Linkin Park: Brad/Chester, #021 friends
Title: Power
Fandom: Linkin Park
Characters: Chester, Brad, Rob
Prompt: #021
Word Count: 485
Rating: R
Summary: Chester is irritating in that gets-under-your-skin-and-takes-months-to-get-rid-of kind of way.
Chester is as irritating as a bad rash. More irritating. He’s like scabies, in that gets-under-your-skin-and-takes-months-to-get-rid-of kind of way. It’s worse when he gets bored, which he is right now. Mike is in the vocal booth recording and Chester has nothing to do.
Of course; he could always be re-writing those lyrics for EBow Idea but when Brad suggested that Chester gave him a look that could make small children cry, so he’s keeping his mouth shut.
Rob passes through the room they’re in, flashing Chester a secret smile Everybody knows they’re fucking each other, Chester makes no secret of it, but Rob has no idea they know. And to appease Chester, which is all Brad feels like he ever does, they make out to Rob that they have no idea.
It’s this ridiculous loop of lies that only Chester would start.
It probably sounds like Brad hates Chester. He doesn’t. Quite the opposite. But drummer boy got there first.
When Rob leaves Chester shifts in his seat and sighs, “We had rockin’ sex last night.”
“I ate a pizza,” Brad says, not sparing the singer a glance, “With those sick anchovies you hate so much.”
“It was fucking amazing.”
“Well,” Brad says, “It was pretty good. Nothing to cuss over.”
Chester rolls his eyes dramatically, “I’m talking about my sex life,” he says as if it’s a hot topic that they have to cover right this second.
Brad sighs and shrugs, “I’m talking about my dinner. What’s your point?”
“My point,” Chester says, nudging him with his shoulder, “Is that you should fuck Rob. He’s amazing. And I wouldn’t mind watching you guys.”
Brad makes a noise and tries not to laugh, says, “Shut up, Chester,” and gets up to grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the corner of the room.
“You have no idea. He made me….powercome.”
What the fuck?
“Don’t look at me like that, Bradford, or I’ll powercome. On you.”
“It isn’t possible to…powercome.” Brad protests, uncapping his water.
“Is too.”
“Is not! You can’t add ‘power’ to a word and make a new one.”
“Can so,” Chester grins, “Like, you know what I’m going to do now?”
Brad shrugs, wearily, “What?”
There’s a long pause, and Chester waggles his eyebrows, “Powerfart.”
“You’re such a fucking child,” Brad snaps, spinning on his heel and heading out of the room. He goes to head outside, desperate for fresh air, and suddenly he’s in immense pain and he’s staring at a load of blood.
A glass door. Oh. He did not see that coming.
He turns around to face a laughing Chester who is doubled over on the slouch couch howling, “You’re powerbleeding!”
It fucking hurts. He pulls his sleeve down and wipes his bloody nose on it, holding it out in front of him and hurrying after Chester saying, “You’d better fucking powerrun.”
And Chester, he runs away giggling.
Fandom: Linkin Park
Characters: Chester, Brad, Rob
Prompt: #021
Word Count: 485
Rating: R
Summary: Chester is irritating in that gets-under-your-skin-and-takes-months-to-get-rid-of kind of way.
Chester is as irritating as a bad rash. More irritating. He’s like scabies, in that gets-under-your-skin-and-takes-months-to-get-rid-of kind of way. It’s worse when he gets bored, which he is right now. Mike is in the vocal booth recording and Chester has nothing to do.
Of course; he could always be re-writing those lyrics for EBow Idea but when Brad suggested that Chester gave him a look that could make small children cry, so he’s keeping his mouth shut.
Rob passes through the room they’re in, flashing Chester a secret smile Everybody knows they’re fucking each other, Chester makes no secret of it, but Rob has no idea they know. And to appease Chester, which is all Brad feels like he ever does, they make out to Rob that they have no idea.
It’s this ridiculous loop of lies that only Chester would start.
It probably sounds like Brad hates Chester. He doesn’t. Quite the opposite. But drummer boy got there first.
When Rob leaves Chester shifts in his seat and sighs, “We had rockin’ sex last night.”
“I ate a pizza,” Brad says, not sparing the singer a glance, “With those sick anchovies you hate so much.”
“It was fucking amazing.”
“Well,” Brad says, “It was pretty good. Nothing to cuss over.”
Chester rolls his eyes dramatically, “I’m talking about my sex life,” he says as if it’s a hot topic that they have to cover right this second.
Brad sighs and shrugs, “I’m talking about my dinner. What’s your point?”
“My point,” Chester says, nudging him with his shoulder, “Is that you should fuck Rob. He’s amazing. And I wouldn’t mind watching you guys.”
Brad makes a noise and tries not to laugh, says, “Shut up, Chester,” and gets up to grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge in the corner of the room.
“You have no idea. He made me….powercome.”
What the fuck?
“Don’t look at me like that, Bradford, or I’ll powercome. On you.”
“It isn’t possible to…powercome.” Brad protests, uncapping his water.
“Is too.”
“Is not! You can’t add ‘power’ to a word and make a new one.”
“Can so,” Chester grins, “Like, you know what I’m going to do now?”
Brad shrugs, wearily, “What?”
There’s a long pause, and Chester waggles his eyebrows, “Powerfart.”
“You’re such a fucking child,” Brad snaps, spinning on his heel and heading out of the room. He goes to head outside, desperate for fresh air, and suddenly he’s in immense pain and he’s staring at a load of blood.
A glass door. Oh. He did not see that coming.
He turns around to face a laughing Chester who is doubled over on the slouch couch howling, “You’re powerbleeding!”
It fucking hurts. He pulls his sleeve down and wipes his bloody nose on it, holding it out in front of him and hurrying after Chester saying, “You’d better fucking powerrun.”
And Chester, he runs away giggling.