Cab Fic: Cash/Singer
Title: You're Repressing (Hold Me Down)
Author: battie_hattie
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Cash/Singer (Cash/OFC, Singer/Brendon)
POV: 3rd, Cash
Summary: Cash has always had this fear of Singer leaving. First it was for college, then it was to be with someone else. But it's such a small little thing that Cash doesn't need to tell him about it. He's just going to let it fester indefinitely... as long as no one interferes. Word Count: ~12k
Disclaimer: So not even remotely true.
Author Notes: Epic thanks to sneaky_sena for doing the primary “give me more!” beta and to tanisafan for finishing it off. Mostly canon, I moved a few things around just to make it easier on myself. Title loosely from “Tiffany Blews”.
“What if we just take the demo to the show,” Alex says. “You know, just throw ourselves across the barrier or something and just hope for the best.”
Cash looks up from the issue of Blender he's been reading. “You wouldn't make it. The barrier girls would break your tiny frame into a million tiny Singer piece that even I wouldn't be able to put back together. And then I would cry in public and everyone would laugh.”
“You'd cry for me if I died?”
“If it was particularly needless. Anyway, I would get wicked pussy though from the girls that thought I was all deep and shit for crying over your broken corpse.”
“It's the only way you'd get laid,” Alex says. Cash throws a book at him. “Hey,” Alex says, picking it up. “Why the fuck do you have my government book? I thought I lost that shit. You've had it this whole time?”
“I think you left it here last week. I was going to bring it in, but it's heavy dude.”
“I had to miss practice last week because I had to go to the library to read it because I couldn't do it at home, because you had my book, doucheface. What's your damage?”
Cash shrugs. “It was heavy. I told you that.”
“Dude, I could have failed that test.”
“Yeah, god and then you'd drop to under a 4.0 and then you'd cry. Dude, it's not like you're going to college.”
Alex frowns. “I could. If this music thing. I don't know, I just want something to fall back on, just in case. Why do you have to be such an asshole about it?”
“Why do you have to think that anything other than this 'music thing' is going to happen? It's going to happen. We'll make it happen. It's like.” He puts his hands on his knees and leans forward. “Remember when you met Panic? And you sat there forever and ever and everyone thought you were weird.”
“Yeah?”
“You're fucking weird.” Cash's face breaks into a smile. “Now let's go stalk Panic again and get that fucking record deal.”
…
“Dude, that was Jon Walker and Spencer Smith. Dude, they talked to us,” Alex says, pulling on Cash's arm. “Dude, they have our demo. They said that they would call. They have my AIM.”
“I know, Sing. I know. I was there. Right next to you.” Cash maneuvers them around a group of overenthusiastic fangirls. “Careful dude.” He pulls Alex close. “They're going to love it, because we're awesome.”
“But what if they don't?” Alex steps toward the curb. “Cash, don't let me get too excited.”
Cash wraps his arm around Alex. He's probably more excited than Alex. If they get the record deal, he won't end up working at a car wash while Alex goes to college and forgets all about him. “They're going to love it,” Cash says, leaning in close. Alex smells really good. He wants to mention it, but that's a little more than friend-love.
“That's not helping.”
“I know.” He pushes Alex's hair behind his ear because he can. “Dude, I'm driving. You're way to amped up.”
“It's my car,” Alex whines. “I drove here.”
“Then I get to drive back. It's like, the rules or something.” He lets his hand linger on Alex's shoulder. “Dude, are you cold? You should have worn more than that damn tank top.”
“A little,” Alex says.
“Take my coat,” Cash says, shrugging it off. “I've got a long sleeve on.”
“Thanks,” Alex says, taking it and pulling it on. “You've been smoking again.”
Cash frowns. It's always been a point of contention between them. He's been smoking since he was 16 and Alex hates it with a fiery, bitchy passion. He tries to hide it as much as possible, but when Alex borrows his clothes, it's hard to hide it. “Yeah, um. That whole thing where I told you I quit? I lied.”
“Cash,” Alex says firmly.
“I'm going to quit, I swear. I'm just not ready.”
Alex frowns at him and Cash feels bad. “Don't make that face. Alex, come on, go back to being happy that Panic has our demo.”
Alex smiles again. “Dude, they have it! They're going to love it, right?”
…
The next day, Alex is frowning at the screen of his laptop. “RossRyanVegas is messaging me. I think someone is fucking with me. Did you tell anyone about the demo?”
“Just Johnson, Marshall and Paul.” He gets up from Alex's bed and looks at the message request. “Click it, dude, at least see what it's saying.”
“Ryan Ross does not have that obvious of a screen name. It's not him.”
Cash rolls his eyes and pushes Alex out of the way so he can accept the message request.
Hey, this is Ryan. Is this Singer?
“Dude, it's not him,” Alex says again. “Who did you tell?”
“Who did you tell?” Cash asks. “Whatever.” Yes. hi.
We listened to your demo. Do you have ne upcoming shows?
“It's not him.” Alex steals the computer back. Who is this?
ryan ross.
Paul? Alex types back.
No. ryan ross. u gave spence and jon your demo. at the show last nite
“Alex,” Cash says. “I think it might really be him. Dude, I think that might really be Ryan Ross. Stop fucking with him.”
“It's not,” Alex says. fuck you, paul. I have to study for my calc test.
Not paul. ryan ross. next show at jillian's y/n? On sat?
“Oh, fuck me. I think it's Ryan Ross,” Alex says.
“I said that!” Cash exclaims. “I told you! Fucking be nice, jackass!”
Yes! OMG sorry. Bad nite. Me and Cash are here. Pls come!
“Too excited,” Cash says.
“My hands are shaking. Dude, Cash, my hands are shaking.” Alex holds his hand out for Cash to see. It is, in fact, shaking.
“Give me that,” Cash says, taking the computer.
Awesome. Ryan replies. Me, bden, and spence will be there. Jon in chi-town. And shane - bden's roommate. When u see us, believe it's us, k?
Yes! We don't have a vip list, but pretend that we're awesome and that u r on it. I'm sure they'll let you in bc u r panic. C u there- cash money.
“You didn't just tag that IM with Cash Money, did you?”
“Fuck off,” Cash says.
awesome. Nite!
Nite!. “Dude,” Cash says. “It's happening. It's so happening.”
Alex blinks up at him. “What if it wasn't him?”
Cash shakes his head. “It was him.” His phone beeps. “Fucking Paul now, says he can't come to practice.”
Alex shakes his head. “He keeps canceling. I can't handle this.” He pulls at his hair. “I don't think Paul is going to stay. He got.” He stops. “OK, I wasn't supposed to tell you, but he got early acceptance to Yale.”
“Shit fuck,” Cash curses. “He's going to quit, isn't he?”
“Yeah,” Alex says, nodding. “He was just waiting for the right time to tell you.”
“You think he'll do the Panic show?”
“He's staying until graduation. He's not in it like we are. We're going to need someone new. Someone better. Do we know anyone?”
Cash shakes his head. “Not really. Well, Tom, but he's a douche.”
“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “I'm not doing this with him.”
“OK, well. We deal for now, and then maybe, if this goes well, maybe someone will know someone.” He shrugs. “I don't know, but you know, we just gotta roll with it, right?”
…
“Did you see them?” Alex asks, jumping on Cash's back. “There were there. In the audience. I saw them. Brendon fucking Urie!”
“I saw.” He slips his hands under Alex's thighs to keep him upright. “They're here.”
Alex burrows his face in Cash's neck. “It's really going to happen, isn't it?”
“Yeah,” Cash says, trying to catch his breath. “It is.”
…
“Graduation!” Alex yells. “High school is over!”
Cash grins. “We fucking made it, dude.”
Alex grabs him into a tight hug. “Cash, we're officially adults. This is the end of this shit. And there's. We've.”
Cash smiles at the way that Alex can't finish his sentences. He knows what Alex is thinking. He's thinking that the pile of acceptance letters to colleges around the country don't fucking matter anymore because Pete Wentz signed them to Decaydance. Alex isn't going anywhere without Cash. “I know.”
“You're the best, Cash. I couldn't have. Not without.”
There are tears in Alex's eyes. “Dude, don't be a girl.” He pushes at Alex's shoulder, mostly to get him away, because if he keeps Alex this close, he's going to do the whole kissing thing, and he's just not at that stage yet.
Alex fans at his face. “I didn't know that I could be this happy. Don't tell the guys, OK?”
“Of course not.” He wraps his arm around Alex's shoulder. He can do this. “Let's go to the damn graduation and then head down to Freemont.”
“Yes! My dad already told me that I could get drunk. As long as we don't tell my mom.”
“And my mom never really cares,” Cash says with a shrug.
Alex swirls around in his red graduation gown and Cash laughs. “You're the prettiest princess of them all, Singer, I swear.” He smiles. “So, do you think Paul is going to officially tell us today?”
“Don't bring me down like that,” Alex says. “And yeah, I think he is. I don't know why he waited this long. We all already know.”
Cash nods. “But you know, Shane? He said he knows someone. As soon as Paul quits, his cousin is going to come down.”
“Really? Is he any good?”
“Dude, he's in this band, and it's hardcore. He's like some sort of musical genius. And I guess he's really excited. I was talking to him the other day.”
“What?” Alex asks, cutting him off. “You talked to him? How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me?”
“You were so worried with finals, I didn't want to stress you out. Even if I still don't understand why you were so stressed. We have the record deal. Which Paul didn't sign. How does he think that we don't know?”
“He just doesn't want to man up. I think he's torn. You know, record deal or Yale. It's a hard decision.” Alex hides behind his hair again.
“You got accepted to Yale, didn't you?” They'd never talked about Alex's college prospects, but Cash had seen the pile. It wasn't small.
“Yeah. Um, the same time Paul did. With a scholarship.”
“You never told me.” Cash reaches out and touches Alex's arms. “How come you never told me?”
“It wasn't like it was a decision. I thought it would be, but then they came in. Stanford, Yale, UNLV, Penn State...”
“Did you even get rejected anywhere?”
“Not really, no.”
Cash feels guilty. “You should have, I don't know, thought about it?”
“It wasn't something I needed to think about. I thought maybe I would. But then I got the letters, and they were just words. My mom cried a little bit when I told her.”
Cash knows that Mrs. DeLeon didn't cry 'a little bit'. She probably cried for days. And it explained why she had been giving Cash dirty looks for the past few months and why every conversation she had with Alex was clipped and peppered with Spanish words that Cash was pretty sure meant something like “waste” and “disappointment”. He wasn't sure, though, because he'd cheated off of Alex in Spanish and none of it really stuck.
“You can always go to college. You know, if this doesn't work out,” Cash says.
“Don't say that. Don't say that this isn't going to work.” He looks at Cash with wide, doe eyes. “You're like my rock. Don't falter now, if you falter, I'll crack. And then I'll have to go to college and you'll go on to this record deal without me and then I'll drink myself into an early grave and they'll find my bloated corpse floating down the river.”
“Alex, stop that. Wow, you can really just take the crazy way up there, can't you? There's no record deal without you.”
Alex leaps up onto Cash, and Cash catches him easily and spins him around. “If I let you drink tequila,” Cash says, “can you promise me you won't get all weepy and throw up on me?”
“Nope,” Alex replies. “But my dad's going to film it so we'll have it forever.”
…
Recording their album is the hardest thing that Cash's ever had to do. The music's not hard, they have more than they need and it's pouring out of them faster than they could have ever expected. That part is great. It's the living arrangement. He's sharing a bed with Alex and that's something he could do without.
Alex's napping when Cash gets back from the grocery store. He was going to come in and tell him that he splurged and grabbed them some Del Taco, but Alex just looks so peaceful. But then, if Alex finds out that he missed out on hot Del Taco, he's going to be a little more than mad.
“Alex,” Cash says softly. “Wake up.”
Alex rolls into his pillow and sighs.
“I've got food,” he says, just as softly. He's not sure why he's talking so softly, he knows that Alex isn't going to wake up like that. It generally takes some sort of yelling and shaking to get him up. “Singer,” he says a little louder.
Alex smacks his lips and hitches his leg up onto Cash's pillow. Cash sighs loudly and sits on the edge of the bed. He really doesn't want to wake him. “Singer, food,” he says shaking him.
“No, sleepy,” Alex mutters.
“Del Taco,” Cash sing songs, holding the bag near Alex's face. “Just enough for you and me.”
Alex blinks awake. “Del Taco?”
Cash smiles. “I thought you might be hungry. We didn't have a lot to eat at the studio.”
Alex rolls over and looks down at Cash's pillow. “Whoops,” he says. “Didn't mean to bogart your pillow like that.”
“It's cool, just don't jizz on it.”
“Shut up.” Alex sits up in bed. “Food,” he says, making grabby hands for the bag.
“Nice hair,” Cash says, handing Alex a burrito.
“Shut up twice.” He rips the wrapper open and takes a massive bite. “Oh god,” he moans.
“Didn't your mother teach you not to talk with food in your mouth?”
“Sure,” Alex says, taking another bite. “I love you right now,” he says, but it comes out more like “I oov oo rih na.” Cash understands anyway.
“Don't tell the others that we had tacos. Marshall might cry.”
Alex nods. “Our secret,” he says after swallowing. “Thanks.”
…
“Fucking lightweight,” Cash curses. “Though you're fucking heavy.”
Alex laughs. “I'm a feather. I feel like a feather!”
“You are not. You're a scrawny. Ow,” he grimaces as Alex elbows him in the stomach. “Watch your elbows, bitch.”
“Feather!” Alex cries and then breaks away from Cash. He gets up two stairs before he trips and falls.
“Singer?”
“I broke my face,” Alex says mournfully. “Bleeding now.”
“God damn it.” Cash wishes that he was a little drunk, but he had opted out of drinking when Alex had slammed down two rum and cokes in less than 30 minutes. “Let me see.”
Alex rolls over and his hands are bloody, but his face looks fine. “You skinned your hands,” Cash says. “Your face is fine.”
“Good, because you need my face. For the band. I'm the pretty one.”
“I think Marshall's going to end up fighting you for that one.” He takes Alex's hand in his own. “Does it hurt?”
“Nope.”
Cash rolls his eyes. It'll hurt in the morning and Alex will inevitably spend the whole day preening and crying over how broken he is. “Let's get you upstairs and cleaned up.”
“'kay,” Alex says, leaning up on Cash and effectively wiping dirty blood on Cash's white shirt.
“Dude,” Cash says, but there's no heat to it. “You're bleeding on me.”
“Sorry,” Alex says. He reaches up to wipe at the stain and ends up leaving a larger splotch of blood than before.
“Stop it,” Cash says, taking Alex's hand. “Upstairs. One at a time.” He leads Alex upstairs and unlocks the door. “Quiet,” he says, motioning to where Ian is sleeping on the couch.
“Ian!” Alex yells. Cash shoves his hand over Alex's mouth. “I said quiet.”
Alex's eyes go wide and he nods. “Sorry,” he whispers when Cash pulls his hand away.
“Bathroom,” Cash whispers. They maneuver around the mattress on the floor where Marshall and Johnson are sleeping. “Wash your hands.”
“Ow,” Alex says plaintively when the water starts. “I have ow.”
“I know you do, alkie. Don't scream.”
Alex blinks at him and Cash dumps peroxide on his hands. Alex's face turns red and his eyes well up with tears. “Super ow.”
“I know. Those stairs are dirty. Scrub.”
Alex does, even though he's clearly in pain, and Cash feels a little bad. He reaches up in the medicine cabinet and pulls out the gauze and medical tape. They'd figured out early on that first aid supplies were sort of vital.
Cash wraps him up and pulls him into the one bedroom. They'd claimed it as their own after winning the most epic battle of Halo on record. “Finish your water,” Cash says, handing him the water bottle Alex had been drinking earlier.
“Whatever.” Alex drinks the rest and falls down on the bed. “Bounce, bounce, baby, bounce back to me,” he sings.
“Singer, shhh,” Cash says, pulling on Alex's shoes. “Sleeping bandmates, remember?” He looks up and Alex is already passed out. “Singer?”
There's no response. “Dammit.” He pulls off Alex's socks and tosses them into their laundry pile. “Well, you're not sleeping in your jeans, because they're all rough against my legs when you spoon me against my will.” He's not sure why he's talking. Alex can't hear him. “So, I'm just going to.” He reaches up and unbuttons Alex's pants. “Oh come on!” he exclaims when he finds that Alex isn't wearing underwear.
He steps back and puts his hands in his hair. He can do it. He can take Alex's pants off and not do anything about it. He can. Really. His hard dick says otherwise, but he can ignore that. He's got will power.
He pulls Alex's pants off and doesn't look. Doesn't look at all. Except for how he does and he just wants to. Nothing. He doesn't want to do anything with it. Really. “OK,” he says out loud. “I'm going to get you some boxers.” He makes his way to Alex's tiny pile of clean clothes and realizes that they really need to suck it up and go to the laundromat. “Awesome. You don't have any. I hate you so much right now.”
Cash goes over to his own pile and pulls out a clean pair. “Now you're going to wear mine and I'm going to have to think about that for the next hundred years, or until I die of unrequited lust, whichever comes first.” He slips Alex into his boxers and stares.
“OK,” he says to Alex. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would my acting on my baser instincts right now be?” Alex smacks his lips and rolls onto his side. “Yeah, I think an eleven too. I'm going to go shower.”
…
Cash wakes up to Alex's lips smacking in his ear and Alex's long body pressed up behind his own. And, of course, as always, morning wood. He hates being 18.
The alarm in the living room blares loud enough to wake everyone in the tiny apartment, and from the banging on the wall over Cash's head, everyone in the apartment next to theirs too.
“Johnson!” Cash yells.
“Got it!” Johnson yells back.
“Ow.” Alex presses his face to the back of Cash's neck. “Headache.”
“Hangover,” Cash corrects. “Get up. And get your dick off of me.” The last thing he needs this morning is Alex's morning wood pressed up against his back.
“I'm 18, I can't control that.”
“You could try staying on your side of the bed.”
“Fine.” Alex rolls away from him. “Ow.”
“Realized you fell on your hands in your drunken stupor, didn't you?”
“Pretty much.” Alex pulls himself out of bed. “Are these your boxers?”
“We need to do laundry.”
“Yeah, I was going commando yesterday.”
Cash sits up and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “So very aware.”
Alex picks at his bandages. “So, I guess jerking off is out of the question,” he says, idly. “Fuck.” He looks down at the tent in his boxers. “Cold shower it is. Dammit.”
Cash covers his mouth while he snickers.
…
It seems like the second they get back from recording, Alex gets a girlfriend and Cash wants to smother her with a pillow.
“Baby, which scarf should I wear?” Alex asks Melody. “White or black?”
“I don't know, baby, maybe the checkered one?” She flips the pages of her fashion magazine. If Cash hears the word baby one more time, he's going to kill himself.
“You're right, babe. Thanks.” Alex pulls the checkered one out of his bag and ties it on.
Cash holds his tongue. He hates Melody with a fiery passion, but Alex is convinced that he's in love with her, and Cash totally wants Alex to be happy. He really does. He just wished that Alex could be happy if Melody got hit by a bus.
Alex leans down and kisses her. “Love you, babe.”
She smiles up at him and then goes back to the magazine. “God, I would so love a pair of these new Jimmy Choos. Baby, would you get me a pair?”
“Whatever you want, baby,” Alex replies. “We can go tomorrow.”
Cash wishes that she would just burst into flames. But Alex loves her. So he says. After knowing her for a week. Of course he does. Cash coughs to remind them that he is, in fact, still in the room.
“Drink some water,” Melody says, flipping the pages again. “Also, you smell like cigarettes. Make him leave, baby.”
Alex glances up from the mirror and stops messing with his scarf. “Baby, he's my friend.”
“I'll fuck you if you make him leave,” she replies.
Cash pushes his chair back. “I'm going.” He refrains from calling her a bitch or a whore, which he counts as a win. “Singer, your band is waiting whenever your ready.”
He leaves the room and walks into the hallway. They'd still hear him if he started to scream, so that's not an option. “Fucking cunt,” he curses under his breath. “Smother her with a pillow. Kill her dead. That would be awesome and she would be dead and I would be happy.” He paces back and forth through the hallway. “And then Alex would be mine.” He stops. “And now I sound like a cracked out Disney character. Awesome.”
“You talking to yourself again?” Ian asks. “Because you've been doing that an awful lot lately and I'm not sure how to feel about it.”
Cash blinks up at him. “How long have you been there?”
“Just got here. Came for you and Singer. There's a group of kids out there and we thought it'd be good if we went outside and signed some stuff. Said hello, you know?”
There's a moan from behind the door. “Singer's busy fucking his wh-” He stops. “Melody. He's with Melody.”
Ian rubs Cash's shoulder. “We all hate her, don't worry about censoring yourself around us. Jizzle thinks that she's a star fucker.”
“We're not even really stars.”
“Not yet,” Ian says. “But, you know, we will be and she's jumping on early.” There's another moan. “Please come outside with us. Don't stand here and listen. It's creepy and really fucking gross.”
Cash nods. “Yeah, yeah, let's do that.”
…
Two weeks later, Melody decides she's a lesbian and dumps Singer.
Cash's mom went to Reno with friends, a yearly trip that Cash has never understood, but always enjoys. So he tells Alex to come over and they can hang. He's got a bottle of vodka, though, he doesn't know if that's such a good idea. Especially when Alex just starts doing shots.
“Singer, maybe you should.” He's not really sure what Alex should do, but drinking his body weight in vodka in under an hour is not really a good option.
“She said she loved me. She said she wanted to be with me forever and ever. I lost my virginity to her!”
Cash resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Alex would be like this. It was like Cindy, the girl they had fought over when they first met. Cash had just wanted to take her to dinner, maybe get a little busy, see where it went. Alex was convinced that she was his soul mate and that they would get married and have a house out in Summerlin. Alex had decided all of that after one conversation with her. The conversation had been about their biology lab, and at the time, Cash had pointed that out, but it didn't make any difference.
“Singer, come on, you only dated her for three weeks. Did you fuck her on the third date or something?”
Alex pounds back another shot. “Second. She said that we were meant to be and that it felt right, and it totally did. And then. And then she tells me that she wants to be with girls. She said maybe if I could have gotten her to meet Pete then it wouldn't have been like this.”
“You could have kept her from liking girls by introducing her to Pete?”
“That's what she said.”
Cash's left hand balls into a fist, out of sight from Alex. “That doesn't even make any sense. Either you're gay, or bi, or whatever, or you aren't. Dude, she was a star fucker.”
Alex groans and leans his head on Cash's shoulder. “She loved me. She said so.”
Cash wraps his arm around Alex's shoulder. “I know you thought she did. But.” He pauses. “She didn't. She didn't, Singer. I know you wanted her to, but she just didn't.” When Alex doesn't move, Cash continues. “And I don't think you loved her either.”
Cash is pretty sure that Alex is going to hit him, or yell at him. But he doesn't. He just snuffles softly and presses his nose into Cash's neck. “How come she didn't?”
“She was stupid. So very, very stupid.”
Alex reaches for the vodka again, and Cash wants to stop him, but he can't. He really doesn't know what else to do except for let him drink until he pukes and hopefully forgets all about the star fucker.
“I'm drunk.”
“I know,” Cash says. “I know. Is there anything I can do?”
“Make her love me the way that I love her.”
Cash kisses Alex's forehead. “How about I help you realize that you didn't actually love her the way you thought you did? I can do that. She was a fucking whore.” The second it slips out of his mouth, he regrets it. He doesn't want to make Alex feel any worse than he already does.
“She's my Audrey, isn't she?”
Cash nods at the Audrey Kitching reference. Maybe he should have called Brendon after all. He was a good guy, he could have helped them. Told them that it happens to every young band on the verge of stardom. “Yeah,” is all Cash can say. “She is.”
Alex breathes on Cash's neck, hot and long and Cash really just wants. “Alex,” Cash says and then Alex is kissing his neck, open mouth and sloppy. Drunkenly, Cash's mind supplies. He should stop Alex. He certainly shouldn't tip his head down and connect their lips.
He does anyway. And Alex's lips are soft, and when he opens his mouth, Cash slides his tongue over Alex's smooth teeth. He tries to move in, deepen the kiss, but Alex pulls back, stares at him with wide eyes and then pukes on the coffee table.
Cash stares for a moment. He really should have seen that coming. In the maybe thirty minutes that Alex had been there, he'd drank a fifth of vodka, and Cash knows that Alex probably hasn't eaten. Actually, he can tell, seeing as the vomit is clear. Alex is extremely drunk.
“Sorry,” Alex slurs. He leans in and drools on Cash's chest before passing out.
“Well, that sucks,” Cash says to no one in particular.
…
Cash ends up sleeping on the floor of his own bedroom. Technically, his bed is a double, and there was more than enough room him and Alex, but Alex hadn't settled down at all. Cash was bruised. And he wasn't happy about it.
“Cash?” Alex's voice is raspy and harsh. “So sick.”
“There's water on the floor.”
“Can't.”
Cash rubs the sleep out of his eyes and rolls slightly. He wished that he'd vacuum more often, it was really filthy on his floor. “Lazy,” he says as he passes the bottle up.
“How come you let me drink so much?” Alex asks after he downs the water.
“How come you puked on my coffee table? You so owe me, bitch. I had to clean that shit up before it pulled the varnish off. Mind you, that was after I dragged your sorry ass to bed. My bed. And then I slept on the damn floor. You owe me for eternity.”
Alex rolls over and looks down at Cash. “You're my best friend.”
“Please, I know. Also, I got my fill of chick flick moments from last night. So, if you've got anymore for me, you're going to have to wait till at least next week.”
“I gotta piss like a racehorse.”
“I'm not taking you there.”
Alex sighs. “Fine. I'll do it myself. But I'm going to do the weird sideways run thing, and if you laugh at me, I'll laugh, and then I'll pee.”
Cash feels his face start to crack into a smile so he grabs the pillow from under his head and pushes it over his face. “Go, go now!”
…
It takes three days to get Alex to really smile again, but once that happens, Cash knows that it's going to be OK. He also knows that Alex doesn't remember kissing him at all. Probably for the best, Cash thinks.
“You just have to be careful,” Brendon says, knocking his shoulders against Alex's. “If your friends don't like her, then there really is an issue. You trust them with everything else, so why don't you trust them about girls?”
Alex shrugs and hides behind his hair. “I don't know,” he mutters.
“And Cash,” Brendon says, turning his gaze to Cash. “You need to be more vocal when you don't like someone.”
“Thanks Dr. Phil,” Cash says without looking up. He doesn't really know how he became part of this conversation. He had just been talking to Brendon yesterday and thought it would be really awesome if Brendon came and gave Alex some advice. He hadn't meant to mean that he thought he should be included in that conversation.
“Cash,” Alex pleads. “Come on, this is band stuff.”
“Who you fuck isn't band stuff.”
“Yes it is,” Brendon and Alex say simultaneously.
“It's also friend stuff,” Alex says. “You should have told me that you didn't like her.”
Cash feels petulant and angry. “You should have been a better friend and realized I didn't like her.” He's pretty much feeling like he's going to throw a tantrum. And after that, he's going to get a new tattoo. And maybe after that, he's going to drink and maybe get laid. “She was always kicking me out and you just let her. What an awesome friend you are.”
Alex opens his mouth, but Cash stops him. “Whatever. Next time you fuck a skank, I'll call her for what she is. Now, I have places to be.” He grabs his coat and stalks off.
He feels pretty good about it, and he feels even better after the endorphins get going when he gets a new piece of his sleeve done. Then he goes to the shittiest bar off of Freemont he can think of, where he knows they're just going to let him flash his fake ID and not think twice about it. Once he's in, he goes straight to the bar and gets a vodka shooter and laughs.
“What's so funny?” a girl asks.
She's cute. Dark hair, dark eyes, maybe 5'2'' and just smoking hot. Cash would do her. Cash wants to do her. “Thinking about my lamer friend. Can't hold his vodka.”
She laughs, and Cash knows it's hollow, but he doesn't care. “You just get that done?” she asks, pointing to the part of his arm that's still all shiny and red.
“Yeah.” He pulls his shirt sleeve up a little to show her all his art. “Pretty nice, huh?”
She touches his arm and lets it linger. “That's hardcore,” she says, talking softly so that she has to lean in to say it. “Get me a drink.”
“I'll take another shooter,” he tells the bartender. “And whatever this beautiful lady is having.”
She smiles. “Rum and coke,” she tells him. “The name's Ashley,” she tells Cash.
The bartender hands them their drinks, and Cash pushes down the urge to think about rum and coke being Alex's drink. Alex doesn't own the drink. Ashley can have it if she wants to.
Cash downs his drink. “What do you do?” he asks. He doesn't care, but it's something to ask. Something to break the ice.
“I'm a student at UNLV. Communications.”
Cash nods. It's one of those majors that Cash doesn't understand, and frankly, doesn't care about. “Yeah, you like it?”
She nods. “What about you?”
“I'm in a band, actually. We just recorded our first album.” He bites his tongue as soon as he says it. He should have made something up. He doesn't want to ever have to think about her after tonight. He doesn't want her to be one of those people who goes online and says, 'yeah, I fucked Cash Colligan once and he was a total douche'. He's seen that happen to his friends. He doesn't want that.
“You gonna tell me your name? The name of your band?”
“Uh, yeah. We're, uh.” Fuck, he has to come up with a name that isn't The Cab. And a name for himself that isn't Cash. “We're November Bleeds Purple. My name is Alex.” Fuck. He didn't mean to say that.
“Well, Alex. I've never heard of your band, but I'd like to see you play.” She's doing that soft talking and leaning thing again.
“Yeah, it's an independent label. Small time stuff.” Why hadn't he just lied from the beginning? “We don't have any shows coming up soon. Well, one, but it's in Oregon.” Oregon? Really? When did he start sucking so hard at lying?
She nods. “You.” She giggles. “Fuck this. Wanna fuck in the bathroom?”
The alcohol starts to hit and he finds himself nodding. “Yeah, fuck yeah.” The room spins a little bit, but it's cool. She's got her hand in his and she's pulling him down a hallway and into a dimly lit bathroom that he knows is the ladies' room from the lack of urinals.
“You got a condom?”
He shakes his head. He doesn't. Well, he does, but it's from the tenth grade when he and Alex both bought one and decided to keep it in their wallets for luck. He's sure it would break in a heart beat if he actually tried to use it.
“You got quarters?”
He does. He always takes them just in case he's got to feed a meter somewhere. He pulls out four and holds them out in his hand. She takes two and vanishes for a moment, returning with a condom.
He puts it on and fucks her from behind against the bathroom stall wall. When he's done, his head is spinning so bad from the endorphins and the liquor and the orgasm that he can't see straight.
She kisses him lightly. “Thanks,” she says and sways slightly as she pulls up her pants. “It was nice to meet you, Alex.” She grabs his hand and scrawls her number on the palm of his hand. Once she's gone, he washes it off.
...
Part Two
Author: battie_hattie
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Cash/Singer (Cash/OFC, Singer/Brendon)
POV: 3rd, Cash
Summary: Cash has always had this fear of Singer leaving. First it was for college, then it was to be with someone else. But it's such a small little thing that Cash doesn't need to tell him about it. He's just going to let it fester indefinitely... as long as no one interferes. Word Count: ~12k
Disclaimer: So not even remotely true.
Author Notes: Epic thanks to sneaky_sena for doing the primary “give me more!” beta and to tanisafan for finishing it off. Mostly canon, I moved a few things around just to make it easier on myself. Title loosely from “Tiffany Blews”.
“What if we just take the demo to the show,” Alex says. “You know, just throw ourselves across the barrier or something and just hope for the best.”
Cash looks up from the issue of Blender he's been reading. “You wouldn't make it. The barrier girls would break your tiny frame into a million tiny Singer piece that even I wouldn't be able to put back together. And then I would cry in public and everyone would laugh.”
“You'd cry for me if I died?”
“If it was particularly needless. Anyway, I would get wicked pussy though from the girls that thought I was all deep and shit for crying over your broken corpse.”
“It's the only way you'd get laid,” Alex says. Cash throws a book at him. “Hey,” Alex says, picking it up. “Why the fuck do you have my government book? I thought I lost that shit. You've had it this whole time?”
“I think you left it here last week. I was going to bring it in, but it's heavy dude.”
“I had to miss practice last week because I had to go to the library to read it because I couldn't do it at home, because you had my book, doucheface. What's your damage?”
Cash shrugs. “It was heavy. I told you that.”
“Dude, I could have failed that test.”
“Yeah, god and then you'd drop to under a 4.0 and then you'd cry. Dude, it's not like you're going to college.”
Alex frowns. “I could. If this music thing. I don't know, I just want something to fall back on, just in case. Why do you have to be such an asshole about it?”
“Why do you have to think that anything other than this 'music thing' is going to happen? It's going to happen. We'll make it happen. It's like.” He puts his hands on his knees and leans forward. “Remember when you met Panic? And you sat there forever and ever and everyone thought you were weird.”
“Yeah?”
“You're fucking weird.” Cash's face breaks into a smile. “Now let's go stalk Panic again and get that fucking record deal.”
…
“Dude, that was Jon Walker and Spencer Smith. Dude, they talked to us,” Alex says, pulling on Cash's arm. “Dude, they have our demo. They said that they would call. They have my AIM.”
“I know, Sing. I know. I was there. Right next to you.” Cash maneuvers them around a group of overenthusiastic fangirls. “Careful dude.” He pulls Alex close. “They're going to love it, because we're awesome.”
“But what if they don't?” Alex steps toward the curb. “Cash, don't let me get too excited.”
Cash wraps his arm around Alex. He's probably more excited than Alex. If they get the record deal, he won't end up working at a car wash while Alex goes to college and forgets all about him. “They're going to love it,” Cash says, leaning in close. Alex smells really good. He wants to mention it, but that's a little more than friend-love.
“That's not helping.”
“I know.” He pushes Alex's hair behind his ear because he can. “Dude, I'm driving. You're way to amped up.”
“It's my car,” Alex whines. “I drove here.”
“Then I get to drive back. It's like, the rules or something.” He lets his hand linger on Alex's shoulder. “Dude, are you cold? You should have worn more than that damn tank top.”
“A little,” Alex says.
“Take my coat,” Cash says, shrugging it off. “I've got a long sleeve on.”
“Thanks,” Alex says, taking it and pulling it on. “You've been smoking again.”
Cash frowns. It's always been a point of contention between them. He's been smoking since he was 16 and Alex hates it with a fiery, bitchy passion. He tries to hide it as much as possible, but when Alex borrows his clothes, it's hard to hide it. “Yeah, um. That whole thing where I told you I quit? I lied.”
“Cash,” Alex says firmly.
“I'm going to quit, I swear. I'm just not ready.”
Alex frowns at him and Cash feels bad. “Don't make that face. Alex, come on, go back to being happy that Panic has our demo.”
Alex smiles again. “Dude, they have it! They're going to love it, right?”
…
The next day, Alex is frowning at the screen of his laptop. “RossRyanVegas is messaging me. I think someone is fucking with me. Did you tell anyone about the demo?”
“Just Johnson, Marshall and Paul.” He gets up from Alex's bed and looks at the message request. “Click it, dude, at least see what it's saying.”
“Ryan Ross does not have that obvious of a screen name. It's not him.”
Cash rolls his eyes and pushes Alex out of the way so he can accept the message request.
Hey, this is Ryan. Is this Singer?
“Dude, it's not him,” Alex says again. “Who did you tell?”
“Who did you tell?” Cash asks. “Whatever.” Yes. hi.
We listened to your demo. Do you have ne upcoming shows?
“It's not him.” Alex steals the computer back. Who is this?
ryan ross.
Paul? Alex types back.
No. ryan ross. u gave spence and jon your demo. at the show last nite
“Alex,” Cash says. “I think it might really be him. Dude, I think that might really be Ryan Ross. Stop fucking with him.”
“It's not,” Alex says. fuck you, paul. I have to study for my calc test.
Not paul. ryan ross. next show at jillian's y/n? On sat?
“Oh, fuck me. I think it's Ryan Ross,” Alex says.
“I said that!” Cash exclaims. “I told you! Fucking be nice, jackass!”
Yes! OMG sorry. Bad nite. Me and Cash are here. Pls come!
“Too excited,” Cash says.
“My hands are shaking. Dude, Cash, my hands are shaking.” Alex holds his hand out for Cash to see. It is, in fact, shaking.
“Give me that,” Cash says, taking the computer.
Awesome. Ryan replies. Me, bden, and spence will be there. Jon in chi-town. And shane - bden's roommate. When u see us, believe it's us, k?
Yes! We don't have a vip list, but pretend that we're awesome and that u r on it. I'm sure they'll let you in bc u r panic. C u there- cash money.
“You didn't just tag that IM with Cash Money, did you?”
“Fuck off,” Cash says.
awesome. Nite!
Nite!. “Dude,” Cash says. “It's happening. It's so happening.”
Alex blinks up at him. “What if it wasn't him?”
Cash shakes his head. “It was him.” His phone beeps. “Fucking Paul now, says he can't come to practice.”
Alex shakes his head. “He keeps canceling. I can't handle this.” He pulls at his hair. “I don't think Paul is going to stay. He got.” He stops. “OK, I wasn't supposed to tell you, but he got early acceptance to Yale.”
“Shit fuck,” Cash curses. “He's going to quit, isn't he?”
“Yeah,” Alex says, nodding. “He was just waiting for the right time to tell you.”
“You think he'll do the Panic show?”
“He's staying until graduation. He's not in it like we are. We're going to need someone new. Someone better. Do we know anyone?”
Cash shakes his head. “Not really. Well, Tom, but he's a douche.”
“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “I'm not doing this with him.”
“OK, well. We deal for now, and then maybe, if this goes well, maybe someone will know someone.” He shrugs. “I don't know, but you know, we just gotta roll with it, right?”
…
“Did you see them?” Alex asks, jumping on Cash's back. “There were there. In the audience. I saw them. Brendon fucking Urie!”
“I saw.” He slips his hands under Alex's thighs to keep him upright. “They're here.”
Alex burrows his face in Cash's neck. “It's really going to happen, isn't it?”
“Yeah,” Cash says, trying to catch his breath. “It is.”
…
“Graduation!” Alex yells. “High school is over!”
Cash grins. “We fucking made it, dude.”
Alex grabs him into a tight hug. “Cash, we're officially adults. This is the end of this shit. And there's. We've.”
Cash smiles at the way that Alex can't finish his sentences. He knows what Alex is thinking. He's thinking that the pile of acceptance letters to colleges around the country don't fucking matter anymore because Pete Wentz signed them to Decaydance. Alex isn't going anywhere without Cash. “I know.”
“You're the best, Cash. I couldn't have. Not without.”
There are tears in Alex's eyes. “Dude, don't be a girl.” He pushes at Alex's shoulder, mostly to get him away, because if he keeps Alex this close, he's going to do the whole kissing thing, and he's just not at that stage yet.
Alex fans at his face. “I didn't know that I could be this happy. Don't tell the guys, OK?”
“Of course not.” He wraps his arm around Alex's shoulder. He can do this. “Let's go to the damn graduation and then head down to Freemont.”
“Yes! My dad already told me that I could get drunk. As long as we don't tell my mom.”
“And my mom never really cares,” Cash says with a shrug.
Alex swirls around in his red graduation gown and Cash laughs. “You're the prettiest princess of them all, Singer, I swear.” He smiles. “So, do you think Paul is going to officially tell us today?”
“Don't bring me down like that,” Alex says. “And yeah, I think he is. I don't know why he waited this long. We all already know.”
Cash nods. “But you know, Shane? He said he knows someone. As soon as Paul quits, his cousin is going to come down.”
“Really? Is he any good?”
“Dude, he's in this band, and it's hardcore. He's like some sort of musical genius. And I guess he's really excited. I was talking to him the other day.”
“What?” Alex asks, cutting him off. “You talked to him? How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me?”
“You were so worried with finals, I didn't want to stress you out. Even if I still don't understand why you were so stressed. We have the record deal. Which Paul didn't sign. How does he think that we don't know?”
“He just doesn't want to man up. I think he's torn. You know, record deal or Yale. It's a hard decision.” Alex hides behind his hair again.
“You got accepted to Yale, didn't you?” They'd never talked about Alex's college prospects, but Cash had seen the pile. It wasn't small.
“Yeah. Um, the same time Paul did. With a scholarship.”
“You never told me.” Cash reaches out and touches Alex's arms. “How come you never told me?”
“It wasn't like it was a decision. I thought it would be, but then they came in. Stanford, Yale, UNLV, Penn State...”
“Did you even get rejected anywhere?”
“Not really, no.”
Cash feels guilty. “You should have, I don't know, thought about it?”
“It wasn't something I needed to think about. I thought maybe I would. But then I got the letters, and they were just words. My mom cried a little bit when I told her.”
Cash knows that Mrs. DeLeon didn't cry 'a little bit'. She probably cried for days. And it explained why she had been giving Cash dirty looks for the past few months and why every conversation she had with Alex was clipped and peppered with Spanish words that Cash was pretty sure meant something like “waste” and “disappointment”. He wasn't sure, though, because he'd cheated off of Alex in Spanish and none of it really stuck.
“You can always go to college. You know, if this doesn't work out,” Cash says.
“Don't say that. Don't say that this isn't going to work.” He looks at Cash with wide, doe eyes. “You're like my rock. Don't falter now, if you falter, I'll crack. And then I'll have to go to college and you'll go on to this record deal without me and then I'll drink myself into an early grave and they'll find my bloated corpse floating down the river.”
“Alex, stop that. Wow, you can really just take the crazy way up there, can't you? There's no record deal without you.”
Alex leaps up onto Cash, and Cash catches him easily and spins him around. “If I let you drink tequila,” Cash says, “can you promise me you won't get all weepy and throw up on me?”
“Nope,” Alex replies. “But my dad's going to film it so we'll have it forever.”
…
Recording their album is the hardest thing that Cash's ever had to do. The music's not hard, they have more than they need and it's pouring out of them faster than they could have ever expected. That part is great. It's the living arrangement. He's sharing a bed with Alex and that's something he could do without.
Alex's napping when Cash gets back from the grocery store. He was going to come in and tell him that he splurged and grabbed them some Del Taco, but Alex just looks so peaceful. But then, if Alex finds out that he missed out on hot Del Taco, he's going to be a little more than mad.
“Alex,” Cash says softly. “Wake up.”
Alex rolls into his pillow and sighs.
“I've got food,” he says, just as softly. He's not sure why he's talking so softly, he knows that Alex isn't going to wake up like that. It generally takes some sort of yelling and shaking to get him up. “Singer,” he says a little louder.
Alex smacks his lips and hitches his leg up onto Cash's pillow. Cash sighs loudly and sits on the edge of the bed. He really doesn't want to wake him. “Singer, food,” he says shaking him.
“No, sleepy,” Alex mutters.
“Del Taco,” Cash sing songs, holding the bag near Alex's face. “Just enough for you and me.”
Alex blinks awake. “Del Taco?”
Cash smiles. “I thought you might be hungry. We didn't have a lot to eat at the studio.”
Alex rolls over and looks down at Cash's pillow. “Whoops,” he says. “Didn't mean to bogart your pillow like that.”
“It's cool, just don't jizz on it.”
“Shut up.” Alex sits up in bed. “Food,” he says, making grabby hands for the bag.
“Nice hair,” Cash says, handing Alex a burrito.
“Shut up twice.” He rips the wrapper open and takes a massive bite. “Oh god,” he moans.
“Didn't your mother teach you not to talk with food in your mouth?”
“Sure,” Alex says, taking another bite. “I love you right now,” he says, but it comes out more like “I oov oo rih na.” Cash understands anyway.
“Don't tell the others that we had tacos. Marshall might cry.”
Alex nods. “Our secret,” he says after swallowing. “Thanks.”
…
“Fucking lightweight,” Cash curses. “Though you're fucking heavy.”
Alex laughs. “I'm a feather. I feel like a feather!”
“You are not. You're a scrawny. Ow,” he grimaces as Alex elbows him in the stomach. “Watch your elbows, bitch.”
“Feather!” Alex cries and then breaks away from Cash. He gets up two stairs before he trips and falls.
“Singer?”
“I broke my face,” Alex says mournfully. “Bleeding now.”
“God damn it.” Cash wishes that he was a little drunk, but he had opted out of drinking when Alex had slammed down two rum and cokes in less than 30 minutes. “Let me see.”
Alex rolls over and his hands are bloody, but his face looks fine. “You skinned your hands,” Cash says. “Your face is fine.”
“Good, because you need my face. For the band. I'm the pretty one.”
“I think Marshall's going to end up fighting you for that one.” He takes Alex's hand in his own. “Does it hurt?”
“Nope.”
Cash rolls his eyes. It'll hurt in the morning and Alex will inevitably spend the whole day preening and crying over how broken he is. “Let's get you upstairs and cleaned up.”
“'kay,” Alex says, leaning up on Cash and effectively wiping dirty blood on Cash's white shirt.
“Dude,” Cash says, but there's no heat to it. “You're bleeding on me.”
“Sorry,” Alex says. He reaches up to wipe at the stain and ends up leaving a larger splotch of blood than before.
“Stop it,” Cash says, taking Alex's hand. “Upstairs. One at a time.” He leads Alex upstairs and unlocks the door. “Quiet,” he says, motioning to where Ian is sleeping on the couch.
“Ian!” Alex yells. Cash shoves his hand over Alex's mouth. “I said quiet.”
Alex's eyes go wide and he nods. “Sorry,” he whispers when Cash pulls his hand away.
“Bathroom,” Cash whispers. They maneuver around the mattress on the floor where Marshall and Johnson are sleeping. “Wash your hands.”
“Ow,” Alex says plaintively when the water starts. “I have ow.”
“I know you do, alkie. Don't scream.”
Alex blinks at him and Cash dumps peroxide on his hands. Alex's face turns red and his eyes well up with tears. “Super ow.”
“I know. Those stairs are dirty. Scrub.”
Alex does, even though he's clearly in pain, and Cash feels a little bad. He reaches up in the medicine cabinet and pulls out the gauze and medical tape. They'd figured out early on that first aid supplies were sort of vital.
Cash wraps him up and pulls him into the one bedroom. They'd claimed it as their own after winning the most epic battle of Halo on record. “Finish your water,” Cash says, handing him the water bottle Alex had been drinking earlier.
“Whatever.” Alex drinks the rest and falls down on the bed. “Bounce, bounce, baby, bounce back to me,” he sings.
“Singer, shhh,” Cash says, pulling on Alex's shoes. “Sleeping bandmates, remember?” He looks up and Alex is already passed out. “Singer?”
There's no response. “Dammit.” He pulls off Alex's socks and tosses them into their laundry pile. “Well, you're not sleeping in your jeans, because they're all rough against my legs when you spoon me against my will.” He's not sure why he's talking. Alex can't hear him. “So, I'm just going to.” He reaches up and unbuttons Alex's pants. “Oh come on!” he exclaims when he finds that Alex isn't wearing underwear.
He steps back and puts his hands in his hair. He can do it. He can take Alex's pants off and not do anything about it. He can. Really. His hard dick says otherwise, but he can ignore that. He's got will power.
He pulls Alex's pants off and doesn't look. Doesn't look at all. Except for how he does and he just wants to. Nothing. He doesn't want to do anything with it. Really. “OK,” he says out loud. “I'm going to get you some boxers.” He makes his way to Alex's tiny pile of clean clothes and realizes that they really need to suck it up and go to the laundromat. “Awesome. You don't have any. I hate you so much right now.”
Cash goes over to his own pile and pulls out a clean pair. “Now you're going to wear mine and I'm going to have to think about that for the next hundred years, or until I die of unrequited lust, whichever comes first.” He slips Alex into his boxers and stares.
“OK,” he says to Alex. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would my acting on my baser instincts right now be?” Alex smacks his lips and rolls onto his side. “Yeah, I think an eleven too. I'm going to go shower.”
…
Cash wakes up to Alex's lips smacking in his ear and Alex's long body pressed up behind his own. And, of course, as always, morning wood. He hates being 18.
The alarm in the living room blares loud enough to wake everyone in the tiny apartment, and from the banging on the wall over Cash's head, everyone in the apartment next to theirs too.
“Johnson!” Cash yells.
“Got it!” Johnson yells back.
“Ow.” Alex presses his face to the back of Cash's neck. “Headache.”
“Hangover,” Cash corrects. “Get up. And get your dick off of me.” The last thing he needs this morning is Alex's morning wood pressed up against his back.
“I'm 18, I can't control that.”
“You could try staying on your side of the bed.”
“Fine.” Alex rolls away from him. “Ow.”
“Realized you fell on your hands in your drunken stupor, didn't you?”
“Pretty much.” Alex pulls himself out of bed. “Are these your boxers?”
“We need to do laundry.”
“Yeah, I was going commando yesterday.”
Cash sits up and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “So very aware.”
Alex picks at his bandages. “So, I guess jerking off is out of the question,” he says, idly. “Fuck.” He looks down at the tent in his boxers. “Cold shower it is. Dammit.”
Cash covers his mouth while he snickers.
…
It seems like the second they get back from recording, Alex gets a girlfriend and Cash wants to smother her with a pillow.
“Baby, which scarf should I wear?” Alex asks Melody. “White or black?”
“I don't know, baby, maybe the checkered one?” She flips the pages of her fashion magazine. If Cash hears the word baby one more time, he's going to kill himself.
“You're right, babe. Thanks.” Alex pulls the checkered one out of his bag and ties it on.
Cash holds his tongue. He hates Melody with a fiery passion, but Alex is convinced that he's in love with her, and Cash totally wants Alex to be happy. He really does. He just wished that Alex could be happy if Melody got hit by a bus.
Alex leans down and kisses her. “Love you, babe.”
She smiles up at him and then goes back to the magazine. “God, I would so love a pair of these new Jimmy Choos. Baby, would you get me a pair?”
“Whatever you want, baby,” Alex replies. “We can go tomorrow.”
Cash wishes that she would just burst into flames. But Alex loves her. So he says. After knowing her for a week. Of course he does. Cash coughs to remind them that he is, in fact, still in the room.
“Drink some water,” Melody says, flipping the pages again. “Also, you smell like cigarettes. Make him leave, baby.”
Alex glances up from the mirror and stops messing with his scarf. “Baby, he's my friend.”
“I'll fuck you if you make him leave,” she replies.
Cash pushes his chair back. “I'm going.” He refrains from calling her a bitch or a whore, which he counts as a win. “Singer, your band is waiting whenever your ready.”
He leaves the room and walks into the hallway. They'd still hear him if he started to scream, so that's not an option. “Fucking cunt,” he curses under his breath. “Smother her with a pillow. Kill her dead. That would be awesome and she would be dead and I would be happy.” He paces back and forth through the hallway. “And then Alex would be mine.” He stops. “And now I sound like a cracked out Disney character. Awesome.”
“You talking to yourself again?” Ian asks. “Because you've been doing that an awful lot lately and I'm not sure how to feel about it.”
Cash blinks up at him. “How long have you been there?”
“Just got here. Came for you and Singer. There's a group of kids out there and we thought it'd be good if we went outside and signed some stuff. Said hello, you know?”
There's a moan from behind the door. “Singer's busy fucking his wh-” He stops. “Melody. He's with Melody.”
Ian rubs Cash's shoulder. “We all hate her, don't worry about censoring yourself around us. Jizzle thinks that she's a star fucker.”
“We're not even really stars.”
“Not yet,” Ian says. “But, you know, we will be and she's jumping on early.” There's another moan. “Please come outside with us. Don't stand here and listen. It's creepy and really fucking gross.”
Cash nods. “Yeah, yeah, let's do that.”
…
Two weeks later, Melody decides she's a lesbian and dumps Singer.
Cash's mom went to Reno with friends, a yearly trip that Cash has never understood, but always enjoys. So he tells Alex to come over and they can hang. He's got a bottle of vodka, though, he doesn't know if that's such a good idea. Especially when Alex just starts doing shots.
“Singer, maybe you should.” He's not really sure what Alex should do, but drinking his body weight in vodka in under an hour is not really a good option.
“She said she loved me. She said she wanted to be with me forever and ever. I lost my virginity to her!”
Cash resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Alex would be like this. It was like Cindy, the girl they had fought over when they first met. Cash had just wanted to take her to dinner, maybe get a little busy, see where it went. Alex was convinced that she was his soul mate and that they would get married and have a house out in Summerlin. Alex had decided all of that after one conversation with her. The conversation had been about their biology lab, and at the time, Cash had pointed that out, but it didn't make any difference.
“Singer, come on, you only dated her for three weeks. Did you fuck her on the third date or something?”
Alex pounds back another shot. “Second. She said that we were meant to be and that it felt right, and it totally did. And then. And then she tells me that she wants to be with girls. She said maybe if I could have gotten her to meet Pete then it wouldn't have been like this.”
“You could have kept her from liking girls by introducing her to Pete?”
“That's what she said.”
Cash's left hand balls into a fist, out of sight from Alex. “That doesn't even make any sense. Either you're gay, or bi, or whatever, or you aren't. Dude, she was a star fucker.”
Alex groans and leans his head on Cash's shoulder. “She loved me. She said so.”
Cash wraps his arm around Alex's shoulder. “I know you thought she did. But.” He pauses. “She didn't. She didn't, Singer. I know you wanted her to, but she just didn't.” When Alex doesn't move, Cash continues. “And I don't think you loved her either.”
Cash is pretty sure that Alex is going to hit him, or yell at him. But he doesn't. He just snuffles softly and presses his nose into Cash's neck. “How come she didn't?”
“She was stupid. So very, very stupid.”
Alex reaches for the vodka again, and Cash wants to stop him, but he can't. He really doesn't know what else to do except for let him drink until he pukes and hopefully forgets all about the star fucker.
“I'm drunk.”
“I know,” Cash says. “I know. Is there anything I can do?”
“Make her love me the way that I love her.”
Cash kisses Alex's forehead. “How about I help you realize that you didn't actually love her the way you thought you did? I can do that. She was a fucking whore.” The second it slips out of his mouth, he regrets it. He doesn't want to make Alex feel any worse than he already does.
“She's my Audrey, isn't she?”
Cash nods at the Audrey Kitching reference. Maybe he should have called Brendon after all. He was a good guy, he could have helped them. Told them that it happens to every young band on the verge of stardom. “Yeah,” is all Cash can say. “She is.”
Alex breathes on Cash's neck, hot and long and Cash really just wants. “Alex,” Cash says and then Alex is kissing his neck, open mouth and sloppy. Drunkenly, Cash's mind supplies. He should stop Alex. He certainly shouldn't tip his head down and connect their lips.
He does anyway. And Alex's lips are soft, and when he opens his mouth, Cash slides his tongue over Alex's smooth teeth. He tries to move in, deepen the kiss, but Alex pulls back, stares at him with wide eyes and then pukes on the coffee table.
Cash stares for a moment. He really should have seen that coming. In the maybe thirty minutes that Alex had been there, he'd drank a fifth of vodka, and Cash knows that Alex probably hasn't eaten. Actually, he can tell, seeing as the vomit is clear. Alex is extremely drunk.
“Sorry,” Alex slurs. He leans in and drools on Cash's chest before passing out.
“Well, that sucks,” Cash says to no one in particular.
…
Cash ends up sleeping on the floor of his own bedroom. Technically, his bed is a double, and there was more than enough room him and Alex, but Alex hadn't settled down at all. Cash was bruised. And he wasn't happy about it.
“Cash?” Alex's voice is raspy and harsh. “So sick.”
“There's water on the floor.”
“Can't.”
Cash rubs the sleep out of his eyes and rolls slightly. He wished that he'd vacuum more often, it was really filthy on his floor. “Lazy,” he says as he passes the bottle up.
“How come you let me drink so much?” Alex asks after he downs the water.
“How come you puked on my coffee table? You so owe me, bitch. I had to clean that shit up before it pulled the varnish off. Mind you, that was after I dragged your sorry ass to bed. My bed. And then I slept on the damn floor. You owe me for eternity.”
Alex rolls over and looks down at Cash. “You're my best friend.”
“Please, I know. Also, I got my fill of chick flick moments from last night. So, if you've got anymore for me, you're going to have to wait till at least next week.”
“I gotta piss like a racehorse.”
“I'm not taking you there.”
Alex sighs. “Fine. I'll do it myself. But I'm going to do the weird sideways run thing, and if you laugh at me, I'll laugh, and then I'll pee.”
Cash feels his face start to crack into a smile so he grabs the pillow from under his head and pushes it over his face. “Go, go now!”
…
It takes three days to get Alex to really smile again, but once that happens, Cash knows that it's going to be OK. He also knows that Alex doesn't remember kissing him at all. Probably for the best, Cash thinks.
“You just have to be careful,” Brendon says, knocking his shoulders against Alex's. “If your friends don't like her, then there really is an issue. You trust them with everything else, so why don't you trust them about girls?”
Alex shrugs and hides behind his hair. “I don't know,” he mutters.
“And Cash,” Brendon says, turning his gaze to Cash. “You need to be more vocal when you don't like someone.”
“Thanks Dr. Phil,” Cash says without looking up. He doesn't really know how he became part of this conversation. He had just been talking to Brendon yesterday and thought it would be really awesome if Brendon came and gave Alex some advice. He hadn't meant to mean that he thought he should be included in that conversation.
“Cash,” Alex pleads. “Come on, this is band stuff.”
“Who you fuck isn't band stuff.”
“Yes it is,” Brendon and Alex say simultaneously.
“It's also friend stuff,” Alex says. “You should have told me that you didn't like her.”
Cash feels petulant and angry. “You should have been a better friend and realized I didn't like her.” He's pretty much feeling like he's going to throw a tantrum. And after that, he's going to get a new tattoo. And maybe after that, he's going to drink and maybe get laid. “She was always kicking me out and you just let her. What an awesome friend you are.”
Alex opens his mouth, but Cash stops him. “Whatever. Next time you fuck a skank, I'll call her for what she is. Now, I have places to be.” He grabs his coat and stalks off.
He feels pretty good about it, and he feels even better after the endorphins get going when he gets a new piece of his sleeve done. Then he goes to the shittiest bar off of Freemont he can think of, where he knows they're just going to let him flash his fake ID and not think twice about it. Once he's in, he goes straight to the bar and gets a vodka shooter and laughs.
“What's so funny?” a girl asks.
She's cute. Dark hair, dark eyes, maybe 5'2'' and just smoking hot. Cash would do her. Cash wants to do her. “Thinking about my lamer friend. Can't hold his vodka.”
She laughs, and Cash knows it's hollow, but he doesn't care. “You just get that done?” she asks, pointing to the part of his arm that's still all shiny and red.
“Yeah.” He pulls his shirt sleeve up a little to show her all his art. “Pretty nice, huh?”
She touches his arm and lets it linger. “That's hardcore,” she says, talking softly so that she has to lean in to say it. “Get me a drink.”
“I'll take another shooter,” he tells the bartender. “And whatever this beautiful lady is having.”
She smiles. “Rum and coke,” she tells him. “The name's Ashley,” she tells Cash.
The bartender hands them their drinks, and Cash pushes down the urge to think about rum and coke being Alex's drink. Alex doesn't own the drink. Ashley can have it if she wants to.
Cash downs his drink. “What do you do?” he asks. He doesn't care, but it's something to ask. Something to break the ice.
“I'm a student at UNLV. Communications.”
Cash nods. It's one of those majors that Cash doesn't understand, and frankly, doesn't care about. “Yeah, you like it?”
She nods. “What about you?”
“I'm in a band, actually. We just recorded our first album.” He bites his tongue as soon as he says it. He should have made something up. He doesn't want to ever have to think about her after tonight. He doesn't want her to be one of those people who goes online and says, 'yeah, I fucked Cash Colligan once and he was a total douche'. He's seen that happen to his friends. He doesn't want that.
“You gonna tell me your name? The name of your band?”
“Uh, yeah. We're, uh.” Fuck, he has to come up with a name that isn't The Cab. And a name for himself that isn't Cash. “We're November Bleeds Purple. My name is Alex.” Fuck. He didn't mean to say that.
“Well, Alex. I've never heard of your band, but I'd like to see you play.” She's doing that soft talking and leaning thing again.
“Yeah, it's an independent label. Small time stuff.” Why hadn't he just lied from the beginning? “We don't have any shows coming up soon. Well, one, but it's in Oregon.” Oregon? Really? When did he start sucking so hard at lying?
She nods. “You.” She giggles. “Fuck this. Wanna fuck in the bathroom?”
The alcohol starts to hit and he finds himself nodding. “Yeah, fuck yeah.” The room spins a little bit, but it's cool. She's got her hand in his and she's pulling him down a hallway and into a dimly lit bathroom that he knows is the ladies' room from the lack of urinals.
“You got a condom?”
He shakes his head. He doesn't. Well, he does, but it's from the tenth grade when he and Alex both bought one and decided to keep it in their wallets for luck. He's sure it would break in a heart beat if he actually tried to use it.
“You got quarters?”
He does. He always takes them just in case he's got to feed a meter somewhere. He pulls out four and holds them out in his hand. She takes two and vanishes for a moment, returning with a condom.
He puts it on and fucks her from behind against the bathroom stall wall. When he's done, his head is spinning so bad from the endorphins and the liquor and the orgasm that he can't see straight.
She kisses him lightly. “Thanks,” she says and sways slightly as she pulls up her pants. “It was nice to meet you, Alex.” She grabs his hand and scrawls her number on the palm of his hand. Once she's gone, he washes it off.
...
Part Two