I'm Back/Ficwad/High On Infinity

Hoo, boy, so much to say.f
Well, I've been having a heckload of technical difficulties, but don't worry, the fics that were requested I will post... As soon as I find them again. (Yeah, sorry about that.) And no, I didn't forget about this place. Things have been kind of wild in my life as of late.
As Bokonon would say, "Busy, busy, busy."
I'm a dork.
Another thing I want to mention: I've joined a shiny new fanfiction website, www.ficwad.com. It's great. The name on there is allikitty699. "The Top Ten" was rated really badly (you can rate fanfics), which was disappointing, but otherwise, I really love that site. I can put bandfics on there.
Now, I'm introducing a fanfic I wrote for my friend Mary as a Christmas present. I also have another My Chem one, which I may or may not post, that I wrote for Amanda.
This one is about Fall Out Boy, and yes, the title is really fucking lazy: "High On Infinity". It, as always, is slash. Patrick is in love with Pete, but Pete is married with a baby. And Joe and Andy are kind of assholes.
I'm terrible at summaries, so just read the first chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fall Out Boy.

Name: High On Infinity
Pairing: Patrick/Pete (Fall Out Boy)
Genre: Humor, Romance
Rating: PG-13

Chapter One.
I stared into the mirror. Oh, good lord, look at me. The paunch. The 5’4” frame.
The red monkey sideburns
I would not fuck me.
I couldn’t imagine who would.
Okay, Patrick, I told myself. It’s not as bad as you think. Just… Here, just suck that in. That’s right. Make that stomach concave. That’s all the rage now. Show off those ribs. See? You’re just big-boned, that’s all. Nothing a corset can’t fix.
Right. Now, I’m sure there’s gotta be muscle on these arms of yours. Let me a see a flex. Thaaat’s the ticket. Check out those guns. Yeah. Nice, very nice. Damn, you’re turning yourself on here, you sexy beast.
Next, the hair. All right, ruffle that shit. I wanna see those follicles fly. Hedgehog hair, dammit! Take your cue from Sonic, anime characters, the Statue of Liberty! I want BIG. Yeah, that’s nice, that’s real nice.
KEEP FLEXING, FUCKER, WE’RE NOT DONE YET.
The clothes. It’s time for leather pants. Leather is IN. Leather is HOT. Leather is… Way too tight.
Right, now you can’t get the pants off.
You haven’t even buttoned them?! What did you do, smear on a fine layer of super glue before you stuck you’re leg in? What the hell?
Goddammit, you ugly fatass.
Wow, my inner voice is a douche.
It’s pretty tough to get off a pair of too-tight leather pants while still attempting to keep your hair perfectly feathered, you’re arms flexed, and your stomach sucked in. It also apparently looks hilarious, because a sudden contraction of my pupils told me that there was some asshole at my door taking pictures.
I looked up, horrified, to see Joe, clicking the button for photo after photo after photo and laughing his head off. “Now turn around!” he yelled. “I want a picture of your fat ass in those pants!”
I ran (well, it was more of a quick waddle – those were some constricting pants) to the door and slammed it. I could shut out Joe, but not his howls.
I swear to you, it took me a full two hours to get those pants off. I had bought them years ago in my “you’re fooling yourself” stage, and I had never before been delusional enough to put them on. That proved wise. I soaked them in hot water, thinking that the material would expand, much like metal. (It shrank, by the way.) I tried to rub lotion on my legs like Ross on Friends, but my hand couldn’t even fit into one of the pockets, much less the pant leg, and I ended up with lotion running down my ass crack and pelvis. I finally cut the damn things off with a razor and tossed them away, shaking my head at my stupidity and trying to comfort my pained, sobbing ‘nads.
I took the mirror off my door and set it down on my bed, where its harsh gaze couldn’t reach me. I didn’t want to watch myself slink back into my big pants, baggy shirt, and hat. I hated being reminded of the fact that I was up there with the platypus on God’s List of Nature’s Jokes.
I left my room, exhausted from the struggle with the pants, and went to face the mockery that surely awaited me in the living room.
It was there, of course, in the form of Joe and Andy sobbing with laughter over the digital camera.
“W-W-Wait!” Joe shouted, gasping. “This one – This one’s great…”
He clicked the button, and Andy fell off the couch, holding his sides.
Joe stared at the camera, slapping his knee. When he saw me, he pointed and screamed, now in hysterics. Andy pointed as well, tears rolling down his face. I attempted to keep a stoic, dignified face, but my cheeks were burning and I could practically feel the dumbass dripping off of me.
Once the two were worn out from their laughter, Andy pointed at the camera. “Where are these?” Andy asked commandingly, grinning.
“Where are what?” I asked, trying to sound proud. I ended up sounding like an eight-year-old girl trying not to cry.
“The Great Pants of Indignity,” Joe answered. Andy cracked up again. “But seriously,” Joe continued, sounding anything but serious, “where did you get these things? The National Gay Leprechaun Convention?”
“Stop it!” Andy shrieked, sobbing. “Stop it! I’m gonna break something!”
“Yeah, you will, if you won’t shut the hell up!” I shouted. Andy just laughed harder. Man, I wish I could have someone take me seriously, at least on occasion.
I heard the front door open and close. “Hey, guys!” It was Pete’s voice coming from the front hall. “I got two mediums instead of a large. I had a coupon, I hope you don’t mind.”
I thought I was going to pass out. “Give me that!” I hissed, snatching the camera away and stuffing it hurriedly in my pocket. Pete walked in, holding two pizza boxes and looking really, really confused as to why Joe and Andy were hugging and giggling into each other's shoulders.
I cleared my throat, trying to look cool in front of Pete. “Yeah, it’s no problem. Just put them in the kitchen, we’ll just be a sec.”
Pete raised an eyebrow, but said, “Oookay, whatever,” and walked out.
“Idiots!” I snarled in an enraged stage whisper. “Fucking idiots! If you even think about showing Pete that picture, I will suffocate you both with your own intestines, understood?”
Joe and Andy quieted themselves and gave me two thumbs-up each.
I rolled my eyes. “God, you two are retarded.”
Pete stared as we walked into the kitchen. “So, what happened, you guys?”
“We were watching Animal House,” I said promptly, heading it off at the pass. “So, we have pizza?”
“Yup, we have two of them.” Pete pulled some root beers out of the fridge and tossed them around. I missed mine and had to run to the back of the kitchen to get it.
“Okay,” Joe said, pointing at the pizzas. “So we have Patrick’s food, but what are we gonna eat?”
Andy roared. I felt my face flush deep scarlet.
Pete lightly smacked Joe on the shoulder. “Hey, be nice.” He looked at me, his light brown eyes genuine. “Don’t feel bad, you’re not fat or anything.”
“Thanks,” I grumbled. Somehow, that made me feel even fatter. The second I grabbed a piece of pizza, Joe giggled.
Andy poked me in the stomach. “Say ‘hoo-hoo’!”
Pete smacked his hand away. “Andy!”
I just blushed. “It’s no big deal, Pete. And don’t touch me, you dick!” I shouted at Joe, who had his hands hovering beside my waist, ready to grip onto my pudgy flesh. “My love handles are my business!”
“Honey.” Joe snapped his fingers like a black salon owner. “You don’t have love handles. You have love shelves.”
“Oh, mm-hmm, girl!” Andy shouted, and the two of them doubled up with laughter again.
Pete and I exchanged exasperated looks.
But not nearly as exasperated as Joe, Andy, and I all were when Pete’s cell phone went off.
“Is it Princess Ashlee?” Joe asked.
Pete shot him a hard look, but murmured, “Yeah, it’s my wife.” He flipped the phone open. “Hey, honey!” he said, almost simpering. He plastered a big, fake smile on his face, as if she could somehow see him through the phone. “How’s the baby?”
Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, you are reading this story correctly! I am a man in love with another man, who happens to be married with a baby! You are completely correct in thinking that I am a fucking asshole.
As Pete spoke, Joe was doing a sneering imitation of him, widening his eyes and smiling stupidly. As much as I loved Pete, I really fucking hated Ashlee, and I joined Andy in laughing. He didn’t stop until Pete gave him a severe glare. When Pete hung up, he looked at all of us in turn. “Shut up, you guys! What’s the big deal? She called so I’d pick up milk on the way home!”
“You are a fucking whipped bitch,” Andy replied, stuffing some pizza in his mouth. “Seriously, she can’t get off her ass and do something herself once in a century?”
“She’s busy with the baby,” Pete snapped. He looked at all of us again and rested on me. “I just can’t get why you guys don’t like her.”
“Uh, let’s see,” Joe said sarcastically, ticking off the reasons on his fingers. “One. She’s a fake bitch. Two. She hates all of us. Three. She’s a fake bitch. Four. She’s none too bright. Five. She’s a fake bitch. Six. She uses her father and sister to manipulate everyone. Oh, and seven. She’s a fake bitch.”
“Where are you getting all this ‘fake’ stuff from?” Pete asked defensively.
“Well, no offense,” I chimed in, “but how ‘real’ can you be if you’re lip-synching on SNL?”
“And you give, like, fifty different reasons for why?” Andy added.
Pete sighed and grabbed a slice of pizza. “Listen, I get that you don’t like her, but I’m not gonna sit here and listen to you talk about my wife like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me – ” he snatched up his keys – “I’m going to go get some milk.”
And with that, he was gone.
I shook my head, feeling kind of shitty for upsetting him. Joe saw my expression and said, “Hey, man. You can’t lie to him about how you feel about his wife.”
“Yeah,” Andy chimed in. “We gotta stand up for ourselves. Otherwise, can you imagine how often she’d be around?”
I nodded. “It would be like it used to be.”
We all shuddered.
There had been a time early in Pete and Ashlee’s relationship that we honestly believed she might not be so bad, and that the media was just manipulating everyone’s view of her. We soon realized that they couldn’t have been harsh enough.
There were so many reasons to hate her. She only liked Pete for his fame, looks, and money; it was clear that she’d never even thought about the sweet personality lying under all of that. She was so high-maintenance that Pete ended up treating her like a prize diamond in a museum. If we hadn’t finally expressed our distaste for her (and, to be fair, she’d expressed her distaste for us far more rudely), she would still have been around all the time, looking down on all of us and bullying Pete into being her servant. Which she still did, but none of the rest of us wanted to see it.
“Wow,” Joe muttered, slamming an empty pizza box into the trash. “If I wasn’t such a nice fuckin’ guy, I’d beat her goddamn ass.”
“I think that’s unanimous.” I took a slice of pizza out of the other box. Pete’s sudden Ashlee-related absences always made me shove more food down my gullet. “God, she’s such a whore.”
“You know, man,” Andy told me, taking a sip of Coke (from my fridge, and without asking), “when you first met her and told me about her, I thought you were exaggerating.”
“Same here,” Joe piped up, his head now stuck in my cupboards. “I thought you just didn’t like her because she was dating Pete.”
“And her dad!” That was all Andy needed to say to earn a loud groan of disgust from Joe and me. Ashlee’s dad, one of the more disgusting dadagers I’ve met. If you want to know why his daughters are sluts, all you have to do is take a gander at his parenting. Buying them skanky underwear, booking them skanky jobs… If I had a dollar for every time that guy made me want to slap him, I’d have enough money to buy Andy and Joe their own houses and food.
“Remember how he was all pissed when he found out Pete’s bi?” Joe asked, looking around.
“Only too well.” I grabbed another root beer from the fridge. “He didn’t want Ashlee dating him. I kinda wish that he’d demanded they break up, come to think of it.”
“Do you think Ashlee would be as annoying if she was a guy?” Andy questioned, playing with his lip piercing.
“I don’t think so,” I said. The other two seemed surprised until I added, “We could punch her then.”
“Too true.” Andy checked his watch. It never ceased to amuse me that he wore a shirt maybe 10% of the time, but he never left without his watch. “Alright, I gotta go. See ya.” And without so much as a “Thanks for the food, Pat” he rushed outside.
Joe hefted himself up on the counter, watching me intently. “What?” I finally snapped. “You’re starting to look like Hannibal Lector.”
“Don’t get all freaked, Clarice,” Joe replied sarcastically. “It’s just… Well, you must hate Ashlee the most, right?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yeah. So what?”
Joe shrugged. “I guess I just feel bad talking about her at all. Since it just reminds you of her and Pete.”
You know, with all their mooching, Joe and Andy are still the best friends a guy could have. I just gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry. I love bitching about her as much as you do. It gives me an outlet.”
Joe smiled. “Yeah.” He hopped down off the counter and planted a hand on my shoulder. “You keep stuff inside too much, man. Don’t be afraid to talk about things with us.”
“Joe.” I set my pizza down. “You don’t have to worry about that, okay? I know you’re there for me.”
Joe nodded. “Yeah, I know. Just reminding you.” And with a knuckle dap, he was gone.
I lay down on the couch, my body still aching from those stupid pants. How I’d let myself get so deep into anything was beyond me.
How could I let myself keep loving him?

Author's Note: No, I don't find Pat unattractive - I think he's cute - but I've always seen him as having an inferiority complex and a lot of sensitivity regarding his appearance. Comments are appreciated!

Shut the Door, Open the Window

DISCLAIMER: I do not own blink_182, Angels and Airwaves, or +44.
Author's Note: I wrote this fic in classes. I kinda like it, but the ending almost made me cry.
Another very mature fic about blin_182, but, for once, it's not Mark/Tom. Well, okay, a little bit of it is. But mainly it's Mark/Travis. I sort of like that pairing, and the idea behind this fic was so sad, but so cute, that I had to write it.
Not for anyone who doesn't like hardcore.

Name: Shut the Door, Open the Window
Pairing: Mark/Travis (blink_182)
Genre: Smut, Romance, Angst
Rating: R

Shut the Window, Open the Door

I was shaking, both hands gripping the steering wheel, driving somewhere, driving anywhere but where I’d started. I’d never been angrier at anyone or anything in my life.
Tom fucked Scott. Forever ago, and before we were “officially” exclusive, but still. He couldn’t even have the decency to tell me before then?
I still can’t believe he didn’t understand why I was upset. I mean, the second after I kissed Tom for the first time, I decided that I would never want to make love to anyone else ever again. He was the only one for me.
But Tom… I gave him a kiss, and he gave Scott a blow job, all in eight hours.
“I don’t get the big deal!” Tom had shouted after me when I left. That was the worst part – figuring out that the things that are important to me don’t matter to Tom.
I glanced at myself in the rearview mirror as I drove. My eyes were red from suppressed tears of anger and betrayal, and my hair was mussed from running my hands through it. And that’s when I saw it – the thing that gave me the idea and started one of the weirdest, most beautiful experiences of my life.
Travis’s drumsticks were laying in my backseat, crossed in a perfect X as if marking the spot that I should drive to. My heart was light and my jaw was set as I jerked my car around, heading off to make everything better.
Travis was surprised when he opened the door and saw me on his porch. “Mark? What are you-?”
He stopped when I pressed my lips to his.
Travis’s big blue eyes were wide when I pulled away.
“What… What was that?” he whispered.
I shoved him through the door and into the hall, pushing his back against the wall. “Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” I lied quietly, and I kissed him again.
After just a few moments, Travis melted in my arms.
I’d always known Travis felt something for me. This whole thing was almost too perfect, too easy. Fuck Travis and rub it in Tom’s face – brilliant. I was too angry to think about what I was doing to Travis.
I stripped off Travis’s clothes and we tripped and kissed our way to the kitchen. Travis laid back across the table, running his thumb over the underside of his erection and moaning quietly. I watched, almost fascinated, my pants suddenly seeming two sizes too small. I brushed my fingers gently down Travis’s side, wanting to touch him but not wanting him to stop what he was doing.
Everything about Travis was so different from Tom. His large eyes stayed trained on mine as he teased himself, the lips that I’d kissed parted with a mixture of innocence and lust. His lips were unlike Tom’s, too. They were full and soft, while Tom’s were thin and eager and rarely stayed in one place at a time.
And his body! Travis’s body was nothing like Tom’s tall, sturdy, strong one, all muscles and masculinity. No, Travis was lithe and delicate, with long, spidery limbs. Tom’s skin was a healthy color, and grew sticky with sweat not soon after we started making love. Travis’s was pure white, and remained dry and thin, as if he were made of paper and his tattoos were just ink drawings. Tom moved fast with everything, even sex. He was quick and touchy, always trying to bring me as high up as he could, as fast as he could. Travis wanted to keep me heated up for as long as possible, knowing just what I wanted to see him do to himself, just what made my dick swell and strain against my zipper.
I unzipped my jeans and pulled out my almost painfully hard cock. I kept my shirt on and only pulled my pants down as far as I needed to. Travis slid, cat-like, onto his stomach. The table was just short enough for him to dip his head over the edge and kiss his way up my member before swallowing it. I vaguely remembered Travis telling me that he had no gag reflex, and it was obvious in the way he took me down his throat, bobbing his head slowly. The tip of his mohawk brushed my stomach, until it tickled so much that I took a step back. Travis pulled his head up, looking curious and worried, maybe wondering if he’d done something wrong. I don’t think it helped that I was avoiding his gaze – I couldn’t stand to look at him, knowing that I was probably going to break his heart.
“What's wrong?” Travis asked, sitting back on his heels. A flicker of fear crossed his face. “Did I do something?”
“No.” I kissed Travis’s neck apologetically. “No, I’m sorry. I just…” I looked him up and down and said the only honest thing I had even thought of since I’d come in. “You’re so fucking hot, and… God, I want you so bad…”
Travis blushed and smiled. He laid back on the table again and wrapped his legs around my waist. He pulled me down and kissed me. “You can do whatever you want with me,” he breathed in my ear. “I’m yours.”
I smirked. “Will do.”
Travis gasped as I pushed a finger into him. He was so tight – a virgin, most likely, at least in that area. It had been a long time since Tom had felt like that, if ever.
I pinned Travis’s hips beneath my hand. I knew he wasn’t ready, but I added another finger. He groaned, a mixture of pleasure, pan, and heat. He tried to thrust up, to drive my fingers deeper. I had only driven them in up to the second knuckle, and he was whimpering for more.
“Do you like that?” I asked.
Travis nodded and groaned.
“Does it feel good?” I whispered.
“U-Uh-huh,” he stuttered, eyes closed.
I drew my fingers out. Travis squirmed and made a tiny, pitiful, desperate sound. “Then tell me,” I commanded.
Travis gripped onto my shoulders and whispered into my ear. “It feels so good to have your fingers inside me,” he murmured. He was blushing, and his words betrayed a soft innocence. A new side of me took over – I wanted to humiliate him, hurt him, berate him, abuse him, make him cry and bleed and moan with pain and guilt. That innocence would kill me if I didn’t.
I ran my thumb across his entrance, cupping his ass in my hand. “Keep talking.”
Travis swallowed, and I could feel his Adam’s apple move against my shoulder. “I love having you in me. My own fingers aren’t enough. I’ve always wanted to have you on top of me like this, forcing yourself into me…”
My heart was beating so fast that it hurt. A savage voice in my head was muttering: “Tom never would have said those things. He never would have done this. Any of this. He’d never let you hurt him, control him…
Travis wasn’t Tom, that was definite. He was so obedient, and more than generous with every part of himself. I leaned so close to Travis that the tips of our noses touched, and I shoved both on my fingers harshly into him.
Travis whimpered out in pain and held tightly onto me. He put his cheek to mine, and I could feel his hot, shallow breathing on my ear. It flared a fire in me, made me think of Tom, made me think of what I was doing, and I was angry again, at who, I don’t know. I moved my fingers in and out quickly, trying to hurt Travis as much as I could. He didn’t object, just bit his lip and moaned.
I almost started to cry when I looked at his face, his brow furrowed in pain. Travis hated pain. He just loved me enough to deal with it, to do whatever I wanted him to do.
“God dammit, Travis,” I muttered, kissing his cheek. “If you don’t like it, say so.”
Travis shook his head, determined. “I do. I like it.” He ran a hand through my hair and gave me a shaky smile.
I continued to fuck him with my fingers, stunned that he still hadn’t pushed me away. I could tell from the heat on my fingertips that Travis would feel amazing inside.
I took Travis’s hand and wrapped his thin fingers around his cock. “I wanna watch you again.”
Travis obeyed, like I knew he would. He began stroking slowly, a contrast to what my fingers were doing to him. His head was back and his eyes were closed. He looked like an angel.
I didn’t think Travis was ready, but my swollen cock had already started to drip with precum, and I was worried how long I would last. I put my dick between the fingers inside of him and started to push.
Travis’s eyes snapped open, as though he had just come out of a trance. “W-Wait!” he sputtered, eyes wide. “Wait! What are we doing? We can’t!”
“What do you mean, we can’t?” I asked. I grabbed his shoulder, holding him still.
“We can’t, we can’t!” Travis looked on the verge of tears, but he couldn’t move. “What about Tom?”
Tom.
The whole reason I was here. I gritted my teeth. Just hearing the name pissed me off. What about Tom?
“Fuck Tom,” I snapped, and I drove my dick into Travis as hard as I could.
Travis cried out. It was hard for me to move inside him – I had completely forgotten any kind of lube – but I didn’t care. I pulled out and buried myself in his ass again. So fucking tight, so fucking hot… I started thrusting as fast and hard as possible. I pulled his legs up roughly. I wanted to get deeper, to be all the way in.
I pulled back, letting go of Travis’s shoulder and roughly grabbing both of his hips. He was thrusting up to meet me, but he was feeble – it must have really hurt. All I could feel was the friction on my cock, the warmth of him around me, the blood that had started seeping out of him thanks to my not-so-tender movements. Travis tried to hide the tears of pain dripping down his cheeks, but I grabbed his wrist before he could wipe them away.
I licked at one of the small rivulets. His tears were sweet.
I turned Travis over onto his knees and clambered up onto the table behind him, not stopping for even a second. He was panting and moaning, and I realized that I was making the same sounds.
I kissed his shoulder, running my hand across his chest and down his stomach, brushing my fingers against his member. He gave a soft shudder beneath me. “M-Mark,” he whispered hoarsely. He moaned. “Oh, Mark…”
A spike of heat shot through my body. No one had ever said my name like that.
I gently grasped Travis’s cock and began lightly pumping. The whimpering, almost tragic moans he made as I plunged into him again and again were driving me up the wall. I knew I wouldn’t even be able to last another five minutes at this rate.
I stopped, completely sheathed inside of Travis. I held his hips with the hand that wasn’t already preoccupied so that he couldn’t move. He made a tiny, frustrated noise. He looked over his shoulder at me, and just the desperate, lustful look in those baby blues almost made me lose it.
“Travis.” My voice was rough. “I need you to come.” I didn’t know why it was so important that he finished before I did. It made sense at the time, but I don’t know how.
Travis just nodded, still panting lightly. “O-Okay.”
He surprised me by turning, giving me a kiss, and then gently laying me on my back. He straddled my hips with surprising quickness and agility, slowly forcing me back into him. He groaned, moving up and down on my shaft, his hands resting on my stomach. I watched, my lips parted, my mind drunk with lust. I grabbed onto Travis’s hips and guided him, forcing him to go faster. After a moment, I shifted ever so slightly.
Travis gave a loud moan that could have well been straight from a porno. “Oh, God!” He lifted himself up a little, giving me room to thrust. “Harder, Mark,” he begged. “Harder… Faster, please…”
I complied – I couldn’t say no to him. I hit the spot that had made him moan over and over, faster and faster, as hard as I could, and then he was coming, spilling his seed across my stomach and chest, the warmth that I was buried in tightening, his knees digging into my sides. He reached out, slid his finger through the cum on my stomach, and licked it off of his fingertip. The look that he gave me as he lapped up his cum was so smoldering that I felt my cock twitch, and then white lights burst before my eyes in my orgasm. I thrust up hard. “Jesus… Travis!”
It wasn’t until Travis was off of me and lying, breathing heavily, at my side that I closed my eyes, horrified. Oh, God. What had I done? Tom…
I turned to look at Travis. His thin body was trembling, and there was a droplet of blood making its way down his thigh, but I don’t think I’d ever seen him look so sweet and serene. He gave me a small, sleepy smile and curled up next to me.
I jerked away. I couldn’t stand to touch him. I could barely even look at him. This would kill Tom. It would destroy him.
I thought about Scott. Good, I told myself. I hope it kills him.
I slid off the table and got dressed, still not looking at Travis. I found his black jeans and tossed them over my shoulder to him. After a few moments’ hesitation, I heard him shuffle into them.
I grabbed the doorknob. “This isn’t going to happen again, is it?” Travis asked from behind me.
I winced at the hurt in his voice. I stared at the ground. “You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.” Travis grabbed onto my hand. I looked up into his wet, sweet eyes. “Mark, I…” He shook his head. “I know it didn’t mean anything to you, but it – it meant a lot to me, and, I guess, just… Even if it doesn’t happen again…” He put a hand to my cheek. “Thank you.”
He gave me a soft, gentle kiss. My heart felt tight, and I couldn’t breathe.
“I’ll see you later,” I mumbled lamely, and I walked out. I drove home in a fog – I could still feel Travis’s lips on mine and his legs around my waist.
I pulled into my driveway and laid my forehead against the steering wheel, sighing deeply. What if Tom could tell? I had the sudden, paranoid delusion that Tom would see me and know. But wasn’t that what I wanted?
My stomach dropped the second I saw Tom in our living room. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he forced a smile when he saw me. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking at the man I loved. I cleared my throat. “I, uh…”
Tom held up a hand. “No, no, it’s fine. I understand what you meant before, and… I’m sorry. I should have told you.” He walked to me and wrapped his arms around me. “I’ve been feeling guilty all day.”
I almost burst into tears.
Tom pulled away, smiling at me as if I was the only good thing there was left in his life. “So, where have you been?” he asked innocently, and I could tell that he didn’t have a clue.
I thought of Travis’s warm mouth on my cock and I blushed. “I was just blowing off some steam.”
Tom thought nothing of it, just popped in an old copy of National Lampoon’s Vacation. We didn’t even get halfway through it before he unzipped my fly and lowered his head onto my lap, licking my shaft until the movie was completely forgotten and we made our way to the bedroom.
I showed up at Travis’s the next day. I don’t know why. All I know is that the smile he gave me and the warm happiness he so freely showed was worth anything in the world.
As things slowly dissolved with Tom, Travis and I got closer and closer. Losing one, gaining another. A door shutting, a window opening.
I don’t like to say that I was cheating on Tom. Really, I was transitioning. He was falling into addiction and despair, and I was falling into bed with Travis. I really think that this was how it was meant to happen.
I miss Tom sometimes, I really do. I can’t even compare him and Travis – they’re too different. Whenever Tom could sense I was down, he’d joke around, pop in a movie, and take my mind off it. Travis curls up next to me, listening to whatever I have to say, reminding me that he will always be there. Whenever I had sex with Tom, power was equal – Tom may have been on bottom, but he found ways of controlling me. He hated the idea that he was being submissive. With Travis, he does what I want, when I want, where I want. I had sex with Tom in a car a few times, but that was as crazy as it got. I’ve fucked Travis in elevators, restaurants, backstage at shows, on the couch while both of our wives chatted in the other room. But I still can’t for the life of me tell you who I love more. They’re both perfect, just in different ways.
Tom has been long gone by now – three years – and Travis is gone as well, doing a free concert with DJ AM. I’m just watching TV, waiting for Travis to come home and give me that smile I’ve been missing.
A newscast is on. Some woman is babbling about a plane crash – the pilot drove off the road and crashed through a fence. I cringe. A plane crash… Horrible. I can’t even imagine.
They’re showing two people lying out in the road. A whole squad of people is rushing to their aid. They pick up one of the men – dead or alive, I don’t know – and they strap his thin body into a stretcher, covering the papery tattooed skin…
Oh, God.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy!

This Is Great

Okay, I know this isn't a fanfic, but, in the spirit of the upcoming Angels and Airwaves concert (where I will be hopefully meeting Tom), I decided to post this screenshot of the "I Miss You" video.




























Enjoy.

Best Nightmare

DISCLAIMER: I do not own blink_182, Angels and Airwaves, or +44.
Author's Note: Yeah... This fic is mature-ish. Actually, mature. Very.
It's kinda angsty and whatnot, but I kinda like it.
If Mark's dialogue seems weird and unnecessary, I'm sorry. I only used song lyrics for his dialogue, so I ended up only having him talk a few times. Because it was too difficult. T_T

Name: Best Nightmare
Pairing: Mark/Tom (blink_182)
Genre: Smut, Romance, Angst
Rating: R

Best Nightmare

It was hot, almost unbearably so. Tom strained against his comforter, writing in his sleep. His body temperature was rising, his blood rushing soundly through his veins, and he couldn’t stop it. His dreams were too vivid to stop it, and given the choice, he probably would have kept it going anyway.

The bedroom of Tom’s dream was his, and yet not. The bed he was lying in, in reality, was not covered with cool, smooth silk, but soft, sweaty cotton. Nor was the room he was lying it decorated with candles the way his dream room was. Still, he felt a sense of possession over the cool, dark room with its ruby walls and soft white carpet.

The dream opened like a production, candles and silk blossoming like a fresh rose in Tom’s psyche. He tried to sit up to look around, but found his wrists shackled to the bars of the headboard. He smiled, but didn’t know why. His bared skin was comforted by the red sheets, and he laid back, watching the white French doors at the end of the room through a haze from the candles with a sense of giddy anticipation. He clutched at the chains of his handcuffs, his palms sweating inconspicuously, his breathing shallow.

The doors creaked slowly open, revealing Mark standing outside in the hall, wearing the black Atticus t-shirt and baggy jeans he’d been in the last time Tom had seen him. Tom’s body tense and he became nervous, almost positive that Mark was angry.

Tom tried desperately to sit up, to face Mark properly. “Mark,” he croaked. His throat felt closed and tight. “Mark, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t want… I…”

Mark interrupted him, his gaze hard. “I miss you.”

Tom froze. “What?” he whispered.

“I miss you,” Mark repeated. He closed the doors quietly behind him. “I miss your laugh, your smile.” He glided easily towards the bed. The look in his eyes was a familiar one to Tom, and it was one that made his blood run hot and his lips part in quiet pants. He watched with a pleasant shudder as Mark crawled onto the bed, straddling Tom but being careful not to touch him. “I miss you, Tom,” he said again. The two were nose to nose, and Tom was left to stare into the gorgeous eyes he had feared he would never see again.

“Mark, I…” Tom gulped. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant to choose Jen over you. I don’t know why I did it…”

“Because I’m a fucking boy,” Mark answered, his tone bitter. Tom had to fight back tears.

“No, no. It’s just…” Tom gave a dry sob. “I couldn’t take… You and Skye…” He watched Mark’s eyes, anxious. “I need you, Mark. I can’t live without you.”

Mark’s eyes softened, and he put a hand to Tom’s cheek. “Open your eyes, Tom. You can live your life all on your own.”

Tom opened his mouth to argue, but his lips were instantly covered by Mark’s. A tingling shiver went from Tom’s mouth straight to his groan and he moaned quietly, trying to press against Mark’s body, so close but so far away.

Mark’s tongue slid through Tom’s lips, and Tom eagerly gave him entrance, kissing him soundly. Love, lust, and passion made his skin burn as Mark began kissing his way down Tom’s jaw. His lips hit a spot just below Tom’s ear and he groaned loudly, a wave of pleasure engulfing him.

Mark planted a soft trail of kisses down Tom’s chest, occasionally flicking his tongue over the smooth, pale skin. Tom watched through hooded eyes as Mark tugged the sheets away, the silks sliding over Tom’s hips and revealing his erection.

Mark kissed just below Tom’s navel, a wicked grin playing across his lips. He ran his finger lightly over the underside of Tom’s cock, his eyes roving over the image before him. Tom was shivering, wanting Mark to hurry, to give him the pleasure he’d been aching for after so long, after three miserable years alone.

Mark sensed Tom’s impatience and gave the head of Tom’s member a tentative lick. Tom squirmed beneath him, gasping with pleasure. His cock was dripping with need, every feeling he’d been unable to fulfill beginning to seep out in the form of his desire for sex. “Mark,” he whispered, a slight whine in his voice.

Mark smirked, his eyes bright. He ran his tongue up Tom’s shaft and swirled the head in his mouth before finally taking all of Tom’s cock down his throat, licking and sucking.

Tom moaned loudly, trying in vain to thrust up while Mark held his hips down, pinning him to the bed. Mark’s head was bobbing up and down slowly, too slowly, so slowly that a near-pain was building up in Tom’s groin…

Mark came up far too soon, wiping his mouth and grinning proudly. Tom struggled against Mark’s hands, making tiny, pathetic noises in the back of his throat. “Mark, please, don’t stop…”

Mark kissed Tom gently on the forehead, then leaned back and began removing his shirt. Tom’s eyes wandered over Mark’s body as his clothes were discarded, eventually left staring at his old lover, with a body that Tom had memorized and a large, desperate erection. Just the sight was enough to make Tom dizzy with lust, and he felt paralyzed as a wave of want washed over him.

Tom gripped the chain of his handcuffs tightly as Mark crawled toward him and put his hands on both of Tom’s knees. He gently pushed Tom’s legs open, meeting Tom’s gaze with reassuring eyes that brought back Tom’s guilt over all that had happened. Tom closed his eyes and tried to concentrated on the feeling of Mark’s warm body between his legs.

Tom almost jumped when he felt Mark’s finger, coated in something cold and slick, touch his entrance. He forced himself to relax, eyes still closed. After a moment, Tom felt Mark’s finger slide into him, and he gave a strangled cry. IT felt amazing, so good, so familiar, a feeling that Tom had been afraid he’d never experience again.

Mark began to move his hand, pumping in and out, Tom moving his hips slowly. It was only a moment’s worth of time before Tom was panting, eyes finally half-opened and dazed. A second finger slipped into him, stretching him. Tom winced. It hurt more than he remembered – then again, he was a little out of practice. “Go slow,” he warned Mark, and the older man complied, watching Tom’s face for any sign of discomfort.

The pain subsided, leaving only pleasure in its wake. Tom spread his legs as far as he could. “Please,” he pleaded, panting. “Put it in, Mark.”

Mark grabbed a bottle of lubricant from the nightstand and coated his shaft with it. Tom watched, wanting to that that cock into his mouth, into his body, and relieve it of the pressure it was holding. He raised his hips off the bed and Mark put the tip of his cock against Tom’s entrance. Slowly, gently, he pushed in.

Pain shot through Tom’s hips and up his spine, and he shut his eyes tightly.

Mark was soon completely sheathed in Tom’s body. He groaned quietly, leaning forward to kiss Tom’s lips. With that kiss, all of Tom’s pain disappeared, and the feeling of Mark’s cock within him was heaven. Tom, too overcome to speak, gave Mark a small nod, signaling for him to continue.

Mark slowly pulled back and pushed into Tom again. His breathing was rough as he kissed Tom’s neck. Tom wrapped his legs around Mark’s back, forcing him deeper. He thrust up slowly, meeting Mark at a perfect pace, feeling as though the two men were melding together and becoming one. Tom forced himself to keep breathing – the sensations were leaving his chest tight and almost immobile.

Mark started to thrust a little faster, his impatience obvious from the frustrated whimpers coming from his throat. Tom could see that he was holding back, trying not to injure Tom’s delicate body. Mark gritted his teeth – the self-restraint and the need to go slow were taking a surprising toll on him.

Tom whispered one word: “Faster.”

Mark brought the speed up slowly, thrusting in and out of his lover faster and faster until he reached a pace that made his breathing race and his skin grow slick with sweat. He put a hand over Tom’s cock and began pumping in time with his thrusts, making Tom gasp and groan, watching Mark’s hands and hips as he fucked him. Mark shifted ever so slightly, hitting the spot that made Tom cry out with pleasure. He smiled, still panting, hitting that spot again and again… Everything was so fast… So good… So…

Tom came hard, moaning Mark’s name, cum spilling over his stomach. Mark came almost immediately after, giving one final thrust as Tom felt warm, wet cum spill into him. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity after, Mark’s cock still inside Tom, the two of them breathing heavily.

Mark pulled back, smiling serenely as he licked Tom’s stomach clean of cum. He laid back, watching his lover.

Tom smiled as well. He wished his hands weren’t tied – he wanted to touch Mark and let him know that he’d never leave him again.

Mark’s body near Tom’s was warm. Growing warmer, in fact. Tom tried to squirm away from the uncomfortable heat, but he couldn’t get far… His ankles were somehow shackled as well now… Mark’s skin was sparking, and his expression had gone from one of peaceful joy to the one he had been wearing when they last spoke.

“You kill me, Tom,” he whispered, and fire licked at his body, turning it black, crumpling it, destroying it, and Tom couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream…

Tom jolted awake, his heart pounding. He was trembling all over. He curled up, trying to ignore the wet, cooling cum splattered on the inside of his boxers. He couldn’t shut his eyes without tears leaking out and images of Mark’s burning body flashing through his mind. He was alone – Jen was in her separate bedroom, and Mark was God knew where being happy without Tom.

Tom gave a quiet sob as he grabbed onto a pillow, holding it like a small child would.

“I miss you, Mark.”

Author's Note: I hope you guys like it. A few people on LJ did, so I hope it's appreciated.

Feeling This: Chapter Seven

DISCLAIMER: I do not own blink_182, Angels and Airwaves, or +44.
Author's Note: Hey HEY hey.
So here's the deal: I'm writing a lot of fics right now, and they should be done soon. I've got Moody/Riddle, Bill/Indy, Lockhart/Hermione, Ginny/Peeves, a real-life fic, Crabbe/Ron, and little surprise for some Harry Potter buddies of mine. I miss you, Zach. And I saw Tropic Thunder 3 times.
Here's a little mo' Feeling This until I get the sequel written up. This is the last chapter.

Name: Feeling This
Pairing: Mark/Tom (blink_182)
Genre: Romance, AU
Rating: PG-13

Chapter 7: Carry Me Home

"Fuck, Tom, could you hurry up?" Mark snapped as Tom attempted to pick the lock. "I have no clue when his parents are gonna get home."
"Shut the fuck up," Tom hissed. "Who said to always carry a bobby pin in your wallet?"
"I cannot even fucking believe that's become useful to me," Mark admitted. "Ah, well. At least aliens aren't real."
Tom whipped around and slapped Mark's shoulder. "You ignorant wench! Haven't you seen the UFOs?"
"Oh, blow it out your ass. Now jimmy the lock. No, don't wiggle, jimmy."
"Jimmying is wiggling, you cockbite."
"No it isn't! Jimmying is jimmying! What you're doing is wiggling!"
"I am not wiggling."
"That is a blatant wiggle, Thomas Delonge."
The lock clicked and Tom opened the door, smirking at Mark. "I told yo I was jimmying."
They tip-toed into the house, whispering frantically to each other to be quiet. Finally, Mark straightened up and said, "Dude. There's nobody else here. Why are we being quiet?"
They then proceeded to whoop loudly and jump on all the furniture they could find.
After a half hour of making as much noise as possible and probably breaking some expensive shit, they skipped up the stairs to Travis's room.
"This is fucking weird," Mark said, staring in. It was so spotless he didn't want to enter - it seemed like it should have ropes around it, like at a museum.
"I know." Tom nervously stuck a foot in. When no rabid half-breed wolf/cougars came out to dismember him, he walked in.
They looked around for the song, in hopes that it was lying out in the open. The last thing they wanted to do was mess up the perfect room.
The room was bland. There were no posters. No TV. No anything for entertainment but educational books (usually with a Christian theme). The walls were gray, as was the perfectly made bed and the spotless carpet that looked new. Finally, Mark and Tom looked at each other, said "Fuck this shit", and began ripping everything apart. Mark opened all the drawers and dug through them, throwing things on the floor. Tom pulled books off the bookshelves and discarded them randomly. Finally, at their wits' ends, Tom found the song under Travis's pillow.
"Awesome." Mark picked up his jacket, which he's tossed on the floor. "Let's go, Tom."
There was no answer.
"Tom?"
Mark turned to see Tom sitting on Travis's bed, hand over his eyes and shaking.
Tom was crying.
"Tom, what happened?" Mark gaped, running to his side and enveloping him in a strong hug.
"This s-song," Tom gasped, trying to regain control. "A-About his p-p-parents splitting u-up..."
Mark read it over his shoulder and stroked Tom's hair. "That is how it feels, you know."
Tom nodded. "B-But Trav already h-h-has enough sh-shit to deal w-with."
"I know," Mark whispered, giving Tom a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Get ready for action."

Tom turned to Mark and pulled him in abruptly. Their lips touched quickly and then Tom withdrew, throwing Mark away and curling up into a ball.
Mark touched his lips in shock. "Tom? Hey, what are you doing?
The ball that was Tom replied, "I'm bracing myself. Aren't you gonna hit me?"
Mark pulled Tom's arms away from his face and kissed him roughly on the mouth. Tom grabbed onto Mark's shoulders in surprise.
Mark grabbed Tom's thigh and pulled his leg up, forcing Tom backwards onto the bed. Mark couldn't stop kissing him - his mouth, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Everything was free game.
Tom tugged Mark's hair urgently, kissing him on the lips once more. Mark's lips parted, and their tongues rolled around each other's, battling for dominance. Mark shoved a hand up Tom's shirt and pulled it off, throwing it to the floor. He did the same with his own. The skin-to-skin contact was electrifying.

"I've got no regret right now
(I'm feeling this)
The air is so cold and low
(I'm feeling this)
Let me go in your room
(I'm feeling this)
I wanna take off your clothes
(I'm feeling this)
Show me the way to bed
(I'm feeling this)
Show me the way you move
(I'm feeling this)
Fuck it, it's such a blur
(I'm feeling this)
I love all the things you do."

Mark ran a hand over Tom's thigh, and Tom slung his leg over Mark's back. They rolled over, Tom straddling Mark, Mark between Tom's thighs, and back again. Mark half-hoped that Tom could feel the bulge growing in his jeans, and he half-hoped he didn't. He liked where they were, but was a little scared of what could happen.
Tom was sitting on top of Mark, kissing Mark's neck when he said it.
"I love you, Mark."
Mark's entire body went rigid. Tom pulled back, looking frightened.
Mark grabbed Tom's forearms and rolled on top of him, holding him as close as possible.
"Love you too, Tommy."

Author's Note: And Alli said LET THERE BE BOY LOVE! Comments are appreciated.

The Howler Campaign

Okay, everyone. Harry Potter needs your help. Pick up your quills and prepare to help Dumbledore's Army fight the good fight!
An absolute genius came up with the idea for the Howler Campaign, first mentioned here: http://hbpnojuly.blogspot.com/. As all HP fans found ourt, the Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince movie's release date back from November 21st, 2009 to July 17th, 2009 in a pathetic, greedy attempt by Warner Brothers to have two major financial years and make more money. Online petitions are great, sure, but ultimately ineffective. But thousands upon thousands of bright red letters? That ought to make an impression.
So what do you say? Break out the Howlers! Write out your anger on some (preferably) red paper and put it in a (preferably) red envelope, then mail it off to Warner Brothers and help fight for your rights to see Harry Potter on the date that they promised.
Here's the address:
Warner Bros. 4000 Warner Blvd Burbank CA 91522 818-954-6000
Warner Bros. Studios 4000 Warner Blvd Burbank CA 91522 818-562-3062
Of course, there's a few rules I ought to point out. Number two is pretty optional, but otherwise the rules are really brilliant, come up with by a mixture of people. So please, PLEASE, to make this work really well, try and follow them. (Not being pushy, just a suggestion.)
1. Don't write anything that could come off as physically threatening.
2. Try and keep it short and not-so-sweet.
3. Write "HOWLER" at the top of the page.
4. DO NOT see the movie opening weekend if it is being released in July.
5. DO NOT go to repeat viewings if it is being released in July.
6. DO NOT see any other Warner Brothers movies.
7. DO NOT write anything childish or overly-rude. It just makes us all look bad.
Dumbledore's Army, I'm counting on you all to help us succeed in this. If we all ban together and work hard, we can do this. I know we can.
I'm sending about twenty.
Please, you guys. Harry needs help. So send out those Howlers, and save the Half Blood Prince!

Picture Time

Yeeaah, I'm bored. I figured, "Well, some people might not know who a few of these characters look like." You know, in case they've never listened to the band or read the story or watched the movie of live under a rock.
So, here's some of the pictures of them, none of which I own:





Frankie Iero: My Chemical Romance - Guitar
Fanfic: ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~


















Gerard Way: My Chemical Romance - Vocals
Fanfic: ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~

















Ray Toro: My Chemical Romance - Lead Guitar
Fanfic: ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~











Bob Bryar: My Chemical Romance - Drums
Fanfic: ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~














Travis Barker: blink_182 - Drums
Fanfic: Feeling This

















Mark Hoppus: blink_182 - Bass and Vocals
Fanfic: Feeling This


















Tom Delonge: blink_182 - Guitar and Vocals
Fanfic: Feeling This














All of the other characters are from books. I probably will end up posting their pictures as well, if I get bored enough. As I said, I don't own these pictures.
Or these people.
But I want to.

Bundle of Joy: Chapter One

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. I lay claim to the characters Daron and Derrick.

Author's Note: I am a little updating machine!
So, yes, this is, in fact, my Mpreg fic. I know a lot of people hate Mpreg, and I used to as well. But then I read a Percy/Oliver fanfic with it and discovered that, as long as it's not done poorly, I love me a pregnant Percy.
And thus Bundle of Joy was born.
I understand this is not everyone's cup of tea, but I implore you to give it a chance. If you like it, that's fantastic. If you don't, that's fine, just don't flame me.

Name: Bundle of Joy
Pairing: Percy/Oliver (Harry Potter)
Genre: Romance, Mpreg
Rating: PG-13

Chapter One

Oliver Wood remembered how it used to be.

Percy used to be so sweet, his big blue eyes ringed with diamonds staring up at him adoringly. Percy had changed from before, but he’d always been soft and sweet. His bright red hair was gelled into a faux-hawk, the natural, brilliant red fading into a deep blue. His thin, pale face with freckles always had a grin on it, his small nose accented by a sapphire nose stud that on most people would look barbaric, but simply added to Percy’s overall slight self. He was short at 5’ 0”, and thin. Of course Oliver was in love with him; Percy was just so pretty, so mild.

That was when Percy wasn’t angry.

Facing an angry Weasley in any circumstance was like running into a tornado: it was a stupid idea. Percy was no exception. Normally, Oliver thought it was cute. Percy would go pink, his eyes would narrow, and he’d cross his arms over his chest like a stubborn child, glaring at his boyfriend. He’d usually yell something, but Oliver never minded. All it took was for Oliver to take Percy in his arm and give him a quick kiss, and Percy would shut up, even if he would shove Oliver away.

But then there were the other times. The times Oliver had to sleep on the couch. The times when Percy would lock Oliver out of the house. There was even the one time when Percy took everything out of the bathroom during Oliver’s shower: clothes were gone, rugs were gone, curtains were gone, towels were gone, even toilet paper was gone. Anything that Oliver could possibly cover himself with was gone. Then Percy had tied the doorknob to another door across the hall. Oliver ended up having to crawl out the window to find everything locked. To top it off, Percy had called the cops and told them that some psycho was running around town naked. Oliver had hid in the neighbors bushes for nine and a half hours before Percy would let him back in.

This was one of those times.

“Honey, come on!” Oliver shouted, running a strong, calloused hand through his chestnut curls. He caught a pair of his boxers that had been flung out of the window. “Please! Let’s just talk it out. What do you say?”

“No!” Percy shouted, sticking his head out the window, throwing a few pairs of socks at his tanned, muscular boyfriend. “You tricked me! You tricked me! I cannot believe you, Oliver!”

“Okay, okay,” Oliver called back up, his muddy brown eyes pleading now. “I was wrong. But I really, really want kids! I can’t help it! We’re ready for a family!”

“Well I’m not!” Percy yelled. A suitcase went banging to the ground. “I’m not ready. I told you that! I’m not ready to have kids! I can’t take care of them. What could I possibly teach them? How to run away from your problems? No! I told you that I don’t want kids until I manage the courage to make up with my parents. That’s the only for me to know I’m responsible enough. I’m not brave enough for kids. How can I possibly be brave enough to give my life up for a kid if I’m not even brave enough to face my own family? You ass!” Now came a few pairs of sandals.

“So what do you want?” Oliver asked, half-begging. “Are you going to kill it?”

“What? No! Of course not! I don’t believe in abortion. But I do believe in adoption!”

“No!” Oliver was mad now. “You can’t just give our child away!”

“Shut up!” Percy’s eyes were blazing. “This was not voluntary for me! This isn’t what I want!”

“But you can’t just give it up,” Oliver argued. But Percy was already digging more of Oliver’s clothes out of the closet.

“What’s going on?” Penelope Clearwater asked, looking confused. She licked a lollipop delicately, her short, curly, baby-fine blonde hair pulled back from her big cerulean eyes. She had a pale hand on her thin hips, a handbag slung over her narrow shoulder. She smirked. “Lover’s spat?”

“Yep,” Oliver sighed. “Pretty big one, too.”

“What’d you do?” Penelope questioned, hiding a smile.

“Well, it kind of started with me wanting kids,” Oliver began. It really took him back…

“Of course I want kids, Oliver,” Percy had said, “but not right now.”

“Why not now?” Oliver snapped. “We could adopt a kid from China right now.”

“We could,” Percy agreed. “But I want to wait.”

“Why?”

“Because, Oliver, I’m just not ready.”

But Oliver was completely desperate. He had mixed a fertility potion into Percy’s drink one night. And what a night it was.

But two months later, Percy had started getting sick in the morning, and he was always hungry for the oddest things: ice cream with ketchup, pickles dipped in chocolate. Oliver couldn’t stand to see him so concerned. So he told him.

“You did what to me?” Percy gasped.

“It’s not a big deal,” Oliver said quickly. “I just made it so that you could bear children.”

“THAT’S A PRETTY BIG DEAL!” Percy had shrieked.

“Not really,” Oliver hastened. “I mean, I doubt it worked, but I got you a test…”

Percy grabbed the test, then came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, seething. “It’s positive.” His voice was deadly and quiet. “You got me PREGNANT!”

Oliver snapped back to reality to see Penelope with her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, Oliver!” she shouted. “You got him pregnant?”

Oliver nodded.

“And he didn’t even know?”

Oliver shook his head.

“OLIVER!”

“I couldn’t help it!” Oliver wailed. “I really want kids. I really do. And I found out that there was a potion that could make is so Percy could get pregnant, and… Why are you looking at me like that?”

Penelope shook her head. Her eyes were narrow and mean. “If he kicks you out,” she snarled, “you’d better damn well believe you deserve it.”

Author's Note: Comments are appreciated, flames are not. Thank you!

Drunken Lullabies

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I do not own Flogging Molly.

Author's Note: That's right. It's a fanfic named after a Flogging Molly song.
Okay, so here's what's going down: I wrote this for FairyAngel24. It's a Fred/Cho fanfic. I found out that this really is a very sweet pairing, and I like it a lot. This story is a little bit of everything, I guess. It's AU (Fred isn't dead), it's fluff, it's angst, it's humor... I don't know if this is all a good thing, but that's how it came out.
So, FairyAngel24, I really hope you like this. It was really fun to write!
(And Zach - where are you right now? Leave me a comment and let me know.)

Name: Drunken Lullabies
Pairing: Fred/Cho (Harry Potter)
Genre: Romance, flangst, humor, AU
Rating: PG-13

Drunken Lullabies

Fred Weasley had not walked into a bar in ten years, and he had not seen Cho Chang for fifteen. So it was rather surprising for him when he went into a Muggle bar for a drink and found a haggard-looking Cho seated on a stool with a beer in her hand and mascara running down her cheeks.

“Well, this is interesting,” Fred said, climbing onto a stool beside Cho. She turned to him, her face blank. “How’ve you been, Cho?”

“Oh, Fred,” she said, her voice toneless. “Nice to see you.”

“So I can see,” Fred replied. He waved to the bartender and ordered a beer. “You look… Healthy.”

Cho snorted. “Don’t even try, Fred. I know I look like hell.”

“Thank God. That was a lie I didn’t feel like telling for the next hour.” Fred took a swig.

“You’re no oil painting yourself,” Cho snapped. “You’ve really gone downhill, haven’t you?”

“You know, as pleasant as this conversation is,” Fred growled, “I’d prefer to drink my problems away in silence, thanks.”

“Fine by me,” Cho replied coolly. “I didn’t ask for your company.”

“Fine.”

The two sipped at their beers, neither talking or looking at each other. The only sounds were an old jukebox, the clacking of pool balls, and drunks arguing over something they wouldn’t even remember the next day. Finally, Cho turned to Fred.

“I left my husband.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re here,” Fred said easily. He shook his head. “I don’t see why women always get so upset after they leave their men. It should be the guys who are upset.”

Cho glared. “He was cheating on me with Pansy Parkinson.”

“Oh.” Fred took a sip of beer. “How is Pansy, by the way?”

“Seems pretty happy fucking my husband.” Cho snapped her fingers for another drink. “So, why are you here? Do you have a sob story too, or are you just a raging alcoholic?”

“You know, you’re so charming when you’re devastated,” Fred said with a sarcastic smile. “And my wife left me, thanks for asking.”

Cho took a sip. “Who were you sleeping with?” It wasn’t an accusation, just a question.

“My wife,” Fred replied. He paused for a moment. “But so was my brother.”

Cho snorted. “My, my, my. What a sordid little story. Which brother?”

“George,” Fred answered heavily. He took a chug. “Yep, Angelina Johnson, the love of my life. We had a little Fred and Fredina together. At least, I thought we did. It wasn’t till a week ago that I found out that they were a little George and Georgina. Now, after I raised them for three years, they’re calling George ‘daddy’ and me ‘uncle’.” He turned to Cho with a chuckle, pointing at her. “Wow. My story’s way more pathetic than yours.”

Cho looked deeply offended. “It is not!”

“Is too,” Fred snickered. He ordered another beer. “My wife cheated on me and had three kids fathered by my twin brother. That’s an entire season of Days of Our Lives, little lady. Your husband cheated on you. That’s, what, one side-story on Desperate Housewives? Give me a break.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be such a damn bitch about it, I guess I’ll leave and wallow elsewhere,” Cho growled. She reached for her purse.

Fred grabbed her purse strap and pulled it towards himself. “Oh, come on,” he said seriously. “Don’t pretend this isn’t making you feel better. I’m just letting the healing begin.” He also tugged Cho’s stool closer. “All right, start talking, love. Go through every event that brought you here. I’m absolutely fascinated.” He plunked his chin down on his intertwined fingers in a very Dumbledore-like way.

Cho nodded. “Okay, okay.” She smirked. “You know, I am just drunk enough to go along with this.”

Fred waved her on. “Of course. Nothing wrong with depression-fueled drinking.” He thought for a moment. “You’ve left out one very important detail, I’ve just realized. Who’d you marry?”

Cho rolled her eyes dramatically, taking a large swallow of beer. “Ernie Macmillan. The Hufflepuff. ‘True and loyal’ my ass.”

Fred grinned. “Getting more and more interesting. Okay, love, start with, say, three days ago. Let’s hear Tuesday morning and go on from there.”

Cho took a sip and chuckled. “You know,” she said, pointing at Fred, “it actually started Tuesday morning.”

“Did it now?”

“Yes, it did.” Cho sighed, still chuckling. “Oh. I cannot believe how blind I was, you know? I really ought to have noticed before then. There were all the pathetically obvious signs. There was literally lipstick on his bloody collar!” She was now laughing so hard that she had started gasping. “Lipstick! For Christ’s sake! And the perfume, and the phone messages, and all of the mysterious purchases of jewelry…” She quieted and shook her head, still giggling every once in a while. “I guess I figured I could trust him after he stayed with me.” She looked over at Fred. She was still smiling, but she also looked a little sad. “He always wanted kids. Did you know that? He always did. He told me that when we started dating.” Cho looked down at the floor. “Then, a little while after we were married, I found out that I’m sterile.”

“Oh.” Fred’s smirk was gone. He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m… I’m really sorry. I didn’t know…”

Cho waved her hand. “No, it’s fine. Honestly.” She looked back up, her faint smile stuck soundly on her face. “I would’ve thought that, after that, nothing would pull us apart. Yet, looking back, I can see that we had differences, even with that. I wanted to adopt, really. I thought that would be a fantastic idea. But Ernie didn’t want to. He said it wouldn’t be ours.” She laughed bitterly. “You’d think that if he was so bloody worried about what was ours, he’d have realized that our marriage wasn’t a multi-person affair. But hey, what do I know? Because after all, he always had all the answers. Oh yes, Ernie knew everything about everything, he did.”

Fred gave a grunt of exasperation. “Yeah, he was always that way, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he was. But, on to Tuesday morning.”

“Yes, of course. Please, continue with the story of your sad, pathetic life.”

“Watch yourself, Weasley. Anyway, Tuesday morning, I woke up the way I usually do – wrapped around my husband. Or at least, I thought I was wrapped around my husband. It took a moment, but then it hit me – Ernie doesn’t have boobs. At least, not the kind of boobs I was grabbing at. Nor did he have a bob haircut.

“Believe it or not, I still didn’t quite get it. I laid there, eyes closed, grabbing a pair of boobs, and wondering why in the hell Ernie had never told me that he liked dressing in drag. And then I thought, ‘Why, these are some terrifically made false breasts, they feel just like the real thing!’ And that’s about when I opened my eyes to see Pansy Parkinson staring down at me as if I was out of my mind.”

“Wow. What’d you do then?”

“Well, I did what most women would do: I jumped up and started to screaming at the naked bitch to get the hell out of my bed. Of course, then, she started screaming at me, saying it was her boyfriend’s bed and she couldn’t figure out why I was laying there.”

“I bet that one threw you for a loop,” Fred snickered. He looked down at his empty beer. “Wow, I am gonna need something way stronger than this.” He turned back to Cho. “You want a scotch?”

“No, thanks. I wouldn’t say no to a martini, though.” She waited to bite into the olive from her martini before continuing her story. “Where was I? Oh, right. I guess they’d come in after I’d already fallen asleep, and I didn’t wake up, so he we hadn’t noticed each other, right? Right. So, here the two of us are, screaming our lungs out at each other, and in walks Ernie, butt-naked and looking completely bewildered. Finally, he points at me and says, ‘Hey, what are you doing here?’”

“Oh, no!” Fred howled. “He didn’t!”

Cho gave him a fierce look before cracking up as well. “Yes, he did. He actually pointed at his wife and asked her why she was asleep in her own bed.” She giggled. “I think my face said it all right about then, because his eyes got huge and he pointed at Pansy, saying, ‘I mean… Oi! What are you doing here?’”

Fred was crying with laughter, hunched over his scotch. “Just how stupid does he think you are?” he asked incredulously. “I just can’t get over this guy! Honestly…”

Cho snorted, chugging her martini. “He is pretty unbelievable, I’ll admit. And I mean that in the worst way possible.” She smacked her lips. “God, that was an awful martini.”

“Forget about that,” Fred insisted, tossing the martini glass over his shoulder. It shattered, but neither of them turned to see the damage. “So, what happened then?”

“Long story short – too late, I know – both Pansy and I realized that we’d been cheated on by Ernie, who apparently liked to use that tiny pocket in his pants to hide his wedding ring when he was ‘out with the boys’. That was always his excuse. ‘I’m going for a drink with the boys.’ ‘I’ll be hanging out with the boys.’ ‘Calm down, honey! I was just out with the boys!’” She frowned. “Come to think of it, I never did ask who ‘the boys’ were.”

Fred leaned back, watching Cho closely with a small smile on his face. “So, how did Pansy react?”

Cho made a small hissing noise. “She was angry at me.”

“Dumb whore.”

“Yeah, I know. Stupid bitch has the audacity to be angry with me… Honestly…” Cho looked over at Fred, seeming to snap out of a trance. “Right. So, you said your wife cheated on you?”

“Yup. Found out last week. Spent all of this week in my bed, under the covers, crying.” Fred laughed bitterly, taking a deep drink of scotch. “I guess the revelation was a lot less, er, dramatic than the one you went through. Angelina walked into the room, handed me some divorce papers, and told me the whole story.”

“Really? That was it?”

“That was it.” Fred finished his scotch and stood. “This is pointless. Drinking isn’t making me feel any better.”

“Me neither,” Cho said, looking warily at her two empty beer bottles. “I’ve had three drinks and I don’t feel drunk at all.”

“You’re not gonna drive, are you?” Fred asked suspiciously, holding out a hand to help Cho off her stool.

Cho giggled, for real this time. “No, of course not. I live right down the street. And Ernie’s gone now. I’ll just go back there.” She looked down, clearing her throat. “Alone.”

Fred raised and lowered one shoulder, looking off to the side. “You know, I’ve been living out of a hotel ever since my break up,” he said with a light air of suggestion. “I could… You know… Go back there with you. You know, where I could sleep for free.”

Cho blinked, seeing through Fred’s façade with ease. “Why? And I mean seriously, why?”

“Well…” Fred could hardly believe it. He was blushing. Blushing! The boldest of the bold, the most shameless of the shameless, was blushing! He dropped his gaze, trying to hide it. He strode quickly out of the bar and into the dark street, pulling Cho with him. “I want to go back with you because I… I like you.”

Cho stared, then gave a very unlady-like snort. “What are we, kindergarteners? Are you going to give me a note that says ‘Do you like me?’ and have me circle yes or no now?”

Fred grinned widely, falling easily into the swing of things. “Yep. Come on, circle yes. I’ll give you my juice box if you’ll be my girlfriend.”

Cho rolled her eyes. “No. You probably can’t even get across the monkey bars. I need me a real man.”

“Please?” Fred whined. “Come on.”

“No.”

“Come on!”

“No.”

Fred pouted. “Come oooon!” he moaned. He poked Cho in the side, making her squeal. He lit up, poking her again.

“Fred, stop it!” she shrieked, jumping and staggering a little. She was laughing brightly, clutching her side. Fred grabbed her around the waist from behind and tickled her from both sides. She would have collapsed in hysterics if it hadn’t been for Fred’s support.

“Say uncle!” Fred laughed in her ear.

“Never!” Cho squealed.

Fred tickled her harder. Cho’s feet lifted off the ground as she struggled. “Say it!” Fred shouted. “Say it for me!”

“Uncle!” Cho bellowed, howling. “Uncle, uncle, uncle!”

Fred loosened his grip and let Cho slide out of his arms. She collapsed on the ground in a heap of tingling nerves and giggles. “You… Bastard…” she gasped through sniggers.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Fred admonished with a click of his tongue. He grabbed her wrists and lifted her to her feet. “Up we go now, there you are…”

Cho smiled, shaking her head. “Okay, fine. You can walk home with me. But I’m expecting that juice box. And no naps. I don’t take a nap with guys on the first date.”

“I wouldn’t a nap right now, anyway,” Fred said with a shrug. “I’ll just sleep on your couch, I won’t bother you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Can we at least have story time?”

“Throw in some milk and cookies and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Cho said. She suddenly looked shy. She reached out and gently, delicately put her palm against Fred’s.

Fred looked down at their hands for a long time before interlocking their fingers. For the first time, he didn’t have a smart ass comment, a wisecrack, or a prank in mind. All he did was lean in and brush his lips across Cho’s soft pale cheek. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. He squeezed her hand lightly. “I’ll pick you up that juice box on the way.”

The two of them passed under a streetlight and then disappeared into the darkness. Fred Weasley had never expected to walk into a bar and see Cho Chang sitting there, but he was definitely glad that he had.

Author's Note: Yeah, I know it's really long - wrapping it up took a while. Hope you liked it!