a/n - request from @matt-littledeath ! hope you enjoyyyy
Tom Delonge was your best friend. As far as best friends went, he wasnβt a bad oneβhe talked shit with you about nearly everything, picked up the phone when you called, and saved his best jokes for your hangouts. Youβd known each other maybe five years, and had a remarkable library of the exact same facial expressions. Tom had another best friend, however, and that was Mark.Β
Mark was often around youβit was nearly impossible not to be, with the way that Tom liked to keep you around all the time. Tom had an open door policy, which meant that everyone was always in his house, especially if his parents werenβt there.Β
Often, Mark would go by Tomβs house to shoot the shit with him or play music together, and you would be there, laying with your legs on Tomβs bed and your head nearly touching the floor, playing riffs on a beat up used Stratocaster that Mark had never quite figured out who it belonged to. It mightβve been yours and it mightβve been Tomβs, but heβd been too closely intertwined with you two for too long to ask anymore.Β
Youβd had a bit of a crush on Mark for maybe a year, and Tom had figured it out about six months ago. It was his favorite thing to give you shit about. Youβd sit with Tom and Mark and hang out until Mark would leave, and then Tom would immediately turn on you. βDonβt you know how to flirt?β
βI know how to flirt,β you scoffed back, annoyed.
βThen actually flirt with him,β Tom argued, laughing. βGodβs sakes, I flirt with him more than you do.β
βTom, dick jokes do not count as flirting,β you reminded.
βRegardless!β Tom proclaimed. βJust make him sweat a little.β
βI said I could flirt, I didnβt say I could do it well,β you replied.
βItβs really not difficult,β Tom said with an almost smile. βYou just sorta go based off what they say, right? If he says your name once and you donβt answer, and he says it again, all you gotta do is turn and say, βthatβs my name, donβt wear it out.β Boom!βΒ
You snorted. βAnd this works for you, huh?β
βHell yeah,β Tom grinned. βI got way more game than you do.β
You rolled your eyes at him.Β
"Okay, give me another one," you said, mostly because you knew it would make him insufferable, and you liked him insufferable.
Tom lit up. He lived for this. "Okay, okay. If he's telling a story and he goes off on a tangent β which he always doesβ"
"He really does."
"βyou just look at him and go, 'you're really something, you know that?'" Tom demonstrated with finger guns. "Works every time. They never know if you mean it as a compliment or not."
"Do you mean it as a compliment?"
"Fifty-fifty," Tom said. "That's the beauty of it."
You laughed despite yourself, pulling your knees up to your chest. "You're genuinely insane."
"I'm genuinely helpful," he corrected. "There's a difference. Look, all I'm saying is β Dude Ranch comes out Friday. I'm throwing a thing. Mark's gonna be here, obviously, he was on the album, and you should justβ" he made a vague, sweeping gesture that seemed to encompass an entire philosophy of life. "You know."
"I really don't."
"Yes you do."
"Tom."
"Just talk to him," he said, exasperated. "Like you do when I'm in the room. Except maybe act like you like him a little. Which you do. Which is embarrassing for you, frankly, because you're so obvious."
"I hate you," you said pleasantly.
"You love me," he said, already reaching for his guitar.
Tom's house had that particular Friday night energy β the kind that only happened when parents were gone and something felt like it was actually worth celebrating. People were spilling out of the living room into the backyard, someone had turned the stereo up loud enough that the bass carried through the walls, and somewhere in the kitchen there was a debate happening about something nobody was going to remember tomorrow.
You'd gotten there early, which in retrospect felt like a tactical error. It meant you'd already run out of things to do with your hands by the time Mark showed up.
You heard him before you saw him β his laugh, cutting through the low roar of the party, and then Tom's answering cackle, and then the two of them were in the doorway and Tom was already scanning the room. His eyes found you immediately. He pointed at you with the kind of subtlety of a man who had never been subtle a day in his life.
Mark turned.
You looked away, which was definitely smooth, and took a long sip of your drink.
A few minutes passed. You talked to some people. You were very normal about everything. And then Mark materialized beside you, leaning against the wall with his cup, and said, "Tom literally just pointed at you."
"I saw," you said.
"Is there a reason he did that?"
You looked at him then, because there wasn't really a way around it. He was watching you with something that wasn't quite a smile but was close β like he was waiting to see what you'd do with the question.
"You know Tom," you said. "Does he need a reason?"
"Fair," Mark said. He tilted his head. "You been here long?"
"Long enough."
He nodded slowly, like that meant something. "You listened to it yet? The album?"
"Parts of it," you said. "Tom played me some stuff."
"And?"
You considered him for a moment. Somewhere across the room, you were ninety percent sure Tom was watching, and you made a decision not to think about that.
"You're really something, you know that?" you said.
Mark blinked. Then something shifted in his expression β not confusion exactly, more like recalibration. "Yeah?"
"The album's good," you said. "I just thought you should know."
He was quiet for a second. Then he laughed, soft and a little surprised, and said, "That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't get used to it," you told him.
"I don't know," Mark said, and he wasn't quite looking away. "I think I could."
You might have said something back. You were working on it, actually β something that didn't sound like you were overthinking it, something easy, something that matched the way he was looking at you β and then Tom appeared between you like he'd been launched from a catapult.
"You guys are talking!" he announced, to no one, to everyone, to God. "This is great. This is so great."
"Tom," you said.
"No, don't mind me," he said, minding you enormously, throwing an arm around each of your shoulders. "I'm just so happy. I'm just a happy guy. Mark, doesn't she look great tonight?"
"Tomβ" Mark started.
"Because I think she looks great," Tom continued. "I said that earlier. I said, 'Mark's gonna be here,' and she got allβ" he made a face that was apparently meant to represent you, which was offensive, "βyou know how she gets."
"I don't know how she gets," Mark said, and he was trying not to smile, which was somehow worse than if he had.
"She gets weird," Tom said helpfully. "She gets all quiet and weird. You've seen it."
"I'm standing right here," you said.
"I know!" Tom said warmly. He squeezed your shoulder. "Okay. I'm gonna go get a drink. You twoβ" he made the finger guns again, the same ones from earlier, pointed at both of you now like he was blessing you, "βcarry on."
He was gone as fast as he'd arrived.
There was a beat of silence.
"So," Mark said.
"So," you said.
"You got all weird, huh."
You closed your eyes briefly. "I'm going to kill him."
"Seems fair," Mark said. He hadn't moved. That was the thing β Tom had blown through like a weather event and Mark was still right there, still leaning against the wall, still holding his cup, still watching you with that same almost-smile. "For what it's worth," he said, "I don't think you seem weird."
"High bar," you said.
"I think you seem like you've got something on your mind," he said. "And I think Tom's been trying to get us to talk all night."
You looked at him. "Tom's been trying to get us to talk for six months."
Something moved across his face β surprise, maybe, or recognition. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," you said.
He was quiet for a moment. The party moved around you, loud and indifferent, and it felt suddenly like you were standing in a small pocket of something different from the rest of the night.
"Okay," Mark said finally, and he turned so he was facing you a little more fully. "So talk to me."
It was a stupid thing, to suddenly not know what to say. You'd talked to Mark a hundred times. You'd sat in Tom's living room with him for hours, trading commentary on bad TV and debating things that didn't matter, and it had never felt like this β like the words had somewhere important to be and you couldn't figure out the order.
"You're thinking too hard," Mark said.
"I'm not thinking at all," you said. "That's the problem."
He laughed at that, short and genuine. "Okay. I'll start." He shifted against the wall, angling toward you a little more. "How come we never hang out without Tom?"
You blinked. "What?"
"Like, just us," he said. "How come that's never happened?"
"I don't know," you said slowly. "Tom's always just β there."
"Tom's always everywhere," Mark agreed. "But you could've called me. I would've picked up."
Something about the simplicity of that landed strangely. I would've picked up. Like it was obvious. Like the door had been open the whole time and you'd just been standing outside it.
"I didn't know that," you said.
"Now you do," he said.
You looked at him for a moment. "Is this you telling me to call you?"
"Maybe," Mark said. The almost-smile was back. "I'm being subtle about it."
"You're really not."
"No," he admitted, "I'm really not."
Across the room, someone turned the music up another notch, and the conversation around you got louder to compensate. You leaned in slightly without thinking about it, and so did he, and suddenly the distance between you was different than it had been a minute ago.
"Can I ask you something?" you said.
"Yeah."
"Did Tom say anything to you?" you asked. "Like β about me."
Mark's expression did something complicated. "Tom says a lot of things."
"That's not an answer."
"No," he said. "It's not." He looked at you evenly. "He might've mentioned something. Once or twice."
"Oh my god," you said.
"In his defenseβ"
"There is no defense," you said. "He's been talking to you about it?"
"Not talking," Mark said, carefully. "More like β implying. Loudly. Over a long period of time."
You pressed your hand over your face. "I'm actually going to kill him."
"You said that already."
"I mean it more now."
Mark was quiet for a second. Then, gently: "Hey."
You dropped your hand.
"I didn't mind," he said simply. "That's all I'm saying. Whatever he was implying." He paused. "I didn't mind."
The party kept going around you, totally unaware that something was happening in this small corner of Tom's living room, up against the wall by the speaker that crackled a little on the high end. You were aware of everything suddenly β the music, the noise, the way Mark was watching you like he had more to say and was deciding how much of it to give you.
"I've had a crush on you for like a year," you said. It came out very flat and very calm, which was not how it felt.
Mark nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Tom figured it out six months ago and has apparently been conducting some kind of campaign."
"That tracks," Mark said.
"And you didn't mind," you said.
"I didn't mind," he confirmed.
"Becauseβ"
"Because," he said, and he smiled then, full and unhurried, "I've had a crush on you for like a year."
You stared at him.
"Tom figured it out," Mark added, "probably around the same time."
"So he's been playing both sides," you said.
"Classic Tom," Mark said.
You laughed before you could stop it, and he did too, and for a moment it was just that β the two of you laughing about Tom in the middle of a party while Dude Ranch played in the background and everything felt easy in a way it probably should've felt months ago.
When it settled, Mark was still looking at you.
"So," he said.
"So," you said.
"You want to get out of here for a little bit?" he asked. "Just β the backyard or something. Somewhere quieter."
"Yeah," you said. "I really do."
Tom's backyard was nothing special β a square of grass, a rusting basketball hoop, a back porch with two steps down to the lawn and a wooden swing hanging from the overhang that had been there so long nobody remembered who'd put it up. It fit two people if they didn't mind being close, which, it turned out, you didn't.
The noise from inside was muffled out here. You could still feel the bass through the walls but it was distant, like weather. The air was warm and smelled like summer and somebody's cigarette from two yards over.
Mark sat down first and the swing shifted under him, chains creaking. You sat beside him and your shoulders touched immediately, which neither of you addressed.
For a little while you just let it swing, slow and directionless, feet dragging lightly against the porch boards.
"Better," Mark said.
"Yeah," you agreed.
The quiet between you was a different kind than the one inside β that one had been charged, electric, full of things waiting to be said. This one was easier. Like something had been decided and now you were both just living inside it.
"Can I ask you something?" Mark said.
"You asked me that inside and I asked you something instead," you pointed out.
"I know," he said. "I'm trying again."
"Go ahead."
He looked out at the yard. "What were you gonna do if I hadn't said anything? Like β if I'd just let you say it and then changed the subject."
"Died, probably," you said. "Instantly. On the spot."
He laughed. "I wasn't gonna do that."
"I know that now."
"Did you know it then?"
You thought about it honestly. "No," you admitted. "I really didn't."
He nodded, like that meant something to him. His arm shifted, not quite around you but resting along the back of the swing, and you felt the warmth of it behind your shoulders.
"For what it's worth," he said, "I almost said something like three months ago."
You turned to look at him. "What stopped you?"
"Tom was right there," Mark said.
"Tom is always right there," you said.
"Yeah." He looked back at you, and the porch light was doing something gentle to the angles of his face. "He's not right here though."
"No," you said. "He's not."
The swing had slowed to almost nothing. You weren't sure when you'd stopped moving. The space between you had gone small and still and specific, the kind that asked a question without saying anything.
Mark answered it.
It was soft, the way he kissed you β a little careful, like he was making sure, and then less careful when you kissed him back. His hand came up to your jaw, easy and warm, and the swing shifted slightly beneath you both, chains giving a low creak, and the party inside went on completely without you and that was just fine.
When you pulled back, you were both quiet for a second.
"Okay," Mark said softly.
"Okay," you agreed.
He was smiling. You could feel yourself smiling. It was embarrassing how much you were smiling, actually, and you were about to say something about that when the back door swung open with significant force and Tom appeared in the frame, silhouetted by the kitchen light, holding two drinks he had clearly not been asked to bring.
He looked at you.
He looked at Mark.
He looked at the very small distance between you, and the way neither of you had moved apart, and the fact that you were both smiling like idiots.
"OH," Tom said, at a volume completely inappropriate for a back porch. "OH, OKAYβ"
"Tomβ" Mark started.
"NO I JUSTβ" Tom gestured wildly with both drinks, sloshing one of them. "I just wanted to see if you guys needed anything and it turns out you clearly do NOTβ"
"Tom, close the door," you said.
"I am SO happy," Tom said, not closing the door. "I have been waiting for this for SO LONGβ"
"Thomas," Mark said.
"I'm going, I'm going." He pointed at both of you again, the finger guns, triumphant and unhinged. "I knew it. I knew it, I called it, you both owe me."
"Get out," you said, but you were still smiling and he knew it.
"Closing the door," Tom announced. "You're welcome, by the way. You're both so welcome."
The door shut.
There was a beat of perfect silence.
Then Mark turned back to you, and the smile on his face was the best thing you'd seen all night. "So," he said. "Where were we?β
a/n - hii i havenβt written like a full fic for mark yet (or another one for tom) but i wrote these headcanons! also, i thought there were not a ton of tom fics. it turns out there are even less mark fics, which i donβt understand how that happened but okay enjoy
youβre the keyboard player for blink on tour
youβre not technically a member of the band since you donβt write their songs, you work on other projects, etc but you go with them on tour and play all of their keys parts live
most people donβt expect that tiny synth line in the chorus of all the small things, but it really makes a difference, and hence, you have a job
you hit it off with mark immediatelyβin fact, thatβs how you even got here in the first place
you were playing a gig at a pop punk bar in california when mark went out that night, depressed and trying something different by getting himself out of the house
and thatβs when he met you
the stage lights hit your eyes and lit your face up like you belonged there, and you played in a way he had never seen before
mark hadnβt really thought there was much a of a pop punk way to play the keys but if there ever was one, it was the way you played
afterwards, he found you in the crowd and the two of you got to talking, he bought you a drink and gave you his blink CD with his number on the back of it
you listened to it that night and called him back the next morning
he invited you to go on tour with them a few months later, and you said yes
you and travis surprisingly clicked before you and tom did, but you learned to tease him back and he took it like a champ
he and mark were basically the same person with varying degrees of confidence, which you learned after a bit of time on the road with them
you and mark started flirting early on into the relationship, and you had a good banter on stage
you worried initially about talking while you were on stageβthe fans came to see mark, tom, and travis after all
but you became beloved nonetheless and while they were the stars of the show, you were an appreciated side character
but yeah mark would hard core flirt with you on stage and youβd flirt right back
you flirted after shows, and then you started going to after show parties
the two of you would have a beer or two and then youβd start pushing boundaries, make our occasionally
soon, you didnβt my need any alcohol in your system to push boundaries or make out with each other
you started sharing hotel rooms on tour saying that it was to βsave moneyβ but you just liked sharing the space and getting ready together in the morning, him brushing his teeth and putting gel in his hair and you brushing your teeth and doing your makeup
heβd turn to you approvingly and youβd fix a strand and heβd look in the mirror and nod
he plays his songs for you and asks for advice
sometime he and tom would hang out in tomβs hotel room and then barge into yours and markβs in the middle of the night to play you their newest song that was definitely worth the disturbed sleep
the tour bus was always the wildest though
travis was always playing drums on the bus seats, tom was singing inappropriate lyrics, and mark or you were playing guitar chords
youβd burn out eventually though, all of you exhausted
so travis would drum on the bus seats (again), tom would call his girlfriend, and you and mark would either fall asleep on each other or joke around until you fell asleep
Wow wait.. going through my old wips and there's one from 2016 I kind of want to finish..
Let me know if this sounds good enough to continue. So it's a love triangle (or whatever you want to call it) where the Madden brothers (Benji and Joel from Good Charlotte) are competing with eachother for the same girl (OC). It's supposed to mimic the movie This Means War with Chris Pine and Tom Hardy. In the beginning there's also a little play on the fact that they're identical twins. I only have one chapter written.
Title:
Drive me MAD
Chapter 1:
Cheesy Pick-Up Line
As a bartender, you get to know all kinds of people.Β And yes, I mean get to know them. Not just meet them. You get to witness the stages one has before they become completely drunk.
As I was now. There were two guys that were going full out on alcohol. One of them was a bit cuter than the other. They had said something about a girlfriend cheating on the less cuter one and the other getting him wasted to forget about her.
They both were wearing eyeliner and had a punk rock look to them. And yes, I suppose that's my type.Β But one was slightly better looking. Slightly more my type. I label myself as punk rock and sometimes emo. It depends on my mood for the day. The point is, this guy was hot and he was my type.
Well, I think the other one forgot about his cheating girlfriend. They were singing Basket Case by Green Day. The cute one was actually descent at singing. The other guy was just slurring the words in a loud mumble.
"Sometimes I give myself the creeps.."
I chuckled softly at them. The guy who had been cheated on slowed a bit and then slumped onto the bar top. Apparently, he fell asleep.
"Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me.."
"I think your buddy fell asleep," I told the cute one.
"Huh?" His sat up straighter and looked at his friend. "Oh," he grinned.
"He must've really liked this girl." I took his empty glass.
"Yeah, he was planning on proposing."
"Ouch."
He shrugged. "I never really liked her to tell you the truth. She had bitch written across her forehead the first time I met her."
"Yeah? What was so bad about her?"
"Well, first off, she gives her opinion pretty boldly. Even if it's downright offending to anyone in her company. Which was always."
"She must've had bad opinions."
"She always hated on Billy's favorite things. His favorite movies, music, even his favorite foods."
"Billy?"
"Yeah," he lifted his friend's limp wrist. "This is Billy."
"Oh," I smiled. "It sounds like he's better off without her."
"I'd say."
"Yeah well, sixteen just held such better days." I said with a smirk. I doubted he'd get the song reference.
"Days when I still felt alive," he nodded.
Oh my gosh.
He noticed my pause and smiled. "Adam's Song, Blink-182.Β Enema of the State, 1999."
"Wow," I said in amazement.
"My brother and I have a game we always play. Name the song, the band, album and year. It's nerdy, I know."
"No, it's actually kinda cool."
"Well, if you say so." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "Can I have a glass of water?"
"Sure." I got him a glass and filled it for him.
"What's your name?" He asked when I handed him his water.
"Julia. Why do you want to know?"
"Do you think you could also get me a piece of paper and a pen, Julia?"
I wondered what he could want to write down right now but I complied. I handed him the paper and pencil and he looked like he forgot what he was going to write.
"And now, could you maybe right your number down?" He looked up at me and smirked.
"And, why would you need that?" This wasn't the first time a drunk asked for my number.
"Because I've seemed to lost my number and I was hoping I could borrow yours." He said very clearly. In fact, it was more clearly than I've heard most drunks capable of.Β Then I realized he wasn't as drunk as he had seemed.
I raised my eyebrow at him. Alright, I wrote my number down. Maybe because he was cute. Maybe it was because his little pick up line was kind of adorable. And maybe it was because he wasn't as drunk as to not remember this in the morning.
"So, you know, I don't make it a habit to give my number to lost causes. Try not to break my streak, okay?"
He grinned. "I'll try n-"
"Dude!" Billy woke up.
We both looked at him.
"We should get some licorice!"
"Maybe later bud."
"But we need it to free the penguins!" He got up and attempted to get to the door.
The cute guy who now has my number looked at me and smiled. "Gotta go make sure he doesn't hurt himself on his way to the zoo." He held up the piece of paper. "I'll keep this in a safe spot."
I found myself hoping that he'd actually call. The few times I did give my number out or when one of my friends gave it out, they never call. Maybe this guy would be the exception. Wow, I didn't even know his name.
I love Benji Madden with my whole heartβ¦ the most in the world I would sayβ¦ Started deep fascination with his hair at 5. Itβs been 11 years. π₯Ή
areudirty
dededos
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