fifteendozentimes | timestamp meme

Recognize Myself. Five years later.

[Set roughly 2 years before this ficlet]

"No," Ryan says, "that's awesome, run away, you know I fucking love when you do that."

Jon sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. "I'm not running away, I'm taking some time to cool off so we can talk about this without yelling."

"Call it whatever the fuck you want, we both know what it is." Ryan slams the bedroom door in Jon's face, and when the lock clicks Jon wonders - not for anywhere near the first time - why the fuck they thought a door that locked from the inside and couldn't be unlocked from the outside was a good idea. It's not like they need any more barriers.

*

There are plenty of seats on the next flight to Chicago; it doesn't leave for, like, five hours, but there are a few decent bars even if Jon can't - or can, but shouldn't - really afford airport-bar drinks. Whatever, one is fine, and after he drains his rum and coke he wanders away to call Tom so he won't be tempted to keep going.

"Yo," Tom says, and then there's a horrible crash, but Tom doesn't hang up so Jon just assumes he tripped over something or fell down some stairs or whatever. It's a Rule of Tom that if he's hurt too bad to talk, he'll hang up, but otherwise you're golden.

"Hey, I'm coming up for a couple days, can I crash on your couch? Ryan and I - well. Whatever. It's a stupid one this time so I'm not even going to bother to tell you about it."

Tom doesn't say anything; Jon rolls his eyes. "I can hear you judging me, bro, even if you don't say it. Stupid on his end, not mine, all I fucking did was say I'm dealing with doctors better and I think I want a hysterectomy, but I kind of want to have a kid first. And he fucking flipped out, like he knows better than I do what I can handle."

There's rustling on the other end. Or a sigh, yeah, that was definitely a sigh, Tom's such a dick. "Okay, yes, fine, this was a big deal last time. But that was an accident, and I was in a weird place, I don't get why he can't fucking trust me this time when we're doing so well. So fucking well that...as soon as we start fighting I do the same thing I did last time. Shit.

"But it's not like he could have known I would do it, he just fucking assumed and started flipping his shit. Or, like, not flipping shit, I guess, but he got all patronizing, all 'are you sure', 'are you sure you're sure', 'I really don't know how good an idea this is, considering', like - okay, whatever, it's totally reasonable for him to be worried, I guess."

Tom still doesn't say anything. Tom's a complete dick sometimes.

"I'm kind of an idiot, aren't I?"

"What?" Tom asks. "Sorry, I dropped my phone under the couch. Go back to when I said 'yo' and start over."

"Actually, you know what? Never mind, I think I figured it out for myself."

"Those words are terrifying coming from you," Tom says, "but okay. Good luck with, uh, whatever, I guess."

*

Ryan's feeding Marley when Jon gets home, and his eyes get huge with surprise when he sees Jon. It's only been two hours since he left, and usually when he runs away it's for days, so that makes sense.

"Uh. Forget something?"

"No," Jon says, and drops his bag. "I, uh, I just - I'm a dick. We can talk about this. We should talk about this."

"I didn't say no," Ryan says, and sets the dog dish down. "I just don't want to say yes for sure yet."

"I get it," Jon says, "I just - it's - I'm sorry. We can talk."

Ryan smiles his wide, dopey, I-am-the-happiest-dude smile; it's totally worth the cost of the plane ticket Jon couldn't get refunded, and the shitty weak airport drink. Hell, it's worth hundreds of them.

Ugh, I love you. Can you write all of this, in which Ryan is a bit condescending but eventually realizes that he really, really wants to be a dad. And then all the trying to get pregnant, and all the pregnancy issues, UGH AND AND SENDING TOM A PICTURE OF THE SONOGRAM OMG I want this right now.

-bohemeyourself

ugh i really need to. SOMEDAY.

WHERE IS THE KUDOS BUTTON I NEED TO HIT IT LIKE A MILLION TIMES

Tom dropping his phone under the couch. Jon working all his shit out while Tom's phone was under the couch. POSSIBLY A BABY. Jon and Ryan being the most dysfunctional functional boyfriends AS WELL THEY SHOULD BE <333333

phones are slippery, yo

I just love this universe, they're kinda faily but they make it work:)

HOW DID I NOT READ THIS BEFORE THIS IS THE BEST THING. For real, though, I would read infinite words of this 'verse.

The Max/Jon Damn You Look Good & I'm Drunk songfic, the next Empires band practice/meeting/get together after that night :D

Max would love to say Jon sobered up and they talked about it. He wouldn't mind saying they didn't talk about it because Jon sobered up and ran out before Max woke up.

What he gets to say is Jon sobered up and they fucked on the couch. Three times. Which wasn't at all an objectionable way to spend a morning - early afternoon, whatever - but it kind of messes with Max's idea of himself as the one who has his shit together.

Jon books it after round three - well, after some cuddling, which is awesome, because Jon is a comfy dude. He hasn't been gone ten minutes when Max hears the telltale rumble of Ryan's shitty car pulling in, so it's possible - even likely - Jon wasn't being a dick so much as avoiding an awkward situation.

Max tugs his clothes on and tries not to look like he was just fucking the hell out of Jon Walker on the couch while the guys greet his parents overhead; he just manages to get the cushions flipped before they come crashing down the stairs.

"Holy shit," Sean says, "it fucking reeks in here. No jerking off in communal band space, that definitely isn't just a van rule."

"I wasn't jerking off," Max says, and tries to keep himself from blushing too much. He hadn't even thought of that, he should've stolen one of Danielle's flowery candles or something.

"No you weren't," Ryan crows. "Your neck, dude, shit, was she a vampire?"

"He," Max corrects, without thinking; Tom was already looking at him weird, but as soon as Max said that something shifted. He definitely knows.

They jam for a while, fuck around with demos for a while, try to make sense of one of Sean's skeletons while he tries not to get disgusted with them for a while, jam some more, and then when Ryan and Sean leave Tom doesn't.

"I don't know," he says, after an awkward silence. "I feel like if I say this you're gonna think I'm not on your side, and I'm practically your brother so, y'know."

"There aren't any sides, though."

"He's a fucking mess, dude, there have to be sides."

"Dude," Max says, "I've seen every single word he's written for the past, like, six months, I think I have a pretty good idea where his head's at."

"Maybe. It's not - I trust you. I'm not sure I trust him, but don't tell him I said that. I just don't - maybe I'm being selfish. Jon makes shit messy."

"Jon's a passive-aggressive douchebag with insecurity issues up to his eyeballs and more baggage than one person can carry, I know that."

"Don't - "

"And I know the good shit, too, don't get defensive. I'm not an idiot, and I'm not a kid anymore."

Tom sighs. "I know that. And I won't - it's - be careful, okay? Not just with him."

Max can't help but smile at that; Tom, especially once he got it into his head Max and Jon were on exactly the course they turned out to be on, can be obnoxious as fuck, but he's also pretty endearing.

"I'm going to Jon's, we have shit to talk about. Want me to drop you off on the way?"

"Dude," Tom says, "no, take me with you, his face'll be priceless."

*________________________*

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS THE BEST

SECONDED

Lose The Traits That Worry Me. When the album is released

Somewhere To Begin, 18 months before the story starts

Spencer slams his locker shut and jumps when Brendon's face is way too close to his own.

"I brought you coffee!" Brendon chirps, sounding like he's already had two or three cups himself. Or possibly like he's just being Brendon, it's hard to tell.

"Awesome," Spencer says. "Who decided winter vacation had to end?"

"Dicks," Brendon says, and hands Spencer the styrofoam cup. "Total dicks. Oh, hey, the new kid got moved to my locker. Ryan's flirting."

"Ryan always flirts."

"Not like this."

"No, he does, just, not with girls. He does the wide-eyed quiet thing with dudes and the asshole-with-a-heart-of-gold thing for girls."

"Ew."

"Yep. It works, though, so." Spencer takes two big gulps of coffee and sighs. Brendon knows his cream:sugar:coffee ratio exactly. Brendon is awesome. Awesome at everything except tying his tie.

"Here," Spencer says, hands over the cup and undoes the messy excuse for a knot at Brendon's collar. "You really need to learn to do this yourself."

"I like making you take care of me," he says; Spencer thinks his cheeks get a little pink, but that's probably wishful thinking. Ugh. "Oh, hey, so, are you planning on going to the dance?"

Spencer can't really think of anything worse than standing awkwardly in a corner while Ryan charms everyone except the people he's already dated and ruined for himself, and Brendon stands there equally awkwardly so Spencer has to spend the whole night pretending he doesn't want to dance with Brendon. "Ugh, no."

"Oh. Um, like - okay."

"Do you wanna come over? We can watch dumb movies, or something." Spencer finishes the knot and gives his handiwork a satisfied nod, rewards himself with a few more big gulps of coffee.

"Yes! Um, sure, yes, that could be fun."

"Awesome," Spencer says, and reminds himself there's no possible way Brendon's really blushing about this.

Ugh BOYS <33333333333

It is probably impolitic to admit how deeply invested in hs!ryan's jon seduction I am, but to do anything else would be lying. What happens neeeeeext?

Tell me more Nicole and Mika and the year they have Bronx in their class from the awesome teachers chatfic verse?

"Oh shit," Zack says, from behind her, "you have Bronx this year." He leans over her chair to look at the class list she's making a tentative seating chart from. He feels even bigger than he is like this, totally surrounding her, and she's never sure if he does it on purpose or not.

Whatever, she likes it, so who cares.

"Is he that bad? You didn't complain too much last year."

"Bronx is...hm. You know that kid who's, like, really fucking excited about everything, so he's great to have because one enthusiastic kid can really sell an activity? He's that, but he also has no off switch."

"Awesome. Okay, so would you put him at a table full of known troublemakers that we'll already be keeping an eye on, a table full of known quiet kids who might be a good influence, or a table of unknown quantities?"

Zack kisses the top of her head. "Shouldn't your co-teacher be helping with this?"

"He's doing it on his own, and we'll compare when he comes over tomorrow."

"Speaking of actually getting work done, can I have my shirt back so I can go home?"

"You have clean shirts in the top drawer of my dresser, this one's mine now."

"But that one's my favorite."

Nicole tilts her head back to look up at him; luckily he's looking down, so she's not talking to, like, the underside of his chin. "How can you even tell the difference?"

"I can't. This one is my favorite because it doesn't smell like your fabric softener."

"My fabric softener smells awesome. If you want this one you'll have to take it by force?"

"Is that so?" Zack asks, and lifts her out of the chair.

*

"That was awesome, guys," Mika says, when they finish their morning sing-along. "Nice enthusiasm, Bronx, and good work with the maracas, Hilary. And let's all give Miss Nicole a round of applause for trying her hardest with the tambourine."

Nicole doesn't smack Mika with said tambourine until he's back from walking the kids to their art class, because she's a good role model.

"It's not my fault you suck," he says, after he's plucked it out of her hand and held it above her head so she can't get it back. "And it's a good example for them, that you can have fun even with something even when you're bad at it."

"I hate you when you make good points," Nicole says, and seriously considers trying to jump up and get the tambourine back before remembering she's not actually a second grader.

*

"I will grind his bones to make my bread."

Zack grins up at her from his desk. "I warned you."

"You did not," Nicole says, and leans against his back so she can kiss his cheek. "Not adequately."

"There is no adequate warning for Bronx."

"Yeah, well, I'm still blaming you. And if I fall asleep during your soccer game you know whose fault it is."

"You don't have to come," he says.

"I do, too, it's tradition."

Zack doesn't say anything, but he smiles big and bright; he likes to pretend he's above sappy bullshit but he's a total teddy bear.

*

"Miss Nicole!"

"Indoor voice, Bronx. What?"

"How do astronauts go to the bathroom in space?"

Nicole blinks. "What does that have to do with silent reading?"

"My book's about an astronaut!"

"They go in their suits," Mika says. "There's a special compartment, I think."

"Like a diaper?"

"Sure," Mika says. "Sort of. A high-tech spaceman diaper."

"Awesome," Bronx says and then, curiosity apparently satisfied, he's blissfully silent for the entire twenty minutes of silent reading. That's a first.

*

"So I take it the Zack thing's going well," Mika says, starts to put a gold star on Bronx's math paper, then reconsiders and gives him a purple "Good Work!" dinosaur.

"It's awesome," Nicole says. "Why?"

"I just noticed you've ridden together every day for a while. News?"

Nicole frowns. "Not really. He's, like, half moved in with me but he won't talk about it officially until his lease has less time left."

"Bummer. Logical, I guess, but bummer."

"Yeah. Whatever, it's working, so no complaints."

"Awesome," Mika says, and sticks the last "Good Work!" dinosaur to her forehead.

(this is the chatfic in question for anyone who hasn't seen it)

If It Ain't Your Love - 2 months before or after, your choice.

Mess - 3 weeks before and 3 years after.

Annnddddd 5 years after this: Hardcore Nicole (http://15dozentimes.livejournal.com/3999.html?thread=44703#t44703)

:-D :-D

have I really written something called "Mess"? Why don't I remember it and why can't I find it?

Mess is the Ryan J/Nicole ficlet with the marshmallows and *__*

XD

Things I Don't Know - 2 years in the future

"Yeah, no, don't strangle the puppy," Nicole says, gently prying Abby's fingers off Rarity's collar and putting a ball in her little hands instead. Abby coos at it, examines it, then decides it's boring and sends it rolling off down the hall.

Rarity runs after it as fast as her stubby little legs will carry her. They had to replace the hardwood in the hall with carpet after Abby and Rarity discovered this little game, their version of fetch that Abby doesn't even realize she's playing, since Rarity had a bad habit of slamming on her brakes too late and crashing into things.

When Rarity comes back with the ball, she looks incredibly proud of herself. Abby just gurgles and reaches for it, because it was boring before but now that she doesn't have it, she wants it. Rarity drops it in front of where Abby's nestled in Nicole's lap and yips, wagging her stubby little tail so hard her whole rear end is moving.

"Look what I finished," Spencer says, wandering in wearing the pretty sundress Nicole's still a little bitter they only had in his size, not hers. He probably looks better in it than she would, though; the blue flowers are the same shade as his eyes.

He sits down next to her and hands Abby the little red ball, which she stops wanting as soon as she has it and throws it down the hall again. Fendi snuffs from the couch, because he likes to pretend he's more dignified than the puppy. Bullshit. "Gimme," Spencer says, and plucks Abby out of Nicole's lap, replacing her with the photo album he'd brought in.

Nicole opens it and rolls her eyes. "These pictures are from before she was born, how did this take you so long?"

"I forgot to get them developed," he says, which is one of the many reasons she wishes he'd stop being so charmed by film cameras, "and then I had to figure out an order to put them in."

"Chronological. Duh."

"Well, yes, that's what I decided on," Spencer says, plucks the ball out of Rarity's mouth and tries to hand it to Abby. She's already sick of this game, though, reaching instead for Spencer's beard with one hand and Rarity with the other. She's into textures the way Spencer is when he's really high, which is hilarious. "But I could've done it in cuteness order."

They're pictures from the day they brought Rarity home, and the first few weeks after that, when she'd been so tiny Spencer could almost hold her in one hand. Most of the album is from the day Rarity decided Nicole's eight-months-pregnant belly was the perfect bed. Nicole had sat there for ages while Spencer took pictures and then coaxed the other dogs up for "family photos", her back getting sorer by the minute. But then, everything hurt her back by that point.

"Next time," she says, putting the album aside and picking up Rarity so Abby can pet Spencer's beard and the dog at the same time, "you get to carry the baby."

"Deal," Spencer says, and kisses her. "I was jealous of all your cute maternity dresses, anyway."

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

:3

this is just to adorable

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