Original fic: Year of Ghosts and Shadows
Jun. 25th, 2005 05:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardI said when I was in Disney all I was doing was slashing the band guys? Well, that bled into my band fic, Year of Ghosts and Shadows. Meet Joey and Alan, tenor sax and trumpet. Totally not based off of said band guys at all. Of course not.
He thinks, maybe, that he might be okay with this. Might be okay with Joey grinding up against him at the dance and humping the back of his head as he picked the lock on the band room door. Thinks, maybe, that it was okay to shove Joey back against the wall and kiss him until his best friend yelped and clawed at the back of his neck, leaving behind bloody scratches that show up stark red the next morning when he staggers down the stairs. He's not so sure it's okay that he pushed Joey down down onto the floor and dug his fingers into his hips and clawed at the zipper of Joey's jeans while his best friend arched up with blind searching need and the bright glaze of alcohol in his blue eyes. It's definitely not okay that he woke up naked in the band room with his best friend sprawled next to him and their clothes scattered all across the room. And the practice rooms. And the percussion equipment. And hanging out of one of the tuba cases. At two in the morning.
He doesn't know how Joey feels, because Joey's so damn hard to read beneath the bright fluffy exterior. Joey may come off as shallow and self-absorbed, but it's a surprisingly good barrier against the outside world and Alan wishes, not for the first time, that he could shove Joey up against a wall and beat on him until he admits what he's thinking. But he can't. Not about this, anyway.
It's not that Joey treats him any differently, or makes any reference to the event at all. Alan knows Joey, and that's too much to hope for. Instead he watches for something more subtle, for something in the comfortable familiarity of Joey sprawling laughing across his lap or dipping Silky in the commons and passionately frenching the back of his own hand where he's clapped it over Silky's mouth. Slut Scott calls him jokingly, but that's not true, because Joey's as chaste as anyone Alan knows and there hasn't been a girl in - in ever, really. Not like Scott's ill-fated fling with Donna or his on-again off-again relationship with Grace.
Alan can't read Joey. Doesn't know why he even bothers trying.
And later, on a band trip. Of course, I have no idea why I switched between tenses.
Alan had somehow managed to forget that when Joey slept, he did so sprawled over most of the bed.
He also sprawled out over his bedmate.
Really, it shouldn't have been such a surprise to Alan that he woke up with Joey's forehead resting on his cheekbone and his body slotted over Alan's like a second sheet. Should have been a surprise, but was.
Alan opened his eyes to the soft brush of Joey's blond hair against his cheek and had to remind himself to breathe. He does this every time, he told himself. Every time he -
Joey was asleep. So were Scott and Silky, Silky facedown into one pillow with another pulled over his head and the sheets and blankets wrapped around him, Scott flat on his back with the edge of hte fitted sheet pulled over him. Neither was moving, despite the fact that the alarm was still going off next to Alan's head. Joey wasn't moving either and any other time Alan would've just pushed him off and gone for the alarm with whatever object came immediately to hand, but he didn't want -
Christ, how could all three of them not be hearing the alarm?
Breathe, Alan told himself. Breathe. It's okay. Joey could sleep through an earthquake. He's not going to notice if you -
Click.
"Jesus Christ, Scott!" Alan yelped, throwing Joey off him in a tangle of sheets. Joey rolled over onto his back and kep sleeping, a blissful expression on his face.
Scott snapped another picture and let the camera dangle off his wrist, laughing. "Looking a little cozy there, Alan, aren'cha?"
"Oh, you are so dead," Alan retorted, the adrenaline returning with the short gasps of air he drew in. "So, so, so -"
"Come on, you can't deny you liked it," Scott snickered.
"You put that in the newspaper and I'll -"
"Shut up," Silky growled from under his pillow. "Some of us are trying to sleep -"
Scott leapt for the pillow, tugging it loose from Silky's clutching hands. "You stole my pillow, you bastard! And you hogged the sheets!"
Silky emerged from his cocoon of blankets with a disgruntled scowl. "Fuck you, you -"
Alan chucked his pillow at him. "You, Silk, snore."
"Fuck you, Oberon," Silky retorted, and threw the pillow back. It bounced off Alan's shoulder and hit Joey, and the tenor moaned and rolled over onto his stomach.
Someone banged on the wall by Alan's head, and he tried to remember who was next door. "SHUT UP!" Jason yelled. "Some of us are trying to fucking sleep!"
Oh. The band president and most of the seniors were next door. How could Alan have forgotten that?
Joey raised his head, bleary-eyed, and banged back on the wall. "You know you're just jealous, Drake, I know you only got Kyle and Del and Jeremy in there with you and they're nothing close to -"
Alan clapped a hand over his mouth before Joey said something that got Jason barreling straight through the wall, never mind the door. Joey obviously didn't care that the seniors were next door.
Ah, band, how I love thee.
He thinks, maybe, that he might be okay with this. Might be okay with Joey grinding up against him at the dance and humping the back of his head as he picked the lock on the band room door. Thinks, maybe, that it was okay to shove Joey back against the wall and kiss him until his best friend yelped and clawed at the back of his neck, leaving behind bloody scratches that show up stark red the next morning when he staggers down the stairs. He's not so sure it's okay that he pushed Joey down down onto the floor and dug his fingers into his hips and clawed at the zipper of Joey's jeans while his best friend arched up with blind searching need and the bright glaze of alcohol in his blue eyes. It's definitely not okay that he woke up naked in the band room with his best friend sprawled next to him and their clothes scattered all across the room. And the practice rooms. And the percussion equipment. And hanging out of one of the tuba cases. At two in the morning.
He doesn't know how Joey feels, because Joey's so damn hard to read beneath the bright fluffy exterior. Joey may come off as shallow and self-absorbed, but it's a surprisingly good barrier against the outside world and Alan wishes, not for the first time, that he could shove Joey up against a wall and beat on him until he admits what he's thinking. But he can't. Not about this, anyway.
It's not that Joey treats him any differently, or makes any reference to the event at all. Alan knows Joey, and that's too much to hope for. Instead he watches for something more subtle, for something in the comfortable familiarity of Joey sprawling laughing across his lap or dipping Silky in the commons and passionately frenching the back of his own hand where he's clapped it over Silky's mouth. Slut Scott calls him jokingly, but that's not true, because Joey's as chaste as anyone Alan knows and there hasn't been a girl in - in ever, really. Not like Scott's ill-fated fling with Donna or his on-again off-again relationship with Grace.
Alan can't read Joey. Doesn't know why he even bothers trying.
And later, on a band trip. Of course, I have no idea why I switched between tenses.
Alan had somehow managed to forget that when Joey slept, he did so sprawled over most of the bed.
He also sprawled out over his bedmate.
Really, it shouldn't have been such a surprise to Alan that he woke up with Joey's forehead resting on his cheekbone and his body slotted over Alan's like a second sheet. Should have been a surprise, but was.
Alan opened his eyes to the soft brush of Joey's blond hair against his cheek and had to remind himself to breathe. He does this every time, he told himself. Every time he -
Joey was asleep. So were Scott and Silky, Silky facedown into one pillow with another pulled over his head and the sheets and blankets wrapped around him, Scott flat on his back with the edge of hte fitted sheet pulled over him. Neither was moving, despite the fact that the alarm was still going off next to Alan's head. Joey wasn't moving either and any other time Alan would've just pushed him off and gone for the alarm with whatever object came immediately to hand, but he didn't want -
Christ, how could all three of them not be hearing the alarm?
Breathe, Alan told himself. Breathe. It's okay. Joey could sleep through an earthquake. He's not going to notice if you -
Click.
"Jesus Christ, Scott!" Alan yelped, throwing Joey off him in a tangle of sheets. Joey rolled over onto his back and kep sleeping, a blissful expression on his face.
Scott snapped another picture and let the camera dangle off his wrist, laughing. "Looking a little cozy there, Alan, aren'cha?"
"Oh, you are so dead," Alan retorted, the adrenaline returning with the short gasps of air he drew in. "So, so, so -"
"Come on, you can't deny you liked it," Scott snickered.
"You put that in the newspaper and I'll -"
"Shut up," Silky growled from under his pillow. "Some of us are trying to sleep -"
Scott leapt for the pillow, tugging it loose from Silky's clutching hands. "You stole my pillow, you bastard! And you hogged the sheets!"
Silky emerged from his cocoon of blankets with a disgruntled scowl. "Fuck you, you -"
Alan chucked his pillow at him. "You, Silk, snore."
"Fuck you, Oberon," Silky retorted, and threw the pillow back. It bounced off Alan's shoulder and hit Joey, and the tenor moaned and rolled over onto his stomach.
Someone banged on the wall by Alan's head, and he tried to remember who was next door. "SHUT UP!" Jason yelled. "Some of us are trying to fucking sleep!"
Oh. The band president and most of the seniors were next door. How could Alan have forgotten that?
Joey raised his head, bleary-eyed, and banged back on the wall. "You know you're just jealous, Drake, I know you only got Kyle and Del and Jeremy in there with you and they're nothing close to -"
Alan clapped a hand over his mouth before Joey said something that got Jason barreling straight through the wall, never mind the door. Joey obviously didn't care that the seniors were next door.
Ah, band, how I love thee.