Author's Note: Hey, guys. I know it has been quite a while since my first post. Still, this fic is one I'm very excited about - a friend of mine went to an Angels and Airwaves concert a while ago. She met the members of the band - all except for, unfortunately, Tom. Still, she gave this fic to Matt, who said he'd give it to Tom (once he read it himself, that is). So, I don't know if he read it, or if he even got it. Still, I hope all of you like it.
Name: Feeling This
Pairing: Mark/Tom (blink_182)
Genre: Romance, somewhat AU
Rating: PG-13
Chapter 1: I’ll Leave When I Wanna
“Goddammit, Mark!”
Mark Hoppus felt something soft collide with the back of his head. He sat up snorting and snuffling, looking around to see Tom Delonge standing over him, fuming. He rubbed his eyes. “The hell, Tom?”
“What the hell do you mean, ‘what the hell’?” Tom barked, flinging another pillow at his best friend. “Jesus Christ, Hoppus, is three in the afternoon, you’ve got your shit all over my fucking house, you’re still asleep, and I have no idea what time my parents are coming home! So pack your fucking bag-“ he whipped a large duffel at Mark’s face – “and get the fucking hell out of here!”
“Why?” Mark whined, burying his face in his pillow. “So what if I’m here when the ‘rents get back? They know what I’m like.”
“Exactly. That’s why they hate you.” Tom tugged back the covers. “They think Travis is here. They don’t know you’ve been staying with me all week.”
“See, that’s what I don’t get.” Mark turned over onto his back and hitched up his slipping boxers. “Why the fuck do they like Trav and Scott so much more than me? Scott’s just as bad, and Travis would be if his organs let him.”
“First off, even if Travis didn’t have a heart condition, he wouldn’t go out every night drinking and rubbing his dick on every skirt he saw. Second, neither he nor Scott shoots his damn mouth off to everybody!” Tom tossed the bedcovers into a laundry basket. “Hell, if they decided to go on and fucking on about the time they jacked their mom’s pot brownies, I doubt my parents would be inclined to like them either. But they’re nice, and polite, and they don’t call my parents Ma and Pops, and they’re not so Goddamn fucking STUPID!” He emphasized his point by slapping Mark upside the head.
Mark rubbed the spot where Tom has slapped him. “Jesus, you’re a touchy douchebag this morning.”
Tom just whipped a pair of pants at Mark and stormed into the kitchen.
Once Mark was dressed, he followed the trail of Tom’s madness into the basement. Tom was speeding around the room like a scrawny teenage version of the Roadrunner, throwing crushed pop cans and chip bags into a trash bag. He was mumbling to himself.
“Goddamn bastard, never helps at all, kick his fucking ass…”
“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Mark teased. Instead of laughing, Tom thrust the trash bag at him.
“Your mess, your problem. I have to go take care of my room before my parents get back.”
Mark stared at the bag like it had fallen out of a space ship. “And what the hell do I do with this?”
Tom sighed, exasperated. “It’s a fucking trash bag. You put trash in it.” In a low mutter, he added, “Ya retard.”
“Come on, Tom, I don’t clean!” Mark simpered. He stamped his foot like a five-year-old. “At least stay down here and help me!”
Tom turned back, his mouth open as if to speak. All that came out was a low groan. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I’ll help you.” He turned his back to Mark and bent down, gathering up empty cartons of milk.
Mark leaned back and gave his best friend a good looking-over. For a scrawny guy with a retainer and hair like a damn hedgehog, Tom had a great ass. He even wore girl pants that showed it off. It wasn’t Mark’s fault for looking.
Tom, sensing eyes examining him, looked through his legs. “The fuck you starin’ at?”
“Nothing,” Mark shrugged, gathering up piles of video games and smiling to himself. “Just enjoying the view.”
Author's Note: So, I hope you like it. Please comment, and please send my blog to your friends! (SHAMELESS ADVERTISING)
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