I'll have you know, only for you would I attempt this, I don't know how to write this band. (This is why I generally ask you to write them for me, ♥)
It's another night (week, month, something) on the road in this shitty van, and Ian is just so tired, but he still can't sleep. He wishes he had some weed left, because then maybe he could, but no.
He rolls over again and listens to the engine running.
"Mmmf," Ian says and then, "Ooof, watch it, asshole," in a whisper, because Cash comes clambering over the seats and lands on Ian.
"You're warm, damn," he says in a surprised voice, and Ian grins.
"Victoria lent me a sleeping bag," and he can't keep the smug out of his voice.
"No shit? Niiiice," Cash draws it out until it's not even a double entendre, it's like, a quadruple entendre? Or whatever it becomes when it's completely obvious what someone really means.
"Oh yeah," Ian says, playing along even though they both know Victoria would never ever sleep with any of them. Ever.
Which is why Cash doesn't sound pissed or anything, just says, "Can I share?" and Ian nods, unzipping it and squirming around until they can use it as a blanket.
They lie still like that for about two minutes or something (Ian's not all that good at telling how much time has gone by, unless he's on stage where he has a beat to follow) and then Cash says, "Ian?"
"Yeah?"
"Your hair," Cash says, batting at it, "I have some of your hair up my nose."
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Date: 2009-08-25 04:23 pm (UTC)It's another night (week, month, something) on the road in this shitty van, and Ian is just so tired, but he still can't sleep. He wishes he had some weed left, because then maybe he could, but no.
He rolls over again and listens to the engine running.
"Psst," someone says. Cash. Obviously. "Hey, Ian?"
"Mmmf," Ian says and then, "Ooof, watch it, asshole," in a whisper, because Cash comes clambering over the seats and lands on Ian.
"You're warm, damn," he says in a surprised voice, and Ian grins.
"Victoria lent me a sleeping bag," and he can't keep the smug out of his voice.
"No shit? Niiiice," Cash draws it out until it's not even a double entendre, it's like, a quadruple entendre? Or whatever it becomes when it's completely obvious what someone really means.
"Oh yeah," Ian says, playing along even though they both know Victoria would never ever sleep with any of them. Ever.
Which is why Cash doesn't sound pissed or anything, just says, "Can I share?" and Ian nods, unzipping it and squirming around until they can use it as a blanket.
They lie still like that for about two minutes or something (Ian's not all that good at telling how much time has gone by, unless he's on stage where he has a beat to follow) and then Cash says, "Ian?"
"Yeah?"
"Your hair," Cash says, batting at it, "I have some of your hair up my nose."