fifteendozentimes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fifteendozentimes) wrote2009-11-30 04:32 pm
fifteendozentimes) wrote2009-11-30 04:32 pm
WIP Amnesty: Untitled Kevin/Mike (Disney RPF, Bandom)
I don't feel one way or another about not finishing this one, but I kind of wish someone else had written something with the same idea. Set in the universe of TAI's Classifieds video; Kevin orders himself a friend when he's drunk and lonely at four in the morning.
The ownership of a person is probably something that needs a warning, huh.
The house is dark and quiet when Kevin finally unlocks the door and lets himself in; of course it is. No one's been here since he bought it, no one's supposed to be here for another couple months. It's an after-the-wedding house, a this-is-where-we-start-our-life house, but since there's not gonna be a wedding, not gonna be an "our" life, it probably doesn't matter if he just moves in now.
There was a note on the door, messy scrawl stuck on with gum because Joe's never prepared for anything. Electricity's on, cable's on, so you're set if you show up. If you don't, I guess it doesn't matter. Xoxo. Kevin should call him, thank him, give him the job of letting the rest of the family know how it went, where he is. Instead he checks the fridge on a whim, almost smiles at the way it's stocked, at how well Joe gets things sometimes, and settles down in front of the tv with a blender full of margaritas.
When he wakes up, still on the couch, the sun's high enough in the sky nothing has a shadow, his head's throbbing, and his cell phone's on the table instead of in his pocket. Kevin shuts off the infomercial about some fancy overpriced blender, rinses out his own empty one, and gives himself to the end of his shower to indulge in self-pity before he steels himself to break the news to the family.
- - - - - -
Joe swears, crashes into something, swears again and then there's a thud. And, okay, Joe's a klutz, but he can usually handle himself at normal walking speed, so instead of leaving him to his devices and reminding himself to keep breakables out of the entryway, Kevin goes to check on him.
"What the fuck did you buy, fucker?" Joe asks, from somewhere behind the refrigerator-sized box he'd apparently carried in. At least that explains all the crashing. "Jesus. You already have a fridge."
"I didn't buy a fridge," Kevin says, as Joe appears around the side of the box, scanning for a label, a hint.
"Academy Industries," Joe reads, and arches an eyebrow at Kevin. "What the fuck academy would you be buying shit from?"
"You could at least pretend to watch your language. And I don't know, I didn't order anything."
"Maybe someone sent you a giant present. I don't hear ticking, so it's not from Danielle. Unless it's poison."
"It didn't go that bad."
"And Mom and Dad probably won't be sending their disgracefully gay son any big presents anytime soon."
"You're the worst brother ever, seriously."
Joe just grins and wanders off to the kitchen in search of scissors or a knife or something. Well. That or he just got hungry and distracted. Kevin frowns at the return address, because obnoxious as he is Joe's pretty much right, he can't think of anyone who'd want to send him anything right now (Joe's usually the one he can count on to try and cheer him up with material goods, and he's not a good enough actor to pretend this wasn't him so convincingly. Not that Kevin'll ever tell him that), so – except.
The ownership of a person is probably something that needs a warning, huh.
The house is dark and quiet when Kevin finally unlocks the door and lets himself in; of course it is. No one's been here since he bought it, no one's supposed to be here for another couple months. It's an after-the-wedding house, a this-is-where-we-start-our-life house, but since there's not gonna be a wedding, not gonna be an "our" life, it probably doesn't matter if he just moves in now.
There was a note on the door, messy scrawl stuck on with gum because Joe's never prepared for anything. Electricity's on, cable's on, so you're set if you show up. If you don't, I guess it doesn't matter. Xoxo. Kevin should call him, thank him, give him the job of letting the rest of the family know how it went, where he is. Instead he checks the fridge on a whim, almost smiles at the way it's stocked, at how well Joe gets things sometimes, and settles down in front of the tv with a blender full of margaritas.
When he wakes up, still on the couch, the sun's high enough in the sky nothing has a shadow, his head's throbbing, and his cell phone's on the table instead of in his pocket. Kevin shuts off the infomercial about some fancy overpriced blender, rinses out his own empty one, and gives himself to the end of his shower to indulge in self-pity before he steels himself to break the news to the family.
- - - - - -
Joe swears, crashes into something, swears again and then there's a thud. And, okay, Joe's a klutz, but he can usually handle himself at normal walking speed, so instead of leaving him to his devices and reminding himself to keep breakables out of the entryway, Kevin goes to check on him.
"What the fuck did you buy, fucker?" Joe asks, from somewhere behind the refrigerator-sized box he'd apparently carried in. At least that explains all the crashing. "Jesus. You already have a fridge."
"I didn't buy a fridge," Kevin says, as Joe appears around the side of the box, scanning for a label, a hint.
"Academy Industries," Joe reads, and arches an eyebrow at Kevin. "What the fuck academy would you be buying shit from?"
"You could at least pretend to watch your language. And I don't know, I didn't order anything."
"Maybe someone sent you a giant present. I don't hear ticking, so it's not from Danielle. Unless it's poison."
"It didn't go that bad."
"And Mom and Dad probably won't be sending their disgracefully gay son any big presents anytime soon."
"You're the worst brother ever, seriously."
Joe just grins and wanders off to the kitchen in search of scissors or a knife or something. Well. That or he just got hungry and distracted. Kevin frowns at the return address, because obnoxious as he is Joe's pretty much right, he can't think of anyone who'd want to send him anything right now (Joe's usually the one he can count on to try and cheer him up with material goods, and he's not a good enough actor to pretend this wasn't him so convincingly. Not that Kevin'll ever tell him that), so – except.
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I now need so many fics in the Classifieds universe, my life has been like a barren pit up until this point ;___;
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(everything is pining okay)