Feeling This: Chapter Two

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

Author's Note: Check out my neat little disclaimers that keep me from getting sued.
Anyway, I'm sooo happy that I found the file. Now I can finally put up chapter two.
I really like chapter two. I don't know why. Maybe it's because Travis is so cute and pathetic in a puppy dog kind of way.
Speaking of Travis, yes, I know Mark wrote "Stay Together for the Kids" and that Travis's mom died just before he started high school. But this is fanFICTION, my dear friends, and thusly I am changing whatever to suit my personal fangirl needs. XD

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

Chapter 2: The Air Is So Cold and Low

“I’m amazed you didn’t get caught,” Travis Barker told Tom, gnawing at a carrot stick. His big blue eyes were wide, staring out from his thin, pale face. “Seriously. How’d you get Mark out so quick?”
“Told him there was a hooker sidewalk sale?” Scott asked, mashing buttons on the Nintendo controller. “DAMMIT, MARIO, RUN FASTER!”
“Suck it, bitch!” Tom sneered at Scott. He turned to Travis. “I dunno. I just… Kicked his ass out.”
“I’m just surprised he went without a fight,” Travis shrugged.
“You kidding?” Scott snorted. “Mark would do anything for Tom. They’re, like, lovers or something.”
Tom blushed. “Oh, eat your fucking Doritos, fatty.”
Scott sucked in his noticeable paunch and frowned, looking hurt. “Hey, you don’t have to be an ass about it.”
“So, you like guys?” Travis asked innocently.
“What?! Fuck no!” Tom was astounded that Travis even knew what being gay was. Travis was so sheltered it was a miracle that he’d even left his house. Mrs. Barker was a little insane about her son’s health – he’d been born with a serious heart condition. This meant he couldn’t experience too much “stimulation”: no running, no shouting, no TV, and certainly no listening to loud music, much less playing it. It was rough for Travis not being able to openly listen to his friends’ punk music, but he could deal with it now that he had headphones.
Travis shrugged and checked his watch. “Oh, crap. I have to get home. Mother wants be back by 8:00.”
“Could you stop calling her Mother?” Scott begged. “It’s really creepy.”
“I agree,” Tom chimed in. “It makes you sound like an abused kid. Like in Mommy Dearest. Like, ‘If you don’t call me Mother, I’ll beat you!’”
Scott laughed. Travis blushed, but his only reply was, “Scott, could you drive me? I’m not supposed to walk a long way…”
“Yeah, I know.” Scott put his game on pause. “I’ll drive you, don’t worry.” To Tom he added, “When’s Mark coming by?”
“Around 9,” Tom replied, turning the TV off. “Might as well start tuning.”
“Need my help?”
“No thanks, I’ve got it.”
Travis stared longingly at the drum set in the corner.
“You have any new songs?” Tom continued.
“Nah, not really. Mark got some?”
“He’s got one, I think. I just hope it doesn’t suck as bad as the last one.”
“Yeah, what was that shit about? I mean, fucking a dog? Like what the hell?”
“I know, man. I think he’s fucking twisted.”
“I wrote something,” Travis said quietly. He stroked one of the drumsticks tentatively, as though he might break it.
Scott and Tom both jumped, having forgot Travis was there. Tom cocked an eyebrow, at a loss for anything good to say. “Uh… Cool.”
“Huh.” Scott nodded at Travis, smiling at him like he was a kindergarten teacher and Travis was a five-year-old who had just showed him some sucky macaroni art project.
“It’s called ‘Stay Together For the Kids’,” Travis added hopefully, shooting Tom an anxious look.
“Sounds…” Tom looked at Scott helplessly.
“Interesting,” Scott added, still grinning. He turned back to Tom. “So, yeah, hopefully Mark’s got something decent.”
“Yeah,” Tom agreed. “We need stuff bad.”
Travis, looking hurt, hurried up the stairs. Both Tom and Scott stopped when they heard the front door slam.
Tom bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the floor. Scott rubbed the back of his neck, ashamed.
“See ya in a few minutes,” Scott mumbled, looking at his feet.
“Yeah, sure.” Tom stared at the blank TV until he heard the doors slam again upstairs.
Not five minutes later, Mark hopped down the stairs. “Hey, Tommy.”
“Hey.” Tom pulled out his guitar and began tuning. “Trav was here.”
“Out of the hospital already?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”
“He wrote a song.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You read it?”
“No.”
“He tell you anything about it?”
“Just the title.”
“How’d it sound?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Oh.”
Both fell silent.
“I feel like shit, Mark.”
“I know, Tom.”
Mark, Tom, and soon Scott sat for two hours, pounding out lifeless beats on their guitars. It was going to be a long night.

Author's Note: As always, comments are greatly appreciated.