lisaroquin (lisaroquin) wrote in sticksnstrings, @ 2009-07-03 07:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | author: lizz, fandom: 30 seconds to mars |
Fic: Stickwitu by Lizz --30stm Shannon/Tim
Title: Stickwitu
Fandom(s): 30 seconds to mars
Pairing(s): Shannon/Tim
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: not true, didn’t happen. Don’t know/own them..
Warning(s): slash, alcohol abuse, language
Notes: written for Sticks and Strings. Yes I know the title is a Pussycat Dolls song. There was a pretty metaphor about glue somewhere in that thought but ehm…I messed it up a bit.
Beta: Kleemoon, thank you honJ
Word-count: 7.200
Prompt: Cold Gin by Death Angel (Kiss Cover)
Whoo, alright
Mu heaters broke and I'm so tired
I need some fuel to build a fire
The girl next door, her lights are out, yeah
The landlords gone, I'm down and out
Ooh, its cold gin time again
You know it'll always win
Cold gin time again
You know its the only thing
That keeps us together, ow
Its time to leave and get another quart
Around the corner at the liquor store
Haha, the cheapest stuff is all I need
To get me back on my feet again
Ooh, its cold gin time again
You know it’ll always win
Its cold gin time again
You know its the only thing
That keeps us together, ow
Whoa yeah
Ooh, its cold gin time again
You know it'll always win
Its cold gin time again
You know its the only thing
That keeps us together, ow
Shannon slammed the door to his apartment behind him, stomped through the dim hallway then before doing anything else, checked the coats and sweatshirts hanging from neat hooks on the wall to his left. His eyes landed on the dark blue hoodie hanging next to one of his own jackets and he felt the tension in his shoulders ease a little as he nodded to himself. Good. Tim was still there. Not that he’d really expected Tim to be gone but one could never know for sure. Shivering slightly from the rain outside he hung his damp leather jacket on one of the hooks and tried to shake the raindrops from his hair.
The low murmur of a TV show drifted towards him from the living room so he kicked off his muddy shoes and rounded the corner to find the object of his thoughts. Tim Kelleher, lazily stretched out on Shannon’s couch in just his grey sweatpants. Shannon’s eyes darted to the TV briefly and he saw Tim was watching some sitcom.
He knew Tim had heard him come in; he saw it in the way his fingers clenched briefly around the remote control in his left hand, but he didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge Shannon leaning against the doorway, watching him.
Fucking fine, he could ignore him all he wanted. Two can play at that game. He felt a twinge of hunger in his stomach and realized he hadn’t eaten since lunch, which was over nine hours ago. He walked around the narrow bar separating the kitchen from the living room and seeing no traces of dinner, opened the fridge and narrowed his eyes. Nothing edible there. A few slices of cheese that were turning a cotton-y white, a carton of orange juice and a rotting apple. Shannon threw the door closed with a loud clunk.
He tried to take a second to think before acting. Tried to keep the anger burning through him from pouring out of him by reminding himself it was just groceries. Not worth getting worked up over some fucking groceries. Maybe Tim had been busy. Yeah right, that’s why he was lounging on the couch. Maybe he’d forgotten. Fuck that, he’d called Tim and asked him to pick something up on his way home.
He hadn’t even realized he was rubbing his fingers together in a vain attempt to calm himself down until they became uncomfortably hot. Should he let it slide? He could practically hear his brother’s voice in his head, telling him to not let the little things get to him so much but that was easier said than done. It wasn’t a little thing anymore if it were lots of little things cumulating into one big thing and it pissed him the fuck off.
Because it wasn’t just the groceries. It was the fight they had had earlier today over the best way to fry chicken nuggets. Fry fucking chicken nuggets for fuck’s sake, but that’s just what started it. It ended with Tim calling him a pathetic control freak and Shannon calling Tim a waste of space. Then there was the fact that Tim had cleaned out their medicine cabinet, throwing out everything that had expired, and some other clutter. Like Shannon’s aftershave. So yeah, not quite little things anymore.
Rational thinking lost the battle like he’d expected and he walked up to the couch in a few long strides, pausing and standing right in front of Tim, effectively blocking the other man’s view of the TV.
Tim’s jaw clenched and he glanced up at Shannon, obvious annoyance showing in those blue eyes he had once loved to look into so much. Now they had become yet another source of Shannon’s ever-growing irritation.
“The fuck d’you want?” Tim stared in the direction of the TV again defiantly, thereby coming face to face with Shannon’s mid-section.
“I told you to pick up some food.”
“Oh, you told me to, huh?”
“Yes, I fucking told you to get us some groceries and now I come home and find your lazy ass watching TV.” He could hear his own voice tremble slightly with barely controlled anger.
“I’m not your fucking wife, Shannon,” Tim sneered, finally meeting Shannon’s eyes. “You want a hot meal on your table and your slippers set ready while I sway over to you in a too-tight dress to hand you a cold beer, you picked the wrong guy.”
“No shit,” Shannon huffed, glaring back at Tim, unwilling to look away from those angry eyes.
“Yeah, no shit.” Tim got up and walked to the door leading to their bedroom. “You best order some take out if you’re hungry,” he called over his shoulder. “The kitchen staff has retired for the night.” With that, he slammed the door and left Shannon standing there like a fool; all the things he had wanted to say to Tim now stuck in his head.
“Yeah, well fuck you!” Screaming at a closed door, how childish. It made him feel a bit better though. Made him wish he could kick the door too but that would probably not be such a great idea. That door had proven to be not exactly made of steel on prior…occasions.
He sat down on the couch and stared at the TV. When the fuck had everything gone wrong? He remembered how happy they both were when they first got together. They’d had the whole ‘fuck the world’ attitude going on and they’d needed it too. So many people had been against the two of them being together, everyone had warned them it would never work out. They were in a band together, and, to Jared, that was enough reason they should just not even go there. Plus they were too different and their age difference was too big.
He remembered how he had cocked an eyebrow at that final argument of Jared. Age difference, little brother? Don’t fucking get me started on age differences.
Sadly, everyone who had warned them, had turned out to be at least partially right. Shannon knew he was too controlling, too demanding and frankly too fucking dominating. That may work with a girl, but with Tim, an equally stubborn, proud, and never-budging man, it had an adverse affect. They had become like two boxers in a ring, constantly circling each other, one lashing out, the other retaliating even harsher until the lines and rules of what was acceptable and what was not blurred into nothing.
He knew he had an uncanny talent to hurt Tim’s feelings. He knew how much it pissed Tim off when he acted all-knowing because he was about a decade older than Tim. He knew how it made Tim extra sensitive to any remark that could be construed as an order. He knew just where to hit him so that it’d hurt. Not physically of course, but he’d found out the hard way that words really could hurt more than fists. Because one thing was certain: Timothy Kelleher gave as good as he got.
So why did he stay? Why did he stay when everyone around him told him it was a losing battle? With every day that passed, they were only starting to hate each other more and more. Was it really hate? Such a big word, he was reluctant to use it; couldn’t believe he would ever come to using ‘Tim’ and ‘hate’ in the same sentence. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to stop the headache he felt approaching from hitting him full force.
Sometimes he thought maybe he shouldn’t have tried so hard to get Tim. Though, in his defence, Tim had been more than willing so it hadn’t taken much ‘conquering’. He didn’t know who fell for whom first but fall they did, and after a long night of bar-hopping they’d finally ended up against the back wall of one of the clubs, their bodies pressed tightly together, lips fused and fighting for dominance. Fighting for dominance even back then, like some mocking sample of what their relationship would ultimately turn into.
Maybe he should have left it at that; maybe he shouldn’t have taken Tim home and fucked him into the mattress and he was pretty sure he really should not have let Tim stay afterwards. There were rules about this, no doubt. Reasons not thought up by Jared who had a shifty point of reference anyway. He shouldn’t have but he did. Tim was literally the one night stand that did not leave; would not leave, and Shannon hadn’t minded all that much.
He spent hours staring blankly at the TV screen, trying to focus on the various reality shows and drama series but constantly finding his thoughts drift back to the man currently in his bed. When his vision became blurry from sleep he finally decided to give up on the TV and go to bed. Glancing to the side he saw that the door to their bedroom was still closed, with no sound coming from inside. Tim would probably be asleep already. Good, he wasn’t in the mood for more arguing, too tired.
He switched off the TV and the lonely reading lamp in the corner before walking to the door and listening. Nothing. He opened the door to a creak and peered inside. Light from outside threw long shadows across the room, across Tim’s relaxed and sleeping face. He was curled up on his side facing away from Shannon’s side of the bed, one arm under his pillow, the other gripping the sheets tightly.
Part of him wished he could crawl in next to Tim, wrap him in his arms and tease him awake with soft kisses to his neck. The skin there looked so soft and pale in the faint light and he wanted to taste it, run his tongue over it, bite it softly. He could have done just that not too long ago, but would he do it now, he’d probably get a knee to the groin for his efforts. And even though he hated to admit it, he was too proud to let go of his anger and admit to himself or to anyone else that he missed Tim.
They fed off of each other’s meanness it seemed, one never giving the other a break, always pushing and taunting and grating on nerves. It was not the first time Shannon realized that the only time Tim did not piss him off was when the other man was asleep.
He pulled of his shirt and pants, trying to make as little sound as possible. As he opened a drawer for a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt his eyes caught pairs of thick, rolled-up Garfield socks lying neatly in a row inside the drawer. Tim’s. Tim always had cold feet and usually wandered around with at least two pairs of socks on. He couldn’t sleep with socks though, so he normally left them on in bed until his feet had warmed up a bit and then he’d kick them off before going to sleep.
He smiled to himself and traced a finger over the thick wool. He loved all of those little things that made Tim, Tim. Even though he tended to use them as an excuse to bitch about Tim now, he had to admit to himself he still loved it. Like how he sucked in his lower lip when he was thinking, or how he would sometimes whisper softly to himself in his sleep. He’d hate to miss seeing and hearing and just having all of those things around him if Tim ever decided to leave.
Sighing softly to himself he grabbed the boxers and tee, pulled them on and closed the drawer softly. He padded over to the bed, and hesitated for a second, hovering over Tim’s sleeping form before he shook his head, walked around the bed and climbed in on his own side. His last thought before sleep claimed him was how he missed Tim’s warmth against his own body.