Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Feeling This: Chapter Three

DISCLAIMER: I do not own blink_182, Angels and Airwaves, or +44.

Author's Note: Ugh. I have a cold.
This means, unfortunatelyl, that I'm unable to update at home.
So, per usual, I'm updating from my favorite computer at school.
I feel like this is the chapter where things actually HAPPEN. The other ones are kinda slow, I know. I wouldn't say this is my favorite chapter, but I think it's somewhat decent.
Oh, and I should mention - my flash drive is AMAZING. It can hold everything. I love it as though it is my child - possibly more than that.
Oh, and yes, I shall add some of my fanfiction.net stuff later. The screen name is allikitty699, in case anyone is interested in looking it up.

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

Chapter 3: Fentoozler

“Hey, it’s the Faggoteers.”
Tom, Scott, and Travis all flinched. They knew what was coming.
Four smirking jocks stood before them, clad in football jerseys of their high school colors. One, a meaty blonde, flicked his cigarette. “Where the fuck is Mark?”
“I don’t know,” Tom snapped. “Get out of my fucking way.”
“Wasn’t talking to you, queer.” He stepped up to Travis, smirking. Travis stared at the ground, his lithe body trembling. “Where the fuck is Mark?”
“Leave him the hell alone,” Scott snapped. Everyone in the vicinity was well aware of how cruel it was to pick on Travis – he was so small and easily frightened.
“Look at me, Barker,” the jock commanded, not taking his eyes off Travis. When Travis didn’t obey, the jock sucked on his cigarette and blew it in Travis’s face. “What’s wrong, faggot? Scared of me?”
Travis shook his head anxiously.
The jock smiled over at his buddies, shooting Tom and Scott a challenging glance. Catching Tom’s gaze, he slowly moved his burning cigarette down, touching it to Travis’s thin arm.
Travis let out a yelp of pain and jumped away, clutching the burn mark. All four jocks instantly converged onto him, each one grabbing an arm or leg.
“Get the fuck off him!” Scott shouted, trying to pry one of the jock’s hands off of Travis’s thin wrist. Tom jumped on the back of the smallest one of the boys. This didn’t seem to phase Travis’s tormentors any – they shook the two nerds off as if they were flies. Tom and Scott landed in a pathetic pile on the pavement.
“Let’s shove him in my trunk!” one guy yelled.
“N-No!” Travis squeaked over the jocks’ roars of agreement. “No, p-p-please…”
“Hey, what the hell’s going on?”
Tom looked up and saw Mark strutting towards them, suited up in his own football jersey. He looked pissed.
“Hey, Marky.” The blonde gave him a sharp nod.
“Drop him, Jake,” Mark commanded. The four jocks instantly did as they were told, letting Travis fall to the ground.
Mark approached, shoving two of the football players away. He extended a hand towards Travis. “Hey, man, you okay?”
Travis nodded and grabbed his hand, dusting himself off when Mark pulled him to his feet. He grabbed his backpack and scuttled into the school without a backwards glance.
Mark landed a sharp jab to Jake’s shoulder. “What the fuck, dude?”
Jake shrugged and stamped his cigarette out on the pavement. “Shit, Mark, you know we were just havin’ fun.”
“Yeah? Well, quit having fun with these three,” Mark snarled. He turned to Tom, flinging an arm around his shoulders. “You okay?”
Tom nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. Scott?”
“Fine,” Scott answered, brushing dirt off his jeans. He blushed when he saw one of the jocks puff out their cheeks and hold out their arms, giving them a bloated look. “I’m… Fine.”
Mark flipped the jock off. “All right, see you guys later,” he told Scott. He gave Tom a reassuring pat on the back and a wink. Tom smiled weakly and led Scott into the school.
“I’m serious this time, Jake,” Mark snapped once his friends and two of the jocks were out of sight. “Leave them the hell alone.”
“I don’t get the deal, Mark. They’re just a bunch of freaks.”
“Yeah? Well, those freaks are my friends.” Mark dug his hand into Jake’s pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Fuck, you guys are assholes. No wonder Tom complains about what douches you are.”
“Whatever.” Antony, the jock who’d made fun of Scott’s weight, pulled out his wallet and began rearranging the pictures, the way he did about twenty times a day. “I don’t really give a shit what those guys think.” He snapped his wallet shut before Mark could open his mouth. “By the way, I heard Becky Harmen – you know, the new cheerleader with the huge tits – is having a party tonight. You game?”
Mark thought back to what Tom had said a week previous about how he went out drinking every night. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I dunno, man. Tom’s getttin’ sick of my partying.”
“Well, yeah. That’s ‘cause he’s never partied.” Jake rolled his eyes at Antony. “Hey, why don’t you bring the Mickey Mouse Club along? Those kids gotta take the diapers off some time, right?”
“Dude, Tom would never come out drinking with me,” Mark snorted. Just trying to picture Tom wasted was a hell of a challenge. “And I don’t think Trav could handle it.”
“Then one of them can be the designated,” Antony shrugged. “You gotta bring Scott though, man. That fatty looks like he could down five keggars and feel nothing.”
“Hey, don’t be dicks about his weight,” Mark said, lighting up his cigarette. “He can’t help having a little more to love.”
“Dude. There’s more to love, and then there’s so much lovin’ it’d break your goddamn back.” Jake grinned devilishly. “You’re pal Tom must need to get on top. Otherwise he’d break like a fucking toothpick.”
Thinking of Tom fucking Scott made Mark’s cheeks flush and a tiny roar of anger flame up in his chest. “Shut the fuck up, Jake. I fucking mean it.”
Jake held up his hands. “Fine, dude, fine. But seriously. If those guys tag along, are you in?”
Mark sighed, giving up. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get Scott to drive. What time?”
“11:30. And bring beer. We’re gonna be swapping.” Antony pulled out his wallet again. “I’ll see ya, guys. I gotta get to class.”
“I’ve got a meeting with Donna in the janitor’s closet,” Jake announced. “See ya fags at the party.”
Antony swatted him before Jake trotted away.
Mark took a deep drag on his cigarette. This was gonna be one goddamn long night.

Author's Note: Everytime I had to write a gay slur, I winced. Anywho, comments, please!

1 comment:

Zach said...

Fag makes you wince? <_<

I like this story. :D I need more, and soon. Like, now.