his voice calm and cool.

The voice on the other end suddenly grew concerned. "Who is this?"

It was. He could almost imagine that he could hear something familiar in that Scottish girl's accent, as if somehow he had heard her voice before. It was the knowledge of a father that he was speaking to his only child, his angel, the most beautiful thing in his life before he gave her away...

Jean had to think quickly. He couldn't do this now, he wanted to be there when he finally reunited with his daughter. "I'm a friend of your fathers. Taylor? We went to school together." That was accurate, of course. "I knew you when you were just a baby, actually..."

The voice still sounded confused, but was no longer worried. She believed him. "How did you know me?"

"I used to live in Paris, when your dad was doing modeling there..." He smiled a little bit, wanting to learn anything about his daughter, anything at all. "You wouldn't be following in his footsteps?"

He heard a light laugh. "I've done a little bit, not a lot. I like painting actually."

At this, Jean truly almost dropped the phone. He almost wanted to cry, but he kept his composure for the moment. "I'm quite the painter myself. I'm a fan of Monet... you wouldn't have learned any about that, would you?"

She laughed again. It was the most beautiful sound Jean had ever heard. "I think Daddy showed me some books on it a long time ago, I don't really remember. I just have my paint set and my easel, and I go to an art class on Saturdays..."

Jean was grinning wildly, his heart swollen up to the point of bursting out of his chest. "Well, you keep that up. It's a beautiful art." Jean wanted to spend hours learning more about her, but he was worried he was about to start crying. "Is Taylor there, by any chance?"

"No, he's not, may I take a message?" She was so well-mannered... and her voice, it was like angels...

Jean was really struggling to keep his composure now. "No, I'll... I'll call back. ...Thank you, Marie. It was..." He had to pause here, swallowing down impending tears. "It was wonderful talking to you."

Her careless voice didn't catch onto the weight of his words. "Okay! Bye!"

"Goodbye," Jean said, tears already falling from his eyes, and as the line disconnected, Jean slumped back against the wall behind him, smiling as he sobbed tears of joy. He couldn't believe it. His daughter... his beautiful daughter... loved painting...

PWPA: Like Father, Like Son

2009-07-10T00:59:42Z

Title: Like Father, Like Son
Characters: Jett and Jason
Notes: I haven’t written formally for ages. Oh boy.

When Jett was a kid - okay, maybe not a kid, but a young teenager - Jason had lovingly watched as he spilled a root beer float all down the front of his brand new Aeropostale shirt at a barbecue for the baseball team that Jett was the coach of. The ice cream bobbing in the soda had been a frothy mess all over the place, and it had been adorable to watch him grumble about how the cup had slipped.

Jett wasn’t a kid anymore. He was sitting on the couch of the living room in the house he had grown up in, a shot glass in hand, looking absolutely frazzled. He was only in his late twenties, and he was already starting to look like he could rival his father in age... was that a grey hair?

Jason was just leaning against the wall opposite Jett, looking at him in silence, both of them with blank expressions on their faces. Finally, Jason opened his mouth and asked the question he already knew the answer to. “You said he was how old?”

Even at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, Jett still had the ability to sigh like a disgruntled fifteen year old with root beer spilled down his front. “Nineteen.”

Jason let out a whistle. “And he’s your student...” Jason set his own shot glass down on the top of the bookcase he was leaning next to. “Jett, were you even thinking?”

The pitiful look on Jett’s face was all the answer Jason needed. “Guess not.”

He knew that Jett was seeking some kind of sympathy from his father, but right now he just saw a great big idiot sitting on his couch. This was the boy that Jason had held in his arms and watched run around the living room with his twin sister... and he was off having affairs with nineteen year olds? “Jett, where was your head?” Jett said nothing, didn’t even move, so Jason continued. “You’ve got an amazing job. A job you’ve been dreaming about for years now, since you started getting your teaching degree. You would throw that away for...?”

“Dad...” Jason stopped when his son cut him off, listening. Jett finally looked up at him from the surface of the alcohol in his shot glass. But Jett took a while to continue, looking away again, then back at his father. “How did you and Dad do it?”

Jason shook his head. “This is nothing like Peter and I. You were having an affair with a... probably impressionable boy, and he’s eight years younger than you!”

Jett couldn’t help but smirk. “Dad...” Jett looked almost like he was going to rebutt what Jason said, but seeing the way his dad was looking at him, he rethought his words and his smirk faded. “Dad... I think I was starting to fall in love.”

At that, Jason didn’t know what to say. He stared at him for a good long time. He decided to not question it for now; maybe his son was in love with a kid, but he didn’t want to try wrapping his head around it. So for now, okay, sure, whatever. “So to show your love, you slept with someone else?”

The downtrodden Jett’s brow furrowed. “I... I dunno, I...” He looked away, sighing heavily. “I think I was falling in love with him too.”

This time, Jason couldn’t hold back how annoyed he was with his son right now. “Jett, you can’t have everything your way! You can’t just sleep with whoever because you think you love them, or because you want to make them happy too...” Jett was still looking away, but Jason kept talking to him. “You’re an adult. You’re not some hormonal teenager. You have to make mature decisions about your life and the people in it.”

Jett couldn’t help but mutter something under his breath, something about ‘hypocrites’, and Jason had to hold himself back from barking a ‘What did you say?!’ at him. After all, Jett was an adult now, like he had just said. Lectures weren’t exactly in the books for them anymore. “Dad, I know. I just... I tried to fix things, and I just fuck them up instead.”

Jason looked at his son for a while before sighing, going over to sit next to him. “Yeah, you do. You take after me.” This did pull a chuckle out of Jett, but he was still trapped in an emotional mud hole from the looks for him. Jason smiled lightly, trying to cheer him up. “You’ll work things out, kay? And you can always call us if you need to talk. You know the two of us are always here for you.”

Jett looked up at his dad, sighing. “I know Dad.” He paused before carefully asking his next question. “Dad, if he was... you know, if I ended up with him... with my student after all... would you be okay?”

This made Jason’s brow crease deep over his eyes. He really didn’t know the answer to that. He found that the only answer he could give was not really an answer. “I would be here for you no matter what.” He quickly added. “But that doesn’t mean I’m accountable if you just fuck up more.”

Jett sighed heavily, rolling his eyes, but he had a light smile. “Thanks a lot, Dad.”

Jean's Character Quiz

2008-04-29T14:46:20Z

Took this from Danii because I didn't feel like working on my photography.

001. real name → Jean Gael Cousteau
002. nickname → Jean
003. single or taken → Single
004. zodiac sign → Aries
005. male or female → male
006. elementary- Tutored from home...
007. middle → ...still at home. :P
008. high → Preston
009. eye color → Blue
010. hair color → Naturally blonde, but I dyed it brown a few months ago
011. long or short hair → Short.
012. shoe size → ((I don't know male shoe sizes, so I had to ask all the guys around me for help)) 7 1/2
013. asthma? → no
014. are you health freak → Heh...
015. height → 5'5" ((same as Taylor, whatever that is))
016. do you have a crush on someone → ...oO
017. do you like yourself → Yeah, I guess.
018. piercing → None so far
019. tattoos → None. I don't really like needles, actually.
020. righty or lefty → Righty.

FIRSTS:
022. first surgery → Well... my mom took me to the ER when I was twelve, but I didn't really need it. ((Cause his hemophobia made him faint))
023. first piercing → none yet
024. first best friend → ...erm...
025. first award→ Most lays, I bet. That was awarded to me by some asshole senior my sophomore year.
026. First sport you joined → Street hockey.
027. first pet → I had a goldfish... he died. stupid fucking fish.
028. first vacation → Avignon every summer.
029. first concert → Snuck into some garage thing at the end of my freshman year in the villiage. The bassist was very... generous. ;)
030. first crush → ...none.

CURRENTLY :

049. eating → an orange.
050. drinking → nothing at the moment
052. I’m about to → after this? go to advanced painting with bruckner
053. listening to → some tunes from the room nextdoor... that's ri's room isn't it...
055. waiting for → ri to turn that music down..
057. wearing → the stupid uniform.

YOUR FUTURE :

058. want kids? → nah...
059. want to get married?→ ...
060. careers in mind? → ...painter? whore? both?

WHICH IS BETTER WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX?:

068. lips or eyes? → lips
069. hugs or kisses → sex.
070. shorter or taller → don't really care
072. romantic or spontaneous? → spontaneous ;)
073. stomach or arms → stomach...
074. sensitive or loud → ...uh... don't care?
075. hook-up or relationship → hook up

HAVE YOU EVER :
078. kissed a stranger → ...need i answer?
080. lost glasses/contacts → don't wear them
081. ran away from home → not yet
082. broken any bones → nope
084. broken someone's heart → ...
085. been arrested → heh, i got sooo close, but nope, i'm clean
086. turned someone down → ...not really.
087. cried when someone died → nah
088. liked a friend→ erm...?

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
089. yourself → sure
090. miracles → not so much. coincidences.
091. love at first sight → ...
092. heaven → eh, i'm not too concerned
093. Santa Claus → saint nick? my parents never even bothered.
094. fairies → heh...
095. kissing on the first date → who needs a date?
096. angels → ...i'm not sure.

ANSWER TRUTHFULLY :

097. Is there one or more people you want to be with right now?
yeah.

098. Is Superman really better than Batman?
I'm a batman personally.

099. Have you had more than one boyfriend/girlfriend?
>>

100. Do you believe in God?
Not so much

Bare: One Ends, Another Begins

2008-04-18T14:34:35Z

Title: One Ends, Another Begins

Word Count: 2,827

Characters: Peter/Jason, Ivy, Newborn Cicely and Jett

Notes: This is what you get when I end up deciding to watch the Second Act boot. ;_; x 10000. Second Gen. universe, contains Ivy death-age and baby birth-age.

Peter stood to the side of the action as Jason sat in a chair next to the hospital bed, holding Ivy’s hand. Under any other circumstance, Peter would have been jealous that Ivy was getting all of the attention from his…fiancé (just thinking about it made Peter smile). But Ivy deserved the attention right now; she was going through childbirth. And just watching it all happen from this end, Peter was exceedingly glad he was very much male.

Ivy had already decided that she couldn’t raise these twins; she would have no job, no education, no other parent to help her. So Ivy released her hold on not only her children but on the one man she had ever loved; Peter and Jason were adopting them, having just decided they would be moving to Massachusetts where both of them could go to school and have jobs (not to mention be legally bound as husbands). Ivy would visit, of course, as much as she could. And she trusted the two of them. She had accepted that they really did love each other, as much as it broke her heart, and was ready to let go of it all.

Jason could hardly believe what was happening; the first contractions were due any minute now, and Ivy was staring at him with such a deep and profound look of…trust. These were his children. He would be raising them with Peter. He was hours away from being a father. It was so scary, knowing that he, who had been so close to not even being able to sustain his own life, now had two tiny, much more fragile lives under his care. He was starting to wonder, as the doctors warned them that Ivy was ready to begin, that he would fail. Fail these children, as he had almost failed Peter, failed Ivy…failed himself.

Peter watched stoic and silent; the doctors had been kind enough to let him in when he insisted he be here in case Jason needed him. Once again, he was very glad he was male and not female. Childbirth looked like one of the worst experiences ever. Ivy screamed out suddenly as her body writhed, and Peter saw Jason holding Ivy’s hand with both of his. Jason looked up at Peter, eyes wide. Peter immediately came forward, coming behind Jason and resting both of his hands on Jason’s shoulders. He would be here for him from now on. They were going to be parents together, and they would grow stronger because of it. He was going to be as good of a husband and father as he could be.

Ivy kept screaming. God, this hurt too much, this was impossible! She wasn’t going to be able to handle this! She could see Jason and now Peter both there, and the doctors were looking back and forth from each other, beginning to dash back and forth. This hurt too much. Something had to be wrong.

Jason concentrated on holding Ivy’s hand patiently, feeling Peter now rubbing his shoulders gently, calming him down. They hadn’t said she would scream so much. Suddenly, Jason heard the doctors speaking to him and looked up quickly, tuning in to what they were saying. He immediately realized what they were saying: “…need to leave. We’ll take care of her, but we need to get her out of here...”

Peter didn’t move from behind Jason when the doctor began telling them to wait outside. He tightened his hold on Jason, feeling the anxiety coming from him in waves. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Ivy screamed again. Leave?! Jason couldn’t leave her, him being here and holding her hand was the only thing keeping her from screaming so much she couldn’t breathe. She needed him here! Peter too; just that calm presence was helping her. This HURT, god, there had to be something wrong!!!

Jason looked from Ivy to the doctor and back at Ivy and finally back to the doctor as the doctor finally answered Peter’s question. “We have to do a blood transfusion” A blood transfusion? Those were bad. Those weren’t supposed to happen unless things were going wrong. Was Ivy bleeding too much? What was happening?! “We’ll have to take her into the OR. We need you to wait outside.”

Peter waited a moment longer before he squeezed Jason’s shoulders. “She’ll be all right. Come on.” He pulled Jason up from his chair slightly, beginning to lead the confused father out of the door.

Ivy stopped them with another scream, this time with words formed around it. “WAIT! Jase, wait! P-Please, Jason…” Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong… She felt Jason’s hand holding hers again and opened her eyes weakly to see him there, staring at her. “T-take my cross. Please, Jason, take it…”

Jason hesitated at her request. The way she was saying it she thought she was going to die and wanted him to take the last thing she had. She wasn’t going to DIE, people had blood transfusions and didn’t die. The babies would be all right, she would be all right…this would just be another obstacle they all had to get through before Peter and Jason would raise these children and Ivy would visit every other Saturday and bring some new toy for her children each time and they would have some cheesy tradition during dinner like families always do…

Peter finally stepped beside Jason. “Ivy, I’ve got it. Lift up your head.” As Ivy weakly obliged, as if it took all her strength to move her red face up just one inch, Peter moved to slip the small silver cross hanging by a chain from her neck off over her head. Jason grabbed his arm with one of his strong hands, and Peter looked over at Jason calmly. “It’s okay, Jase. We’ll give it back when this is over.” After a tiny pause that felt like an eternity, Jason nodded, and Peter slipped the cross off over her head. The doctors immediately began to hurry Peter and Jason out of the room, Peter trying to look over his shoulder one more time at Ivy.

Ivy stared as they all went, Peter taking her mother’s cross with her. A horrible feeling stayed in her gut as the door shut behind them and the doctors prepared to move the gurney through a side door that went straight to the operating room. She kept staring at the door Peter and Jason had left through, not feeling like it would be the last time she’d see them. It couldn’t be. She would see them again. She just had to. She had to see them with their new children…

Jason collapsed in a chair, breathing heavily. Oh, God, he had such a horrible feeling deep in his chest, right between his lungs. It was driving him insane. What the hell was it? Guilt? For what? Leaving Ivy? The doctors had made them leave; he would have stayed if he could. …No, he’d left Ivy before that. She’d fallen in love with him, something that should have never happened in the first place, and he had been forced to leave her on her own. He glanced beside him to see Peter sitting in a chair next to him, trembling slightly. Peter, who had just been the calm one moments ago, was now trembling. Jason reached over and took Peter’s shaking hand between his own, holding it tightly.

Peter looked up suddenly as Jason took his hand, jumping slightly as if surprised to find Jason there. He stared into Jason’s perfectly blue eyes and couldn’t help but smile. Jason had proposed to him just after they had graduated, and Peter was convinced that this would be the beginning of something perfect. This was what Peter had dreamt of; spending his life with Jason, being together…but at what cost? He looked down at the cross necklace he was holding tightly in his other hand, slowly brining this hand to meet the one holding Jason’s, putting the necklace right in Jason’s palm. Jason hesitated before his fingers closed around the necklace, something dark and confusing that Peter couldn’t understand crossing behind Jason’s eyes. Peter leaned into him and kissed him delicately, whispering, “It’ll be all right…”

Ivy screamed again. She was going to pass out, she could feel herself losing too much blood... Dear god, this was just too impossible. She couldn’t do this. It was too much. [i]God, I will see my children with their new parents. Please, let me see them, God. Please.[/i]

Jason held Ivy’s cross tightly, as if he could feel Ivy’s pain through the tiny piece of precious metal. Peter held his other hand tightly, and the both of them sat there silently, waiting, wondering. [i]She’ll be all right. Ivy’s such a strong girl. She’s fine. I can feel it, she’s going to be all right. She’ll be all right. She’ll be just fine…she’ll be okay…[/i] He wasn’t sure how long this repetitive thought process, but before he knew what was happening, a doctor was standing before him. Jason looked at a clock on the wall and realized hours had past since he’d left Ivy. He stared at the doctor with wide eyes, not understanding the look on the doctor’s face. It didn’t make sense, because Ivy was all right…

Peter stood up when the doctor came to them, a small line of sweat trickling down his face. He stared up at the doctor, his worst fears confirmed when he saw the look on the doctor’s face. “The babies are both safe. They’re being cleaned now.” Peter let out a harsh sigh, relieved. His worst fear was dashed. They were all right. The little babies were okay. But…that look on the doctor’s face hadn’t changed. He looked up at Jason, seeing that he hadn’t relaxed in the slightest when the doctor announced the babies were safe. He turned back to the doctor. “Mrs. Robinson…is fading. We can’t help her any more except keep her comfortable. She’s not going to last much longer.” The doctor didn’t have to say anything before Jason was rushing past him, Peter on his heels. Ivy…she wouldn’t…she wasn’t…was that even possible?! That wasn’t fair!!

Ivy’s eyes opened weakly, feeling so exhausted. She was greeted with one of the most beautiful sounds she’d ever heard. Two different cries, sobbing little babies. But they were all right. Babies cried when they were healthy. They could breathe, they could move, they could cry. They were safe. She didn’t need the doctor sitting down next to her and telling her that she was fading. She already knew. She hardly noticed him. All she could hear were those two little babies crying. They were all right. They were safe.

Jason entered the room, hearing the sounds of crying babies. They were fine! The doctor was right! He looked over to see a nurse holding two separate little bundles; one wrapped in a pale powder-blue blanket, the other in delicate pink. He looked over at Ivy, seeing the disheveled young woman staring up at him. She was smiling. His breath caught in his throat, realizing that the doctor was right. She was fading. She was going to… He looked away, back to the babies. The nurse had come up to him, smiling softly. She asked him which he wanted to hold first, and Jason held his hands out for the blue bundle. She gave him the little baby boy, and Jason carefully took the baby, awkwardly, almost terrified he would hurt it just by holding the little thing. It didn’t stop crying, and he looked over to Peter for help, but already saw him accepting the pink bundle from the nurse.

Peter was just as terrified as Jason as he took the little baby girl in his arms. She was crying so loudly it almost hurt his ears. But the instant Peter saw her he fell in love. It was exactly like when he looked at Jason and his heart did a somersault for seemingly no reason. He smiled softly, musing the little baby girl. “Hush, shh…” He pulled the little baby closer to him, holding it’s oversized head against his shoulder, making sure her face was to the side so she could breathe. He turned back and forth just barely, rocking the little girl. Her cries slowly quieted, and soon he could only hear little whimpers as a tiny little hand clutched Peter’s shirt. Peter looked up at Ivy, and all at once he felt his heart break.

Ivy couldn’t look away from Peter, smiling weakly. She had for some reason been able to trust Jason more with the babies than Peter. It wasn’t that she thought Jason would make a better dad; it was the simple fact that neither of these children were Peter’s. But there he was, holding the little girl so carefully, so lovingly, and she knew that both of the babies would be safe with Peter. She looked back at Jason, seeing him watching Peter just as closely as she was.

Jason stared at how well Peter was handling the baby girl for what felt like ages, finally looking back down at the boy in his arms. He tried bouncing it up and down slightly, but it just cried more. His heart nearly shattered. “No, no, don’t keep crying!” Jason adjusted his hold, supporting the head more and pulling him a little closer to his chest. The baby opened its eyes finally, still sniffling with tears covering it’s little red face. Jason was almost terrified at what he saw: those were his eyes. He saw those eyes every morning in the mirror. The way he was crying…it was how Peter cried. Or Jason felt the same way. He tilted his head down, kissing the baby on the forehead. “Shh, shh, shhhh…” He pulled the baby up, resting him against his shoulder, kissing the little baby’s cheek. “Shhh. Don’t be scared, I’m right here…” Slowly, the baby slowed his cries as well. Jason looked up at Peter, shocked as he became aware of his own tears falling down his cheeks.

Peter felt tears falling from his own eyes as he looked up at Jason and saw him crying as well. He walked over to him, looking down at the little boy Jason was holding so carefully, so tenderly… He gasped when the little boy opened it’s eyes to look at Peter. “He…” Peter couldn’t get the words out…

Ivy croaked out from the bed. “…He looks just like you, Jason.” Ivy whispered it so quietly, smiling softly. “They’re both beautiful.” She could see both of her little babies now, both of them no longer crying in the arms of their parents. She had never felt happier in her whole life, than to see her babies, held safely by these two young men…her life was complete…

Jason looked over at Ivy, just in time to see her close her eyes peacefully…like she was going to sleep… He looked to Peter suddenly, eyes wide. Peter’s own eyes were still staring at Ivy, filled with such sudden sorrow. Jason wanted to move over to her, but a doctor was already unplugging the heart-monitor as it flat-lined. A lump leapt to his throat, and he was about to start crying again when somebody else beat him to the punch: the little baby was crying once again. Jason quickly adjusted his position, supporting the baby’s head again carefully, hushing the little boy all over again. He looked over at the bed again as somebody took the bed sheet and put it over Ivy’s head, hiding her face from view, and somebody else wrote down notes on a clipboard. Jason looked back down at the baby, feeling his tears hot on his face. These little babies were all that was left of Ivy. And he had to raise them now. He had to raise both of them with Peter…would he be able to do it?

Peter was already crying hard, holding the little baby girl tightly as if it was the only thing left in the world to cling to. He couldn’t help but sob, backing up to the wall and falling down into a chair. The little girl was now clinging to him with both of her little hands, just as tightly as he was holding her. He cried, cried for the loss of the mother these children were supposed to have. Was he supposed to replace her? Was that what he would be for these children: Mommy died so Daddy found this man to take her place? He suddenly felt somebody sitting next to him and immediately let his face fall forward onto his shoulder. Jason stayed close to Peter, the two babies between them, nestled between the two of them tightly in the safest place possible. Jason kissed Peter’s cheek several times, and Peter realized he was kissing away his tears… How would they get through this…? “…Oh God, J-Jason…”

“Shh. Don’t be scared, I’m right here…”

Bare: Blind is Bliss

2008-04-18T14:32:05Z

Title: Blind Is Bliss

Author: Kiwi (ILive4MyWork)

Characters: Everybody’s favorite, Jason/Peter.
Word Count:
Rating: Muaha...NC-17!

Genre: ...Smut. YAY!
Summary: When a love can still survive with such impending and past storms, the sex is THAT much better. Occurs immediately after Jason and Peter both get back to the dorm after Ivy’s birthday.

Notes: Why did everybody like my Lucas/Jason?! -can’t get over how revolting of an idea that was- Okay, thank god I’m writing something worthwhile now. You should all love me now. Do tell me if the switching of point-of-views is effective. It goes from Peter to Jason back to Peter and then kind of back to Jason, which I hope isn’t TOO confusing in context. ...Just read it, you smut whores. ;D And pass it along to one friend, okay? Please and thank you. ^^
Special Thanks: Meg, for first telling me I was required to write Jason/Peter. Just for you, widdle Meggy - this is not censored. Not in the slightest. See, last one was R, this one’s NC-17. No, do NOT take this to your Sex Ed teacher and ask her what all the big words mean. -big cheesy smile-

Spoilers: I’ll just say watch until the end of Act I, even though TECHNICALLY you could get away with just watching to the end of ‘911!Emergency’. But there’s a few hints to future happenings in Act I you may not appreciate, so just watch Act I, kay?
Warnings: GAY POR-I mean, erm, male sexuality. -innocent smile-
Disclaimer: I do not own Bare; neither do I own the characters in Bare.

He had everything ready. The necessities were prepped up on the bedside table, positioned so they wouldn’t stand out at first glance but would be found quickly when they were...needed, if all went well. He was situated just behind the closet door and hidden to anybody who would enter the room, the top button of his shirt undone as he held his undone tie in his left hand. He had already taken off his sweater vest to facilitate things later...again, hoping all went well. Now he just had to hope Jason got here before he gave up on his plan.

The...‘special’ brownies hadn’t totally worn off, which had given him the plan he had formulated in his mind right now. He had gotten quite the message a moment or so ago in something like a vision (or a hallucination, he hadn’t figured that detail out quite yet), and it was quite clear: he had to tell his mom. But something told him, based on the last time they had talked together on this topic at the rave, that Jason wasn’t very keen on the idea of telling others about their relationship.

So Peter’s only slightly (hah) doped up mind had developed this brilliant plan: get Jason in an exceptionally good mood, and hopefully suggest the idea to him later. Besides, there was definitely something about being high that got him exceptionally in the mood for sex. The only piece that was missing from his brilliant plan was...

He heard somebody fumble with the doorknob outside, a cunning little smirk dancing on his features as the tall, well-built boy that was missing from Peter’s plan walked into the door, shutting the door. After leaning backwards against the door, realizing (or thinking) he was alone in the dorm, he let out a long sigh. He seemed distressed about something. One more reason to treat Jason tonight, Peter thought with a smirk, peering at his boyfriend through the crack he’d allowed himself to watch through.

Jason pushed himself forwards off the door, running a hand through his short and spiky locks before going over to his bed, beginning to take his shirt off. For a second, Peter was about to just sit there and watch him remove his clothing (it was a little hard not to stare), but he remembered the plan, realizing Jason wasn’t facing the closet. Silently, Peter nudged the closet door open, slipping out through the now wide crack and creeping just behind the now shirtless Jason.

((Author’s Note: Please forgive me for doing this, but...OMG Peter’s out of the closet!!! XXXXDDDD Okay...back to the story...))

Smirking still, Peter paused a second as Jason stopped moving, obviously sensing his boyfriend behind him. After another moment of silence, Peter could see Jason smirking. Peter slipped his arms over Jason’s shoulders, his forearms crossing over Jason’s bare chest as his hands splayed open on the skin, still holding the tie in his left hand. Standing on tip-toe, Peter tilted his head up so his mouth was next to Jason’s ear. “Good evening.”

The smirk was now growing on Jason’s mouth, clearly enjoying the unexpected attention he was getting from Peter. He took a slow, deep breath, filling his lungs to their full capacity and letting it out just as easily. “Still high?”

“A little,” Peter said with another smirk and a tiny little chuckle, his lips wandering to Jason’s soft neck, much easier for him to reach. He gave the skin a soft peck, his arms still draped over Jason’s shoulders, as if he would try to get away if he let go, even though he wasn’t receiving a single ounce of resistance. He smirked again as he gave the neck before him another soft kiss before muttering, “I’m a little bored, though.”

Both of their smirks grew, obviously using similar thought processes at the moment. “Well, what can I do about that?” Jason said nonchalantly, keeping his air so cool, so balanced, so unshakable. What Jason didn’t realize was that Peter could always see past this, could feel the heartbeat lightly under his arms, could hear how his breath changed slightly from slow and easy to a little heavier and fast-paced. Little changes nobody else would notice that Peter could see a mile coming.

“Just stay right there, ‘kay?” The deviousness in his voice sparkled with his eyes as the hand holding the tie met his other hand, both hands grabbing onto one end of the tie and raising it up until it was covering Jason’s eyes. He pulled the tie around his head, tying a simple knot in the back, making sure he wasn’t covering Jason’s ears with the makeshift blindfold. “And let me do all the work.”

He heard what sounded like a suppressed laugh deep in Jason’s throat, deep and alluring and driving Peter absolutely mad. He knew Jason was still acting cool, and as he peeked his head over the broad shoulder to look at his face he saw exactly what he expected: a clear and confident smirk plastered on his mouth, everything about his reeking ‘the ultimate lover’ vibe that got Peter so addicted.

What Peter couldn’t see was what Jason was really hiding in his head. Sure, he was plenty excited by the idea of Peter having some fun, and he did notice that Peter didn’t tie it very in a tight or complicated knot in case Jason felt the need to take it off should events happen to turn the tables. But he still had his mind back on the party and how he had agreed to ‘grant the birthday girl her wish’. He was sorely regretting it. Peter’s heart would be broken if he knew was he had done, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t really liked it, and he hadn’t been looking forward before to having to talk to Peter. But now he was very grateful for this distraction set up by Peter, and hoped it would help him get over this feeling of dreadful guilt lodged in his stomach.

Peter slowly turned around the smirking Jason, who easily obliged, turning until they were facing each other, the blindfold around Jason’s eye restricting him from seeing what Peter was planning. He’d heard how things like blindfolds and gags and tying hands together could make sex more exciting, and this was, at least in Peter’s eyes probably, the safest and calmest choice. He felt two hands on his shoulders pushing him back onto his bed until he was sitting down, and then there was a pair of soft and innocent lips on his own, kissing him tenderly. Jason put an arm around Peter’s waist, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss, never satisfied with Peter’s soft and ‘half-way’ kisses.

Amazed with how confidant Peter was all of a sudden (it was probably the high), Peter seemed to shift his weight and push Jason down onto his back on the bed, putting both of them in a compromising position neither of them objected to, facilitating their deep kisses as Jason felt Peter place his hands on either side of Jason’s head to hold himself up. Jason smirked briefly through the kiss, sliding his tongue into Peter’s mouth as the temperature in the room raised a few degrees.

After a few moments of Peter letting Jason kiss him so voraciously, Peter pulled his mouth away from Jason as his lover gave an impatient groan. Peter made a clicking sound with his tongue, as if scolding Jason. “Patience, Jason.” Jason sighed in an irritated fashion, not enjoying this game of stringing along. ...Okay, he loved it, he was devouring it like a kitten with cream; the excitement was swelling in his chest and making everything more intense and intoxicating. Jason let both of his arms rest beside him on the old dormitory mattress as he began to feel soft lips kissing down his jawline, down the undefined line of his neck, making it to the collarbone before pausing there, one of his hands coming down and falling gracefully down Jason’s side, the fingers playing with the nerves of his skin. Jason let out a satisfied moan, indicating he was ready for more.

He couldn’t see Peter but knew he was smirking, knew he enjoyed this power the same way Jason always loved it. The soft lips continued downwards until they rested on his bare nipple, pausing there and he began kissing the sensitive skin. He definitely hadn’t been expecting something like that, and he certainly didn’t expect to feel a hand on the other side of his chest, the thumb idly skating back and forth over his other nipple. Jason tried to keep his shallow breaths coming in and out, working not to move his chest too much so Peter could continue without difficulty, his heart pounding. All of a sudden, he felt sharp teeth pinch his nipple randomly as Jason let out an involuntary gasp of surprise. “Jesus, Peter, what was that?!”

He felt Peter sliding back up his body and heard his voice directly over his head again. “Relax.” He felt another soft kiss on his lips, but before he could properly return it, Peter had already left him there, sliding back down. For a second, Jason thought he was going he begin attending to his chest all over again, but instead he felt his jeans shifting against his waist as somebody unbuttoned them. Jason licked his lips in anticipation, not expecting Peter to skip ahead so fast. He’d kind of cheated out the whole concept of foreplay, but, hey, he wasn’t going to complain.

It was cold in their dorm, and as Peter lowered Jason’s jeans the athletic male shivered slightly as the cool air met the other half of his body. He really wouldn’t mind being able to see Jason now, he sorely wanted to be able to look at him and get a clue for what he was planning, but no, Peter just had to complicate things with this tie of his. And he didn’t want to get Peter annoyed by taking away the tie this soon, so he left it on. Suddenly, Jason gasped lightly as he felt Peter’s lips on his lower stomach, just above the elastic of his boxers, kissing him briefly before two hands took his boxers and grasped them firmly before sliding them down off his legs just as he had the jeans. The cool air couldn’t stop his erection now, standing fully proud as he waited for Peter to hurry up and get on with it.

After a long silence with nothing but the sound of his own breath in his ears, he felt two hands on his chest, sliding across it out to his shoulders and all the way down his arms. Then he felt those precious lips back with his own, and his own hand quickly went up to hold Peter’s head there if only for a moment so he could kiss him back, their tongues tangling as Peter let out a needy sound in his throat. Jason smirked through the kiss. Peter wanted to be the one underneath his lover, wanted to be the one to be attended to. Wait for it, Peter. I’m going to make sure you get your heart’s desire and more, because God you’re so worth it...

Peter’s lips finally left his own, traveling back down the line they had followed before as Jason kept his hand there on Peter’s head, playing with the strands of soft hair as the lips finally made it back to their old home just at Jason’s lower’s stomach, giving it one last little kiss before rising up. Peter’s head remained hovered over Jason’s abdomen, and it was only at this point when Jason’s track of mind strayed to his middle area that he realized his legs had spread apart. Swallowing a lump in his throat as he took a deep breath, Jason waited, feeling the warm breath on his erection and waiting, wanting to pull Peter’s head down and get it over with but wanting Peter to choose, never wanting to force Peter, wanting him to lower his head...

And lower it he did, the warm crevices of his mouth enclosing Jason’s member, his tongue circling all around it as his head bobbed up and down. Jason kept his fingers tangled in Peter’s hair, his breath now short and weak as he let Peter do as he wish. For a second he wondered how Peter had gotten this good and realized he probably knew how to do it from the countless times Jason had done the same thing many a night to him. God, he was good at it, too, sucking going right into a delicate lick as he gave Jason every bit of skill he had. He felt Peter hum slightly, knowing instantly it wasn’t for his own musical entertainment as the vibrations got him that much more excited. Jason wanted to hoist his hips up to make it that much stronger, make him that much closer, but he wouldn’t let himself, lest Peter accidentally gag.

“Peter,” he said quietly, even though he knew his lover couldn’t respond since his mouth was occupied elsewhere. He allowed himself to slip into a dream-like state, not even thinking about earlier with Ivy or how he couldn’t stop worrying about how they had to continually keep such a secret or how the fear of somebody knowing haunted him daily, and he only thought about how Peter’s mouth was sucking and taking in his whole length as it throbbed with anticipation, Jason’s breath coming in short gasps as it got caught in his throat on the way in. Everything about this felt so wonderful, so perfect as his hand gently stroked Peter’s hair.

The boy above him hummed again, much lower, and a moan tumbled out of Jason’s mouth before he could stop himself. Dear God, if Peter kept going like this, how could he expect him to keep going later?! The hand in his hair suddenly tightened its grip, pulling Peter’s head up as quickly as he could without hurting him, his other hand going to the blindfold around his eyes and slipping it off easily. He tossed the tie to the ground, tilting his head down to look down at Peter, whose eyes were shining with a confused innocence. “Jason,” he panted out upon seeing the lustful look that filled Jason’s gaze as Jason placed both hands under Peter’s arms, hoisting him up his body until they were back at the level they had started at, staring straight into each other’s eyes. “God, Jason,” he repeated, and he understood. Peter was begging, ready to relinquish control and let Jason enchant him.

And dear God, did he love being able to do that, just hand over the control like a baton between runners in a relay race, as if saying ‘All right, your turn now, so you better damn finish the race strong.’ Peter let Jason’s strong form roll him over as he crashed their lips together in a much more needy and desperate kiss from before, tongues meeting teeth and lips pulled along for the ride as Jason’s hands wandered all over Peter’s still clothed body. He reached the buttons of his shirt, quickly getting each button out of its hole as fast as his fingers would allow him to. Peter was breathing heavily underneath him as they continued to kiss, finally feeling cold air on his chest that didn’t help quell the heat swelling in his whole body in the slightest. Jason pulled away from the kiss for a brief moment to take a breath and pant out, “You’re so beautiful,” before kissing him again, quickly pushing the shirt off of his shoulders and pulling the sleeves off of his arms and tossing it to the ground with the rest of the discarded clothing.

“God,” panted out Peter as he wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck, kissing him as if it was the last time he would ever be able to kiss him in this way, pouring every ounce of passion into the loving action as they kissed and kissed and Peter never wanted it to end. He suddenly felt two hands at his waist, already working on the button of his jeans. In an instant (Jason was quite experienced at this, after all), Peter’s pants were sliding down with his boxers as he hoisted his hips up so Jason could pull them down, finally breaking the kiss that had seemed to last for eons and yet felt like it could have gone on for eons more.

As the two of them lay naked together, Jason stared up at Peter in the eyes, panting still. Yet Peter caught it, saw it in an instant; that smirk, that ruling smirk that made Peter’s heart freeze and beat a hundred times faster and melt into a puddle all at once. “So beautiful,” he repeated, before a hand suddenly closed around Peter’s straining erection as Peter gasped loudly, his head pressing back into the pillow behind his head. “So fucking beautiful,” Jason said once more, as if there wasn’t another word in the English language that deserved to be used when describing his lover, massaging and stroking his erection slowly and deliberately. Suddenly another hand was there between his legs, cupping his scrotum delicately and massaging it in time with his cock. Peter let a soft moan jump out from his mouth, over as soon as it had started as he shut his eyes. “Peter, you’re an angel,” the heavenly voice above him whispered as it floated above him like a mist, the hand still working on his hardened cock.

“J-Jason,” he stuttered out, his hands clenching and relaxing as if he couldn’t decide to relax or tense up. Each passing moment the temperature rose another degree, and every nerve in his body was screaming out for more, more... “P-please...l-lemme co-...”

“No.” The voice above him was calm and collected, and as Peter’s eyes snapped open in confusion to stare at him, that smirk was wider than ever as the hand massaging him came to a stop. “No, I won’t let you come.” Peter actually whimpered in protest, his arms shaking as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’ll come when I’m inside you,” he said quietly, leaning down so close to him Peter would only have to move a fraction of an inch to kiss him. “When I’m so deep inside you that you forget what it’s like to not be fucked to the point of insanity.”

“P-p-please,” panted out the excited Peter, trembling beneath his lover, the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him in his lifetime. God, the way his voice echoed like that in his head, the way he knew from how low and powerful it was what lay in store from him, the way it could make him do nearly anything...it really did drive him to the point of insanity. The boy about him smirked, and suddenly he was brandishing a small bottle in his face: KY lubricant. Peter’s eyes widened, snapping over to the bedside table to see that the bottle he’d sent out was gone. His eyes snapped back up at Jason, shocked and, in a way, amazed. “H-how did you...you never even saw...!”

“Peter, I know you.” His smirk widened, staring Peter directly in the eyes. “I knew it was there the second you said ‘good evening’.” And with that, Jason lowered his head the last few inches and kissed Peter on the lips, and even though Peter’s eyes were closed he knew Jason’s hands were busy preparing himself for the ritual they’d performed countless times before. After a while of their deep kissing, Peter instinctively wrapped his legs tight around Jason’s waist, positioning himself so Jason’s still erect member was a few inches from his entrance. After a few more minutes, he felt two well-lubricated at his entrance, and before he could react they were pushed into Peter’s shaft as Peter moaned hard, pressing his lips harder into Jason’s.

He felt Jason’s fingers sliding in and out, rocking his hips back on the hand just barely, Peter whimpering each time the fingers were pushed in as Jason kept kissing him. Peter’s arms were locked around Jason’s neck again, and the arm that wasn’t busy loosening Peter’s entrance wrapped around Peter’s waist to keep him held up. God, he wanted Jason to go deeper, wanted to feel him hit that spot so badly, and he voiced his need plainly as he moaned, pulling his mouth away from Jason as he rocked his hips down hard onto Jason’s hand, staring into his beautiful eyes. “Please, oh, God, please...”

Jason smiled at him, that same smirk that made his heart do all those insane things all at the same time, as he pulled his hand away from Peter’s entrance. He let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes as he felt Jason still moving, and knew what he was doing. He heard Jason exhale softly and knew that he was now lubricating himself, touching himself in a way he wanted so badly to see. He knew it could possibly be the most beautiful thing in the world, seeing Jason touching himself in such a fashion, but unfortunately he was always stuck like this and could never see, and all he had was that voice in his ear that continued to push him over the edge. “You want me to take you, then?”

Peter nodded eagerly, panting. “Yes, Jason, yes, take me!” His hold around Jason’s neck tightened as he kept his head in that space between Jason’s shoulder and his head. He could feel Jason’s warm and soft breath on his ear, and it was driving him even more insane. There was silence for a moment as Peter heard nothing but the sound of Jason’s heavy breathing, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. Suddenly, Peter’s yelp of pain and surprise echoed through the dorm for a split second before Jason grabbed the back of Peter’s head and kissed him to quiet his cries. Jason had entered him easily, and it had happened so suddenly Peter hadn’t had a chance to brace himself.

Jason kissed him softly for a moment longer, not moving his hips yet, his member all the way sheathed inside Peter’s trembling body. After a moment longer of kissing him to calm down his lover, Jason pulled away. “Are you all right?” Peter stared straight into those eyes, filled with love and need and desire, and knew that the same look was mirrored in his own gaze of need and lust. He nodded silently, and as Jason continued staring into his eyes he slowly pulled himself out halfway before diving back inside him. This time Peter buried his face into his lover’s shoulder to stifle a moan, panting as Jason began slowly pulling in and out, each time he dove in another stifled whimper coming from Peter’s mouth. “You’re so tight,” he muttered, beginning to increase his speed as Peter’s moans became a little louder. “Shh,” he reminded him, kissing him briefly again on the lips, the hand that had been behind Peter’s head stroking his cheek lovingly.

He knew he was supposed to keep quiet, but when he felt Jason hitting that spot inside him it was so easy to forget and let moan after moan echo in the dorm. His one solution he had developed over the few years they had been involved like this had been to simply keep as many nonsensical words coming out of his mouth that his labored breath would allow, whispering them to his lover as he felt him hitting his prostate with each thrust. “Jason, I-It’s so good, so good, Jason, Jason, Jason, please, I-I want more, I need it, God, you know I need it, please, please, oh, Jason, please, t-take me, take me!”

By this point the hand that had been behind Peter’s head had made it between their bodies and was now quickly stroking Peter’s erection. “Peter, y-you’re an angel,” he said once again, and Peter felt like it was true, he felt like he was an angel floating among celestial clouds, God, he’d never felt so perfect, so completely in love, it was like a dream...

“Jason, oh Jason, God...” The heat in the room melted between their two bodies as both of them neared climaxes at frightening speeds. Peter knew he wouldn’t last much longer, he was so close, so fucking close! “C-close, l-lemme come...”

“Oh, Peter,” came the panted reply as Jason’s thrusts dove in as deep as he could, fast as his muscles would allow him to move. “Peter, come, please come, Oh, Peter, I-I l-lo-...” Before Peter could hear Jason say that beautiful word, the word he always longed to hear him say, he felt something just as amazing, and their lips crashed together as the world around them disappeared and the only thing that mattered was holding each other as tightly as possible and kissing each other and letting their cum spill onto the covers and not caring because the world was perfect...

The two bodies collapsed at the same time, panting heavily and deeply, trying to remember what it was like to breathe normally again and forgetting for the moment. Peter’s legs fell down limply as Jason rolled over onto his side, pulling Peter close to him and letting his head rest lightly on his sweaty chest. They let their breath slow together, and Jason brought the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Peter’s waist up and placed his hand lightly on the back of Peter’s head, stroking the hair softly. He could hear Peter mumbling softly, hardly distinguishable from the pants. “Jason, love you, oh, Jason...”

After a few minutes, Jason was still silently staring straight forward at the wall behind Peter. He looked back down at his lover, whose chest was moving softly with his breath coming easily and his eyes closed peacefully. “Peter,” he whispered. When Peter didn’t stir in the slightest, Jason sighed, smiling to himself. He tilted his head down, kissing the top of Peter’s head softly before whispering, almost too soft even for Peter to hear, “I love you too.” And with that, Jason’s breath finally slowed to a reasonable rhythm as he rested his chin on top of Peter’s head, closing his eyes and imagining a perfect world where nothing mattered but love as pure as this.

Bare: A Side Nobody Sees

2008-04-18T14:28:58Z

Title: A Side Nobody Sees

Author: Kiwi (ILive4MyWork)

Characters: Lucas/Jason. GOD PLEASE READ THE NOTE BEFORE YOU KILL ME.
Word Count:
Rating: R
Genre: ...Smut. PLEASE READ THE NOTE!!! DON’T KILL ME!!!
Summary: Jason and Lucas do a project together in history, and Jason gets fed up with Lucas being a slacker.

Notes: Just PLEASE do not kill me. PLEASE, don’t kill me until you’ve completely read the whole fic, because hopefully the ending makes up for my sacrilege. My excuse is that I had to get it out of my system so it doesn’t just sit in my head and develop even more and get WORSE.
Special Thanks: ...Adam Fleming, for being so fucking hot. Hah. And to a certain somebody who accidentally gave me inspiration to write this. ...Okay, not inspiration, she put it in my head and now I NEED to get it out.

Spoilers: Not really.
Warnings: Male sexuality. But if you don’t like that, why are you into Bare?!?!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bare; neither do I own Jason and Lucas.

--

When Jason McConnel and Lucas Carter had been assigned as partners for a History project, the two of them were not overly thrilled. True, they were friends and had hung out together since Lucas had joined Jason’s grade when Lucas had to repeat freshman year, but suddenly neither of them could think of a partner they wanted to work with less.

Lucas, easy going and coasting through life, looked at Jason as the teacher read off their names and gaped. What the fuck? He’d hardly been two weeks into his senior year and he had to work with him?! Lucas knew what kind of kid Jason was; top of the class, straight-As, over-achiever...the whole nine yards. He’d been hoping for one of those partners who took one glance at him and realized Lucas wasn’t going to do an ounce of work and just did it all themselves. No, Jason wasn’t going to be one of those. Dammit.

Jason turned around in his seat in the second row to look at Lucas, way in the back row, his feet propped up on his desk with a stupefied look on his face. The teacher had assigned them this project to do over the weekend, since it was Friday: a presentation on Egyptian society. The two of them had been assigned ‘royalty life’. But when he heard who his partner was, all his plans for dividing the work between them and starting work on it tonight and going to the library to start looking for books were suddenly tossed out the window. His game plan changed drastically. Lucas was going to be stubborn to not work, but Jason knew he’d get him to contribute. He was not going to be one of those partners who just did everything. Lucas was going to help.

The next day, Lucas was trapped spending his warm September Saturday in his dorm, sprawled out on his stomach as he tossed another book to the ground. “Jase, there’s nothing in that one.”

Jason stopped taking notes from the book he was reading to look up at Lucas with a single arched eyebrow. “You haven’t been reading it for five minutes.”

Lucas simply let both of his eyebrows raise as he looked at him with a tiny little smirk he couldn’t suppress. “And I couldn’t find anything. Got another book?” If Jason was going to shove this down his throat, he’d get his just desserts.

After taking a slow breath to calm himself, Jason picked up the book off the floor, putting it on the bed next to him as he handed another book to Lucas. Before Lucas could reach out for it and take it, Jason pulled it back to say something. “Please. Read this one.”

Lucas simply smirked, leaning a little farther to take the book from him. “Sure thing, Jason.” He rolled over onto his back, sitting up as he propped up one knee to place the spine of the book on, letting it fall open. Jason watched him as he skimmed the table of contents and promptly closed the book, holding it back out to Jason. “Nothing in this one, either.”

Dear God, give me strength... He snatched the book back from Lucas, looking over the table of contents. He sighed, holding it back out to Lucas. “There’s a whole chapter in there on the pharaohs.”

He was greeted with another little smirk. “You’re point is?”

Lucas really seemed to be enjoying tormenting him like this. Like all he was doing was playing some game with Jason, seeing how long it would take to break his will. He really thought he could win this, didn’t he? Jason brandished the book to him still. “Read it.”

Lucas arched both eyebrows, as if he had no idea why in the world his partner was getting so agitated. “Yes, Daddy,” he said with a smirk, taking the book back from him and opening it up to a chapter on pharaohs. After Jason watched Lucas stare at the page for a while, unable to tell if he was reading or simply staring at it, he gave up, going back to taking notes.

After about a minute of pretending to read the chapter, Lucas scooted down the bed slowly, leaning back and resting his head on the pillow, his head still tilted so it might look like he was still reading. He glanced over at Jason to make sure he was properly immersed in taking notes before he let a little smirk float over his features, closing his eyes as a sudden wave of drowsiness came over him...

In what seemed like an instant, there was a voice directly over him. “Lucas!!!”

Opening his eyes with a start, he saw Jason, standing next to Lucas’ bed with his arms crossed, looking thoroughly irritated that his partner had almost fallen asleep. Immediately awake at the idea of playing with Jason’s head a bit more, he smirked back at him. “What ever is the matter, Jason?” He gestured to the book propped open on his lap, still smirking. “I was just reading this...”

“You are...infuriating.” Lucas couldn’t help but smirk at the angered glare he was receiving from Jason. He really looked hot under the collar, and it was funny to him that this was all over a stupid school project.

Lucas arched both eyebrows at him innocently, taking the book on his lap and setting it next to him. “Me? Infuriating?” He looked Jason smack dab in the eyes, staring him down as if with a challenging glance. As if to say, go ahead. Just try and get me to go along with your plan. It’s fun watching you try.

But Lucas was surprised by what he saw from looking in Jason’s eye with that challenging look. He saw an odd glimmer in his eyes, as if Jason was saying, I accept your challenge. “Yes. You’re infuriating.”

The infamous slacker simply smiled back at him innocently as he sat up. “Really? What else am I?” He had the distinct feeling in his gut that he was pushing things too far, but this was Jason. He knew Lucas. Why would he get worked up over somebody he knew wasn’t going to fall over for him? Still, he had that feeling, and it made him uneasy, a feeling he definitely wasn’t used to carrying around inside him.

That glimmer in Jason’s eye didn’t go away as he kept speaking. “You’re pompous. You’re stubborn. You’re...” At this, Jason placed a hand on Lucas’ shoulder and unexpectedly pushed him down so he was lying on his back again, his knees still propped up. “...Arrogant.”

Lucas really didn’t like this feeling lodged in his gut that was swelling up to his chest. But this was Lucas. He was always able to keep his cool. The marijuana he smoked before Jason got here probably hadn’t worn off, and it was probably making him paranoid. Yeah, that’s it, he reasoned, smirking back at Jason. “And you’re not?”

“Oh, I admit I am.” That look in his eyes, Lucas recognized it now. He was planning something, and it wasn’t a surprise birthday party sort of something. “But you are all these things, rolled up in one nice little package, and you act like you’re not. That’s what’s maddening about you.” He still had Lucas half-pinned down to the bed by keeping his hand on his shoulder, but Lucas wasn’t really resisting quite yet so he didn’t have to put any effort into it.

Somehow Lucas was still able to smirk, but there was something about the way Jason was looking at him, the way his presence right there on his shoulder felt warm and full of energy, that made his heart beat a little faster. He wasn’t used to being flustered like this; it was foreign territory for him. “And is there a point to this?”

God, that little spark in Jason’s eyes really was making him uneasy. “You think you’re top of the world, right? Nobody can change me, I’m Lucas.” If Jason hadn’t looked like he was about to rip Lucas’ head off, he would have expected Jason to start smirking. “I think there’s more than that.”

Lucas took a deep breath, working to calm himself down. It wasn’t working. “Like what, Dr. Freud?” His smirk was fading now, and he couldn’t help it. He really didn’t like being below Jason like this with that look in his eyes.

“I think...” Lucas’ eyes widened as he felt a hand on his knee that was still propped up. “...That you...” He didn’t fight as he felt him pushing the leg down, so he was lying flat on his bed with his arms at his sides. At this point, Jason leaned down quite close to him, his face a few inches from Lucas’. “...are hiding something. Hmm?” This time, Lucas didn’t just imagine the smirk; it was there, tweaking up the corner of Jason’s mouth.

Hiding something? What the fuck was he going on about? “L-like what?” Dammit! What was wrong with him, stuttering like an idiot?! His heart was still beating a little faster, and that feeling was now starting to seep a little lower, just below his gut, making a lump catch in his throat before he could finish his comment with some kind of witty remark.

That smirk. It was so...intimidating, in a way. Like Jason held some kind of power over him, but the drug dealer didn’t quite understand yet what kind of power this was. “Like...maybe there’s a part of you...that would like a different tune to waltz to. Maybe part of you would enjoy being...” Lucas’ whole body went frigid as Jason went from sitting next to him to climbing on top of him. “...dominated?”

Lucas was open to plenty of things. Hell, he was open to anything, especially if he was high. And there was that marijuana he’d smoked before Jason got here. His older brother was gay, and his other older brother had done drugs. In short, Lucas was ready to accept just about anything that came his way. But that didn’t stop the lump in his throat from jumping up as he gasped slightly, feeling Jason’s thigh suddenly pressed against his groin. Suddenly, before he could command himself to calm down, there he was, stuck with an erection with Jason McConnel on top of him, looking like he was up to absolutely no good.

And he knew Jason could feel him, could tell he was suddenly very hard and Lucas definitely hadn’t planned it to happen that way. And Jason just smirked, the pompous bastard! Did he realize how uncomfortable this was? “...I was right? Hmm.” He made this last little thoughtful sound in his throat as his smirk grew, Lucas’ face burning with an unseen heat and his breath refusing to come easily. “So maybe I’m right when I say I know what’ll happen when I do...this.” With that last word, he pressed his thigh into Lucas’ erection, rolling it against him as he garnered a strained gasp from the older boy.

Now Lucas had taken enough. This was too much, no way was he going to let Jason do this to him like he was one of those girls fawning all over him! Lucas tried to push himself up, but he simply earned a firmer roll of Jason’s thigh in his crotch, a strong arm grabbing his shoulder and pushing him down. Gasping and trying to calm himself down, Lucas struggled for a moment, quickly followed by Jason’s other arm pinning down his other shoulder. “Bastard,” he panted out.

Jason’s eyebrows arched in amusement. “Me? A bastard?” He smirked still, obviously enjoying getting such a rise out of Lucas. Dammit, the tables had utterly turned, and it made Lucas’ stomach churn and his groin ache with the force of his erection. “Does a bastard do things like this?” One of Jason’s hands began going down Lucas’ clothed chest, the other keeping him pinned down as Lucas let out a strangled whimper. “Or this?” This hand decided to keep going, going up the inside of Lucas’ shirt, his fingers grazing the skin along his sides carefully, pushing his shirt up. Lucas bucked up against him as another attempt to free himself, but his strength was nothing compared to that of a seasoned basketball player and he was left taking a shuddering breath to fill his weak lungs as Jason’s hand came back down instead of removing his shirt, moving towards the waistline of his jeans. “For a bastard I seem to be doing a pretty good job.”

“Fuck you,” came the choked response from Lucas’ suddenly dry throat as he felt Jason’s oddly adapt fingers running along the waistline of his jeans, teasing the skin there until his whole body was bothered and his heart was thudding that much harder.

And the bastard just smirked, just sat there with Lucas underneath him going out of his mind and smirked. “Actually, I have a better idea than that.”

Lucas’ eyes widened slightly. Wait, what had he said? He rewound whatever he had just said and realized what Jason had just implied. He struggled one last time, but Jason had him pinned down perfectly, and his hand that didn’t have Lucas pinned was now going to the front of his jeans, just above the painful bulge, going to work with one hand on the zipper and button. He wasn’t gay! He was straight, he had a girlfriend, and he wasn’t gay!!! It wasn’t that it was a bad thing to be gay, he just wasn’t... “Fuck, dammit, Jason, wait...”

“Hush.” The way he said it, like Lucas was some kind of toddler that was crying, made Lucas’ eyes snap down to glare at Jason angrily. But when he saw the way Jason was looking at him, he was transfixed. God, the only was he could describe it was...sexy. Drop dead gorgeous. He was breathing slowly but deeply above Lucas, calm and collected as he unzipped the zipper in the silence. “Just go with it. Let yourself fall for once.”

What is he talking about, let myse- Lucas didn’t have a chance to finish his thought, because suddenly a draft of cool air made its way to his white boxers and Lucas gasped in shock. Jason was lowering his pants slowly, still staring up at him with that almost enchanting stare. Okay, so he wasn’t gay. Didn’t mean he couldn’t just give in for once? Maybe that’s what Jason meant. Be dominated, right? Don’t come out on top, to use a horrible pun. Still, even though he was telling himself this, he felt his heart hammer when his jeans landed on the ground with a muffled sound, his breath still coming in uneven gasps. “I...”

“I said hush.” Jason slid himself back up Lucas’ body, making a point to make sure his member received plenty of friction in the action as a rattled breath escaped Lucas’ lips. There he was again, his face inches away from his own. The smirk was still there, though, and it made the irritation Lucas had earlier rise up in his chest and bring a flush of color to his cheeks. “Allow me.” Before he could say anything, Jason’s hand was at the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down as the cool air of his dorm met his erection, causing Lucas to shudder, which in turn made Jason’s smirk widen. And before Lucas could protest, before he could stop him, Jason’s hand had enclosed his member, stroking and squeezing in one strong and smooth movement.

Lucas let out a moan, biting his tongue to quiet it somewhat, his hands clutching the covers beneath him. Jason smirked at him still, that glimmer in his eyes even more mischievous. God, he looked so fucking sexy like that, the way he completely overwhelmed any power Lucas had. It was frightening and horribly uncomfortable, a feeling he’d never allowed himself to experience before, but DAMN it was good... “G-god...”

“Like it?” The way Jason said it, Lucas could tell he knew he had all the power. It gave a very arrogant edge to Jason’s voice as he massaged his organ, driving Lucas mad as he fought against the hand pinning him to the mattress still, strangled sounds leaping from his throat before he could stop it, moans and whimpers he’d never heard himself utter before. “Knew you would. I told you that you would.” His hand kept stroking him hard, each tiny movement sending a wave of heat through every muscle in his body as he whimpered, trying to stay as quiet as possible, not sure who could be listening. “Be a good boy and beg for more.”

Like hell he was going to beg! Lucas took a deep breath, biting his bottom lip firmly to show he was not in a million years going to let himself beg for anything, not even something that felt so fucking good, still fighting against the arm pinning him as his hands clutched the sheets beneath him.

“Lucas, I know you heard me.” That smirk just grew as his eyes danced, and Lucas couldn’t help but think that Jason had to be the most evil, pig headed, pompous bastard he’d ever laid eyes on. “Now beg.” Jason stroked him harder, squeezing so hard it almost hurt.

A soft cry escaped from his throat before he could register it was happening, clenching his eyes shut. “Fuck, Jason...” He was starting to shake now, each movement stronger than the last, each wave of heat and lust filling him to the brim...

“Beg.” He said it so simply, so softly, it sounded like a whisper to Lucas’ ears. Lucas opened his eyes warily to see Jason looking at him with that heart-piercing stare, his lungs seeming to shake in his chest as he tried to keep steady breathing constant.

Like hell he was going to beg, he would NEVER beg... FUCK! His abdomen bucked up into Jason’s hand as he stroked him hardest yet. Moans and nonsense words began spilling out of him, pouring out of him easier than water from a pitcher, his head tilted back into the pillow as he panted out. “Fuck, Jason, please, dammit, please...”

“That’s not nearly good enough.” Smirking like a mad scientist, he slowed down his administrations, not nearly as strong as he had started out, making what had seemed moments ago so close now seemed miles away.

Lucas’ trembled, furious at Jason for doing this to him, furious at himself for letting it happen, and yet dying for more, begging for more... “Please, oh God, Jason, please, let me come, oh my God, please, please, oh please...” His eyes clenched shut again as Jason began speeding up again, resuming the pace he had left off at and growing in strength by the second. “Please, God, let me...let me, please, I need-I need, God, please! I-I...”

Jason’s face was still right there in front of his and his breath washed all over his mouth as he whispered to him. “You need it?”

“Yes, I need it, need it so, so fucking bad, please, p-please, please, so close...” His hips repeatedly leaned up into Jason’s hand, trying to make it stronger, trying to make it closer, trying to make it there...

The younger boy above him was breathing so slowly, so easily, so calmly. It was as if he did this sort of thing every day, giving boys hand jobs. “Are you going to come?” The way he spoke, lacing his voice with scented flowers and promises of endless galaxies of pleasure, made Lucas so much closer to the edge, so close to falling... “Are you going to come?” he repeated, as if it wasn’t already echoing in Lucas’ mind.

“Yes, yes, God, I am, please, gonna c-come, God, Dear God-!” Just at this moment, Lucas felt his lungs letting out a scream that burned his throat, but a pair of lips clamped over his own, and his muffled scream just barely filled the dorm as he came, came with Jason kissing him and his whole body tense and he felt like he was ten miles above the ground, no, a hundred miles, and he didn’t mind being conquered, he didn’t mind losing power, he didn’t mind...

“Lucas...Lucas...” He could hear Jason’s voice above him, quiet, as if from a thousand miles away... “Lucas, dammit! Wake up!!!”

“WHA-?!” Lucas sat up stick straight, looking up to see Jason standing beside his bed, his face flushed with anger. What the...what just happened? What the FUCK just happened?!

Jason glared at him for a moment longer before reaching around and picking up a book that had fallen onto the bed beside him, opened up to a page. “I thought you were reading this.” He brandished the book under Lucas’ nose, and he saw it saying something about pharaohs. “And instead you decide to take a nap.”

Lucas looked up at him, blinking like an idiot. “Wha...? I...fell asleep?” Was that...a dream??

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” Jason definitely didn’t seem like he was in a good mood now. “Totally infuriating. Do you have to be so fucking stubborn? Can you please, please just help me out?!”

Lucas grabbed the book from Jason, immediately beginning to read the chapter. “Sure, Jase.” Pharaohs in ancient Egypt were viewed as celestial in their civilization, gods born in human bodies that were divinely chosen to rule...

“...Really?” Jason sounded utterly confused, like he hadn’t had even the slightest hope of Lucas actually trying to work.

“Sure, man. I mean, we’re both partners.” Lucas crossed his legs on the bed, not even looking up at Jason as he continued reading vigorously. After a few moments of blinking and staring at Lucas, Jason contented himself with walking slowly back over to the other bed and picking up his notebook, going back to taking notes, glancing back at Lucas to see that he was actually working of his own free will.

Where the HELL had that dream come from?! He glanced up at Jason when he wasn’t looking. ...Nothing. He didn’t get hot under the collar or even slightly excited. Nothing happened at all. ...That marijuana. He always had fucked up dreams when he was high. And man, was that a fucked up dream. I mean, since when would Jason even seduce a guy in the first place?

PWPA: Jean Song-fic Drabbles

2008-04-17T16:40:15Z

"Take Back"
Green Day

You pushed me once too far again
I'd like to break you fucking teeth.

Jean stepped out of the taxi with his mother following behind him, her long, leopard-skin coat custom hemmed so it wouldn’t drag on the disgusting, non-French soil. His blonde hair stuck to his sweaty forehead in the summer heat (it was very hot for the beginning of September), looking up at the gates to Preston Williams Private Academy.

His father, fortunately, had been unable to attend Jean’s farewell…adventure. Thank God. He didn’t want a minute longer with his parents than he needed.

“Now, Jean,” his mother drawled in her heavy French accent, trying to practice her English, no doubt so she could nail those purchases when she got back to London when Jean was out of the way, “make sure you play nicely with the other students here.”

Now, that was a surprise. Play with students his age?! He’d never before in his life been able to actually play with any children his age. He was lucky he even knew where babies came from. “I know, mother. Thank you.”

His mother glanced at her watch, her lips tensing in a straight line. “I should be off, dear. Adieu, mon fils. Avoir une bonne année.”

Jean nodded curtly, knowing if he could have he would have punched his mother in the nose, just as a parting shot for shutting him off from his life this whole time.

"Feeling Electric"
Feeling Electric

Yeah, I’m feeling electric; I’m feeling fifty-thousand volts!
I’m laying down the lightning bolt!
I’m feeling electric, so plug into the power line
And baby, you’ll be feeling just fine!

Oh, god, this hurt!!! How could he have known when the teacher’s aide at the party in the senior dorm said ‘who wants some fun’ THIS was what he would get?! Jean’s pale hands clung to the sheets beneath him as the older male hit a very painful stop deep inside him, the youth’s eyes wide.

“Relax,” whispered the older guy, who he just realized five minutes ago was named Jordan. He kissed Jean just below his ear, which made the poor little guy shiver. “Want me to go a little slower?”

At this suggestion, Jean nodded emphatically, gripping the sheets a little slower. And when Jordan finally slowed down, slowly soft, weak moans fell from Jean’s mouth. And then Jordan was grasping him and stroking him and HOLY SHIT THIS WAS AMAZING!

God, why had he never felt this before? It was exciting, liberating, against the rules…everything he wanted in coming to Preston!

“...More...oh my god, more...”

"La Vie Boheme"
RENT

Let he among us without sin
Be the first to condemn:
La Vie Boheme!

Sitting in the freshman dorm lobby, colorful leaves showing through the windows, Jean had a little smirk on his face. It definitely had potential; it was like a little devil just poking out of his shell, testing how it felt to be outside, breathing and living for the first time.

Another freshman girl sat in front of him in a revealing red top that practically showed her whole chest, creatively cut so her nipples were covered. They could do this in the lobby because everybody else was in class right now. Jean had obviously skipped today.

She leaned forward, holding a little red tablet between her forefinger and thumb. She seductively reached forward to close Jean’s eyes, like one would when laying to rest one who had passed on, and then waited until his mouth was open before setting the tablet on his tongue.

He devoured the drug, and after a minute or so she was on top of him, kissing him and running her hands all over his chest and he found his hand between her legs...

It happened so easily suddenly, just slipping into something so simple and fun and sexual. He had only been living for a few months, only to realize everyone else had been doing it for their whole lives. Everybody else around him was having fun and doing whatever they wanted, and now it was his turn.

"Andy, You're a Star"
The Killers

Leave your number on the locker and I'll give you a call
Hey shut up, hey shut up, yeah

The snow coating the campus meant that Jean was already in heaven. All these people who needed warming up...and he was happy to oblige. Second Semester was pointless anyways, right?

He leafed through the book he’d just been giving, lying on his bed nonchalantly. He gave up, tossing it to a nearby arm chair. He went over to a mirror he had on the wall, staring at his reflection. His blonde hair was neat and a little more grown out now, and he smirked at the sight. It was a seductive smirk he had practiced in this very mirror.

He hardly ever smiled anymore.

A sudden vibration in his tight jean pocket, and he quickly pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He smirked again at what was there: a text message from Amber, asking if he was in the mood to ‘get together’. He quickly responded that he would love to, and before he knew it, there she was at his door, and there they were on the bed.

This was what Jean was known for. He had considered charging for a while, but nah, then he’d miss out on the fun. Less people would be willing to...entertain him. How BORING would his life be if he didn’t have that?

"Give Me Novacaine
Green Day

Drain the pressure from the swelling,
This sensations overwhelming,
Give me a long kiss goodnight
and everything will be alright
Tell me that I won't feel a thing
So give me Novacaine

He was definitely cute, and Jean had been hoping to get his hands on this boy for a while. There they were in the art room, kissing openly for anyone to see. He could tell that the little black-haired kid was nervous about this, so he rubbed his chest soothingly.

They’d get together again, which didn’t happen all too often to Jean, guys coming back. This time it was in Jean’s room, and Jean touched him exactly how he knew to, and he was stunned at the amazing sounds that came from his mouth. “Oh God, Jean, please, more...n-need this, need you...” Jean kissed his lips tenderly, taking away any worries he had as he slipped right back into just feeling amazing.

And then somebody would hurt Jean, go too far, make Jean bleed he got hit so hard, and Jean ran to him again, and he held him...

Why the hell would somebody ever care about him, Jean would ask himself. He’s just a slut. Not like he didn’t like being a slut, not that he felt worse than others because he passed himself around...but he felt like it was just an absurd thought that somebody would care about him.

Yet there he was, holding Jean and rocking him back and forth, lying in his bed and kissing away Jean’s tears as the poor French boy sobbed. “God, Taylor...Tay, just hold me, please?”

“Anything you want.”

"Because of You"
Kelly Clarkson

I lose my way
And it's not too long before you point it out
I cannot cry
Because I know that's weakness in your eyes

Sitting in the art room painting a landscape, Jean found himself painting a snowy forest. The dead trees and gray skies seemed horribly fitting. He wasn’t sure what had gotten him in such a depressed mood; he wasn’t one to let anything anybody said to him or did to him affect his mood. He was Jean, independent, doesn’t-give-a-fuck-about-anyone...that was just who he was.

He recognized the other guy walking into the room immediately, even though he only got a sideways glimpse of him. The long black hair was far too obvious. He glared a little harder at his portrait before he saw Taylor set up his own sketching pad a few easels in front of him, pulling out his charcoal that always got his hands dirty. He almost felt satisfied when he saw Taylor drawing portraits of Jean...it was always a great ego boost.

But that wasn’t going to happen today. Taylor seemed to catch Jean looking at him and simply glared at him. Jean eagerly returned the glare, getting back to his portrait. Stupid Taylor, making everything so complicated... It wasn’t enough for him that the sex was amazing, that Jean could make Taylor feel amazing (and though he’d never admit it, Taylor did the same thing)...no, no, no. Taylor had to go and want complete control over Jean’s life!

Jean almost smirked when he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, looking at it and seeing a text message from somebody else, asking if they could get together and ‘have some fun.’ Jean texted back quickly before he started putting away his painting supplies. He caught a glimpse at the look Taylor was giving him and felt an odd sensation in his gut. ...What the fuck WAS that feeling he kept getting?! It did nothing but make Jean more eager as he put away his supplies to flaunt in Taylor’s face that Jean was NOT controlled by Taylor.

Yet after he was done ‘having fun’ with a senior girl, he found himself walking back to his room alone, passing by Taylor’s dorm and wondering where he was. No way would he go back to Taylor...he was DONE with Taylor this time...

Only to find Taylor sitting on Jean’s bed, smiling softly, ready to hold Jean all he wanted...

"When I Come Around
Green Day

I’ve heard it all before - So don’t attack my door
I’m a loser and a user so I don’t need no accuser
Don’t try to slag me down because I know you’re right
So go to what you’d like - Make sure you do it right
You may find out that your self doubt means nothing was ever there
You can’t go forcing something if it’s just not right
No time to search the world around
Cause you know where I’ll be found when I come around

Jean stormed out of Taylor’s bedroom, furious at what he’d just tried to do. No, no...He had NOT said those words he just said. He was really convinced that he was going to get THAT out of Jean?! Never. No way. He didn’t need some shit like that.

Taylor was holding Jean close, gently tickling Jean’s back, causing a big smile to blossom on Jean’s face, like Taylor always made him do. Nobody else could make Jean smile like Taylor could, except for maybe his little sister. And in that moment, Jean let his defenses fall just for a second, not too different from how he had just a few moments ago as they both reached their climaxes, and rested his head against Taylor’s chest sideways, his ear pressed to where his heart was. The steady thumping was calming to Jean, and he smiled even wider.

And then, in the calm of the moment that had made Jean’s defenses slip, Taylor whispered gently to Jean. “That was...amazing...”

Jean nodded. “Yeah...better...than it’s ever been...” He swallowed nervously before adding, “...with anyone...”

He felt Taylor taking a deep breath. “And...people who feel this way...only feel it with the one that they feel it with...right?”

This confused Jean as he looked up. A nasty foreboding in his gut made his innards lurch, worried. “...What do you mean?”

Taylor’s face flushed a light pink hue, taking a deep breath before whispering. “I mean...maybe we should do this...only with each other. And with no one else. Just you and me, Jean?”

What the hell was he thinking?! Jean saw this coming. All those time Taylor freaked out about Jean sleeping with other people, trying to control his life. And now he basically wanted to OWN him?! Dear god. This time, Jean wasn’t going back to him.

Was Taylor insane?! Did he realize who he was telling this to?! Jean wasn’t EVER going to do that. Sure Taylor had to realize this was hopeless beyond anything but what they already had. Did he honestly think Jean would do a full turn around and give himself entirely to Taylor?!

He had to be out of his mind.

"Over My Head"
The Fray

I never knew
I never knew that everything was falling through

The light in the lamp next to the couch in the lounge was burnt out, so Jean was having difficulties trying to read his book. A nice horror book, bloody and freaky... he occasionally got a thrill out of them. Just then, he heard two very loud laughs upstairs, and he seemed to know who one of those laughs belonged to. He gripped his book tighter, trying to keep reading before his curiosity got the best of him...

He crept upstairs, stopping outside of Taylor’s room, where it was now obvious the laughs were coming from. He listened until he recognized the other voice: Riordan. He seemed to always spot Riordan just over Taylor’s shoulder, watching but hardly ever moving forward. He didn’t know the two were friends...

“I think we’ve –hiccup- had enough, Ri.” So they were drinking. He rolled his eyes, marching to his own room, throwing himself on the bed. Why did it make him so unnerved to know another guy was in Taylor’s room? Maybe lying on his bed, dribbling beer on the sheets that Taylor and Jean had not too long ago had amazing sex on, Jean taking Taylor for the first time...in fact, it had been the first time Jean had ever taken another man, as odd as that sounded.

After a few minutes of pretending he could care less, he got back up and went back to the door where the two boys were. He couldn’t hear a single noise. It wasn’t until a moment later when he heard a wet, smacking noise and heard both boys panting and he heard one boy pant out, “Wait, Taylor, I-!” And there was silence again, and after a while of this gut-wrenching silence he heard movement, quickly followed by the sound of clothing falling to the floor and the creak of the springs of the old dorm mattress...

Jean couldn’t take anymore. He staggered back to his room, stunned. Taylor was in there with Riordan...somebody else was devouring those soft, perfect lips...and, if things kept going this way, soon somebody else would feel Taylor penetrating them, that joy that only Taylor seemed able to give...

Why did this feeling make Jean almost want to be sick? What was going on?!

"Chasing Cars"
Snow Patrol

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough

Jean was almost shaking on his bed, his legs pulled up to his chest, terrified of himself. How could he be sure? How could he know? What if he was wrong? What if Taylor laughed in his face and went back to Riordan?! No, he couldn’t, Taylor couldn’t be with Riordan...he just couldn’t...!

He felt his heart pounding when he heard a soft knock on the door. He rushed to the door, revealing Taylor standing there, looking confused. “You said you wanted me to come-wha?!”

The black-haired boy was cut off as Jean collapsed onto Taylor, clinging to him desperately, so terrified of what he was going to say, what he was trying to come to terms with. “Taylor...”

He felt Taylor barely inch into the room, shutting the door behind him before wrapping just one arm around Jean. “Jean, I-I’ve already told you...we can’t do this...”

“No, no, no,” Jean panted out, tightening his hands hold on the front of Tay’s shirt, his ear pressed against Tay’s chest where his heart was, so comforted by the steady beating. “Taylor, please...”

He felt Taylor’s whole form sag, weakened. Jean, tears lingering on his cheeks, looked up to see Taylor’s face, so saddened... “Jean, I’ve told you. I’ve risked my heart for you so much. I can’t take this anymore.”

Jean shook his head, mouth dry; all words escaped him except for a weak bleat of “no, no, no...” He was going to leave him before Jean could ever tell him, ever let it out...

Taylor’s arms dropped from around him, backing up towards the door. “Good bye, Jean. I hope you’re happy with what you’ve chosen.”

“D-do you love me??” Jean blurted it out as soon as he remembered how to speak at those terrifying words that Taylor was saying.

Taylor only looked even more sad. “...It doesn’t matter anymore.” The French boy watched in horror as Taylor turned around, reaching for the door.

His chest was ripping in half with fear, his heart beating insanely in his chest, but he knew he had to, he knew he had to do this, or he’d lose the one person who could ever make Jean happy, the only person that had ever cared. “Taylor, I...I LOVE YOU!”

"Movin' On"
Good Charlotte

But the hard times will come
And we'll keep movin' on
We're movin on

Jean was staring around at a currently empty flat in Montmartre, the artist’s district of Paris high up on a hill. There was a beautiful church, Sacré Cœur, at the very top of the hill whose front steps were a perfect tourist trap: the view of the city was better than any view in the whole of Paris. His small flat wasn’t far from the main square, where multiple students at the Art Institute nearby set up their easels to sell fresh paintings to the tourists visiting the gorgeous historic district. Jean was also attracted to the area because of how close it was to the red-light district. Not that Jean would need to work there; he had gotten a job at a nearby café, serving artists. He was hired immediately when they learned he spoke fluent English.

The French boy, loving that he was in Paris after years of only visiting his parents in Avignon, was glad he was able to get a hold of this particular flat; it was just over the café he would be working in, rather convenient. He would need to buy a bike soon so he could get around the rest of the city, but all he needed to do to get to work was go down the stairs.

He ran a hand through his blonde hair, a little smile on his face as he heard somebody opening the door of the flat and walking in. “Nice and cozy, isn’t it?” Jean shot back to the person behind him.

Before he got any verbal response, he felt arms strong around his waist as he relaxed into the hold. “It’s perfect, baby.”

Jean turned around in the other’s arms to look at the young man behind him, lovingly running a hand through the long black hair. “Just like you.”

Taylor laughed softly, causing Jean’s heart to soar up a thousand feet out of his chest. “I love you, Jean.” With that, Jean leaned in, giving Taylor a sweet, gentle kiss, their lips moving against each other.

When Jean finally broke the kiss, he stared into Taylor’s beautiful brown eyes, speechless for a moment before he whispered, “I’ve always loved you, Taylor.”

fin

PWPA: Just the Price I Pay

2008-04-17T16:31:14Z

Title: Just the Price I Pay
Fandom: PWPA
Word Count: 950
Rating: PG-13, for minor swearing.
Characters/Parings: Jett-centric, Dane/Cicely
Summary: Open up my eager eyes, cause I'm Mr. Brightside...
Notes: Given to me by Danzer. It was just gonna be a ficlet, but it kept coming out and I couldn't stop! XD The prompt ended up being the chorus of “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers after three failed iTunes searches. (I got lyrics such as 'Black boys are delicious', 'What you gonna do with all that junk, all that junk inside your trunk?', and 'Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your girlfriend!')
Disclaimer: All mine, except Dane and Cicely are borrowed from Danii and Laura, respectively.

[i]Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Turning through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis
But it’s just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes,
Cause I’m Mr. Brightside[/i]

As she stormed out of his room, her too-short skirt (or at least in his eyes) wrinkled from not having really straightened it out after standing up from his bed, Jett wanted to grab his notebook on his desk and rip out every single fucking page and tear each one into multiple pieces.

After around a minute of just staring at the notebook and contemplating doing just that, he told himself how pointless that was and sighed heavily, sitting on his bed where his twin had been a moment earlier, falling onto it with a heavy [i]thump[/i].

He’d go find her and apologize later, maybe, because she looked really pissed at him, but he wasn’t going to right now. He knew he was right. She needed to stop hanging around with that guy. They’d only been going to this school for a few months, and she was already around him constantly. He was a year older, and he was no good for her. He’d seen her with some other guy doing drugs, and he was convinced he would pass it on to his baby sister.

Jett sighed heavily, staring up at the ceiling. Only a few months earlier, it had still been summer, and she had been the one dragging [i]him[/i] to the mall, telling him how much he needed to be more original with his wardrobe and stop just copying what he saw. Maybe she was just saying this because she changed her wardrobe monthly, but he’d never really listened to her. Now, a part of him was wondering if he should have just gone with her and let her do whatever she wanted. Dress him up in weird clothes he’d never wear again.

What if now he never got that shot again?

...

The tension was palpable in the room between the two men, the girl between them with her fists clenched.

“Will you two [i]grow up,[/i]” she said exasperatedly, switching her glare from one boy to the other, unable to decide which she was more angry at.

Jett glared at Dane with lividness he’d never really allowed himself to experience for anyone outside for this guy. Sure, he’d always disliked any other guy who so much as glanced at his little sister, but for some reason, this guy was deserving of so much more. “I will if he does.”

“[i]I[/i] will if [i]he[/i] stops following us,” Dane barked back. He had his arms folded stubbornly, but he was a lot less worked up than Jett.

Taking a deep breath, Jett sighed out his sister’s name, looking at her, almost pitifully. “Cic...” He was trying to win back his sister to his side. Cicely always had his back! They’d always been two pieces of a puzzle that were glued together, two halves of an apple, two... you get the picture.

Cicely merely glared at him. “Jett, you’ve gotta stop treating me like I’m still seven!” When Jett didn’t respond, didn’t even shift his facial expression, she enunciated painfully clearly, “I’m [i]serious[/i].” With that, she glanced back at Dane, grabbing the crook of his arm. Jett saw Dane keep his gaze on the other male for a moment longer before following her off.

Jett watched her go off, brow furrowed deeply, before he stubbornly turned around and walked off in the opposite direction. He was gripping the hem of his t-shirt, face flushed. He marched off to his room, convinced that he was right.

...

Jett was in the junior lounge, working on his calculus homework, forehead wrinkled with his concentration. He was almost completely wrapped up in his work when he heard two people walk in.

He glanced up, despite himself, to see Cicely and Dane. He was just able to see them stop at the top of the stairs, and saw Cicely toss her arms around Dane’s shoulders, kissing him. Jett quickly looked down at his work, trying to ignore them. He had promised Cicely he’d work harder to let them be, but it was almost goddamn impossible!

Before even a few seconds had passed, he looked back up, seeing the two of them looking at each other. Cicely was smiling, not saying anything, just looking into his eyes. She even laughed softly at something Dane said to her before giving him a little peck on the lips.

She looked so happy there with Dane, just standing there with him at the top of the stairs, probably not even aware of Jett sitting there.

Sighing softly under his breath, he looked down at his paper. Maybe this was why he was so jealous of Dane. He couldn’t get used to the fact that, after years of the two of them being inseparable, Cicely had another guy in her life that made her happy and she could spend hours around without even thinking of Jett. He was jealous like he couldn’t even explain, and he missed being the guy Cicely always went to when she was sad or confused or angry. Now that guy was Dane... and maybe he just had to accept that...

“Hey!” He looked up suddenly to see Cicely standing in front of him. She unceremoniously plopped down on the couch beside him, looking over his shoulder. “You waited this long to do those problems? Calculus is ONLY A WEEKEND AWAY. GOD, you’re such a slacker!” She shoved him playfully, smiling at him.

Jett rolled his eyes, but he was smiling a massive grin that could split a face in half.

SA: Travel the World - Chapter 3

2008-04-17T16:28:33Z

Title: Travel the World – Chapter Three: Why
Fandom: Spring Awakening
Pairing: Hanschen Rilow / Ernst Robel
Word Count: 1,582
Summary: Two boys and their romance, and how it can unfold
Rating: Somewhere at either PG or a light PG-13
A/N: I had to do some good digging to figure out what religion exactly was so heavy in 1890s Germany (Roman Catholicism, I decided). I was going to drag on more of this, but then I realized it was pointless and I might as well get to the point. So, drama and excitement ensues. Lemme know if you thought the effect was good...
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spring Awakening.

Hanschen was the one that had suggested they sneak out to the woods to the stream to clean themselves off a bit. Ernst was quick to agree, since he didn’t want to go back to his parents like this. So, the two of them discreetly made their way through the woods, Hanschen’s arm around Ernst’s waist almost as if supporting him should he trip and stumble.

The sun was beginning to set as Ernst sat down at the edge of the stream, Hanschen quite a ways away from him down the bank, since Ernst had refused to undress himself where Hanschen could see. The elder had merely smiled softly before walking off, leaving Ernst to carefully undress himself fully before slipping into the clean water.

He felt a little bad as he thought about how this water might be a bit dirty now that he was rinsing off such odd liquids into it, but he hoped no ill would befall anybody, especially since hardly anybody drank from this stream anyways. He was sitting on the bottom of the creek, the water flowing up to the middle of his chest as he relaxed. He didn’t move for a while, closing his eyes and simply taking in the feeling of the cool water around him.

“Are you comfortable?”

Ernst spun around, only to see Hanschen standing behind him and above him, a towel wrapped around his waist the only thing keeping Ernst from seeing all the boy had to offer. His face turned bright red, quickly making sure Hanschen couldn’t see anything important. “Hanschen, I told you-!”

“I know. I have already finished bathing, however, so I came to see if you were done.” He had an odd smile that only confused Ernst and at the same time made him blush harder.

He sighed softly, still relaxed by the cool water running across his skin. “Could you please turn around while I get out?”

Hanschen shrugged, obliging, taking a few steps away from him before turning away, beginning to get dressed in the clothes he had brought with him. Ernst pulled himself back up out of the water, carefully slipping into his own clothes, feeling very odd when he slipped back into the still damp underwear and pulled the rest of the dry clothes on over it. He turned back to Hanschen, happy to see he had stayed facing away. “Are you done yet,” Hanschen drawled out slowly.

Ernst smiled simply, creeping up behind the other boy and slipping his arms around him from behind. He couldn’t see the smile that blossomed on Hanschen’s features, but he knew very well it was there. “Yes,” Ernst said quietly.

The other turned around in Ernst’s arms, and soon Ernst found himself being kissed and submitting oh so happily, holding tight as he let their mouths mesh and even their tongues, a rather exciting new sensation Hanschen had first tried two days ago the last time they were together for ‘studying’.

After a long while of kissing Ernst finally stopped moving his lips, letting them merely rest against Hanschen’s as he caught his breath. He was smiling as he whispered to him. “Do you love me, Hanschen?”

There was a short pause before Hanschen pulled away slightly, looking Ernst in the eyes seriously. Ernst felt his heart drop. What was the matter? Ernst had assumed that was he felt when he was with Hanschen, this overwhelming emotion that simply had to be love, could not have possibly been something he alone felt. Surely that sensation of togetherness was them sharing their love... so why was Hanschen looking at him so... oddly? “Always the sentimentalist,” Hanschen suddenly said with a little chuckle, his eyes sparkling.

But Hanschen’s laugh and smile had far from its usual effect on Ernst. “Hanschen, do you love me?!” Ernst repeated himself more earnestly, his own smile fading.

Hanschen’s smirk faded as well, looking at him oddly... seriously. As if they were talking about some business operation. “Ernst, such things shouldn’t be... assumed so readily.”

“Assumed?!” Ernst was raising his voice now. “Hanschen, I love you! What else could cause these... these things to happen?!”

With that, Ernst dove forward, suddenly kissing Hanschen far more vigorously than Ernst had ever initiated. The kiss took the other boy completely off guard, but he definitely returned it with vigor. Once again they lost themselves to the moment, silent except for the sound of their lips gently moving or a light gasp.

“ENOUGH!”

Both boys staggered apart at the sudden shout that had sounded like a siren. They spun to see a man standing there, wearing his long robe and his face bright red. Ernst recognized him within moments as Father Kaulbach...

Before Ernst could move or even say a single thing, the presence that was Hanschen beside him was gone. Ernst staggered to figure out where he had gone, only to hear the sound of splashing water. Hanschen was practically falling over himself as he ran right across the stream. Ernst’s eyes widened, scared and confused. What was happening?! Why was Hanschen running away?!

“Herr Rilow!!!” Ernst turned back to Father Kaulback, flinching at the scathing glare coming from his features. “Come back here this instant!!” But Hanschen was already long across the stream, running out into the woods, already disappearing behind trees that hid him from their view...

Without even thinking, Ernst began to run after Hanschen. Why was he leaving him?! What was going on?! But before Ernst could even make it half-way across the stream, the sound of the angry Father’s voice made him stop.

“Herr Robel, if you take one more step, I cannot be responsible for the pain in your own damned soul!” The harsh pain of those words made Ernst spin around, staring at the father. “If you come back, you may yet be saved...” Damned? What...? “Come to me, son... God will forgive you, if only you come back to his love...”

“Father?” Ernst questioned softly, staring at him in confusion, not moving from the middle of the stream.

And still Father Kaubach spoke, though not a word of it made any sense to Ernst, because none of the things he was saying he had done had happened. “Come... Your sins will be forgiven...”

Ernst didn’t know what else to do. Why had Hanschen ran away? Did he not love him after all? Was all of this simply a lie? Everything Hanschen had told him, every bit of trust he had given to him, his whole heart he had set on the ground before Hanschen to take as his own... had all of this been for nothing?

The boy fell to his knees in the water, confused and scared and not sure what world or planet or universe he was in, if this was all some odd dream... “Father, I don’t understand...”

“Come back to God, Ernst,” the man said, his face no longer red, but almost seeming caring... no, not caring... pitying... but why?

Ernst sputtered out the only thing that made sense. “But-but I am with God, Father...” What was the priest saying? What was going on? Was there something wrong with the clothes he was wearing, something he had said at his last confession, the last prayer he had said in the privacy of his room? Had the priest seen him say his Rosary incorrectly and have to start over from the beginning? ...Why wasn’t Hanschen here? Why had he left? Why did Hanschen leave him?

“Ernst, come...”

Still unsure if he was even awake or if any of this was real, he staggered out of the stream, slipping on the damp rocks, going to the priest in blind trust. If Ernst had done something wrong, surely the Father would help him fix it. Perhaps if he did everything right, God would bring Hanschen back, and everything would be back to normal again.

...

Ernst was sobbing, curled up on the floor in front of his bed, cradling his left arm gingerly that was horribly sore from where he had fell on it when his father threw him across the room. His ears were still ringing from the shouts in his ears, and all the cruel words that had come from his father’s mouth were throbbing in his aching chest that contained a fully broken heart.

What was happening to him? Nothing his father had said to him had made any sense, just as everything the priest had said to his father made no sense as Ernst sat by listening in confusion. He didn’t understand how he had committed a sin, because he had never had any sinful feelings in his life, he was sure of that! Sin brought sadness and anger and all those things Ernst had never truly felt. Not until now... with his father’s words echoing in his mind and making his chest shake with each sob.

“Filthy, disgusting boy... a disgrace to everything your mother ever wanted for you. She died giving birth to you, what a blessing to her to be spared to see the cretin she has bred. Disgusting, sinner...”

Only seven solitary words had made sense, the rest only echoes of confusion. Those seven were the arrow in Ernst’s heart that seemed to be causing it to bleed and ache inside his chest so badly he wanted to die as tears soaked the floor beneath his head. Seven words that were clear as crystal.

“You will never see that boy again.”

SA: Travel the World - Chapter 2

2008-04-17T16:27:58Z

Title: Travel the World – Chapter Two: More
Fandom: Spring Awakening
Pairing: Hanschen Rilow / Ernst Robel
Word Count: 1,740
Summary: Two boys and their romance, and how it can unfold
Rating: R
A/N: Considerably longer. This is probably what length most of my chapters will be.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spring Awakening.

The wooden floor was not Hanschen’s ideal place to be at this moment, but it had seemed not to have been so bad an idea when he initiated it. All it had been was a whisper and a few last inches of distance lost between them, and it had seemed really simple to just stay there on the floor. But now, Hanschen wished he had suggested moving to his bed nearby; the floor was awfully cold, even in the spring.

One hand behind Ernst’s neck and the other resting on his waist, Hanschen’s mouth continued its work on Ernst’s own as his mind continued to point out everything about the situation aside from his deep kiss. His left leg was bent rather awkwardly underneath him, and it was already starting to grow sore, now that this had been going on about a minute or so. Ernst’s hair was also starting to grow out a bit as of late, and Hanschen was considering what would happen if his fingers got too tangled in the hair and yanked a strand or two out, therefore completely ruining the mood.

And then Ernst gave out a small little whimper against Hanschen’s working lips, and Hanschen put himself back in the correct mindset. Ernst. Yes. Ernst, kissing Ernst, giving Ernst exactly what he had asked for just by looking at him.

And then something odd happened, and Ernst placed a hand on Hanschen’s chest, pressing lightly, just enough that Hanschen got the clue and broke the kiss, his eyes fluttering open and looking at Ernst quizzically, calmly.

Ernst was anything but calm. Hanschen could almost feel his pulse at the back of his neck, pattering against his fingers rapidly. His eyes were slightly wide, and his lips were still parted slightly, little puffs of air falling from him in gasps. “Is something...wrong?”

Hanschen did a double-take. What was Ernst talking about? They had done this multiple times since that first dusk in the vineyard, and nothing like this had ever been said before. “Of course nothing’s wrong,” he said, making to reconnect their lips.

But the hand on his chest stopped him, more forcefully this time. Hanschen blinked a few times, shocked, still holding Ernst lightly. Ernst gazed at the other boy for a few moments before speaking, softly. “I... I can’t ignore the feeling... that perhaps there’s something wrong.”

Hanschen’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean,” he said in a quiet drawl, low and slightly confused. It almost sounded irritated, but of course, Hanschen wasn’t to that point at the moment.

“I mean... I...” In the middle of Ernst’s words, Hanschen finally adjusted his position on the floor so he wasn’t sitting on his leg, and Ernst waited until he had stopped moving before continuing. “I feel like... like I’m doing something wrong.”

There was a long pause before Hanschen smiled along with a chuckle. “Ernst, of course not. Why do you worry about such things?” Fingers ran through the black locks of the smaller boy. “I almost want to ask you to not think,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s far too distracting.”

But Ernst would not be swayed. “Hanschen...” He trailed off, unsure how to continue. “I... I can’t help but feel that I... that you’re... holding something back from me.” He sighed, his eyes cast downwards now. “Like you have a secret... and I wonder if it’s about something I’m doing wrong...”

Hanschen gazed at the boy for a long time before suddenly letting go of him, standing as Ernst looked up at him, confused. The older boy stretched out a hand to him. “Come on.” Ernst hesitated before accepting the proffered hand, standing up with him. Hanschen carefully let Ernst over to the bed, sitting down on it and pulling Ernst to sit next to him. “...I think that in a way you are right.”

Ernst looked up at him suddenly with a snap of the head, looking almost scared. “Hanschen, I-!”

But the other boy cut him off, resting a finger on his lips for a moment before letting his hand drop, casually resting on Ernst’s thigh. “Hush. I have been holding something back. Something I’ve been...worried to act on. But if you really want to know what my secret is...you have to trust me.” Hanschen was looking at him seriously.

The boy’s head bobbed up and down in a nod. “I trust you with my whole heart, Hanschen, with all my love!”

Hanschen nodded. “Yes, I know.” He raised the hand resting on Ernst’s thigh up to his shoulder, gently pressing him down onto the mattress. “I’ve been wanting more.”

He could feel the boy’s light quivering as he was lowered onto the down feather mattress, their eyes locked. “...More...?”

“More from you,” Hanschen said quietly. “More from...us.” Hanschen was never one to use the pronouns ‘us’ or ‘we’, but at the moment it seemed rather appropriate for what he was insinuating. “Ernst...” Hanschen climbed on top of the smaller boy, eliciting a little gasp of shock from the other boy as he straddled his hips. “I want you.”

Ernst seemed disoriented, as if some giant hand had just picked him up and dropped him in a land far across the sea with strange two-headed creatures. But he somehow formulated words, and Hanschen could see the vague (though obviously not complete) understanding in the boy’s eyes. “I’m yours.”

“Good.” Slowly, Hanschen began to unbutton Ernst’s trousers. The other boy didn’t make a move, hardly even made a sound except for his excited (or scared) breathing, and certainly seemed confused.

It wasn’t until Hanschen hand pulled the trousers down enough to expose his underwear that Ernst’s eyes widened even farther and his cheeks turned pink. “Hanschen, what are you-?”

“Hush,” Hanschen said again, smiling, the almost devilish grin that he sometimes held when thinking almost evil thoughts, and suddenly he was heavily grateful that neither of his parents were in the house at the moment. His hands moved to Ernst’s underwear, making to lower it.

However, a hand was suddenly clasping Hanschen’s, and his head snapped up to see Ernst staring at him with a light red face. “Hanschen, that’s...! I...!” He seemed to be trying to find a polite way to say it. “My father says that’s not for others to see...”

Hanschen laughed softly, which obviously seemed to only confuse Ernst more. “Your father knows nothing about what is coming to you now. He knows nothing of this,” Hanschen said in a soft, low voice, thoroughly enjoying seeing the small boy beneath him so scared and excited (as was obvious by the bulge in his underwear) beneath him.

Ernst stared at Hanschen a good long time, not moving, still clasping his hand tightly.

“Trust me, Ernst,” Hanschen said quietly.

The young boy shook his head. “I-I don’t know if I want...”

“If you don’t want me to see, I won’t,” Hanschen said quietly, obviously resigning to something other than what he had previously wanted. He had hoped to use his mouth to give pleasure to Ernst, but if he was going to be so self-conscious about it, he would have to settle.

Ernst hesitated before finally letting go of Hanschen’s hand. As soon as his hand was free, he slid it inside Ernst’s underwear, grasping him lightly and tenderly. The gasp he earned made him shiver with pleasure. “H-Hanschen!”

“Hush, hush,” Hanschen mused as he began to lightly stroke the boy’s erection, even more gorgeous little gasps reaching his ears. He steadily increased the pressure until Ernst let out a soft and breathy moan. Hanschen’s eyes lit up with an almost obscene gratification at hearing that moan as Ernst’s face burned even brighter at the sound he had made, or perhaps it was the heat in the room slowly building around them as Hanschen began to increase his pace. It was so endearing that Ernst was trying to be quiet and failing so miserably. “Now.” Hanschen paused his administrations, causing Ernst to whimper in something like impatient begging. “Don’t hold back. Every noise you’re wanting to make... make it.”

As his hand began pumping the boy again, Ernst seemed to comply all too happily, one breathy moan falling out of his mouth after the other, and it was so enthralling watching how his chest did a little jolt with each gasp, and how Ernst didn’t seem able to finish his words. “Hansch-ohh, it’s so-ohh my! J-just like... like th-ah!”

Hanschen was starting to get impatient, and his own erection was throbbing for attention. “Just like that,” he whispered, almost to himself. He watched in something like awe as Ernst’s body writhed, jerking up suddenly as he let out a little cry of shock and fear all wrapped in endless pleasure as he came, soaking his underwear, Hanschen still stroking him all throughout his orgasm and making it last as long as he could.

Finally, Ernst seemed to collapse into the mattress, and at that moment Hanschen rolled onto his back, quickly undoing his own trousers and hastily pulling his own erection out into the open, stroking himself fast and hard, Ernst still panting beside him.

After a few moments (or hours, it was hard to keep track), he saw Ernst’s head turn to gaze at Hanschen, and Hanschen saw the boy’s eyes wander all the way down to his jerking hand and widening. Hanschen didn’t stop, didn’t suggest Ernst touch him, and Ernst didn’t even think of offering to do so, only watching Hanschen as he span out of control and over the edge, emptying himself just as Ernst had.

When Hanschen finally relaxed, he became fully aware of Ernst, panting and staring at him in awe. He looked the boy in the eye, smiling softly to him. Ernst smiled back, though his, Hanschen noted, seemed to hold no connotation of what had just transpired between them. Just as sweet and unknowing as after every time they kissed. Ernst carefully leaned over Hanschen just enough so that he could chastely press their lips together in a kiss, Hanschen idly raising his hand (the clean one) to stroke the boy’s cheek tenderly through their surprisingly simple kiss. Ernst muttered against Hanschen’s lips, barely more than a whisper. “I love you, Hanschen.”

Hanschen smiled knowingly, merely kissing him again, not bothering with words at the moment when he was so out of breath and dizzy. It would all come out as gibberish anyway.

SA: Travel the World - Chapter 1

2008-04-17T16:27:18Z

Title: Travel the World – Chapter One: The Graveyard
Fandom: Spring Awakening
Pairing: Hanschen Rilow / Ernst Robel
Word Count: 856 (This is just an intro)
Summary: Two boys and their romance, and how it can unfold
Rating: PG. Nothing special here, fellas.
A/N: This will definitely be a multiple chapter fic. Dishing out the Hanschen and Ernst love. :D
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spring Awakening.

So simple... So romantic... And so elegant and poised. Ernst gazed at the flower in his hands, twirling it in his thin fingers, back and forth, watching it spin. He would have smiled, would have almost giggled at how a lone petal fell all on it’s own to the grass. His eyes would have been gazing up at the skies, wondering what lie beyond the damp clouds waiting to weep out their tears.

But his father was behind him, a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. Ernst turned his head around to see him gazing stoically forward, hardly betraying a single emotion. His father was a historian, very bookish and very different from Ernst, who hardly had the patience to study most of the day. Of course he wouldn’t be crying.

Ernst looked forward, seeing Frau Bergmann sobbing and wishing he could somehow float away from here, like the white fluff of a dandelion. Up into those cloudy skies. She was so heart breaking to even see.

He had never truly known Wendla, though he had often though that she looked rather pretty, along with most of the other girls gathered here, all with little tears in their eyes. He was still rather confused on how she had passed on, or why it happened so soon after Moritz.

“Go on,” Moritz heard the soft voice of his father behind him whisper. He tore himself out of his thoughts, realizing that nobody else was moving. He looked about for a moment longer before stepping forward, dropping his flower into the gaping hole where Wendla lay in her coffin, biting his lip as he watched the flower fall to the bottom to be buried with the girl.

He walked back to his father, his fingers still twitching lightly, as if missing the flower they had been twirling a moment before, and Ernst quickly dropped his hands to his side, then moving them behind his back, turning back to Wendla’s grave and watching as a few more people stepped forward, giving their flowers up to the girl’s grave.

After a while, Ernst noticed a face in the crowd he hadn’t noticed before and felt his heart do a little somersault before looking away quickly. Even after he had looked away, he could still feel the other boy’s gaze on his.

When the proceedings had finally finished with a few final words from the priest, Ernst’s father began steering the boy away from the grave, no doubt to lead him back to their house. He hadn’t gone ten paces, however, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around, removing himself from his father’s hold on his shoulder, to see Hanschen there, gazing at him with his head tilted down slightly.

“Ernst, have you been studying well enough?” His eyes sparkled as he said it, and Ernst as usual felt the odd little ping in his stomach, just the slightest twist.

The boy turned back to his father, who by now had turned around to see who had diverted Ernst’s attention. Ernst hesitated before turning back to Hanschen. “I’ve been... trying,” he said quietly, only to hear a faint sigh from his father.

“Ernst, come along,” the older man said quietly, turning about to walk away.

Seemingly sensing he had little time, Hanschen continued quickly, not waiting a moment. “Perhaps you would like some more help?” The sound of the man’s footsteps came to a halt, and Hanschen, knowing he was treading on dangerous grounds, continued. “...What is it you need help with?”

“The Sophocles,” Ernst replied just a quickly. They had been studying the tragedies of the Greek playwright, and Ernst didn’t understand a word of it. Yet, oddly enough, Ernst found his mind going nowhere near anything related to Sophocles. He had never found himself anticipating such things; they had always come as such a surprise when Hanschen moved a few inches closer or casually brushed shoulders with him as they passed in walking....

Hanschen nodded, tilting his head up so he was looking at him properly, taking a bit of the menacing edge off of his gaze. “We could study together, if you’d like.”

“That’s very kind of you, Herr Rilow,” Ernst heard his father say quietly, “but Ernst has yet to do his afternoon chores...”

“I’ll do them as soon as I get home, I won’t stay more than an hour!” Ernst was surprised at how earnestly he was persuading his father to let him go to Hanschen’s house. “Please, Father?”

The older man gazed at his son for a moment and then at Hanschen, before nodding curtly. “Very well. No later than sundown, Ernst.”

Ernst nodded eagerly as Hanschen gave one of his little smiles he rarely gave out in public. He was almost statue-like at time when others were around... he was so different when it was just he and Ernst alone together... “Of course, Herr Robel.” Hanschen tilted his head momentarily as the only inclination that Ernst should follow before turning and walking in the direction of his home, Ernst giving one last look to his father before following Hanschen.

FE: Grey Skies

2008-04-17T16:25:08Z

Title: Grey Skies
Fandom: Technically Feeling Electric, caus it blatantly ignores the existance of Next to Normal. Sorry, folks. XD
Characters: Natalie and Gabriel/Tweak.
Word Count: 3,383
Summary: My family is a disaster, and it doesn’t matter what I do because I’m just going to end up killing myself just like her. I mean, crazy is genetic, isn’t it?
Rating: R for language and drug content. (LOTS of language. LOTS of drug content.)
Notes: This is my immature last grapple for old bitch!Natalie, and for Gabriel!Tweak being sorta the same person. However, even without the changes made with the new off-Broadway productions, this would probably be considered AU by most, cause it takes Gabriel!Tweak very, very literally

As she looked into his eyes now, she couldn’t help but understand what he had said earlier about her looking familiar, and more than just seeing her in detention, since she honestly couldn’t recall ever seeing him in here. He had an odd mystery to him, and everything about him seemed... totally in place. It was the weirdest thing she had ever seen, so out of place in the dysfunction of a high school and her family life. Not even his nose was a little crooked.

Maybe that’s why she was here now, holding a joint of marijuana she had bummed off of a senior who wanted to fuck her. He’d said something about it being laced with a few other things, but she hadn’t been too worried about that part. It was drugs, and she’d settle with that. The funniest thing about this was that the guy had thought she would sleep with him just because he gave her drugs. But she had Tweak. She didn’t need some dumb ass senior.

“You just gotta breathe it easy,” Tweak whispered in her ear from behind her. She found this the most exciting thing about him. Sensing him behind her, hearing his voice as if it was all around her, and yet not having the courage to turn her head and look him in the eye. It was thrilling, even.

But she wasn’t so out of it she wasn’t going to say anything back. “I know how to do it, I’ve seen everyone else.” And a few minutes later, she was slipping into bliss in the alley between the McDonalds and the apartment building downtown. She sat on the oddly comfortable concrete ground with her back up against the brick, ignoring everything except how clear and delicious Tweak’s voice was as she talked to her.

“So tell me about your life,” he said softly to her, and she imagined it echoed a little bit in her own drugged-out head.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Life? What life?” She smirked almost cockily at him. “Oh, you mean life, like... life?”

“Yeah, like that.” He was just sitting there next to her, arms folded. She had imagined that he would have had some for himself, or at least wanted to get a little closer to her. He had seemed like the kind of guy who was smart enough to take advantage of her defenseless body while she was high and make her think she wanted it. But actually, he hadn’t touched her at all, except for a tantalizing brush of his fingers across her cheek earlier as he whispered to her, hardly even there it was so light.

“Well...” She had to think for a minute on if she wanted to tell him everything, but in her drugged-out head it was difficult to think much, so she came to a perfectly vague conclusion: tell him whatever he needed to know. “My mom’s a psycho bitch, my dad’s a loser, and I’m outta here as soon as I turn sixteen.”

Tweak laughed softly. It almost sounded evil, something that totally turned her on. Like he knew everything in the world she could ever want to know, and he’d tell her everything as long as she behaved kindly to him. “How’s she psycho?”

Her eyes widened. Okay, this was where a vague classifaction such as ‘what he needed to know’ was pretty fucking useless; her head had no way of telling herself that she should just tell this guy she’d just met four hours ago to go jerk off, like she usually did when a guy got too nosey and such, and instead talked. “Well, like, she thinks she has a son she doesn’t even have, and she likes him better than me.” She actually laughed at how stupid that sounded, something she would never have done if she wasn’t as crooked as she was right now.

She didn’t register the fact that there was a long pause before Tweak spoke, too amused with the hem of her black mini-skirt to notice. “That’s weird,” he finally said with a half chuckle.

Natalie nodded along with him, sighing softly. She needed this. Just relaxation, just nothing, just air and open-ness inside her head. A bit of freedom, here in this disgusting alleyway, was exactly what she had needed to get away.

...

The lights of the club were practically blinding her as she stared at the drugs in her hand. She had a goofy grin on her face as she let it sink into her system. Everything suddenly became different then. She saw Tweak, standing in front of her, smirking and watching her, still laughing in an odd way she didn’t understand. And then she saw her fucking mother. What was up with that? Since when did she have some freaky, like, link with her wacked-out mother? Oh wait... she was the wacked out one right now... Oh yeah!

She found herself dancing with a random guy she didn’t know, kissing him even though he smelled weird, nothing really registering in her head. And all the while, she could hear Tweak’s voice in her ear. He’d gotten more... intimate lately with how he talked to her. Every time he whispered to her, in her ear, it was like a secret, almost sexual. Or maybe she was just really, really high.

“Feels like your floating? Flying? This is what you wanted?”

Natalie found herself nodding. “Mmm,” she mumbled, as the random guy she’d been dancing with began kissing her neck. But before she could continue on to tell Tweak that everything had become so different, so vivid and so insane...

And suddenly, the ground was a hell of a lot closer than she remembered, cause she was staring at it.

She never remembered how she got home that night, except that she woke up in the morning on the couch feeling a little sick with her dad waiting for the whole story. He never got it, and even though she was pretty sure he could tell she had done drugs last night he let her stay home from school. She really didn’t think anything about his random kindness, because he was just a dork anyway.

...

The ceiling was so wide and full of nothing, a few random posters of her favorite bands falling at the corners, and there was nothing better to do but to stare at it on her back. She could hear Mom and Dad in the other room talking about something, but it wasn’t the usual calm talking that came from them nowadays while Dad gently talked to her about times they’d spent together, dates they’d gone on, days after she had been born... it was tense and occasionally one of them raised their voice. They were talking about something about trash, and a son...

Natalie’s brow furrowed angrily. She’d been the one who’d suggested to her dad that he throw out all of her nonexistent older brother’s things, because honestly it was getting really old having to pass by it every day when she got home after sneaking out with Tweak to enjoy whatever new shit. She never wanted that stupid ghost or hallucination or whatever back in her head, because she was sick and tired of it!

In fact, most of this feeding Mom her past was starting to get old. Not to mention almost always being stuck at home since being put on temporary suspension from school for her drug use. Overall, everything was just pure shit, and she really was getting tired of it. She pulled out her cell phone, looking at the screen for a moment, wishing she had Tweak’s number... he was the only thing in her life that was remotely fun and exciting. It was the only electricity and light in her sad existence.

Just then, she heard a soft tap on the window. Her head snapped up, looking over at the window but seeing nothing. She sighed, getting up off her bed and going over to it. It wasn’t until she had opened the window that she saw just the man she wanted out on the lawn, hip cocked to the side and looking as gorgeous as ever.

“Hey,” he called up to her, giving her no other greeting than a casual raise of the hand, stuffing his other hand in his jean pocket.

Natalie smirked, leaning against the window sill, her head tilted to one side. “Hey yourself.” She inclined her head to the other side for a moment, just a quick twitch of the head. “Wait for me by my car, kay? I’ll be right down...”

He nodded, mimicking her smirk almost exactly. “Come on.”

So Natalie quickly changed her shirt, added some random black hair clip to her messy bun, and made her way down the stairs, only to see Tweak already down there in the front foyer. And her mom was staring right at him.

Well, that was enough to freak her out. She wasn’t sure why it freaked her out, but maybe it was because she subconsciously knew that she was always the only one who ever directly looked at Tweak; she was always the one who bought the drugs, the one who handled them, the one who danced with others while Tweak just attended to her and made sure she didn’t have a bad trip. He was hers alone, her companion whenever she got stoned. She was almost protective of him, but she wasn’t sure why she should freak out over somebody else staring at him, looking right at him.

Until her mom spoke. She didn’t even say who he looked like before Natalie jumped. Again, she wasn’t sure why she suddenly connected it to her never-alive brother, but it was probably because that was the most recent thing she had heard her mother talk about. And god damn it, she was so TIRED of being the second in everything! So fucking TIRED!

And Tweak only made it stronger, this... fed up with LIFE shit. She could hear his voice, almost piercing in her ears, worse than any school yard bully. He was right, though. She was right. Always second, never good enough in her mothers eyes to be as important as somebody who wasn’t alive.

As she ran away, leaving Tweak there in the front foyer of her mother’s house, she rushed to her car, driving off on her own as fast as she could, off to get some more drugs, off to some dark alley, and it wasn’t until she was totally out of it and all alone in the darkness that she saw Tweak, somehow right by her side once again, brushing his fingers delicately against her cheek as she shot up the needle in her vein.

...

“Tweak, I should go home.”

“What’s the point,” he whispered to her, right in front of her in the darkness in the park. “Your mother’s insane, and she hates you.”

Natalie shook her head. Something had come over her, a series of trembles and shivers, and she really didn’t like it, and it was consuming every thought she had and only making her scared. “I should go home.”

“Your parents don’t give a shit about you,” he whispered still. His eyes were so bright, so piercing, and it was impossible to look away.

“Dad’s worried,” she said defensively, and she wasn’t sure why she was standing up for the dumb ass that had provided half of her genetics. But even though she was trying to grapple on to something solid, she already heard a voice in her head turning it down.

No, not her head... that was Tweak, right in front of her, so close she could feel his harsh breath. She must be really crazy if she thought he wasn’t there. Because he was. She could see him. “You have me,” he said smoothly, and he even threw in a calming smile. It was the most pleasant thing she had seen for what felt like ages, especially during a withdrawal. “You don’t need the school anymore, or anyone else. You have me,” he whispered, and on the outline of his voice was an icy shiver that skimmed down her spine and only made the tremors in her muscles worse.

She nodded, though her vision was tunneling around Tweak. But Tweak wasn’t tunneling, the edges of his crisp vision as clear as ever. He wasn’t leaving.

...

But this peace wasn’t lasting. Steadily, that smile was slithering away from Tweak’s face, and even his comfort was fading as the hours trailed on, and even the days. And almost a week had passed, until Natalie wasn’t sure what it was like to not need another hit. But she was out of hits, out of cash, but maybe if they went to that guy she could get another hit...

Tweak wouldn’t let her leave. All he did now was haunt her when she fell asleep, lingering a few more moments after she woke up. Telling her how she could never go back home, could never feel warmth in her bones, and would probably die by herself, and she only had him...

“Come on, let’s go meet that guy,” she said desperately, her arms wrapped around her knees as she sat on the freezing concrete, looking straight forward, ignoring the hauntingly light rubbing on her back from Tweak’s hands behind her.

He didn’t move, except for a silent shake of his head, still rubbing her back as if to warm her, but all it did was chill her bones more.

She turned around, almost falling to her side in the process, but needing to look at Tweak to tell him this. “I need more. Seriously.” She was talking louder to him that she realized, almost shouting. She wanted him to hear, wanted him to move so they could get more...

Tweak only looked up at her, a cold look in his eyes, but it was the cold iron look that she had clung to. What proved that he was still there, that she wasn’t-

“I need to forget fucking everything!!!” Only panic was flooding through her frozen body now, and she wasn’t sure why she was scared. What was to be afraid of?!

She didn’t understand what happened then, but it confused her so much she didn’t move for at least five seconds. Tweak reached out to her, as if to brush her hair to the side, but she didn’t feel any movement of her long hair to behind her ear. There was no brush of her currently disgusting hair against her cheek... nothing but cold, a shiver tracing down her spine, even though that wasn’t at all where he touched her. But that isn’t want confused her. Because, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw it happen.

She saw it. It happened. But it didn’t.

Air was hard to come by now as she began to pant. “...what,” she muttered in confusion, “what the fuck...”

Because he was looking at her now in a way she’d never seen, a curious light that seemed so familiar, as if she’d known it her whole life, before she was even in existence. And something about him had changed, and his mouth was tweaked up in a dominant, powerful smirk that only confused her now. “You know.”

Natalie blinked. “No, I don’t,” she said bluntly, as if he was insane. Because he was! He was talking like he was insane.

Wait...

“You know,” he repeated, this time laughing as he leaned back against the park bench behind him, crossing his arms. “I know you know... who I am.”

And something was changing, but she didn’t know why that made her heart beat faster. “No, I don’t-I mean, yeah I do! You’re Tweak, and...” She faltered for some reason, her own voice sounding strange to her when she called him Tweak... “...Connor, and...” Calling him Connor didn’t feel any more right. She didn’t know what was wrong with her.

...He was crazy! Really he was. Nobody could look at somebody else like that and not be crazy. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, Natalie... it’s me...” But his smile was no friendlier, his gaze no warmer, voice no less sharp and stinking. “Don’t keep running.”

“But...” Why was she fighting? WHAT was she fighting?! There was no point in fighting anything anymore, because, hell, look at her, and look at what she’d become. What did it matter? There was no point in fighting, because hell, she was already crazy-

Suddenly, everything was seizing up around her, and she wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn’t. She knew, holy FUCK she knew, but HOW? It wasn’t possible!

Nothing would let her close her eyes or hide. Nothing was letting her run away anymore. Besides, he was all she had left to stare at. He was nodding now, smirk widening. “You know it!” He was laughing now, and it would have seemed welcome if she wasn’t perceiving it as the cruelest sound ever. “Just like her,” he said, a harsher whisper, almost as if she wasn’t supposed to hear.

“Just like- NO!” She had started to repeat him, blindly follow him, but no, she wasn’t going to! This wasn’t real, it WASN’T REAL. “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real...”

No matter how many times she tried to repeat these words, it wouldn’t shake him away. He wasn’t leaving. Fuck, he was still right there-NO HE WASN’T! He’s not real!!! “I’m alive, Natalie, and you were wrong all along!" He almost seemed mad now, smirk becoming harsher and nothing but rage. "I’m right here, you can see me RIGHT. HERE.” And fuck it was the scariest thing she had ever seen in her life, and those cold eyes were like ice and fire.

She shook her head. She couldn’t, it couldn’t be real. ...But if it wasn’t real, what had happened for months? She’d been able to see Tweak for months now, so what was different now? Why could she see him?

“What’s my name,” he suddenly asked, an abrupt attack on her, as unwelcome a sound as a slap on her face. His fists were clenched, hungry for something...

“I-I don’t know,” she stammered, shivering hardest yet, and fuck if she could just pass out right now it would be the most amazing grace of God she would ever know in her life, because she didn’t want to be seeing him there.

His eyebrows arched, teasing her insanity. “You don’t know? It’s not Tweak?” She literally twitched when he said that name, that name that wasn’t real. “It’s not... Connor?” That time it was like a bullet, and she let out a wordless cry to make him stop. “You KNOW my name!”

“NO, I DON’T!”

His voice was everywhere, not only coming from his mouth, but beside her, behind her, echoing inside her skull. “You know...” That was the most torturous feeling she’d ever known, so violating. She clamped her hands over her ears, curling up, trying to shut it out, shut HIM out. “You KNOW...” Something harsh was trapped in her throat, and she choked on it as something wet burst down her cheeks. “You KNOW!”

“Gabriel,” she muttered, a name she had heard only once, from before she ever knew this boy, when she heard her father crying, asleep at night. She said it again, trying to make him stop, not even noticing that the echoing in her head was fading. “Gabriel, Gabriel, GABRIEL...”

...

She doesn’t remember finding the drugs, or when she actually took them, but the doctor says she. And fuck, she’s so numb he can’t tell a thing’s wrong, because that doctor’s looking her right in the eyes and talking about body art and isn’t even asking about before the drugs.

“Why do you care if I kill myself?”

“Because it’s my job. Because maybe your family needs you at home.”

“Come on, tell me the truth. My family is a disaster, and it doesn’t matter what the fuck I do, because I’m just going to end up killing myself just like her.”

She could feel Gabriel right behind her, but she had given up on ignoring him. And she’d always been a pretty good liar when she wasn’t high off some shit. Nobody had to really know. She had it under control. She could live with being a little insane, because having him was better than nobody. And she could even justify how he'd gotten there.

“I mean, crazy is genetic, isn’t it?”

Rent: Going Insane - Beginnings of Insanity

2006-05-07T21:09:33Z

Title: Going Insane: Beginnings of Insanity (2/?)
Author: Kiwi (kiwianime23)
Characters: Mark/Maureen, mentioned Roger/April
Word Count: 5,105. OK, it’s really long. So first half is 2,330 and second half is 2,775.
Rating: First half - PG-13. Second half - NC-17.
Genre: First half - Humor/Romancey. Second half- Smut. Plain and simple. With a splash of what I look at as humor.
Summary: pre-RENT. Even though Mark’s been seeing Maureen platonically for a week, Maureen seems to have different things in mind when the first trip to the loft together yields to more than Mark was betting on.
Notes: Part 1 of this series is in my writing journal ‘ilive4mywork’. This...installment is so freakishly long I split it into two parts. Hopefully the effect worked and you could read either part and still get a fun read. But it’s one event, so I couldn’t make it two separate fics, and I encourage you to read both parts. If you end up only reading one part, make sure you specify this in your feedback. This is slightly based on ‘Going Insane’, but it isn’t really a sequel because it occurs before. But it’s so closely linked it’s now all one story, okay? Okay.
Special Thanks: My friend (nameless still) for challenging me, I guess. Oh, and Robert Palmer, for writing ‘Addicted to Love’ as inspiration for this...installment. The play count was at 2 when I started, and it was at 37 when I was over. So if you wanna listen to the music that got me in the right mood while writing this, listen to it. XD
Spoilers: None. It’s pre-RENT.
Warnings: Yeah. Smut. Bit of language.
Disclaimer: Larson Estate owns all of RENT.

.-.-.

I.

“Wow...” Mark felt a little more than slightly antsy as Maureen looked around the loft, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as Maureen looked around. “This is nice, Mark. Really big for...how many people live here?”

“Three,” he said quickly, happy for an opportunity to think about something. “Me, Roger, and Collins. My old roommate from college, Benny, is probably gonna move here in the next few months, then it’ll be four.”

Maureen blinked. “Oh. I’ve only heard once about Roger, so I didn’t know.” She shrugged, saying this matter-of-factly. For a moment, Mark was worried she was hurt that he hadn’t talked about his roommates that much, but when she made herself comfortable by sitting down on the couch, he saw by the smile on her face she didn’t mind in the least, finding the slight pinkish tint to her face from the cold November air outside almost attractive. “Where are they all now?”

Mark shrugged. “Roger’s got band rehearsal. Collins’s probably getting drunk somewhere. ” He rattled off the usual situation, not noting that this usually left him alone in the loft. Except for as of late. When he had met Maureen in a bar about a week ago, he had been seeing her a lot more than he was just sitting around the loft. Nobody else in the loft had met her yet, but he didn’t think there was really anything going on between them. They had just gone out to lunch together once and seen each other at another bar. Until now that she had insisted she see where he lived...

“And they just leave you here all on your lonesome?” She looked up at him square in the eyes, stretching out on the couch, not bothering to adjust her t-shirt when it scrunched up slightly and revealed her stomach.

At the sight of Maureen’s bare skin Mark felt his stomach lurch, but he suppressed it quickly, deciding to answer her question normally, trying not to look at it in any way that might make him more nervous than he already was. “I usually just go out a lot too.” That was a lie; he had hardly left the loft at all until Roger insisted he go to a bar. And that had led him to meet Maureen...and look where it had gotten him. Standing by the doorway, his hands in his pockets, and a girl he had known for a week on his couch, looking more than a little sexy in those tight black pants...

Maureen smirked at him still. “And you don’t have a girlfriend to keep you company? Nobody?”

He could hear the connotations behind what she was saying, could see it in the twinkle in her eyes, but he was refusing to respond. “They’re not ALWAYS gone. Me and Collins hang out some.” He walked briskly over to the kitchen, turning his back to Maureen as he began looking through the cabinets. “Do you want something to drink? We may have some cheap Absolut or something...”

The couch moaned slightly behind him as Maureen spoke. “Sure, Marky.” He blinked at the extra syllable added onto his name. Nobody had called him ‘Marky’ since his last girlfriend, who had ended up moving with some ‘more ambitious’ filmmaker to California to work for some big shot corporation. “But I’m sure you and Collins don’t do anything fun. Don’t you get a little lonely?”

Mark kept looking through the cabinets for the bottle of Absolut, trying not to let his mind run away with what Maureen was saying. She had been acting more and more like this recently. He had heard a few of these comments a few days earlier when he was at the bar again with her, and had heard even more on the way up here. “No...um, no, not really...” He pulled the bottle out of the cabinet, finding it hidden behind a stack of bowls, setting it down on the counter.

Just when he was about to reach up again to grab some glasses out of the cabinet, he felt two soft hands on his shoulder blades. “Aw, I know I would get lonely. Nobody to tell me they loved me, or lie down next to me at night, or give me back rubs when I was stressed out...” At this, her hands began to work on his shoulders, squeezing at all the right places that would have relieved the tension in those muscles. Mark closed his eyes, trying to tell himself that there weren’t any ulterior motives behind a back rub, but a much louder voice behind him abolished these thoughts. “Come on, Mark, relax. You’re always so uptight.” She continued massaging the muscles in his shoulders, and he could almost feel her staring at the back of his head, and he could just imagine the smirk on her face, and he was staring to go insane that she was only massaging his shoulders and nothing else. “You’re a lot sexier than you think you are, Mark.”

At this, Mark’s breath got trapped in his throat. “Wh-what?” Him? Sexy? That didn’t make sense. He wasn’t trying to be sexy. In fact, as of late he had almost been trying to do the exact opposite.

She stopped massaging his shoulders, walking around beside him and turning him to face her. “Mark, don’t act so surprised. I bet you’re just not used to being the one called sexy.” Mark blinked at this, a little confused. “No, really. You tell me you hang out with this rock singer in a band, right? I’ve seen a picture of him, Mark, the one you showed me of him with his girlfriend. Other girls are gonna notice him first, because he goes out there and he’s just begging them for it.” She smirked at him, grabbing the bottle off of the counter and taking off the lid, taking a swig before setting it on the counter. “But you can be sexy, too. You just try to hide it.”

“I...um...” Mark really wasn’t sure how to respond to this. This was a little more forward than he was used to.

Maureen smirked at him still, seemingly enjoying this. “The right thing to say would be ‘thank you.’” She raised a hand and playfully tweaked him on the nose before turning around and walking towards the couch.

Mark blinked a few times before turning back to the already opened bottle, grabbing two glasses and setting them on the counter. Before he could pour drinks, however, he heard Maureen speak again as he heard her sit back down on the couch. “I don’t need a drink now, honey. Why don’t you come over and sit down?”

...Sit down? On the couch? With Maureen? With THESE thoughts? What was he supposed to tell her now? ‘Hey, Maureen, I’m REALLY turned on, but I’m not sure if I want to go so far as to say I’ll...’ But maybe she didn’t mean anything by it. After all, she hadn’t REALLY gone right out and talked about...that yet. But the bringing up the subject of him being sexy had definitely been a little unnerving and seemed to be giving a few hints. And the back rub. Maybe he wanted to and he was just scared. Maybe he DIDN’T want to and he was scared of being forced into it.

“Mark, just come and sit down.” OK, she doesn’t SOUND like that now. She even sounded a little agitated. Sighing, Mark set the empty glass and the bottle down, turning around to go and sit down. He saw her smirk slightly as he sat down stiffly next to her, setting his hands down next to him to steady himself. “You really know how to drag a girl along, Marky.” All of a sudden, Maureen had rolled over on the couch, pinning him down as she trapped his lips in a tight kiss. Mark’s eyes were wide in shock, his heart racing with his arms pinned to his sides. After a few seconds of Maureen not easing, Mark slowly closed his eyes, feeling her tongue probing against his lips and opening his mouth to hers, enjoying the sensation he got in his body as their tongues meshed and twisted around each other. No, not enjoying it. Loving it.

When Maureen suddenly pulled away to look at him, Mark was panting, feeling overwhelmed by the suddenness of her kiss. She stared at him, smirking, while Mark stared at her in an almost stupefied fashion. “I...M-Maureen...”

She raised a finger, resting it lightly on his lips to make him stop his stuttering. “Shh.” She smirked still, her eyes glittering with mischief as her finger that had silenced Mark traced its way down Mark’s jaw line. “What did I tell you? You’re pretty sexy when you want to be.”

Mark felt his stomach lurch at the feeling of Maureen’s finger tracing the line of his face. “Maureen, I’m not trying to...”

“You don’t have to,” she whispered to cut him off, adjusting her position on top of him so that she was sitting in his lap, her legs bent underneath her as she knelt on the cushion of the couch, straddling his middle. She leaned down to kiss him again, much softer this time with her hands resting gently on his chest underneath his jacket, and Mark accepted, feeling himself give up to her kisses as he opened his mouth. She was a good kisser, knowing just how to apply pressure and give a little room for him to give a little into it as well. But she was on top of him, and that was what was making his heart race, being the one on bottom. All of his past girlfriends (all two of them) had pulled him so that he was on top, so that he was in control of the situation, so that he could decide how far to go and how fast. Now that power was in her control, and it was numbing his mind with the overwhelming nature of this situation.

She seemed to somehow feel this, and she pulled her mouth away from his with a smirk tweaking the corner of her lips. “I bet you like control of things, Mark. You seem like a control freak to me.” Her smirk widened as that mischievous glint in her eyes returned. “But I like control too, Mark. You better be willing to accept that for this to work.”

Mark bit the soft inside of his lip at this, letting this go over in his head. He had NEVER been submissive before, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to take it judging from the feelings he was having now. And when she said ‘for THIS to work,’ what did she mean? “What do you mean, ‘this’?”

She laughed softly, her smile growing still, like he was being so naïve. “Mark, I think you’re hot, all right? Why else would I keep hanging out with you?” Mark felt the blush in his cheeks return, not sure how he should be responding to this. “Don’t you think there’s something between us? You’re different from other guys I’ve dated.” She smirked still. “You’re not an asshole, for one thing.”

Mark blinked at this, noticing vaguely that Maureen was still on top of him and that he could therefore not get up, even if he had wanted to. “...Thank you...?”

“There you go. Compliments should yield thanks.” Her eyes twinkled as she lightly pecked him on the lips, one of her hands wandering up to the scarf around his neck. She began fiddling with the edge of the fringe, staring at it for a moment as she messed with it before looking back up at Mark. “Where did you get this scarf again?”

Mark swallowed to moisten his now dry mouth. “Um...my mom...gave it to me...”

She smirked at this, obviously trying not to laugh, causing Mark to blush slightly. “Why didn’t I expect that?” Her fingers crawled their way up the scarf until they met his neck, crawling up even farther until they were threading through his hair. Mark felt his heart rate quicken at the feeling of Maureen touching his skin, realizing this feeling was making him think more and more about things he hadn’t found himself thinking about for ages. “I bet it could be useful.”

That comment set his mind going, but he tried to hope that she was referring to the most common use of a scarf. “Well, it’s really warm during the winter...”

She laughed softly again, her hands falling back down his neck. “I was thinking of something else, Mark.” With that, her hands latched onto the end of the scarf as she stood up, pulling Mark up with her like some dog by his leash. His eyes widened in surprise as she gave him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away, smirking very deviously now. “I’m going to guess which one is your room, unless you want to show me.”

Mark felt his heart quicken as his eyes drifted over to the half-opened door that led to his room. Maureen’s gaze followed his, and she didn’t wait for a second explanation, leading him over to his own room. He didn’t even have a chance to confirm that the door he was looking at was indeed the door to his room. What if he had been looking at Roger’s room? Well, that didn’t seem to matter to Maureen, who was still pulling him along.

God, he really was doing this. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this, after so long of not even having sex. Roger had constantly told him that he needed a good fuck so that he wasn’t so uptight all the time, but nobody had been this willing. After all, SHE was the one pulling HIM into his room. That was a bit of role-reversal on his behalf.

II.

He didn’t remember exactly how they got to the position they ended up in. All he knew was that Maureen eased him down so that he was sitting on the bed, and she brought her soft lips to meet his, and he was kissing her back. He was so excited and hot that he didn’t notice the cold as she pulled his jacket off and dropped it on the ground with his goody-two-shoes button-down blue-plaid shirt quickly following, and he was so absorbed in her kiss he didn’t feel her ease him down onto the bed so that she was lying on top of him underneath the covers, and his mind was so fixated on how his tongue was exploring her mouth he didn’t even care as her hands laced around his scarf and pulled it off.

He did notice, however, as Maureen’s gentle and adept hands took his wrists with his scarf still in one of her hands and put them over his head, his wrists meeting the bedpost. He whimpered softly underneath her, and he could feel her smirk as she continued to kiss him, harder and more intent. He forgot again about everything else as he resumed only thinking of kissing her and she slowly wrapped the scarf around his wrists and the bedpost, only wanting her to kiss him more and more because it felt so amazing. But when she finally tightened the knot, he whimpered again, a little louder. Maureen pulled away from him, her nose nearly touching his own and her breath bathing his face in warmth. “I said you’d have to learn to be on bottom.”

Mark’s breath was short and excited as his heart pounded ferociously. “You didn’t say that...”

She smirked at him, pecking him once on the lips before continuing with her hands resting lightly on the scarf around his wrists. “Maybe not exactly.” She kissed him again, a little longer, just long enough for him to start kissing back and want more, before she pulled away. “But it was...implied.” Her hands lightly slid down his bound arms, causing Mark to shiver involuntarily. He had DEFINITELY never done this before, and the sheer anxiety was driving him insane. He had NO control over what was going on, and somehow he felt he could scream at her and she wouldn’t stop now. Mind you, he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to be doing this or not, and that decision had been snatched away from him as his hands were tied to the bed. Once her hands had made their way down his arms, they began lightly tracing down his bare sides, making his skin feel like an electric current was rushing over him as he shivered again. Maureen rested her hands on his bare waist and decided to choose now to reconnect their lips, and Mark dove in eagerly, wanting more of her breath-stealing kisses. He didn’t need to breathe if she was kissing him, he had decided, and that didn’t quite describe how much he needed her lips on his. Maureen pulled away, smirking, leaving Mark almost shaking with frustration that the kiss had been ended so soon. “You like this, Marky?”

Did he like it? Was the sky blue? Did rain fall down instead of up? Was that his erection becoming more and more evident as his jeans grew increasingly tight around his middle? “Yes,” he whispered with what little breath he had to spare for speaking, sounding more like a release of air than a word. “Yes,” he repeated, his brain not knowing what else to do or say or even think, except that he loved her kissing him and he loved kissing her...

The twinkle in her eyes sent him reeling as she lowered her lips again, not on his lips but on his neck. Mark moaned as she began sucking and nibbling at the skin there, her teeth just barely pinching him and making him so excited and making his heart race faster than he thought his ribcage could handle. She stayed right there, sucking and biting and kissing his neck as Mark tried to hold back even more moans, feeling one of her hands that had rested on his bare waist meandering farther down and passing over his jeans where his now very obvious erection was and lightly squeezing the inside of his thigh. He moaned even louder as his arms began to struggle against the scarf that had him bound to the bed, finding that she had obviously prepared for resistance as he didn’t even feel the knot budge. Maureen continued fiercely kissing his neck, her hand now massaging his thigh so dangerously close to his groin as Mark struggled to break free of the bond that was keeping him from grabbing her and trapping her underneath him and covering her amazing body in kisses and getting her to moan and squirm like him...

Maureen’s mouth suddenly began to work much slower, causing Mark to whimper as his addiction for her kissing kicked in. He felt himself shiver again as he felt her lips slide farther down his neck, pausing as they reached his collarbone, giving him a quick nibble there that made him moan with lust again before continuing down. He felt his throat close up in shock as he felt her lips choose to stop resting over his nipple. He whimpered as she began lightly sucking on it, his eyes clenched so tightly shut he thought he was going to never be able to open them again and his head pressing hard into the pillow behind him. He could feel her hand on his thigh working again, and her other hand was coming down from his waist to where the button of his jeans was. Mark was shaking now from the sheer force of these passions and needs that were filling his entire body. Just as she began working on undoing the button of his jeans with one hand and continued massaging his thigh with the other, she bit hard on his nipple as a strangled yelp of pain leapt out of Mark’s throat. She lifted her face just high enough so that she could look up at him, and he looked down at her, his eyes wide. Her eyes were still shining to match her almost arrogant sneer. “You need to relax.”

Mark whimpered as the hand that had been rubbing his thigh made it way back up, seemingly on accident grazing his erection again as it joined her other hand to finish unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping them. Mark’s head tilted back slightly as he shut his eyes again, trying in vain to steady his heartbeat to a point where he could breathe normally. He felt his jeans sliding off of his legs, and for the first time he realized just how cold it was in the loft as he shivered again. He was now wearing nothing but his white boxers, and he vaguely realized Maureen was still fully clothed in her t-shirt and her tight black pants. He heard his jeans land on the ground next to his bed, and all at once he seemed to realize something very shocking to him. His mind, his will, his own body...it wasn’t under his control anymore. It was hers. And the frightening part was he was enjoying it, loving the feeling of her kisses on his body, loving every second of it...

As Mark felt his heartbeat get even faster after he had already thought it would never get faster, Maureen slid slowly up his almost naked body, her eyes right at the same level as his. He stared into those eyes, feeling himself sinking into the mattress as for the first time since she had begun feeling his thigh he stopped struggling against the scarf binding his wrists. Her lips grinned seductively at him, covering his own lips in a passionate kiss as her hands rested on his bare chest. He loved these kisses the most, because then he could let out some of this tension in his entire body by pressing his lips back against hers and loving every movement of her tongue inside his mouth.

She pulled her mouth away from him, her hands sliding very slowly down his torso, one of her hands grazing over the teeth marks she had left on his chest before sliding down his stomach. He felt an amazing stirring in his crotch as he almost begged her silently to remove the last piece of clothing that was keeping him restrained. He wanted her to touch him there, wanted to feel the spasms in his stomach as she did whatever she did, and then he wanted to flip her over and land on top of her and thrust inside her so hard she would be moaning louder than him and they would be more than just lovers as their bodies meshed like that...like that...

His wishes weren’t left completely unanswered. He felt a breeze around his midriff as her fingers latched around the waistband of his boxers, lowering them so that they were around his knees. Mark was squirming with anxiety now, whimpering as her hands lightly wandered up the inside of his legs, his breath catching in his throat as his heart pounded in his ears. She began kissing his neck like before as both of her hands rested on either side of his cock, slowly and softly rubbing it. Mark moaned loudly, struggling once again against his scarf binding him, wanting so badly to grab Maureen as well. She picked up the pace with her massages, and Mark’s breath was coming in breathy gasps that refused to give his head sufficient oxygen to think about anything else except for the spasms throughout his body, the feeling of Maureen’s hands running up and down his erection, the feeling and the need of sex, sex like he had never needed it before. He was going crazy and he was falling faster than he had ever fallen before...

“Maureen...Maureen...oh, God...” He panted out her name, not knowing what else to say or do or even think as he continued to strain against the scarf around his wrists. “Please...please...”

Maureen’s mouth left his neck, her head falling down next to his, whispering in his ear. “Yes, Mark?” She continued rubbing and massaging him, and he was going to explode with the amazing feelings jolting through his body like an electric shock.

“Please...untie me...please...” He panted, begged, pleaded, groveled underneath her, knowing very well he had no other way to make his will known. Even his will wasn’t his anymore. It was all hers, all resting right in her palm, and she could do anything she wanted to it and he wouldn’t resist...

He could almost feel her smirking as she stopped rubbing him, and he took a very loud and shuddering breath that didn’t fill his lungs with enough air as her hands pulled his boxers back up and crept up his body, up his stomach, up his chest, his shoulders, his arms, until they were finally resting on the scarf that bound his wrists. He was shaking harder now with anticipation, imagining immediately the amazing feeling of her underneath him, and the feeling he would get when they both released all the tension inside at the same time, that...that was what he wanted. Her hands worked torturously slow as she undid the knot. The second he felt it loosen by just a fraction, he couldn’t wait anymore. He wrenched his hands out of the binds of the scarf, his arms aching from being in the same position for too long, grabbing Maureen’s wrists forcefully and rolling over. He covered her lips in his own, kissing her hard and long as he kept her own hands over her head.

Then he heard it. As he shifted his hips slightly, he heard it. A restrained moan of pleasure. He smirked with their lips still connected, kissing her even harder as he grinded into her more forcefully. She shuddered underneath him, and he could hear yet another moan, a little louder. He kept grinding, his hips sliding against hers as he pinned her hands still above her head. Suddenly the powerful woman that had him trapped moments before was struggling against his grasp, moaning and whining as his lips continued to work against hers, feverishly kissing her with all the lust and power he had. Her own breath was soft and weak against his, and she was somehow managing to pant a single word in-between kissing. “Mark...Mark...” Yes, this was what he wanted. He hadn’t heard his name spoken like that for far too long. He kept grinding against her, faster and faster, moaning softly underneath Maureen’s gasps for breath.

Just when he was about to explode from the friction, Maureen wrenched both hands out of his grasp, grabbing his hips and forcing him to stop. Confused, Mark stopped, his eyes opening to see her staring at her with desire and lust like he hadn’t seen in a woman before in what felt like ages. Her hands let go of his hips, moving to the button of her tight back jeans and faster than was ever thought possible began undoing the button and the zipper. She was panting as she unzipped the zipper, and as Mark helped her slide the pants down, he heard her whisper softly to him. “Fuck me...Mark, please...”

He smirked at how amazingly desperate she had suddenly become. He hadn’t felt this powerful (and, in all truth, slightly egotistical) before with a lover. “As you wish,” he panted as they tossed Maureen’s pants to side and they landed on the floor next to his jeans, long forgotten. Mark lowered his boxers again and planted a long and hard kiss on her lips as Maureen grabbed the back of his head and pulled him deeper into the kiss. He pulled away, his heart racing fast again, as he reached under his pillow for a condom. Even after a year of being dumped, he still kept one with him, just in case something like this happened. And for once, he didn’t feel odd that he was always so prepared for almost anything. He applied the latex to his penis, staring Maureen straight in the eyes with desire and overwhelming lust before sliding himself inside of her.

This was where the entire world spun out of control around him. He wasn’t able to think of anything else except for the amazing feeling of thrusting inside her, the sound of her heavy breathing meshing with his own as he felt her back arch so that her hips pushed against him. He sped up the pace, his arms pinning her wrists down again on either side of her head. She kept repeating his name over and over, echoing in his head. “Mark...Mark...Mark...!” He had never felt like this before, feeling so completely in control of such an amazing force. It was like he had harnessed the sun with a lasso. He began diving in deeper, and as her moans grew louder he knew he had hit the spot. He continued his thrusts, hitting that spot in her over and over again, and with each thrust she moaned even louder. “Mark! Oh, God, Mark!” He could hardly breathe, all of his energy going into his thrusts, feeling and knowing he was about to come...

Oh, GOD...

They exploded at the same time, and as Mark felt himself empty as if he was pouring his very soul into Maureen, he felt more in love with this feeling than ever before. When both of them were done, which didn’t take very long, Mark collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing heavily and hard. He felt their heartbeats next to each other, and somehow he felt them synchronized, beating at the same rhythm. He had never felt so amazing in his life. The two of them finally gave into their exhaustion from the force of their explosion, and Mark fell closer to sleep next to Maureen, holding her body tightly to him with her face nestled in his chest.

This was what he had always dreamed of, just as he fell asleep feeling her soft and warm lips on his own, kissing her so very lightly and tenderly as he held her. And when he felt her lips break the contact, he could hear her whispering as he fell asleep next to her. “Mark...Mark...” This was all he needed. Maureen with her kisses and her whispers and her touches...

This was everything he needed.

Rent: Going Insane

2006-05-06T23:16:31Z

Title: Going Insane
Author: Kiwi (kiwianime23)
Characters: Mark/Maureen
Word Count: 2,936 (That’s a LOT more than 2k!!! -see notes-)
Rating: Oh boy...NC-17!!!!!
Genre: ...It’s smut. With a bit of what I look at as comedy splashed in.
Summary: pre-RENT. When Mark thinks he’s over the woman of his life, she demonstrates for him how wrong he is.
Notes: OK, all my friends will be wondering why the HELL I’m writing smut. I never write smut. Well, I’m dictating a conversation between me and one of my friends. (They will remain nameless.) Me: God, this fic I’m reading is so SMUTTY! I mean, covered in smut. Her: You with your virgin mind. Me: My mind is not virginal! Her: Yeah. Virgin mind. Me: Is not. Her: You couldn’t write one word of smut. Me: Yes I can. ‘Lust.’ THERE! Her: Very funny. Try writing a whole fic. Me: How long? Her: At least 2k words. Me: YOU’RE ON! ...So that’s why I’m writing smut.
Special Thanks: My friend (nameless still) for challenging me, I guess. Oh, and Robert Palmer, for writing ‘Simply Irresistible’ and ‘Some Like It Hot’ for the inspiration. XD
Spoilers: None. It’s pre-RENT.
Warnings: Yeah. Pretty heavy smut. Bit of language.
Disclaimer: Larson Estate owns all of RENT.

.-.-.

It was the middle of June, and Roger and April were out at some club doing something (probably each other), and Mark was left sitting on the couch, as usual, in the humid June air that was trapped inside the loft. The moon was just barely shining into the loft through the always dirty windows, mingling with the single light of one of the floor lamps next to him. He was staring at the floor as he began to say out loud what he was going to say to Maureen when she walked in through that door. “OK, we need to talk. You haven’t been home for three nights now. Now, I love you very much, honey, but I’m really starting to wonder where you go during these...erm...” He stopped, trying to decide what word to use. “...absences. If this is ever going to work out, you’re going to have to...erm...come home sometimes. I know you really like going out at night to clubs and stuff, but I don’t want somebody taking advantage of you. I mean...” His brow furrowed angrily. He stopped, starting over. “We need to talk. You haven’t been home for three nights now. And, well...I think it’s very important in a relationship for the two people to be honest with each other. And I know you tell me you just like staying out at night, and I understand that’s fun for you, but I can’t help being suspicious. Don’t you think it’s important to be honest? That’s why if you aren’t really at clubs and doing...something else...” or somebody else, he thought bitterly, “...I would much rather you just tell me. So...”

Just then, there was the loud sound of somebody throwing open the sliding metal door in a hurry. Mark looked up immediately, immediately knowing by the twist in his stomach at the sight of a rushed and slightly sweaty Maureen in a bright red tank top and tight black jeans that this would be much harder than talking to the floor.

After combing a hand through her long brown hair to make her hair looks less messy, she looked up at the young blond on the couch, acting surprised. “Pookie! What are you doing up?”

There it is again. Pookie. She’s been calling me that a LOT lately. Mark bit his lip, standing up. “Hey, Maureen...”

Before he could even bring up that she hadn’t been home for three nights now, Maureen had pounced on him, locking her arms around his neck and pushing him backwards so that he fell back onto the couch with her on top, her lips stopping him from uttering a single word. He tried to not enjoy it, tried to tell himself he was falling too fast, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help kissing her back, his tongue trying to get in-between her lips. But before he could start kissing her properly, she had pulled away, smiling sweetly at him. “I’m so sorry I’ve been gone, Pookie.”

At these words, Mark remembered what he was supposed to be waiting up for. “Where have you been?” He sub-consciously raised his hand to lightly stroke her hair, staring right into her eyes.

Her bottom lip jutted out slightly, and Mark felt himself falling even faster. “I’m sorry. I tried to call you, but...my mom was sick, and I had to go and visit her.”

Mark blinked. He specifically remembered this morning listening as a fussy woman called the loft, leaving a message about how she was confused about what her little baby angel had left on her machine last night, and she wanted to make sure she was all right. Her mom wasn’t sick. “I’m...I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t know.” He felt his stomach tighten as he went along with her lie, a lie he KNEW was a lie. He should stop now and tag her down for once, make sure she knew he knew she was lying. But instead, he was doing this again, holding her because he was worried if he let go she would get up and leave.

She smiled sweetly at him again, pecking him lightly on the lips, leaving him hungry for more at such a teasing kiss. “I’m so glad you understand. I hope you’re not mad at me, honey.” With this, she lightly raised her right hand, tracing his defined jaw line with her pointer finger as he used every shred of will power he had to not shiver. “Is there any way I can repay you, sweetie?”

Mark smirked at her question, loving the feeling of her chest slowly rising and falling on top of his. “Oh, I’m sure you can work something out, honey...” With that, he used the hand still on the back of her head and pulled her face to meet his, tenderly kissing her on the lips. She quickly opened up her mouth to him, and he accepted the invitation as his tongue tangled with hers, kissing her with all the desire he had built up over the past few days at not being able to do this, using his free hand to slide onto the small of her back and pull her closer to him.

Suddenly, Maureen pulled her lips away from him, smiling seductively at him. “Let’s move this somewhere else, honey.”

He smirked back at her. “I’m fine right here.” He pulled her face back to him, kissing her a little harder than before, feeling the sweat that had accumulated on his skin from sitting in the humid loft causing his clothes to stick to him as he felt the two of them sinking into the couch. Just then, Maureen switched her weight and pulled both of them so that they rolled off the couch, landing on the floor with a thud, Mark now on top of Maureen. He had pulled away from her just in time so they didn’t end up injuring each other’s lips, both of their faces so close he could feel Maureen’s breath washing over his lips. He was smirking again, loving that Maureen loved this as much as him. (And if she didn’t, she was a damned good actress.) “In fact, I like it much better now.”

“You would,” she said, smirking at him as well. Their lips connected again, and this time Maureen’s hands were slipping underneath the front of his shirt, massaging his chest before sliding around to his back. He deepened the kiss, still keeping his hands on the back of her head and the small of her back as he kept her body pressed against is. Her hands came down farther on his back until they had grabbed the hem of the back of his shirt and began pulling it up. Mark pulled away, helping her remove his shirt. In moments Mark’s sweaty torso was exposed and he was kissing her once again, desperate for the contact.

Maureen was obviously enjoying how desperate Mark was, because she was now holding back much more, restricting how far in his tongue could go. Mark moaned angrily, his hands gripping her tighter as he tried to deepen the kiss. When he refused, his mouth began sliding down her face, kissing her neck as his teeth and tongue and lips worked on the sensitive skin. He smirked when he heard a moan inside her throat that he knew she was trying to hold back. He let his mouth slide down even farther, stopping just before he reached the strap of her tank-top, now feverishly kissing her shoulder. He used one of his hands to move the strap aside, kissing a little lower, his lips getting closer to her chest as he felt her back arch slightly with another moan. He pulled away to look up at her, seeing her staring at him, her dark eyes filled with desire like he knew his own were. He used both of his hands to slowly trace down her clothed sides, taking the bottom of the tank-top and gently sliding it up, revealing her perfect skin as Maureen’s hands joined his as they ripped off the tank-top together. As usual, she was not wearing a bra underneath, and Mark stared at her perfect torso for a moment before looking her in the eyes again, smirking. “I think this is good repayment.”

She was smirking back at him, as if daring him to continue. “I know how much you love it.”

Mark didn’t care if this statement had a hidden meaning, and he kissed her neck again, his mouth moving much faster down her jaw line, nibbling her neck for a moment before his lips grazed down to her shoulder. He could feel her heartbeat racing underneath him, and her back arched as he slid farther down her body, his lips plowing their path down until he was sucking on her nipple, hearing yet another moan from his lover. His hands were rubbing her back, his teeth just barely touching the tender skin.

Maureen’s heart continued to race with his own as he listened to her whisper lovingly to him. “Mark...Mark...” He loved hearing his name like that, like he was the only person in the world she needed. She didn’t need another soul, only him...

His lips slowly meandered into the middle of her breasts, taking a deep breath as perfume wafted over her. It was a new scent, one he had never smelled before. She always wore perfume, but this was different from the calming scent she usually wore. This one was captivating, puling him in with something that reminded him of something a little spicier and wild. He looked up at her, smiling. “Where’d you get this perfume?”

She smiled at him seductively. “Got it today at a shop with Mom. Just for you, babe. You like it?”

While he knew she hadn’t gotten it with her mom, this was a good enough excuse for him. “Love it,” he said softly, before his mouth began kissing the other breast and he heard her moan again. God, this was what he wanted, holding Maureen like this, kissing her like this, hearing her moan and whisper his name over and over. If he lived the rest of his life like this, he would be happy.

Suddenly, Maureen’s hands that had been tracing circles on his back as he worked on her chest pulled him up farther, trapping his lips in a deep kiss. Mark felt himself falling still, only faster now that he wasn’t the one doing all the work. No, Maureen’s tongue was the one that was exploring his mouth, making him go insane with lust and desire. Then, a little rougher than would be expected, Maureen shoved Mark over, and the two bodies rolled on the floor until Maureen was on top, her tongue still tangling with his as her hands began massaging his chest again. He could feel himself almost buzzing with excitement as Maureen’s lips left his mouth and trailed lightly down to his neck, only staying there a moment that felt like a year before pulling away, lightly pecking a trail of kisses that began at his collarbone. Mark’s breath was the one going fast now and his heart was the one beating so hard it was going to burst out of his ribcage as Maureen’s kisses trailed to the middle of his chest. Her hands were at his waist now, her fingers lightly tracing shapes on his skin as his own arms lay uselessly at his sides. He wanted to hold her, but now that her kisses were planting themselves on his stomach he couldn’t reach her chest or the small of her back. His stomach lurched as her mouth began kissing his stomach where his naval was, her hands leaving his waist and sliding to his belt. She began undoing the belt, still kissing his stomach, as Mark’s chest heaved with breaths. He had never had a girlfriend before who did these kinds of dominant things with him...maybe that’s why he couldn’t get enough of Maureen...

Just as Maureen was beginning to work on the button of his jeans, her mouth left his stomach as she looked up at Mark, who was staring at her intently. Her eyes were glittering mischievously, perfectly matching the smirk on her lips. “Say you need me, Mark.”

Mark’s breath caught in his throat. She could tell he needed her, needed her more than he needed air. She knew she could do anything to him, sleep with anybody, and she knew how to bring him crawling back. She knew all of this was true. Well, he could play her game, he thought, as he smirked back. “What if you’re the one who needs me?”

Her hands hadn’t stopped unbuttoning his jeans, something he hadn’t noticed until he felt his zipper coming undone. “Try telling your dick that, Mark.” Mark grimaced as he realized his penis was fully erect. Dammit. She had him. He couldn’t deny it now. She was the fisherman, and he was the little worm speared on the hook. Her fingers grabbed his jeans and his boxers at the same time, slowly sliding them down. Even though it was very warm in the loft due to the summer weather, Mark shivered when he felt himself exposed entirely. Soon his entire body was in the open, all of his clothes lying on the floor a few feet away from them. Maureen smirked up at him again, triumph etched all over her face. “Come on, Mark. You shouldn’t be ashamed that you’re enjoying this.”

Just when Mark was starting to think of a way to protest her and prove that he wasn’t completely under her control, she was kissing his stomach again, MUCH lower than before, a fragment of an inch away from leaving his stomach and kissing something else entirely. He moaned, his teeth biting his lip hard to stifle it and failing. Soon, he felt her warm breath washing over his penis and felt her mouth cover his erection. God, it was too much for him to handle. Her mouth was moving up and down, making him feel like he was about to explode if he didn’t scream. Holding in even louder moans, he wondered to himself that if she was sleeping with other men if she did this sort of thing to all of them and if she got the same reaction. His breath was insanely ragged and harsh, and he was loving it, oh so much, and he didn’t want her to stop...

She pulled away from him, and he was about to scream because she had stopped. He hadn’t even felt that amazing burst, that release...why the fuck did she stop?! She pulled herself up his body, and soon her face was inches from him with a smirk on her lips as he continued to pant heavily. “You’re gonna have to work for the rest, honey.”

Should he hate himself for succumbing like this to her? Oh, well, he didn’t care. She had him, and that was enough for him. He reached over to the couch, just underneath the cushion, pulling out a condom. When she looked at him curiously, obviously wondering why the hell he had a condom in the couch, he rolled on top of her as he began to unbutton her jeans as quickly as he could. “Just in case,” he panted, sliding her jeans and her panties down quickly, wanting to feel that pleasure NOW.

Maureen continued to smirk at him as he unwrapped the condom, putting it on. “You know, Mark, I love it when you get like this.”

He remained silent, readjusting his position so that he could enter her correctly. As soon as he was ready, he thrust himself inside her as she moaned. Now he was smiling as well. Take that, Maureen, he thought with more than a little bit of an egotistical tone. His thrusts became faster and harder as his hands gripped her waist, feeling himself get so much closer to exploding and releasing all of this tension inside of him. She had him, had him by her little finger. She didn’t even have to try to make him crave her and need her...

Amazingly, Maureen came before him, moaning loudly as she exploded with pleasure and lust. “Mark! Oh, god...Mark...” He smiled, giving one last thrust before he came as well, his moans mixing with hers as they clutched each other, Mark gripping Maureen’s hips, Maureen’s hands latching onto his back. When he felt himself empty, all of his energy spent, he pulled himself out of Maureen, trapping her lips in a hard kiss full of dominance and teeth. After kissing her for what felt like ages, he finally pulled away, letting his head fall down beside her, his body still on top of hers.

He listened as they breath slowed together, both of them calming from the intensity of their sex. Once he felt he could use his breath to speak again, he whispered to her softly. “I love you, Maureen.”

He felt her hand come up to meet his head, her fingers lacing themselves in his hair as she lightly turned his head to face her own. He saw that even though she was breathing hard like him, her lips were in a smirk still. “I know.” And with that, she pulled his head to meet hers, and as he rolled off of her Mark kissed her lightyly and softly, not caring that he had fallen so far into her grasp. If it always felt this amazing, he wouldn’t mind.

.-.-.

P.S. I just wrote the dirtiest fic I have ever written. Ever. Daaaamn.

Rent: Lonely Road

2006-04-05T04:08:15Z

Title: Lonely Road
Author: Kiwi (kiwianime23)
Pairing: None. Off-handed Mark/Maureen and Roger/April.
Word Count: 1,107
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst. Pure and simple.
Summary: I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known. Mark story.
Notes: This is a songfic (I don’t do these often) that was inspired when I was asked in a roleplay in which I was applying for Mark what song embodied my character. So I opened up my iTunes library and the FIRST song I saw was ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’. Now, at first glance, it doesn’t seem like a Mark song. But if you think over the lyrics, you’ll think otherwise...it’s a little spooky, lemme tell you...Dunno what compelled me to write it like he’s talking to the reader. It just freaking came out like that.
Special Thanks: To Carissa (_chibidragon_) for asking what song most embodied my character in her RP application, and to angelxcollins for telling me to write a song fic.
Spoilers: Pre-RENT, so not really. Unless you didn’t know Roger was a junkie. -GASP-
Warnings: Language.
Disclaimer: Larson Estate owns all of RENT. Lyrics (which are in italics) are from the song ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’ by Green Day.

I’ve been forced lately to think about myself. And trust me, it’s not easy. Imagine knowing that your best friend was going to die one day. The pain when I thought of how much sorrow this would mean for all of us. The anger when I thought of how he had fucking lied to me about doing heroin. The fear...god, the fear...

That’s why I had to hide. Don’t you get it? I’M the one who has to watch them die. I’M the one who has to keep a smile on my face and act like I don’t care, that everything will be just fine. Because I know it won’t be.

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don’t know where it goes
But it’s home to me and I walk alone

Let’s go back to the scenario I presented earlier. You’re sitting in the waiting room of a rehab clinic, and you’ve been here before. You’ve seen your best friend on drugs before, and you hated it. He said he would get clean, and he did. And then his girlfriend commits suicide, and before you know it you’re sitting in the same hard and unkind chair that refuses to be soft and provide comfort when nobody else has.

You see the scene now, don’t you? No, you don’t. You don’t know what it feels like when you walk in to the room where your best friend was taken to a week ago when you first dragged him in to see him staring at a piece of paper in shock, as if he didn’t see it coming from the note his girlfriend left him. You don’t know what it’s like to have to hold somebody and comfort somebody when you would rather take a brick and hit them over the head.

You don’t see what I go through. Nobody does. The dreams both of us had seem to be broken. He was going to write a great song, and now he doesn’t even pick up his guitar anymore, hasn’t for months. And I have to listen to his nightmares every night because my own nightmares won’t even let me shut my eyes.

Of course I had dreams. Doesn’t everybody? But they seem impossible now.

I walk this empty street
On the boulevard of broken dreams
When the city sleeps
And I’m the only one and I walk alone

I’ve realized lately, in this grueling process of thinking about myself, that in the end it’s going to be me, myself, and I. Collins was diagnosed around a year before Roger. Two friends in one year. Sure, I guess there’s Benny, but he left last month. Married some yuppie chick. Says he wants to build a cyber studio. I think I know why he really left. He’s too scared to watch what Roger’s going through. Sure, he’d never show it. I know him too well. But I bet that’s why he left me to cope with him.

And if you think I’m greedy and selfish for hating Roger for doing this to me...you’re crazy. You don’t sit with these nightmares, and the screams, and the cold sweat on your face. Sure, it may be insincere of me. But maybe if I only let emotions go skin deep, I won’t feel any more pain.

My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart’s the only thing that’s beating
Sometimes I wish someone up there will find me
‘Till then I walk alone

Collins asked me yesterday how I was doing. First time in a while somebody asked me how I was doing. He says I’ve been acting weird lately. Well, you’d be acting weird too. Do I have to explain it again? I mean, if this whole ordeal drives me insane, I won’t be surprised. I try to get out of the loft as much as I can, but there’s something...the nightmare I keep having, of coming home to find that Roger left his bleeding body in the bathroom and that I’m...I can’t leave the loft too long. I even locked the door into the bathroom once when I left, so that he couldn’t get in while I was gone...

Is that weird? Yeah, it probably is. But this whole thing is weird. No, it isn’t weird. It’s maddening.

I’m walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the borderline
Of the edge and where I walk alone

I don’t know how much more I’ll be able to take. It’s Thanksgiving now, and my mom left another message on the answering machine begging me to come home to see the family. I called her back for once, telling her that was basically impossible. And somehow during out conversation I let slip about Maureen.

You can look at my life right now and I bet you’d laugh. My best friends are either too far from home to see or never even leaving the loft. My girlfriend dumped me for a girl. If that’s not fucked up, I don’t know what is.

But then you’ll look at me and you’ll see a sarcastic guy probably. A little too cynical for his own good, probably, but still has that kind of weak smile that isn’t strong enough to make you confused but not so dull you think anything’s wrong. Hardly leaves the loft more than his friend unless he’s behind a lens.

Is that a bad thing? That I don’t want to watch my friends die? Sure, I’ve been thinking about myself, and I’m a downright coward. But don’t I have my reasons? Don’t I deserve to detach and not do the things I did before? Do I deserve anything that’s happened to me? No! I don’t. So you can’t judge me because I hide.

But you wouldn’t do that, would you? Why would you walk right up to the guy with the camera and tell him he’s living a lie? You agree, don’t you? I should be able to detach, because I shouldn’t have to even be going through this alone! God, if I was alone...if I was...alone...I mean, Roger may not be the best company, but at least...at least...god, if I was left alone...completely alone...

Then again, I’m already so isolated I might as well be. At least I’m the one doing the leaving and not them. I wouldn’t be able to handle it the other way around. I just wouldn’t.

Don’t you see that?

Read between the lines
What’s fucked up and everything’s all right
Check my vital signs
And know I’m still alive and I walk alone

Rent: Bohemian Day Care - Part 2

2006-03-22T00:10:54Z

Title: Bohemian Day Care (2/?)
Author: Kiwi (kiwianime23)
Pairing: NONE. They’re five, for pete’s sake.
Word Count: 2,400
Rating: PG, for Barbie Abuse XD
Genre: Humor, just plain cuteness
Summary: What if the RENT crew were all in day care together as kids? My spin on what a typical day of day care would be like, day two.
Notes: I decided I needed to write more about the escapades of our little chibi-Bohemians. Part One can be found here. (Or you can just scroll down a little bit...) Glad everybody seems to love baby Roger, but I better get some baby Mark love for this chapter. I also decided, for clarity issues, that day care is available Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Chapter One was a Monday, so today is Wednesday.
Special Thanks: Still to Dani (danii_girl) and Laura (didaverseend), who told me the idea was cute in the first place, and to all on _rentfic who have replied already to the first chapter!
Spoilers: None, really. No, seriously. NONE!
Warnings: Scary sunglasses...-shiver-
Disclaimer: Larson Estate owns all of RENT. I don’t think Jonathan ever wanted to torture his characters so by making them all four, though.

Mrs. Alyson was tidying up the play room quickly, constantly looking up at the clock. Five minutes to nine. She went over to the area where a fire engine, a tow truck, and an ambulance were messily shoved into a small cubbie-like compartment. She took them out one at a time, neatly setting them in. She wasn’t sure why she did this, but felt like it was a way to maybe teach this kids a bit of organization.

She looked back up at the clock. Four minutes. She went over to the little basket on the arts and crafts table where she kept all the art utensils. She laughed when she saw that neither the crayons nor the markers had been put back in their correct boxes. She dumped the coloring utenisls onto the counter, arranging them so that the crayons were with the crayons and the markers were with the markers. She saw that one crayon, a Purple Pizzaz one, had snapped in half. Smiling to herself, she went over to her desk, tossing the broken crayon in a door on top of a pile of broken crayons, dried out markers, and other assorted utensils that had witnessed the wrath of three year olds. She fished through a box, finding a new Purple Pizzaz crayon and going over to the table, replacing all the crayons and markers in their boxes. When she looked up at the clock again, she learned that she had two minutes.

Suddenly, she felt a tug on her coat. She turned around to see little Mark, who’s lower lip was trembling. She knelt down, looking him in the eyes. “What is it, Mark?”

The poor little boy looked like he was ready to cry. “My mommy says I need glasses.”

Mrs. Alyson had to work hard not to smile. Little Mark’s mom had always seemed like a very paranoid mother, and it didn’t surprise her that she wanted to put glasses on a five-year-old. “Well, Mark, glasses make people look very intelligent. Plenty of people have glasses.”

Mark looked up at Mrs. Alyson, a) obviously not believing her, and b) obviously not understanding the big words used in her sentance. “But I don’t want glasses.”

Just when she was ready to figure out a way to comfort the ailing Mark, she heard an excited squeal echo through the playroom. “MAAAARK!”

The blonde little boy’s eyes went wide as he was suddenly running across the room, over to where the toy trucks were all stowed. But before he could reach it, a very excited Maureen, today wearing massive plastic sunglasses with frames shaped like stars and a bright red wig, had given him a tight hug around the middle, pinning his arms to his sides. “Hiya, Mark!”

Mark looked like he was ready to scream, his brow furrowed. “Maw-REEEEN...lemme go...”

“I wanna play ‘Movie Star’, Mark!” Maureen kept hugging Mark tightly around the middle; he was only a fraction of an inch taller than her.

Obviously, this wasn’t the game of choice for little Mark. “Maw-reeeen, I dun wanna...”

She spun him around, now holding both of his hands excitedly. “I’ll be the movie star, and you can be my parparsi!” Maureen giggled at the use of a word she had heard at home yesterday when she had been given these glasses and told to watch out for the people with cameras that tried to get pictures of her from behind bushes.

Mark was finally able to get out of Maureen’s grasp, rushing over to the cubbie with the trucks and pulling out the tow truck, ignoring the fact that said tow truck was at the bottom of the stack and he caused all the trucks to come avalanching down to the ground. He plopped himself down on the ground, immediately beginning to ignore the pleas of Maureen to play ‘Movie Star’ with her. When Maureen had decided it was useless to try and persuade Mark into her game, she stood up, just when the door swung open to reveal a newcomer. Her face lit up as she rushed over to him. “Hey...you! What’s your name again?”

The boy blinked, eyes wide at suddenly being approached by a strange girl with oddly shaped sunglasses, instintively taking a step back. “...Benny.”

Her smile widened, disreguarding his shyness. “Wanna play ‘Movie Star’ with me?”

Benny blinked again, still a little stunned. “...Erm...I dunno how to play...”

Mrs. Alyson smiled, as slowly one by one the rest of the children began filtering in through the door. The day had begun.

...

“Hey you.”

Roger didn’t look up, still playing with his fire engine on the ground, his brow furrowed. Mark, however, looked up at the girl that had just run over to them. “What?”

The girl, with her brow furrowed as well, ignored Mark and merely bent down and very energetically poked Roger on the shoulder. “I’m talkin’ to you,” she said, poking him hard with each word.

Roger merely stood up, taking his fire engine with him, walked over two paces to the left, and sat back down, resuming rolling the fire engine back and forth. At this, the girl sighed. “I wanna play.”

Finally unable to ignore her anymore, Roger looked up at the small hispanic girl, obviously very annoyed. “You’re a girl. Girl’s don’t play with trucks.”

“Says who?” The little girl crossed her arms defiantly, now looking Roger in the eyes.

Roger blinked a few times, obviously a little surprised a girl could be this outgoing. “Says me,” he said, looking back down at his fire engine, deciding he was going to ignore the girl all together.

After letting out a sigh that came out in a huff, she marched over to the cubbies, looking around for something. During this time, Mark and Roger simply rolled their trucks around, crashing into each other once or twice. Suddenly, a third car crashed into Mark’s tow truck: a pink Barbie car, complete with Barbie and Ken dolls. “Hey!” Mark whined, looking up to see that the third car was being controlled by little Mimi.

Mimi looked up at Mark for a second, looking only the slightest bit apologetic with a small smile, but then turned to Roger, brow furrowed and bottom lip jutted out once again. “Now can I play?”

Roger mumbled something, but then simply got back to rolling his fire engine back and forth, neither accepting nor rejecting her. She took it as a ‘yes’, and began rolling her car around, while Roger acted quite surly and even purposely kept running into the Barbie car, hoping this would make her go away. Unfortunately, such endevors proved unsuccessful.

...

A very artistic Angel was sitting on a chair built for somebody of his height, observing his drawing. In front of him was a very rough sketch of what looked like a tree, even though it only mildy resembled one. His hand plunged into the crayons box next to him and came out with a Screamin’ Green crayon. Smiling contently, he began coloring the leaves sprouting out from the branches of his tree.

“What’cha doin’?”

The little artist looked up to see Thomas hovering over his shoulder, obviously intrigued. “Drawin’,” said Angel, smiling.

Thomas pulled over a small stool, sitting down next to him. “Can I watch?”

Angel giggled to himself. “Why don’t you try drawin’ something?”

After a pause, Thomas shrugged, grabbing a piece of paper off of the stack and setting it in front of him. He began scribbling something seen only to his eyes, and Angel resumed his own coloring. Once a few minutes had passed, Thomas announced proudly, “Done!”

Angel smiled. “Me too!” The two of them smiled at each other, exchanging pictures. They both smiled, looking at each other’s pictures. Both of them had drawn living, growing trees.

...

Over in another corner, by herself, was the small and contemplative Joanne as she sat in front of a dissasembled 6-piece puzzle. She had already put two of the oversized wooden pieces together, but she couldn’t seem to figure out what to put together next.

She looked up just in time to see a slightly dismayed Maureen walking by, her big glasses slightly askew. Joanne piped up. “Where are you goin’?”

Maureen blinked, stopping in her tracks and looking up at Joanne. “I wanna play ‘Movie Star’, but nobody wants to be my parparsi.” She sniffled loudly, rubbing her nose with her index finger.

Joanne looked back down at her puzzle, not wanting to play ‘Movie Star’ either. After a moment of silence, Joanne looked back up at Maureen, smiling. “Wanna help me with my puzzle?”

The suggestion must have been exactly what Maureen was looking for. She happily sat down, grinning from ear to ear. “Sure!” And with that, she grabbed two of the puzzle pieces, putting them together. Unfortunately, the two puzzle pieces didn’t seem to go together at the sides she was trying to connect them at, and she began mashing them together, as if doing so would change the fact that they didn’t fit, her eyebrows meshed together in concentration and frustration. After a moment, Joanne took one of the puzzle pieces from her and rotated it to the left, handing it back to Maureen. She paused, then put them together, finding that this new combination worked wonderfully.

...

While all this happiness (or surliness, in Roger’s case) was going on, one little boy was left out of all the fun. Benny was sitting alone, off to the side, not wanting to join Roger, Mark and Mimi. He rolled his police car he had brought from home back and forth, looking dismayed yet subdued. Not quite so sad that he looked like he was going to cry, but just sad enough he wasn’t smiling. He didn’t mind being new to the group, but he wished he could make friends easier.

In the middle of his own, quiet little game, he heard a voice above him. “Why you playin’ all alone?”

Benny looked up to see two boys standing above him, each holding a piece of paper. He hadn’t known them long enough to know their names, and he felt even more embarrassed when he couldn’t think of anything to say. One of the boys, the one with the darker skin, spoke up instead, relieving Benny of the chore of responding. “Why don’t you color something?”

Dismayed, Benny looked back down. “Don’t like colorin’.”

The other boy gasped. “DON’T LIKE COLORIN’?! How can you NOT LIKE COLORIN’?!” Benny sighed, not responding. After noticing the tension between them, both of the newcomers sat down beside him. “I’m Angel,” said the second boy who had seemed so amazed that Benny didn’t like coloring.

“And I’m Thomas,” said the first, darker skinned boy.

Benny blushed, which didn’t show very well due to his skin. “I’m Benny,” he mumbled, still rolling his police car back and forth.

Before long, Thomas had rushed over to the cubbie for the trucks, grabbing the last one (the ambulance) and bringing along some building blocks. He dumped his possesions on the ground, smiling. “Let’s make a city.”

“YEAH! And our trees can be the park,” said Angel happily, motioning to the two pictures she and Thomas had drawn.

Smiling weakly to himself, Benny simply nodded, not sure how to accept all the sudden friendship that had been offered to him.

...

Just as it had before, a little alarm went off. Mrs. Alyson looked up from her work, smiling. “All right, kids, clean up!” There was once again a massive flurry to clean up everything as quickly as possible. In the heat of the action, Mrs. Alyson rushed over behind her desk, puling out a plate. She called out over the chatter, “Don’t forget; Friday is Show-And-Tell!” Nobody seemed to hear her, since they were in such a rush to get cleaned up and get their treat.

This time, Mark was the first to finish, determined to make sure he got a treat this time. He rushed right up to Mrs. Alyson, happilly grabbing a brownie from the plate she was holding. She smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Mark. There’s enough for everyone this time.” Mark smiled at her, then turned to leave. “Oh, and Mark?” Mark paused, looking back at Mrs. Alyson quizically. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow with your glasses.” She looked up at Mark’s mother, who was standing in the doorway, who gave the teacher a very thankful smile. Mark simply smiled bashfully, rushing up to his mother to be taken to the eye doctor.

Joanne and Maureen got finished cleaning up at the same time, and rushed up to grab brownies. They both reached for the same brownie, stopping, and giggling at each other before Joanne changed her choice of brownie and both rushed off to their parents.

The next to come up was Benny, who grabbed a brownie silently before rushing out the door. He was closely followed by Angel and Thomas, who grabbed a brownie before waving ‘bye-bye’ to each other and rushing out the door as well.

The last to come up to the plate were Roger and Mimi. When Mimi realized she had reached the plate first, she tried to decide which brownie would be better to eat, smiling deviously to herself. She picked up one of them, immediately dissatisfied with her selection and setting it back down, grabbing the other one, stepping out of the way of the plate.

Roger had been right behind her, impatiently waiting to get a brownie. When he saw Mimi touch the other brownie, he scowled. When Mimi had stepped out of the way, smiling at Roger, he simply glowered back. Looking warilly at the brownie, obviously afraid to take it, he finally looked up at Mrs. Alyson, who was watching him curiously. “Can I have a different brownie?”

She laughed at him, smiling. “Roger, there’s only this one left.”

Glowering at Mimi again, he grudgingly took the brownie, immediately forgetting that it had been infected with cooties and stuffing it in his mouth. Mimi giggled at this, causing Roger to blink, not understanding what was so funny about him really liking brownies. He looked up at Mimi, blinking still, and then quickly rushed off, leaving Mimi in a critically hysterical state as she giggled, getting brownie crumbs all over the floor.

Rent: Bohemian Day Care - Part 1

2006-03-20T22:32:13Z

Title: Bohemian Day Care
Author: Kiwi (kiwianime23)
Pairing: NONE. They’re, like, five, for pete’s sake.
Word Count: 2,177
Rating: PG, for Matchbox car violence. XD
Genre: Humor, just plain cuteness.
Summary: What if the RENT crew were all in day care together as kids? My spin on what a typical day of day care would be like.
Notes: This was inspired through the idea of a little Mark pointing at Mimi saying ‘SHE DID IT!’. (Long story.) Amazingly, such an incident ended up never occurring in this fic. oo; I hope I kept everybody equal in the story. OK, SO I DEFINITELY DWELLED ON MARK AT THE END. Can you BLAME me?
Special Thanks: Dani (danii_girl) and Laura (didaverseend), for saying my idea was super cute in the first place.
Spoilers: None, really. No, seriously. NONE!
Warnings: OH BOY! MARKER TROUBLE!
Disclaimer: Larson Estate owns all of RENT. I don’t think Jonathan ever wanted to torture his characters so by making them all four, though.

Sitting in the middle of the carpet was a small, African American little girl, with a box of crayons in front of her and the black outlines of a coloring book page flower in front of her. Half of the petals had been colored in with a Midnight Blue Crayola in the little girl’s hand, and she looked quite proud of herself for almost coloring completely in the lines. Silently stuffing the crayon back in the box, she pulled out another crayon, Macaroni and Cheese. She began coloring the center of the flower in...When all of a sudden, covered all over her picture, was a big pile of glitter.

The little girl’s head snapped up to see another little girl wearing a vibrant red feather boa and with various rainbow ribbons in her hair tossing glitter all over the place. “I’m a fairy princess! I’m a fairy princess!” She seemed to be making up her own little song.

“Maw-REEN!” The girl on the floor whined. “You got glitter on my picture!”

Maureen stopped what she was doing, gasping and rushing over to the other. “Oooooh, Joanne, I’m sorry!” She began brushing off the glitter. When she had cleared off all the glitter (mostly), she gave a delighted squeal. “OOH! A flower! Can I help?”

“But I’m drawin’ it,” Joanne whined back.

Maureen gave Joanne a little pout. “Pleeeease?”

There was a pause, and then Joanne smiled. “OK. You can help.” And in no time, the two little girls were on the ground, fighting over if the flower should have a green or purple stem.

...

Over on the other side of the room, a small Hispanic girl was happily looking through four different markers she had laid out in front of her on the carpet. Which would make the walls prettiest: red, yellow, green or blue? Her brow furrowed as she thought. Suddenly, her face lit up in a smile. She grabbed the red marker, leaping up and beginning to draw what she thought looked like a butterfly on the wall. She made sure it was really big, so that everybody could see it.

“Miiiimiiii!” The little girl looked up from her work at the sound of a voice from behind her. “Are you colorin’ on the walls again?”

Mimi smiled, looking like the cat that had gotten the bird. “Hola, Angel!”

The little boy marched right up to Mimi, trying to act very professional and grown-up, his hands on his hips. “Now, Mimi, what did Mrs. Alyson say about colorin’ on the walls?”

The little girl simply grinned mischievously at Angel. “Not to do it.”

“Then why are you doin’ it?” He gave her a stern look, still imitating Mrs. Alyson, their day-care leader.

Mimi smirked at Angel. “Because she cleaned up our last picture.”

Angel blinked, looking around him to make sure nobody else was watching, then knelt down, grabbing the blue marker off of the ground and taking the lid off, beginning to color in the wings on Mimi’s butterfly.

...

“No.”

“Now, Roger, you need to use a nice voice...” The young woman who ran the day care was standing over a particularly disgruntled little boy who was clutching a toy fire engine.

The little boy simply glared up at the lady. “No.”

She had her hands on her hips. “Roger, what was the story about yesterday? About the lion that ate so much he got sick and didn’t share with the other animals?” Roger simply glared up at her, clutching the fire engine tighter. “Don’t you think you should share?”

“No. It’s mine.”

The young woman sighed. She looked behind her at a very timid looking boy behind her legs with blonde hair, his eyes wide in confusion. The woman turned back to Roger. “Don’t you think you hurt Mark’s feelings when you didn’t share?”

Roger didn’t say anything. The young woman sighed again, turning around to kneel down to eye level with the boy behind her. “Mark, why don’t you try bringing another toy over to play with Roger?” The little boy nodded meekly, dashing off, and the young woman stood back up, going over to two little girls who seemed to be getting in a fight. (“But flowers don’t HAVE purple stems!” “It’s PRETTIER!!!” “But they DON’T!”)

After sulking for a minute, Roger set his fire engine back down, setting a Matchbox car in front of it, running it over with his fire engine, making sounds like he was crushing the little car and revving his engine. “Vroom, vroom vroom...” He was completely oblivious when the little boy sat down in front of him, now holding a toy tow truck. After a moment of silence, Roger seemed to notice the intruder and looked up. The other boy blinked, but then looked down, reaching down and picking up the Matchbox car, setting it inside his tow truck. He moved it back and forth, making revving sounds like Roger had, and then tipped the tow truck over, dumping the little car out. There was a moment of silence, and then Roger took his fire engine, running over the car. Mark smiled, repeating his own actions. They continued this, both of them smiling contently.

...

Walking around the daycare was a very confused little African American boy, tallest of anybody in the group. He looked around multiple times, scratching his head and blinking. He seemed to be in intense thought for a moment before he trekked over to two other boys, who seemed to be playing with trucks. He watched them for a moment, his brow furrowed in confusion again. He then looked over at two girls on the other side of the room who were throwing crayons at each other.

After a moment of silence, he walked over to the two young girls, where a young woman was standing over them, trying to stop their madness. The little boy reached up, tapping the young woman in the side (it was the highest he could reach). The young woman blinked, bending down as the little boy whispered something in his ear. She nodded at him, straightening up. “Has anybody seen Thomas’ markers?”

No sooner had she said this had little Thomas begun giggling quite loudly. The young woman blinked again, bending down again to look at little Thomas, who continued giggling, pointing at the other side of the room. The young woman looked up, and her face drooped immediately at the sight of a young girl and a little boy, giggling happily as they drew all over the wall. “MIMI! ANGEL!”

...

“I think the fire engine is cooler,” said Roger, causing his own fire engine to roll back and forth on the carpet.

“But tow trucks can carry stuff,” said little Mark, doing the same with his tow truck.

The fire engine stopped rolling suddenly as Roger looked up at Mark, confused. “But...” He thought up an idea. “But fire engines have firemen. And they put out fires.”

Mark’s brow furrowed at this. Then he seemed to come up with a good retaliation. “But tow trucks can carry stuff.”

After a defeated sigh, Roger looked back down, getting back to moving his fire truck back and forth. “Aww, you’re right.”

“I think police cars are cooler.”

Both Mark and Roger looked up at the sound of a new voice, blinking. There stood another boy, a face none of them had ever seen before, holding a toy police car. Mark and Roger looked at each other, and then both looked back at the newcomer. “But what makes police cars cool?” Mark asked, blinking.

The new comer sat down. “Because they catch crinimals.” With that, the new comer began rolling his police car back and forth on the carpet. Mark and Roger exchanged looks again, and then joined him. They began enacting their own little made-up game. Every once in a while, one of them would crash into the other and one of them would make the proper exploding sounds. At one point, the newcomer crashed into Mark so hard Mark caused an ‘esplosion’ and Roger’s fire engine had to put out the fire.

The young woman appeared at the small group, smiling contently. “Well, Benjamin, looks like you’ve already made some new friends.” The boys all nodded, not looking up from their game. “Do you think you could include one more in your little game? His markers got all dried up, and now he doesn’t have anything to play with.” At this, they all looked up, seeing that the young woman had her hands on the shoulders of the boy Mark and Roger knew as Thomas, who was holding a toy ambulance. Benjamin moved over, making room for Thomas, and in no time the victims of Mark’s ‘esplosion’ had to be taken to the hospital.

...

“I drew the blue, Maureen!”

“But I want there to be pink petals too!”

Mimi and Angel, who were now marker-less and without a fun activity, looked back and forth between the two other girls who were fighting, not sure what to do. They were in the middle of a tug of war at the moment with their piece of paper.

“It can’t have pink AND blue, Maureen!”

“Joanne, it’ll look pretty! Pleeease?”

Finally, Angel stepped forward. “Why are you two fighting?”

The two girls stopped, looking up at the little boy. Maureen spoke first. “Angel, shouldn’t there be pink and blue petals?”

Joanne was obviously very annoyed by such a suggestion. “But you know there’s no such thing!”

Angel sat down on the ground next to them, easing them both to the ground as well and taking the paper out of their hand. “Fighting isn’t fun. We’re coloring!”

Joanne and Maureen looked at each other, and after a moment of silence they were both smiling meekly. Joanne looked at Angel, bashfully smiling. “We’re sorry.”

Angel giggled. “Don’t be sorry! Just tell me where your coloring book is.”

Joanne blinked. “Why?’’

Mimi finally stepped forward. “Because we wanna color too, silly!”

Before long, all four of them were happily sitting with their pictures, Maureen and Joanne coloring in their flower in harmony, and Mimi and Angel working on coloring in a new butterfly.

...

All of a sudden, a little alarm went off somewhere, and the young woman paused what she was doing, looking at her watch. “Oh, look at that! Your parents will be here any minute!” At that, all of the children jumped up, around the room to gather up their toys. They all knew the drill; you couldn’t get your treat until you were all cleaned up. Some kids even tried to clean up stuff that wasn’t theirs in the rush.

Soon, kids were already rushing up to Mrs. Alyson, getting their treat for the day: a cookie.

Maureen looked at Joanne’s cookie. “You got a pink cookie. I got blue.”

Joanne looked up at Maureen, seeing that this was true. Without a single word, the two of them handed each other their cookie, smiling happily with their trade before going their separate ways.

Mimi and Angel looked at their hands, seeing that they had marker all over them. They looked up at each other, smiling and giggling, before going off their separate ways, already thinking up in their heads what story they would have to tell their mom when they got home about the stains all over their fingers.

Tom kept examining the police car over and over. “Where’d you get this police car?”

“My daddy got it for me.” Tom said nothing, still looking it over. “You can borrow it if you want.” He looked up at Benny, who was smiling bashfully.

“No, you keep it,” Collins said, shoving the police car back at Benny, grabbing a cookie before running out the door. Benny smirked, holding his favorite toy lovingly before grabbing his own cookie and doing the same.

A very disgruntled Mark ran up to the plate, having been distracted by the fire engine and the tow truck when cleaning up, only to find the plate empty. Mrs. Alyson looked at him with a sad face. “I’m sorry, Mark. I only brought seven; I wasn’t expecting a new face.” Mark’s face drooped sadly, and he turned away, ready to go home without a cookie.

Suddenly, he saw half of a cookie being stuck out in front of him. He blinked, looking up and seeing Roger holding out half of his cookie, looking away from him. Mark blinked, taking the half of the cookie and looking down at it in amazement. Mrs. Alyson smiled at Mark and Roger. “Mark, what do you say?”

He smiled shyly up at Roger. “Thanks.”

Silence. “Roger?” prompted the young woman.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered back, dashing off when he saw his dad walk in the door without a second glance at the blonde-haired boy. Mark looked at his half of his cookie again, smiling to himself before going off when he saw his mom.

Everybody got a cookie. Isn’t it great when life turns out like that?

Rent: Stumble

2006-03-20T21:29:09Z

Title: Stumble
Author: Kiwi (kiwianime23)
Feedback: (Following suit of many others) HORRIBLE! DISGUSTING! You even THINK of reviewing, I’ll hunt you down and attack you in your sleep!!!
Pairing: Roger/Mimi, Mark, Collins
Word Count: 1,951
Rating: PG-13, for Drug Mentioning
Genre: General, a bit of drama
Summary: A wrong step and a trip can mean too many different things.
Notes: See? I’m still alive. I’m entering this finally, since I was forced to go to my grandparent’s house to celebrate my grandpa’s birthday. Hence, I have hours of free time, and therefore much time for writing.
Spoilers: Yeah, you find out Collins is gay! -GASP!-
Warnings: Erm...
Disclaimer: Larson Estate owns all.

Peoplelike Mark Cohen didn’t socialize. They kept their heads down, intent on counting the colors of the linoleum tiles in the hallway. They clutched their books close to their chest, the sounds of the other teenagers falling on their ears like a storm of sounds. Laughs, yells, whispers...lots of whispers...mutters...lots of mutters...

People like Mark Cohen didn’t have friends. They didn’t join any of the clubs, preferring to head straight home at the end of the day to barricade themselves in their room with nothing but their camera and a projector. They didn’t make ‘art’ of anything in particular, even though they often found that their most common subjects were the other teenagers. Especially the couples. The passion they showed to each other was amazing to watch, but people like Mark Cohen weren’t sure they were strong enough to take part.

So, when a person by the name of Mark Cohen walked down the hallway, he never looked up, never made small talk. He only concentrated on his next lesson, or the next idea for a script. When he heard whispers, he blocked them out, like he had always learned to. When he had listened to what they had said, it had been harder. ‘That geek’ and ‘The Camera Dork’ fell on deaf ears now, when he was wiser and knew not to listen. It was better to bottle everything up.

He kept his eyes glued to the ground, thinking about his next class. History. He remembered the previous night, when his mother had been yelling at him. “Mark, why aren’t you turning in your work for history?!” Well, he knew why. He was always working with his camera, instead of doing homework for teachers that were dumber than him. But that didn’t satisfy his control freak of a mother. “Mark, if I get one more phone call from your teacher, I’ll take that camera away from you. I don’t care who gave it to you, be it your grandpa or some random man on the street, you will not turn your homework in late.” Why did she care? He didn’t.

Just then, he was snapped out of his trance by a sound in front of him. He glanced up for a moment, pausing to look ahead. His brow furrowed an inch deeper than normal, he kept walking, knowing he had five minutes to climb a staircase and go down two hallways. Plenty of time. But that wasn’t why he was walking quickly.

The group of motley boys, a stash of marijuana cleverly hidden from sight but the smell quite apparent, was laughing quite audibly. Mark wasn’t able to block out one of their comments, loud and obnoxious. “Hey, look, boys, it’s the artist!” Mark pulled his books a little closer to his chest, quickening his pace as he ducked his head, hoping they wouldn’t see the camera clutched behind the books. “He’s got his little camera with him!” Mark felt his face flush a deep red as he tried to walk past them as fast as he could, concentrating so much on getting away, he didn’t see one of them come over to him. “Hey, dork, I’m talking to you!” Mark kept walking as fast as he could, not wanting to indicate that he heard them.

Suddenly, there was a leg extended in front of him, and he, having been so intent on walking quickly, wasn’t able to step over it. Soon he was falling forward, his arms wheeling forward to try and break his fall, abandoning their previous task of protecting his camera. With nothing holding them up, camera and books fell to the ground, skidding a few feet forward across the linoleum as Mark landed face first on the tile amid roars of laughter.

His face a brighter red than ever before, he stumbled forward to grab his camera, but just as his fingers outstretched for it, the boy that had tripped him up kicked it lightly, and it skid a few more feet forward. The boys were now a chorus of jeers as Mark practically crawled on the floor to snatch it up before a passing girl trampled all over it. His fingers gliding over the cool black surface, he tried to feel for any cracks, not paying attention to his glasses now hanging uselessly off of his face. There were echoes of laughter around him as he, oblivious to the rest of them, struggled to make sure his only passion wasn’t damaged.

When he had finally determined that it was not damaged in the slightest, he roughly shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, turning around to grab his books, only to find the group of boys fingering through the pages of his notebook, laughing. Mark’s stomach lurched, remembering what he had written within the pages of that notebook. He saw them begin laughing as the boy who had tripped him moments before flipped open to a particular page. One of them called out, “Look at this one!”

Mark lurched forward, stumbling as he went. “Come on, gimme that back...”

The boy holding the notebook began reading aloud. “Zoom in on a painstakingly beautiful girl as she blows a passionate kiss to the coffin as she is pulled away.” There was a chorus of mocking ‘aww’s as Mark’s face turned a new shade of red. “Ain’t that cute!”

Mark tried to reach for the notebook, but the boy pulled it just out of his reach. “Guys, come on...”

“You want it back, dork?” Mark had to jump to reach up for it, and even then the taller boy kept pulling it just out of his reach. “Jump for it, little girl!” They were all laughing at him as he kept jumping. Hating himself for allowing it, a single tear leaked out of the corner of his eye, falling to the ground before anybody could notice its shimmer. “Come on! Jump!”

Suddenly, a hand of somebody much taller than him snatched the notebook out of the hand holding it up. Mark stopped, turning to look at the newcomer, a slightly grim looking boy he had seen before roaming the hallways. Mark blinked at him as the odd stranger glared at the boy that had been tormenting Mark. “Hey, jerk, cut it out.”

The other boys were giving him an odd look, as if they were disgusted at him in a way, yet almost...scared? One of them called out uncertainly, “junkie.” This earned a few snickers from a few of them, which earned a very sour look from the newcomer. “Hypocrites,” he said with a smirk, gesturing to the stash of pot they had failed to conceal. They scattered, as if realizing that revealing such an item in the hallways would only earn them trouble.

Mark stuttered slightly as he looked up at his rescuer as he roughly handed him his notebook. Still shocked from the whole ordeal, he muttered softly, “Thanks.”

The boy looked him straight in the eye, stern. “You gotta stand up for yourself, Cohen.”

Mark blinked. “How do you know my name?”

He smirked slightly. “We’re in C.A. together, dumbass.”

Mark couldn’t suppress an embarrassed chuckle as he knelt down and gathered up the rest of his books, nestling his camera safely behind them. “Yeah. I forgot.” He had actually never really had anybody call him a dumbass before. Nobody had ever considered themselves familiar with him to call him something like that and it not be taken personally.

...

People like Tom Collins didn’t care what others thought. They simply kept going with their lives, however screwed up they are, no matter what mumbles they heard whenever others thought they couldn’t hear. Even though the always could hear, they pretended like they couldn’t.

People like Tom Collins were bold no matter what. Others looked at people like Tom Collins and thought they were either insane, stupid, or quite possibly both at the same time. But they would just shrug it off, declaring whatever bold statement they had at the top of their lungs, high above the rest of them.

So when a man by the name of Tom Collins was sitting in a required government class (required if he wanted to graduate with a degree in philosophy, that is), it was only fate that he would probably end up being bold, as usual.

He could hear it loud and clear, obviously. A pair of girls, talking in hushed voices as the class ‘worked’ on reading the current chapter, about laws concerning marriage. “Did you hear these two faggots got married?”

Usually Collins didn’t pay attention to these kinds of things, knowing the girls were simply uneducated and oblivious, but unfortunately a boy sitting nearby suddenly raised his hand. The college professor perked up his head, obviously not haven’t been paying attention to the class. “Yes, erm...Burges?”

The boy glanced warily at Collins, who happened to be sitting only two seats away from him, before looking back at the teacher. “Sir, what are the laws concerning same-sex marriage?”

This was when one boy with blonde hair and a defiant smirk thought it wise to speak up. “You mean faggots?”

Of course, usually Collins would let the word ‘faggot’ slide. But not in this case. Suddenly he found himself on his feet. “I object! Marriage is about love, right? There are no laws prohibiting a Caucasian male from marrying an African-American woman, right? Why should there be laws restricting gender?!”

The professor didn’t seem quite prepared for this kind of bold remark in the middle of a government class. “Erm, Mr. Collins, could you please take your seat...?”

But Collins continued. “It’s biased and immature opinions like this that are smothering our very way of life! Virtual reality is taking over, right?!”

“Mr. Collins, that is quite enough – “

“No, I’m not finished!” Collins faced the now quite pale boy with blonde hair, who looked like he would faint from the sheer power of Collins’ presence. “I want everybody to know that the cowardice of today’s people is deteriorating our very way of living! The government, the media...we should take heed!”

“Mr. Collins – “

“I know.” Collins gave a satisfied smirk. “Quite enough.” With a very arrogant attitude about him, he resumed his seat, enjoying the stark shock that penetrated the air around him. He had made a statement, and he loved it.

Suddenly, a bell tower tolled in the distance. The young adults scurried to gather up the last of their books, stuffing them in their book bags. The boy from earlier passed by Collins’ desk on his way out of the door, and Collins could hear him mutter very loudly in his ear, ‘faggot’. Before he realized what he was doing, he had stuck out his leg in front of the idiot. Next thing he knew, he was on his stomach, and Collins was quickly rushing out of the classroom amid laughter. He smirked to himself, long after he had left the classroom.

...

People like Roger Davis didn’t let their emotions run wild like this. He had to run away. He couldn’t stand the thought of Mimi being taken away from him, so he left her. But now it was so hard to walk along the streets of the sunny city without wanting to collapse and break down.

Every day as he walked down the street, he would see different people walking around. And, just for an instant, he would see Mimi. Her flowing hair, her brown eyes, the silhouette against the blazing sun. And then something would mar his path in the street, and he would stumble. By the time he had regained his balance, she was gone.

Rent: Buzzline

2006-03-20T20:38:39Z

Title: Buzzline
Author: Kiwi (kiwianime23)
Characters: Mark/Maureen
Word Count: 1,281
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humor
Summary: A new television brings up conversations about sleazy news shows, sell-outs, and a little ruby ring causing a lot of problems.
Notes: Pre-RENT, even before Roger met April. So this is the Roger we don’t see much of, non depressed/high Rog. XD Maureen isn’t quite living in the loft, yet, though. Don’t think. Probably October-ish 1987.
Spoilers: None, really. Unless you count the little foreshadowing comments about Buzzline spoilers.
Warnings: Bitsy bit of language, and a phone call!!!
Disclaimer: Larson Estate owns all of RENT.

“Thank you, Patrick, for that exclusive interview. In other news...”

“You’re watching that sleazy shit now, Roger?” Mark raised an eyebrow at Roger as he threw his camera bag on the couch next to Roger as his roommate continued to fiddle with the back of an old television that dulled all the lines and colors from the show they were somehow picking up.

Roger glared up at Mark for a moment before returning to the television. “I can’t get it off this channel. It’s all I’m picking up.”

“Not even actual news? Not that local news’ much better, really...” Mark disappeared from view for a moment as he ducked behind the couch, looking for something underneath it.

“...We’re sending it down to Brenda now to look into this hot new case!” “Thanks, Alexi! Yes, it’s true! The infamous band of the 8BC, the Gunpoints...”

Roger emerged around from the back of the television for a moment, peeking over the top to look for a moment at the screen. “’Infamous band’? How come I haven’t heard of them?”

Mark shrugged, still digging for something underneath the couch. “Some new band out there.”

Roger walked around the television, examining the fuzzy picture a moment longer. All of a sudden, he began pointing frantically at one of the people on the screen. “I know that guy! That guy! He wanted to be in our band!”

As if he really cared, Mark popped up, his left eyebrow raised yet again. “Suppose you didn’t let him in.”

The guitarist waved a hand at Mark, motioning him to be quiet. Now both of Mark’s eyebrows were raised like theatre curtains as he listened to ‘Brenda’. “Here is an interview with the lead guitarist, Blake Hammer...”

Roger let out a harsh laugh, going back around the television to continue fiddling with its many wires. “Hammer. He was a sell-out if I ever saw one. Ended up walking out of the audition saying he didn’t want to work with ‘bums like us’ anyways.”

Mark laughed as well, though his was a little more half-hearted. He hadn’t met Roger’s band yet, but he had a feeling from what he had heard of them that they were not exactly ‘sophisticated’, as his mom had usually called people like that. People like Roger, he thought with a mental voice that reminded him immensely of his mother.

Thankfully, Roger didn’t notice the half-hearted sag to his roommate’s laugh. There was a silence, during which both of them listened to Blake Hammer’s static-wrought voice from the television. “...really excited about our success. We’re planning to sign a record deal with a big company and get our first album out by the first of next year...”

Roger remained silent, but Mark piped up. “A new album out in nine months? That’s impressive.” Silence. “Erm, isn’t it impressive, Rog?”

“Sell-outs” came Roger’s crisp reply. Noticing that he had hit a sour spot, Mark resumed his search underneath the couch for whatever he was looking for.

Amidst the silence, the phone suddenly rang out. Once. Twice. The voice machine took over with their newly created ‘Speak’.

“Hi, Pookie, it’s me...”

There was a sharp ‘Ow!’ from the vicinity of the couch as Mark hit his head on the bottom of the couch. Roger suppressed the laughs that just begged to come out as Mark hurried to the phone as quickly as he could. “Are you there, Pookie, Sweetie? Oh, shoot, you’re not there...”

“HI...Maureen...” Mark grabbed the phone as quickly as he could, attempting to catch his breath as excited squeals floated through the loft. “Yes, Maureen...I just got back a minute ago...I’ve been looking for it...Are you sure you left it here?...I’m looking! I swear I’m-OK, OK...Maureen, please...I’ll find it, don’t worry...OK, Maureen, OK...I will...Yes, I...Maureen, I can’t look for your ring if I’m on the phone...OK, thank you...I...I love you too, honey...Yes, I’ll call you when I find it...Ok...OK...BYE, Maureen!” Mark slammed the phone down, breathing heavily as if he had just run a mile. Roger immediately broke into a hysterical fit of laughter, rolling on the floor. “ROGER!”

After a few deep breaths, Roger resumed his task with the chords. “Man, you’d jump off a bridge if she asked you too...”

“I would NOT!” Mark’s face was brighter than a bright red balloon as he went back to the couch, bending down on all fours and resuming his own chore.

More laughter. “Now, I may have flunked senior English, but I can quote Shakespeare.” He formulized a Shakespearean accent on the spot, and spoke in his most ‘sophisticated’ manner. “Me thinkest thou doth protest too much!”

“FOUND IT!” Mark emerged holding a miniscule ring with a gold band and a glittering ruby catching the little sunlight that filtered in through the dirty windows. The young filmmaker took a few more deep breaths, as if just finding the ring had spent all of his energy, and then trudged over to the phone. “Gotta call her back, now...”

Roger suddenly stood up, glaring at the television, kicking it. The image on the screen disappeared suddenly. “Fucking piece of shit.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “You’ve gotta take some anger management or something.” This only earned a sour glare from his roommate as Mark picked up the phone, dialing a number. A pause. “Maureen? It’s me...Mark! Who else would...Yes, Pookie...” He put his hand over the receiver, glaring at Roger, who had just fallen on the couch in a fit of laughter. “Shut UP!” He removed his hand from the receiver. “Yes, I’m here. Roger was being an idiot. ...Oh, you know Roger...” Mark couldn’t suppress the smirk that surfaced from the sour look he received from the guitarist on the couch. “Yeah, I found it...I’ve got it right here. Do you want me to bring it to you?...Wait, WHAT? Maureen, I...Maureen, you know I don’t like...TOMORROW?! Come on, Maureen...Oh, please, Maureen...I just hate those...I have not been filming non-stop! I spend time with you! Don’t...please, no...no, stop crying...Maureen...OK. OK. Sure. ...Yes, tomorrow is fine. Yes, Maureen...OK...OK. I’ll...see you tomorrow.” He slammed the phone down again with a look on his face like he had just received his death sentence.

Roger looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What is it?”

The look of dread Roger saw on Mark’s face nearly made him start cracking up again. “Maureen...wants me to take her out on a date.”

This was not what he had been expecting. “But...you hate going out with her. She got you...” He began laughing softly, shaking his head. “Man, she’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Mark’s eyes were closed as he collapsed on the couch next to him. “And...she wants to go to a club.”

“She got you to agree to take her clubbing?!” This was amazing. “Well...that works out. Me and the band have a gig tomorrow. You can come with us.”

Mark sighed, his face buried in his hands. “OK...”

All of a sudden, the television turned on of its own accord. The annoyingly perfectly dressed anchorwoman smiled at them through the now clear picture. “And that concludes this hour of Buzzline. Until next time, viewers, this is Alexi Darling, reminding you to keep your day sunny and darling!” She gave an annoying wink, just as a boot shot out at the screen, shattering the glass and creating a hole where Alexi’s face had been moments ago.

Mark stood up, stuttering. “Roger! We saved up money for ages to buy that! And i-it was working!”

Roger rolled his eyes, picking up his guitar and beginning to pluck out the beginnings of a disconnected song. “I hate watching that sleazy shit anyways.”

Rent: Over and Over

2006-03-20T10:07:34Z

Title: Over and Over
Author: Kiwi (kiwianime23)
Characters: Roger/April, off-mentioned Mark/Maureen
Word Count: 1,265
Rating: PG-13, borderline R
Genre: Romance/Drama/Angst
Summary: I didn’t think I would ever need anything except his love... April POV. Pre-RENT.
Notes: Basically inspired by my ‘RENT-Alumni’ solo-album collection (Anthony, Idina, and Adam’s CDs. XD). Not that each song is a stage in the story. More like little bits of pieces of the lyrics worked perfectly.
Spoilers: April dies. OMG! XD If you are unfamiliar with the stage show, however, may learn a bit on her death. Then again, you’ve probably figured it out by now. XD
Warnings: Sex (It’s short, not extremely graphic), Language, Drugs, Suicide. (Chock full of shit. XD)
Disclaimer: Larson Estate owns all of RENT. Lyrics belong to various ‘RENT-Alumni’. See end of fic.

I love you, Roger.

That’s all I could say to him, my breath lost as our pulses beat as one, our bodies meshed into one, the sheets sticking to us.

I love you, April.

That’s all I heard, aside from satisfied moans, the sound of him pressing him against me and inside me.

All I ever needed was his love. I never needed anything else before, and I didn’t think I ever would need more...

I thought that I knew what you wouldn’t do
I thought that I knew everything and more

“Roger, what are you doing?”

My Roger, my only love. I loved him so much, but I would have never suspected...ever since we met, I had been told he did this. By Mark, Collins, Maureen, his band mates. Even so, I had never truly thought it was like this as he huddled next to me in a damp alleyway that sheltered us from the rain.

“April, this is the best thing you’ll ever have...” He had this amazing grin, the grin that seemed warm and inviting. That grin would make her do almost anything for him. “You always keep talking about how the entire world is basically fucked up beyond repair...”

“Roger, I don’t know.” The needle in his hands was frightening to her at first. She had been afraid of needles when she was younger...she had even cried when she got the smallest shot. “I heard something about this before...”

He gave me a look in his eyes, and from the way he looked at me, with such seriousness and sincerity, I would have sworn my life on whatever he said next. “April...this will make everything better. I don’t think about how horrible life is now...it’s all beautiful. Please, April...” His eyes penetrated my soul like a razor. “Do this for me. With me.” He brought his face forward, putting a hand behind my neck, our lips meeting. I kissed him back, stroking his own hair with my own. When we pulled away, he was pulling out a band of cloth, gently tying it around the upper part of my forearm. His touch told me everything would be great from now on.

Too much time is taken up
Watching people suffer
Now I’ve got to take these drugs
So I don’t see it over and over...

I probably had been shooting up for a month when I realized that it was becoming more than just a quick escape. It was once a day. Then it was twice. Soon, I was sneaking off and shooting up, refueling my system, once every six or so hours. Once the creeping feeling that covered my skin began to fade, I knew if I didn’t get more heroin in my system I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Besides, hadn’t I myself said that the entire world was fucked up? That’s what Roger told me when we shot up together at night. We would stay high together, and the connection was more than I would have ever imagined possible.

But then the awful voices crept into my head. One of them sounded an awful lot like Mark. Another sounded like my mother. Then it was Maureen. Before I knew it, I had a chorus of voices telling me. The one that sounded like Mark was loudest, because he was the person I saw most besides Roger, since they lived together. Mark’s voice kept telling me that I wasn’t helping anything, that I was doing something that I would regret. My mom’s voice was crying, asking me what had gone wrong with her precious little girl.

And then there were the voices that told me otherwise. Voices like Roger, and somehow my own voice duplicated subconsciously. Roger would tell me how much he loved me in my head, while in real life Roger hardly told me, especially not right after he shot up. We would simply sit there in our own bliss. But the few minutes before I knew I had to shoot up again, I would be the most scared.

Scared of myself. Scared of what I was doing.

She must be strong
She must not give into their song
She’s hearing voices in her head...

One evening I kept screaming at myself not to do it, that the drugs were the reason I was like this. But my entire body needed the drugs, more than I cared about anything else. So I couldn’t do it. When Roger solemnly handed me the needle, I was shaking, and I dropped it. The point shattered, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

The first thing I remember is burying my face in my hands, sobbing, wishing I hadn’t gotten myself into this. It had been eight hours since my last dose. I was starting to feel horrible. I knew what would happen soon, but I had no drugs to put into my system. Yet a tiny voice in my head, my own, just barely audible over my own body’s cries for heroin, was telling me that my life was shit already, and drugs weren’t making it any better. I was just fucking myself over.

At some point, Roger grabbed me by the shoulders, even shaking me slightly and sharply as he asked over and over why I had done that, and that he thought we were able to do this together, and why I was crying like that. But he was really just begging for me to somehow magically produce more drugs, because he probably needed them more than me.

I’m standing here pleading
While you just cover your eyes

When Maureen told me a while back, when I first started the drugs, to get tested for the HIV virus, I refused. I didn’t see the point. So the day after my breakdown, when she knew I was so high I wouldn’t have paid attention, she led me to the clinic, telling me that it was for my own safety. So, just barely still on my high, I agreed. I was alone in the room with Maureen when I receive my report.

Maureen hugged me, left me for a moment to call the loft (I think it was to tell Mark to do something to get him out of the loft), then came back in and hugged me some more. I couldn’t stop crying. And I was getting off of my high, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Feeling so bad I could hardly think straight, Maureen helped me get home. I remember sitting on the couch, thinking to myself that my life was over. I had a death sentence. I was going to die. Maureen didn’t know what to do, so she said she had to go and would be back later.

By the time she was gone, it hit me. Roger and I had shared a needle every night for at least the past month. I didn’t know what to do. How could I tell him that we were both HIV positive?! I couldn’t...just tell him...how could I even keep going now? I didn’t want to shoot up, but if I wanted to stay alive I had to...

Who said I had to stay alive?

It made sense the second I said it. I didn’t have to stay alive. If life was so rough, I could just end it.

When Roger got home, just getting off of his high, he found me, lying dead in the bathtub, drenched in my own blood, with a note taped to the mirror with three words: ‘we’ve got AIDS’.

Angel wandered too far from grace
But she saved the sinners in soul

((Lyrics credited to...
‘I thought that I knew’ = from ‘Now I Know’ by Anthony Rapp
‘Too much time is taken up’ = from ‘Mother’s Child’ by Adam Pascal
‘She must be strong’ = from ‘Larissa’s Dragon’ by Idina Menzel
‘I’m standing here pleading’ = from ‘Rhyme and Reason’ by Adam Pascal
‘Angel wandered too far from grace’ = from ‘Undiscovered’ by Adam Pascal))

rent100: 'Seeing Red'

2006-03-20T10:01:57Z

((Posted in the rent100 challenge with the prompt 'red'. As always, word limit was 100 words.))

Title: Seeing Red
Author: Kiwi Anime (kiwianime23)
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Characters/Pairings: Maureen/Mark, hints of Maureen/Joanne
Author's Notes & Ramblings: Random. Drabble. Voila. 100 words. HA! Maureen POV. Would give it about a PG.

"Some other time."

That’s all he kept saying to me. Some other time, he would put down the stupid camera and do something with me. Maybe in a hundred YEARS, maybe tomorrow. He was always so vague. Sure, he always said ‘I love you’, but then those words, ‘some other time’ were always RIGHT after. Would you have stayed loyal to him if he kept cheating on you with his camera?!

Sometimes I wondered if that camera was more his lover than me. So I decided boys weren’t worth seeing red all the time. Then I met my new love.