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.

Feeling This: Chapter Six

Author's Note: DON'T WORRY, MY DARLINGS. I'm still alive.
So, I finally got everything to get working on my computer, and I can update. This has been becoming the most popular fic on here, which, really, is surprising to me. I didn't think people would like it as much as ~X~ Fix Your Eyes ~X~, but I'm not complaining. I'm glad everybody likes it.
Another thing - if you come to my blog, I have a favor to ask: Tell your friends! I know I'm being a slow ass with the fics I've promised, and I'm really sorry. They're all almost finished. Harpsiccord's stuff is, like, a sentence from the end, as is the Fred/Cho fic. So, trust me, I really am working on them, and they'll be up really soon.
Thank you guys for your patience. I can't tell you how grateful I am to you.

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

Chapter 6: Time

“Skipping class?” Scott asked as Mark and Tom pulled up to the hospital the next morning.

“As are you, I see,” Tom observed. They walked together through the doors.

The smell hit Tom so strongly he almost wanted to turn and run. Hospitals always smelled like latex, cotton balls, and death. Still, it wasn’t like Tom hadn’t ever spent hours with Travis there.

“Hey, Trav,” Mark said sheepishly as they walked into the room. He obviously still felt guilty.

Travis smiled weakly. He had an IV in his arm and oxygen plugs up his nose. He looked so frail and sick that Tom had to swallow a gasp – he’d never looked this bad before.

The three of them took seats around the bed, Scott quickly grabbing onto Travis’s thin hand. Tom set the half-dead flowers he’d bought in the lobby on the bedside table.

“So how are you?” Mark finally blurted.

Travis looked down at the sheets. “Not… Not great.” He looked uncomfortable. “The nurses said they found bruises on me.”

Tom stiffened. Scott gritted his teeth. Mark leaned in and asked, “So, what did you say?”

“I said I fell,” Travis replied. Then he sighed. “Don’t look at me like that, Mark. I know it’s a lie. You know it’s a lie. Scott and Tom know it’s a lie. I’ve never even fallen down in front of you guys. But how else am I supposed to explain a black eye and tons of bruises to a stranger? Bradley would kill me.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t yet,” Tom remarked bleakly. “Dammit, Trav. I wish you weren’t in this situation.”

“Or any of these situations,” Mark added. “It’s like you lost a cosmic bet or some shit.”

“It gets worse,” Scott said. “Travis needs a heart transplant.”

The room went dead quiet.

Tom and Mark exchanged incredulous looks while Travis whispered, “Please, Scott. I told you not to tell them.”

“We kinda need to know!” Mark shouted, making everyone else jump.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed quietly. “I mean, like, how… How bad is it?”

Travis shrugged, fiddling with the edge of his bedding. “I could go a month or two. After that…” He trailed off.

They sat in ominous quiet, the only sounds being the beeping of the heart monitor. Tom stared out the window without seeing anything. A month or two. Fuck. If he could’ve ripped out his heart and given it to Travis right then and there, he would’ve. By the look on Mark’s face, he felt the same.

The only surprising reaction was Scott’s. He clasped Travis’s hand gently and brought it to his lips, closing his eyes. Trav’s eyes were beginning to blur over with tears at this gesture.

Tom ran a hand over his face. “God fucking dammit.”

“Amen,” Mark agreed tonelessly.

Tom touched Travis’s arm. “How are you really? You gotta tell us.”

Travis wiped his eyes. “Well, I’m scared,” he admitted in a whisper. “But it’s not exactly unexpected. I just hope I can get the transplant. If I get it, I’ll finally be normal. But if I don’t, then…”

Mark held up a hand. “Jesus, Trav, don’t fucking say it. If you say it, I’m going to have a mental fucking breakdown.”

Tom nodded and rubbed Mark’s back.

“There’s – There’s one thing,” Travis muttered awkwardly. Mark, Tom, and Scott snapped to immediate attention. “There’s just one thing I really, really want you guys to do. Could you… Bring me my song? The one I wrote?”

Tom and Mark were breaking into Travis’s house in five minutes.

Author's Note: Again, guys, thanks for your patience. Per usual, comments are appreciated.

Feeling This: Chapter Five

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

Author's Note: I like this fic, but I'm gonna need to space it out more.
Yes, this is the chapter where it gets a little bit slashier. Mmm. Taste that slashy goodness.
"Josie" is one of my favorite blink_182 songs (off of the Dude Ranch album). Go to YouTube and watch the video - it is made of win.
I'm thinking of asking my good friend Mare Bear if she'd like a fic of hers up. She's the one that I wrote Feeling This and ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~ for, so it would only make sense for her to have a cameo.

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

Chapter 5: Josie

Tom’s late night movie was interrupted by a loud crashing right next to his ear.
“Fuck!” he hissed, rolling out of bed and ducking beside his nightstand. His brain scrabbled to piece together what had happened. Once his panic had faded, he saw a rock sitting on his floor surrounded by broken glass.
“Tom! To-o-o-o-om! Tom, I gotta talk to you!”
Tom stood up and stuck his head out of his now nonexistent window to see Mark standing below him, eyes wide, looking really pathetic and really, really scared.
“Mark?” Tom turned to look at the rock on his floor. “What the fuck? You broke my window.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. The rock thing seems to work a lot better in movies.” Mark bit his lip. “Can I come up?”
Tom sighed. “Yeah, okay. Climb up.”
Mark jumped quickly to the task of scrambling up the trellis in front of Tom’s window. He climbed into Tom’s room, carefully avoiding glass and frowning at the glowing TV. “National Lampoon’s Vacation?”
“Yeah.” Tom shut it off and flicked on his bedside lamp. “So what’s going on, man? You look kinda scared.”
Mark shook his head and collapsed onto Tom’s bed. He ran a hand over his face and looked up at Tom, almost begging. “You’re gonna be pissed.”
Tom sat down beside him, concerned. “I’m gonna be way more pissed if you don’t tell me what happened. Now come on. What’s wrong?”
Mark looked sick. “It’s Travis. He… His heart… Let’s just say he’s not doing well.”
Tom’s mind began to spin with terror. “What? Why? What the hell happened?”
“I took him to a party,” Mark continued. “Listen, I know I screwed up! But I wanted him to have a good time for once. Is that really so wrong? I mean, he’s got his dick stepdad, his psycho mom, and a fucking heart condition. It seemed like a good idea to let him relax and be happy for once.”
“I understand that,” Tom snapped, running a hand nervously through his hair. “That’s why I haven’t ripped out your damn trachea yet. But where is he? What happened to him?”
“I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I think he either went into cardiac arrest or he had a heart attack. They took him to the hospital. Scott’s with him.” Mark rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. I thought I was doing him a favor.”
Tom sighed. “Yeah, I know. But you have to remember than Travis can’t really do the same stuff as us. He’s too sick.”
Mark thunked his head on Tom’s shoulder. “Yeah, I know. Are you pissed at me?”
“No,” Tom muttered, putting an arm around Mark. “I’m not pissed at you. I’m a little pissed at God, though.”
Mark raised his head and, to Tom’s surprise, kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best friend I could ever have, you know that? You always make me feel better.”
Tom blushed and gave him a small smile. “Thanks, man. You help me out a lot, too.” After a few seconds, he asked, “Did you drive here?”
“No. I’m a little tipsy. Could you take me home?”
Tom groaned. “Mark. Get another designated, for the love of God!”
“Why? You’re a good little designated.”
“I hate driving you around. It’s depressing. It’s a constant reminder that I don’t get invited to parties where I can get drunk.”
“I thought you hate parties.”
“I do hate parties. I hate dances and football games, too. But I would like to be invited so I can turn it down.”
“Um, dude? That’s fucking twisted.”
“Maybe to you. You always get invited places.” Tom grabbed his keys. “I’m really hungry. Wanna stop by Sombrero?”
“The Mexican place downtown?” Mark shrugged. “Sure. Let’s replace our stress and anxiety with tacos.”
They crawled down the trellis and scampered off to Tom’s car, which they had so oddly named Yogi. Begging Yogi to be quiet and not wake up the parentals, they drove off down the street.
While Tom was ordering, Mark sat at a booth, scribbling on a napkin. He wasn’t really conscious of what he wrote until he looked down and saw a song.
“Yeah my boyfriend takes me home when I’m too drunk to drive
And he doesn’t get all jealous when I hang out with other guys
He laughs at my dumb jokes when no one does
He brings me Mexican food from Sombrero just because
Yeah just because
And my boyfriend likes UL and DHC
And he’s so smart and independent
I don’t think he needs me
Quite half as much as I know I need him
I wonder why there’s not another guy that he is with
And when I feel like giving up
Like my world is falling down
I show up at three AM
He’s still up watching Vacation
And I see his perfect face
It takes me away to a better place and
I know that everything, know that everything, know that everything
Everything’s gonna be fine.”
“What’s that?”
Mark jumped and slapped a hand over his napkin. Tom was standing above him with a tray of tacos and a weird look on his face.
Mark hemmed and hawed for a few seconds before spluttering, “I-It’s a, um, a song.”
“Oh, sweet.” Tom plunked the tray down and sat in front of him. He seemed desperate to stay in a good mood and forget what was happening with Travis. “What is it called?”
Mark’s brain whirred, casting around for a decent excuse. Finally, he said, “’Josie’.”
“Josie? Is that a girl’s name?” Tom asked. His smile became even more strained.
“Uh…” Actually, Josie was the name of Mark’s cat. Still, Mark, before he could think about what he was saying, spouted, “Yeah. That’s my girlfriend’s name.”
Tom’s smile disappeared altogether. He looked… Angry? Upset? Crestfallen? It was hard to tell. “Oh. So it’s a song about her.”
Mark winced slightly. “Yeah, it is.”
Tom, looking a little irritated, bit into his taco. “Okay, then let’s hear it.”
Mark’s stomach did a high kick. Trying to mask his nerves, he read the first verse and the refrain, quickly changing anything that pointed to the song being about a male. Tom’s jaw was tight through the whole reading.
Mark folded up the napkin and stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket. “So. What’d you think?”
Tom’s voice was tight and formal. “Sounded good.”
They ate their three tacos apiece in absolute silence. After Tom had dropped Mark off without even a goodbye, Mark collapsed onto his porch and sighed. He couldn’t quite believe that he had told his best friend that he was dating his cat.

Author's Note: Comments, please and thank you!

Feeling This: Chapter Four

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

Author's Note: Hey hey hey!
Yeah, so, last chapter, something actually HAPPENED. Which is good, y'know.
This story only has seven chapters (sorry), but there is a sequel that will be coming up right after. I wrote this before I even started the blog, and I am currently starting work on the next one (which is currently unnamed). I also have the rest of ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~ and ~X~Take Your Gloves~X~ to add onto here. Then there's my Percy/Oliver MPreg fanfic (currently on my fanfiction.net account.) You can to that account with this link: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/408067/allikitty699
I'll be taking all of my fics from there and transferring them to here. None of my bandfics can be found there, though, due to a rule that states that no fics may be written about actual people. (There's no way to get around it. I tried.)
So, without further ado, chapter four.

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

Chapter 4: Party Song

“So, where are we going?” Scott asked. It was 11:30, and Mark was climbing into his car.
“Don’t be nervous,” Mark said in response to Scott’s flickering gaze. “We’re just going to a party. We just gotta pick up Travis.”
Scott raised an eyebrow. “What about Tom? I thought you two couldn’t wipe your asses without the other one right beside you. OW! Jesus, Mark!”
“Say it again and I’ll hit you further south,” Mark barked. “Tom wouldn’t come along, anyway. I tried to get him to, but he decided to stay home alone, per usual.”
“I can’t believe you think Travis is gonna be able to get out.” Scott shook his head. “You know his mom put bars on his window?”
“He’s in a lot greater danger inside than out,” Mark pointed out. “That ‘falling down’ shit only works a few times. I didn’t think his mom was that fucking crazy.”
“She’s not,” Scott replied, flipping on the headlights. “Bradley is, though. I mean, it’d be pretty damn rough for most kids, but Trav… If his heart rate picks up even a little too much, he’s fucked.”
“Yeah, I know.” Mark sighed. “With his mom being so cuckoo for Cocopuffs about his health, you’d think she’d realize that him constantly getting his ass handed to him is a slight detriment to his health.”
“No shit.” Scott squinted into the distance, looking for Travis’s house. “She keeps waiting for Trav’s dad to come home, but then she goes off and dates bastards like Bradley.”
“I’m sorry, but after nine years, he’s not coming back.” Mark kicked his feet up on the dash. “I’m just pissed that the asshole keeps calling and getting Trav’s hopes up.”
“Oh, Trav knows he’s gone for good. He’s not stupid. He just agrees with his mom ‘cause he loves her. He won’t tell her it’s bullshit.”
“Well, yeah. She’d fly off the fucking handle and go all ‘wire hangers’ on his ass.”
“Someone needs to tell her to pop a couple hundred Valium and shut the fuck up.”
They turned into Travis’s driveway and hopped out. Scott rang the doorbell while Mark tapped at one of the fake plants on the porch.
Travis’s mother came to the door. “Oh, hello Scott.” She smiled gently. “What are you doing here?”
“Mark and I are staying overnight at Tom’s, and we wanted to know if Travis wanted to join us.” It was the same lie Scott gave Mrs. Barker almost every week. If she ever found out all the times Scott took Trav to the movies or the mall, she’d have a goddamn conniption.
Mrs. Barker bit her lip, then sighed. “I suppose that would be all right.” She called up the stairs. “Travis? Scott and Mark are here to take you to Tom’s.”
Travis sprinted down the stairs and through the hallway to grab his shoes.
“Not too fast, Travis!” Mrs. Barker squealed after him. “Your heart.”
Travis went to the door, shoes on. “I apologize, Mother.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Be home by noon,” Mrs. Barker instructed. “And don’t do anything careless. Take your pills with you, and remember to keep your jacket on, it’s getting cold. Oh, and –“
“Mother, I know,” Travis interrupted. “I’ll be fine. Goodbye.”
With that, Scott slammed the door in Mrs. Barker’s face.
“That’s a nice-looking shiner,” Mark told Travis, brushing the side of his face. “Where can I get one?”
Travis’s hand flew up to shield his eye. His visible eye widened in silent panic. “Uh – um – I f-fell.”
“You see to be falling down a lot,” Scott replied, unlocking his car.
Travis shrugged offhandedly. “I’m clumsy.” After several seconds of awkward silence he asked, “So, we’re going to Tom’s?”
“Travis. How many times have we gone to Tom’s when we told your mom we were going to?” Mark asked. Travis averted his eyes and stared at his shoes. He was always a little standoffish with Mark.
“We’re going to a party,” Scott grumbled. “And of course, I’m the designated driver.”
“And I’m the designated drinker,” Mark added, grinning.
“We’re going to a party?” Travis breathed. “Oh no, Scott, no. I’m not supposed to go to parties, you know that…”
“You’re not supposed to do anything,” Mark replied. “Especially with Bradley hanging around.”
Travis curled up awkwardly at the mention of his mother’s boyfriend. “He’s not that bad,” he whispered.
“Bullshit,” was all Scott said. “This the place?”
Mark pressed his nose against his window. “Yup. This is it. Pull over here, I see a space.”
“Yeah, I see it, Mark, I’m not fucking blind, you know…”
“Scott, I think he meant the other space.”
“Trav, you start telling me how to drive and I will turn this car the fuck around.”
“He was right, man, I mean that space…”
“Shut the fuck up and let me concentrate, you assholes!”
Scott parked next to the sidewalk. Mark lifted a six-pack of beer out of the trunk and led Scott and Travis into the backyard. “Wrong spot,” Mark told Scott as he switched his beer for six shots of tequila.
“Bite me, douche,” Scott answered, glancing around the party. Travis’s arm snaked up and wrapped around Scott’s arm.
Mark saw this sign of anxiety instantly. “Come on, guys, mingle. No one’s gonna hang with you if you just stand there.” He walked off into the throng.
“Do you wanna come to a party?
My friends picked me up in their truck at 11:30
This thing’s at a frat house but people are cool there
Reluctant I followed but I’d never dreamed there
Would be someone there who would catch my attention
I wasn’t out searching for love or affection
So I paid my three and the girls got in free
Shined the beer for tequila and we headed into the party.”
The music sucked. That was the first thing Mark noticed. A ska band was jamming in a corner of the lawn. A bunch of groupies stood around them, shrieking praise.
The next thing Mark noticed was the outrageous amount of college guys. One of them was doing a keg stand as the other brother of Fi Beta Dumbfuck stood around him, cheering him on. Every girl there was a slut, and every guy was an asshole. Mark had been hoping to get some ass, but he was beginning to think he’d rather just masturbate at home instead.
“And then in the backyard some terrible ska band
Someone in the background was doing a keg stand
This place is so lame all these girls look the same
All these guys have no game I wish I would’ve stayed
In my bed back at home watching TV alone
Where I’d put on some porn or have sex on the phone
Far from people I hate down from anywhere state
Trying to intoxicate girls to give them head after the party.”
And that’s when Mark saw her.
She was goddamn beautiful – model tall (probably 6’ 2”), slender, long blonde hair, and gorgeous, lamp-like green eyes. She was all waist and legs in a green mini dress. Mark though she was the kind of girl he’d introduce to him mom and propose to. Or the kind of girl he’d fuck stupid. He wasn’t particular.
“And then I saw her standing there
With green eyes and long blonde hair
She wasn’t wearing underwear at least I prayed that
She might be the one maybe we’d have some fun
Maybe we’d watch the sunrise.”
Mark sidled up to her with two beers in hand. “Hey.” He handed her one. She popped it open with grace and delicate ease before chugging it down in three gulps, then letting rip the most awesome, manly burp Mark had ever heard.
I want to marry this woman, Mark thought in awe.
The girl giggled and grinned, wiping her mouth. “Hi.” She shook Mark’s hand eagerly. “I’m Sharon.”
“Mark,” he replied, stunned senseless by the vision of beauty before him. “I was starting to kinda lose hope in this party before I saw you.”
She blushed. “Aw. How sweet. I know what you mean, though. This is horrible music. I want something to dance to.” And she promptly turned around and shook her cute little ass inches from Mark’s cock.
Mark gulped. She had an ass like Tom’s. “I want something you can dance to, too.”
Sharon looked over her shoulder, eyebrow up. “Huh?”
Mark mentally slapped himself. “I mean, uh, you know…”
She smiled. “No, it’s cool. You think I’m hot.” She leaned in, pressing her boobs together, showing off her impressive cleavage. “I think you’re hot, too.”
Oh, fucking thank you Jesus.
So they talked. For hours. About anything and everything.
And Mark hated her.
He could not get away. Every time he tried, she’d cut him off. All she could do was talk about every guy in every band that she’d fucked, how she did it, how he did it, how they acted after they did it. Her boyfriend was supposedly a roadie for Van Halen or some shit. The bitch was shameless. And it couldn’t be more obvious that she was trying to get into Mark’s pants.
“But that night I learned some girls try too hard
And some girls try too hard to impress
With the way that they dress with those things on their chests
And the things they suggest to me
I couldn’t believe what this lady was saying
The names she was dropping the games she was playing
She dated with guy who now rides for Black Flys
She was down with the wise well-constructed disguise
Well I’d rather go dateless than sit here and hate this
Her volume of makeup her fake tits were tasteless
So I said I’d call her but never would bother
Until I get turned down by another girls at a party.”
“Yeah, and this one time, I was sooo drunk, and I was with this guy..."
Mark silently thanked God when someone on the other side of the yard screamed.
Until, that is, they didn’t stop screaming.
Antony raced over, breathless, pure white. “I swear to fucking God, Mark, we didn’t do shit. I swear…”
“What do you mean?” Mark laughed nervously. His laugh faded when Antony’s lower lip began to tremble. “Dude. What the hell happened?”
Scott appeared over Antony’s shoulder. He was shuddering so hard his shirt was flapping. “Mark, it’s Travis. Something’s wrong.”
“Call an ambulance!” someone screamed. “Call a fucking ambulance!”
Mark’s stomach dropped at the same time that vomit climbed up to his throat. He shoved through the crowd like a madman, throwing screaming, drunken girls and dumbstruck guys out of his way. The crowd of rubberneckers parted to reveal Travis on all fours in the grass, his eyes squeezed shut in obvious agony, clutching at his chest. His breaths were growing nerve-wrackingly shallow, and his whole body was trembling.
“Shit.” That was all Mark could say. He wanted to go to Travis and rub his back, hold him, talk to him… But he was too frightened of hurting him to move. So there Mark stayed, rooted to the spot, staring as the EMTs strapped Travis to a strecher and wheeled him into the ambulance, Scott following along, gripping Travis’s thin hand. All Mark could do was stand and watch as two of his best friends rode off to the hospital, everything in the future horribly, horribly unclear.

Author's Note: It's a little longer than the other posts, but that's probably a good thing.
(The lyrics are to "Party Song" on blink_182's Enema of the State CD. As much as I wish I owned it, I don't. (It's a good song, check it out.))
Comments, please!

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!

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.

Feeling This: Chapter One

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

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)