koritsimou (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
koritsimou) wrote2009-08-25 12:22 pm
koritsimou) wrote2009-08-25 12:22 pm
Fic: Jump
Title: Jump
Pairing: Brendon/Chris [Panic, THS]
Wordcount: 658
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own, I don’t know and I declare this 100% fictional.
Notes: Written superfast from a random stolen prompt word (jump) for rarebandom@lj’s Under 1000 challenge. Un-beta’d. Came out of nowhere. I have no idea, seriously. Especially no idea where the Hushies came from, because I know pretty much nothing about them. So it is entirely possible I have them so wrong. Apologies, if so. Still, it feels nice to post something after all the work of bigbang.
All feedback appreciated.
Originally Posted: 4th May 2009. Here
-----
Brendon spends the first week of the Honda Civic tour singing that old Pointer Sisters’ song “Jump” constantly and it is driving Chris up the wall.
It’s not even that the song gets irritating after the second or third rendition – which it does – and it’s obviously not because Brendon can’t sing – because god, can he sing – and all Chris can really figure, is that it’s the little dance Brendon does along with it. If he’s honest, it’s not even the dancing that is getting at Chris – it’s the fact that no one else seems to find it the least bit distracting.
He gets that Brendon is energetic – and tactile and excitable and hot. (Um, ignore that last one?) He gets that the rest of Brendon’s band is used to it, the same way that they are used to him flinging an arm around their shoulders and leaning in just a little too close. Chris does not get how the rest of his band is used to it.
Chris tries to speak to Darren about it, but it’s embarrassing. It’s embarrassing that he gets lost during sound check because even though he can’t hear him, Chris can’t see Brendon doing his stupid little dance just offstage. Chris manages, “So, Brendon’s pretty weird,” on the bus one day and Darren says, “Yeah. Hell of a singer though,” and that’s pretty much as far as he gets with that.
Chris doesn’t even entertain the idea of talking to Bob. Bob will laugh. He won’t laugh meanly, but he’ll still laugh. Then he’ll smile and then he’ll tell Greta, without at any point being of any use, so there’s really no reason to talk to Bob.
Chris almost tells Greta, more than once, but she gets along so well with Brendon – which is ridiculously cute – and it’s not that she’d do it behind his back or anything, but Chris still thinks she would then tell Brendon, and that would be bad. Brendon would laugh, and catch Chris’ eye when he’s dancing and that would be horrific. Or Brendon wouldn’t laugh and he’d stop dancing, and Chris doesn’t really want that either.
Eventually, Chris decides on a course of action. It’s stupid and could potentially make the rest of the tour a lot more difficult than Brendon’s dancing is making it, but at least he’s doing something.
Brendon is dancing, when Chris finds him. It’s not particularly a surprise.
Brendon is making coffee in the tiny kitchen of his bus, singing the same song he’s been singing all week. Chris unashamedly (okay, maybe there’s a little shame, but not that much) watches Brendon’s ass for a few moments before he coughs, announcing his presence.
Brendon turns around and smiles warmly at Chris. “Hey,” he says easily and before he can ask what Chris needs him for, Chris jumps.
He feels like a complete fool, but he jumps. Not very high, nor very energetically. Chris pushes himself off the ground a little, watching Brendon intently when his feet hits the ground again.
Brendon just looks at him, confused. “Um...” he says.
“You’ve been singing that damn song all week,” Chris says, surprising himself, because up until this very moment, he had no idea what he was going to say. He’s glad he thought of something, no matter how simple.
Brendon frowns briefly, then his face relaxes and he says, “Oh.”
Then he frowns again, and yeah, not what Chris had been hoping for. “Did Greta put you up to this?” he asks suspiciously. “Because I can totally get laid on my own.”
Chris reckons he masks his surprise pretty well. “I’m pretty sure I only signed up for kisses in the night,” he says, calmly and takes a step towards Brendon.
Brendon hums and catches Chris’ wrist. He glances at the watch on it and says quietly, “Quarter past four. D’you think that counts as night?”
“It’s night somewhere,” Chris reasons and leans in.
-----
And heaven waits here at my door
Pairing: Brendon/Chris [Panic, THS]
Wordcount: 658
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own, I don’t know and I declare this 100% fictional.
Notes: Written superfast from a random stolen prompt word (jump) for rarebandom@lj’s Under 1000 challenge. Un-beta’d. Came out of nowhere. I have no idea, seriously. Especially no idea where the Hushies came from, because I know pretty much nothing about them. So it is entirely possible I have them so wrong. Apologies, if so. Still, it feels nice to post something after all the work of bigbang.
All feedback appreciated.
Originally Posted: 4th May 2009. Here
-----
Brendon spends the first week of the Honda Civic tour singing that old Pointer Sisters’ song “Jump” constantly and it is driving Chris up the wall.
It’s not even that the song gets irritating after the second or third rendition – which it does – and it’s obviously not because Brendon can’t sing – because god, can he sing – and all Chris can really figure, is that it’s the little dance Brendon does along with it. If he’s honest, it’s not even the dancing that is getting at Chris – it’s the fact that no one else seems to find it the least bit distracting.
He gets that Brendon is energetic – and tactile and excitable and hot. (Um, ignore that last one?) He gets that the rest of Brendon’s band is used to it, the same way that they are used to him flinging an arm around their shoulders and leaning in just a little too close. Chris does not get how the rest of his band is used to it.
Chris tries to speak to Darren about it, but it’s embarrassing. It’s embarrassing that he gets lost during sound check because even though he can’t hear him, Chris can’t see Brendon doing his stupid little dance just offstage. Chris manages, “So, Brendon’s pretty weird,” on the bus one day and Darren says, “Yeah. Hell of a singer though,” and that’s pretty much as far as he gets with that.
Chris doesn’t even entertain the idea of talking to Bob. Bob will laugh. He won’t laugh meanly, but he’ll still laugh. Then he’ll smile and then he’ll tell Greta, without at any point being of any use, so there’s really no reason to talk to Bob.
Chris almost tells Greta, more than once, but she gets along so well with Brendon – which is ridiculously cute – and it’s not that she’d do it behind his back or anything, but Chris still thinks she would then tell Brendon, and that would be bad. Brendon would laugh, and catch Chris’ eye when he’s dancing and that would be horrific. Or Brendon wouldn’t laugh and he’d stop dancing, and Chris doesn’t really want that either.
Eventually, Chris decides on a course of action. It’s stupid and could potentially make the rest of the tour a lot more difficult than Brendon’s dancing is making it, but at least he’s doing something.
Brendon is dancing, when Chris finds him. It’s not particularly a surprise.
Brendon is making coffee in the tiny kitchen of his bus, singing the same song he’s been singing all week. Chris unashamedly (okay, maybe there’s a little shame, but not that much) watches Brendon’s ass for a few moments before he coughs, announcing his presence.
Brendon turns around and smiles warmly at Chris. “Hey,” he says easily and before he can ask what Chris needs him for, Chris jumps.
He feels like a complete fool, but he jumps. Not very high, nor very energetically. Chris pushes himself off the ground a little, watching Brendon intently when his feet hits the ground again.
Brendon just looks at him, confused. “Um...” he says.
“You’ve been singing that damn song all week,” Chris says, surprising himself, because up until this very moment, he had no idea what he was going to say. He’s glad he thought of something, no matter how simple.
Brendon frowns briefly, then his face relaxes and he says, “Oh.”
Then he frowns again, and yeah, not what Chris had been hoping for. “Did Greta put you up to this?” he asks suspiciously. “Because I can totally get laid on my own.”
Chris reckons he masks his surprise pretty well. “I’m pretty sure I only signed up for kisses in the night,” he says, calmly and takes a step towards Brendon.
Brendon hums and catches Chris’ wrist. He glances at the watch on it and says quietly, “Quarter past four. D’you think that counts as night?”
“It’s night somewhere,” Chris reasons and leans in.
-----
And heaven waits here at my door