fic: only for people living like we do (bandslash, Maja/Patrick, 1/1)
This is all EL and Sky’s faults. I just - I want that made clear.
Wherein Maja doesn’t live by many rules, and the ones she *does* live by are mostly her own. Maja/Patrick. Yeah, you read that right.
only for people living like we do
By Gale
SUMMARY: Maja doesn’t live by many rules, and the ones she *does* live by are mostly her own.
Maja doesn’t live by many rules, and the ones she *does* live by are mostly her own. One of the most important is this: Don’t shit where you eat.
Crude, yeah, but effective. It’s hard enough to be as a woman in a band; start dating guys in other bands, and it doesn’t matter how talented you are, how good your voice is, how hard you work at what you do. Suddenly you’re the chick who fucks guys in other bands, at least to some people, and that sort of thing has a way of spreading.
It’s not like it’s a hardship, really - guys in bands tend to be a little more juvenile than other guys, prone to practical jokes and blowing you off for the tiniest fucking thing. Also, at least in the bands she’s met here in the States, they’re sort of prone to fucking other guys behind your back.
(Maja’s never going to get that; fuck someone else, sure, we’re not *married*, but give me a heads-up. “By the way, I’m going to let a closeted college boy suck my cock.” The reasonable answer is, “Great! Tell me all about it later,” because she understands the idea that sometimes people have urges. But guys in America are kind of like guys in Sweden: they hide it, they lie about it, they deny it unless there’s proof. If she lives to be a hundred, she’s never going to fucking understand men, she really isn’t.
But then she feels Gabe grin against her neck, and hears William giggle, and she remembers she loves them anyway.)
*
Finding out that not all guys are like that is a pleasant surprise. There’s a pack of them here in the States, practically sprung from her head full-blown like some kind of Greek myth: open and honest, at least with family, and they want to be happy, and fuck you if you get in the way of that.
She misses her boys, Felix and Fredrik and Jesper and Johan, but Gabe and William and Travis almost make up for it.
Even better, they come ready with friends of their own, all different shapes and tastes, but most of them pocket-sized and burning with energy. Some of them she barely meets, since they’re out on tour, but the rest she slowly gets to know. It’s hard not to get them confused sometimes, since they travel in packs, but for the most part, telling them apart is simple enough.
Pete is half-Hawaiian and covered in tattoos, and he smiles a lot, but a lot of the time it’s feral. But he’s never anything but polite to her, and he’ll call out anyone who tries to fuck with her, so she supposes that means she’s in, at least conditionally. She’d like to fuck him sometime, but that’s not the kind of thing you do right away - he keeps staring, forlorn, at girls with short dark hair. Maja knows a man still in mourning when she sees him.
Gabe and William are equally tall and lanky, but William’s slim like a girl and Gabe’s just skinny, and they can both drink even more than she can. Travis isn’t stoned anywhere near as often as people like to think, but when he *is* stoned, he rambles in beat poetry and likes going down on her even more than he normally does. All three of them do, actually, and William laughs when he does it, which does lovely things to her clit. They’re her pack, she realizes after a few weeks, her tiny, rambling subset of this *thing* she doesn’t have a name for.
She misses Sweden a little less, after that.
Ryan and Spencer, the one time she meets them, are vying for which one can be more less-than-obviously feminine: Ryan wears more makeup, but Spencer stands like her girlfriends back home, all hips and angles. They’re tiny and bitchy and vicious to strangers, but she doesn’t stay a stranger long. Short of sex, one of Maja’s favorite things is to stand at the back of the room with Spencer whispering cutting things in her ear about people she doesn’t know.
*
Maja meets Patrick when they head to the studio to remix Queen of Apology for the Snakes soundtrack. He’s tiny - but then, they’re all tiny - and quiet, but no one has a bad thing to say about him, except that sometimes he has a shitty temper. Maja can understand a shitty temper; truthfully, she can’t entirely trust someone with *no* temper, especially a guy.
He’s a decent producer: it’s not his forte, exactly, because he doesn’t do it that often, but he has good instincts and he doesn’t let himself get derailed by the occasional suit that wanders through. He just smiles and drowns them in yeses, then makes a rude hand gesture and goes back to exactly what he’s been doing.
She likes that.
William likes him; so does Gabe. Travis grins and launches into a long, rambling story about how good Patrick is in bed, and how short dudes with Napoleon complexes try harder.
Maja’s still half a stranger to these boys, but she knows approval when she hears it.
*
One of Maja’s other rules is: Don’t be so tied up you miss out on a good thing when it passes by.
*
Patrick doesn’t drink with the same fervor any of her boys do, but he will, on occasion, have a beer or two. It’s never enough to get drunk, or even really get his tongue loose; apparently, he isn’t a big fan of not being in control of himself. Maja likes that, too.
Even better, he’s pretty good at pool, and doesn’t get pissed when a hot blonde girl ends up kicking his ass with three straight shots in her last turn. He just smiles and shakes his head, ruefully mutters something that sounds like a mangled version of “piss on the devil”.
Maja raises an eyebrow. “Not bad,” she says, bumping her hip against his. “But your pronunciation is off.”
“You’re lucky I remember that much,” Patrick says. “My ex-girlfriend’s parents are Swedish. I kind of flailed my way through the basics.”
“Really?” She turns to look at him. “I want to go to bed with you,” she says, in Swedish - but with an American inflection, so it sounds non-threatening, sort of amused. It’s a nice mirror of how she feels. She likes Patrick; from what she’s heard, he’d be good in bed.
Patrick blinks at her. “Sorry?”
Maja grins. Another time, then. “Nothing,” she says. “Come on, I’ll let you buy me dinner.”
*
Dinner is all right. Patrick eats like a bird, all greens and no meat, but he doesn’t look put off when Maja orders her hamburger sandwich bloody, just passes her the salt.
He’s good company, she discovers. He doesn’t seem inclined to take over the conversation, and when her English falters, he waits through it with her. He laughs at her jokes and tells funny stories she’s fairly certain he’s not supposed to be telling - but only about her boys, she notices. He’s very careful about confidences. She likes that, too.
She likes a lot of things about him. Arguably her favorite is when, as he’s digging out his wallet to pay for his half of dinner, she feels his foot brush her calf. There’s just enough pressure to be deliberate.
”Patrick,” Maja says, eyes going wide and delicate. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Yeah,” Patrick says, flipping through the American money in his wallet. “Do you mind?”
He sounds amused. Maja grins. “No.”
”Well, then.” He puts some money down - how much, she isn’t sure; American money is maddening, all one color - and takes his foot away. “Also, I was aiming for your thigh, but the seats are too far apart and you’re too tall.”
Maja scoots out of the booth. “I’m not too tall when I’m lying down,” she challenges, looking him in the eye. It takes some angling; she’s wearing low-heeled boots.
”Really?” Patrick blinks at her. “What a coincidence. Neither am I.”
*
If she is being perfectly honest, Maja has had better lovers. The third man she ever slept with was good enough to charge for it - and did, on the side, which was why they broke up - and she’s had a couple of girlfriends who still make her stomach twist when she thinks about them, black and golden hair pressed between her thighs while they went down on her.
Not at once, though she does have a birthday coming up, and she’s still friendly with both of them.
Patrick is very good, though, easily in the top ten. He goes down on her like he’s desperate for it, long slow licks that make her eyes roll up in her head. He even makes an irritated noise when Maja pulls him up and shoves a condom in his hand, but that only lasts until he gets the plastic open.
Patrick fucks her with sharp twists and snaps of his hips, grinning when he slides in and twists down, just the way Maja likes it. He laughs when Maja claws his back, and makes a soft noise when she leans up and bites his shoulder. It’s even better the second round, when he settles his hands on her hips and flips them over so she’s on top, because she can rock against him as slow and hard as she wants and he can’t so much as say boo. Not that he would if he could; his expression is unreadable, but she knows do it when she sees it. It’s the same in America as it is in Sweden.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against her throat, fingers still busy between her thighs.
Maja sighs and spreads her legs wider, makes a mental note to teach him a little more Swedish before she goes.
*
“You miss it.”
Patrick‘s voice is soft in the early morning light, maybe a little rumbly. Like a cat, Maja thinks, and strokes the skin of his back in response.
She shrugs. “Ja, sometimes. But we’ll be going home soon, so I can enjoy what I have now before I go.” She’s wearing one of his t-shirts, for some band she’s never heard of. Her hair is a mess, her voice is raspy, and her thighs ache. She hasn’t felt this good in days.
He’s splayed out on his stomach, sheet tugged up just over his ass. Maja lifts it and peeks, grinning when Patrick smacks her hand away. Silly boy. It’s a very nice ass.
“When are you leaving?” he asks.
”My plane is Tuesday.” Maja lights a cigarette, holds it as far away from the bed as she can. She shouldn’t smoke, she knows, it’s horrible for the voice, but she’s toned it down to half a pack a day. That counts for something, or at least it should. “But we are going out tomorrow night. You should come with us.”
Patrick tilts his head and looks at her. “You just want to see me in bed with Travis and William,” he says, smiling a little.
”Maybe.” Maja looks back at him. “Are you saying no?”
Patrick reaches out and tugs her back by her shirt. “I’m saying I get to watch, too,” he says, voice all innocence.
Maja grins and peels the shirt off. “Jesper would love you,” she says. Her voice is a growl.
Patrick walks his fingers up her thigh. “Oh, c’mon,” he teases. “Save something for the next trip.”
Wherein Maja doesn’t live by many rules, and the ones she *does* live by are mostly her own. Maja/Patrick. Yeah, you read that right.
only for people living like we do
By Gale
SUMMARY: Maja doesn’t live by many rules, and the ones she *does* live by are mostly her own.
Maja doesn’t live by many rules, and the ones she *does* live by are mostly her own. One of the most important is this: Don’t shit where you eat.
Crude, yeah, but effective. It’s hard enough to be as a woman in a band; start dating guys in other bands, and it doesn’t matter how talented you are, how good your voice is, how hard you work at what you do. Suddenly you’re the chick who fucks guys in other bands, at least to some people, and that sort of thing has a way of spreading.
It’s not like it’s a hardship, really - guys in bands tend to be a little more juvenile than other guys, prone to practical jokes and blowing you off for the tiniest fucking thing. Also, at least in the bands she’s met here in the States, they’re sort of prone to fucking other guys behind your back.
(Maja’s never going to get that; fuck someone else, sure, we’re not *married*, but give me a heads-up. “By the way, I’m going to let a closeted college boy suck my cock.” The reasonable answer is, “Great! Tell me all about it later,” because she understands the idea that sometimes people have urges. But guys in America are kind of like guys in Sweden: they hide it, they lie about it, they deny it unless there’s proof. If she lives to be a hundred, she’s never going to fucking understand men, she really isn’t.
But then she feels Gabe grin against her neck, and hears William giggle, and she remembers she loves them anyway.)
*
Finding out that not all guys are like that is a pleasant surprise. There’s a pack of them here in the States, practically sprung from her head full-blown like some kind of Greek myth: open and honest, at least with family, and they want to be happy, and fuck you if you get in the way of that.
She misses her boys, Felix and Fredrik and Jesper and Johan, but Gabe and William and Travis almost make up for it.
Even better, they come ready with friends of their own, all different shapes and tastes, but most of them pocket-sized and burning with energy. Some of them she barely meets, since they’re out on tour, but the rest she slowly gets to know. It’s hard not to get them confused sometimes, since they travel in packs, but for the most part, telling them apart is simple enough.
Pete is half-Hawaiian and covered in tattoos, and he smiles a lot, but a lot of the time it’s feral. But he’s never anything but polite to her, and he’ll call out anyone who tries to fuck with her, so she supposes that means she’s in, at least conditionally. She’d like to fuck him sometime, but that’s not the kind of thing you do right away - he keeps staring, forlorn, at girls with short dark hair. Maja knows a man still in mourning when she sees him.
Gabe and William are equally tall and lanky, but William’s slim like a girl and Gabe’s just skinny, and they can both drink even more than she can. Travis isn’t stoned anywhere near as often as people like to think, but when he *is* stoned, he rambles in beat poetry and likes going down on her even more than he normally does. All three of them do, actually, and William laughs when he does it, which does lovely things to her clit. They’re her pack, she realizes after a few weeks, her tiny, rambling subset of this *thing* she doesn’t have a name for.
She misses Sweden a little less, after that.
Ryan and Spencer, the one time she meets them, are vying for which one can be more less-than-obviously feminine: Ryan wears more makeup, but Spencer stands like her girlfriends back home, all hips and angles. They’re tiny and bitchy and vicious to strangers, but she doesn’t stay a stranger long. Short of sex, one of Maja’s favorite things is to stand at the back of the room with Spencer whispering cutting things in her ear about people she doesn’t know.
*
Maja meets Patrick when they head to the studio to remix Queen of Apology for the Snakes soundtrack. He’s tiny - but then, they’re all tiny - and quiet, but no one has a bad thing to say about him, except that sometimes he has a shitty temper. Maja can understand a shitty temper; truthfully, she can’t entirely trust someone with *no* temper, especially a guy.
He’s a decent producer: it’s not his forte, exactly, because he doesn’t do it that often, but he has good instincts and he doesn’t let himself get derailed by the occasional suit that wanders through. He just smiles and drowns them in yeses, then makes a rude hand gesture and goes back to exactly what he’s been doing.
She likes that.
William likes him; so does Gabe. Travis grins and launches into a long, rambling story about how good Patrick is in bed, and how short dudes with Napoleon complexes try harder.
Maja’s still half a stranger to these boys, but she knows approval when she hears it.
*
One of Maja’s other rules is: Don’t be so tied up you miss out on a good thing when it passes by.
*
Patrick doesn’t drink with the same fervor any of her boys do, but he will, on occasion, have a beer or two. It’s never enough to get drunk, or even really get his tongue loose; apparently, he isn’t a big fan of not being in control of himself. Maja likes that, too.
Even better, he’s pretty good at pool, and doesn’t get pissed when a hot blonde girl ends up kicking his ass with three straight shots in her last turn. He just smiles and shakes his head, ruefully mutters something that sounds like a mangled version of “piss on the devil”.
Maja raises an eyebrow. “Not bad,” she says, bumping her hip against his. “But your pronunciation is off.”
“You’re lucky I remember that much,” Patrick says. “My ex-girlfriend’s parents are Swedish. I kind of flailed my way through the basics.”
“Really?” She turns to look at him. “I want to go to bed with you,” she says, in Swedish - but with an American inflection, so it sounds non-threatening, sort of amused. It’s a nice mirror of how she feels. She likes Patrick; from what she’s heard, he’d be good in bed.
Patrick blinks at her. “Sorry?”
Maja grins. Another time, then. “Nothing,” she says. “Come on, I’ll let you buy me dinner.”
*
Dinner is all right. Patrick eats like a bird, all greens and no meat, but he doesn’t look put off when Maja orders her hamburger sandwich bloody, just passes her the salt.
He’s good company, she discovers. He doesn’t seem inclined to take over the conversation, and when her English falters, he waits through it with her. He laughs at her jokes and tells funny stories she’s fairly certain he’s not supposed to be telling - but only about her boys, she notices. He’s very careful about confidences. She likes that, too.
She likes a lot of things about him. Arguably her favorite is when, as he’s digging out his wallet to pay for his half of dinner, she feels his foot brush her calf. There’s just enough pressure to be deliberate.
”Patrick,” Maja says, eyes going wide and delicate. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Yeah,” Patrick says, flipping through the American money in his wallet. “Do you mind?”
He sounds amused. Maja grins. “No.”
”Well, then.” He puts some money down - how much, she isn’t sure; American money is maddening, all one color - and takes his foot away. “Also, I was aiming for your thigh, but the seats are too far apart and you’re too tall.”
Maja scoots out of the booth. “I’m not too tall when I’m lying down,” she challenges, looking him in the eye. It takes some angling; she’s wearing low-heeled boots.
”Really?” Patrick blinks at her. “What a coincidence. Neither am I.”
*
If she is being perfectly honest, Maja has had better lovers. The third man she ever slept with was good enough to charge for it - and did, on the side, which was why they broke up - and she’s had a couple of girlfriends who still make her stomach twist when she thinks about them, black and golden hair pressed between her thighs while they went down on her.
Not at once, though she does have a birthday coming up, and she’s still friendly with both of them.
Patrick is very good, though, easily in the top ten. He goes down on her like he’s desperate for it, long slow licks that make her eyes roll up in her head. He even makes an irritated noise when Maja pulls him up and shoves a condom in his hand, but that only lasts until he gets the plastic open.
Patrick fucks her with sharp twists and snaps of his hips, grinning when he slides in and twists down, just the way Maja likes it. He laughs when Maja claws his back, and makes a soft noise when she leans up and bites his shoulder. It’s even better the second round, when he settles his hands on her hips and flips them over so she’s on top, because she can rock against him as slow and hard as she wants and he can’t so much as say boo. Not that he would if he could; his expression is unreadable, but she knows do it when she sees it. It’s the same in America as it is in Sweden.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against her throat, fingers still busy between her thighs.
Maja sighs and spreads her legs wider, makes a mental note to teach him a little more Swedish before she goes.
*
“You miss it.”
Patrick‘s voice is soft in the early morning light, maybe a little rumbly. Like a cat, Maja thinks, and strokes the skin of his back in response.
She shrugs. “Ja, sometimes. But we’ll be going home soon, so I can enjoy what I have now before I go.” She’s wearing one of his t-shirts, for some band she’s never heard of. Her hair is a mess, her voice is raspy, and her thighs ache. She hasn’t felt this good in days.
He’s splayed out on his stomach, sheet tugged up just over his ass. Maja lifts it and peeks, grinning when Patrick smacks her hand away. Silly boy. It’s a very nice ass.
“When are you leaving?” he asks.
”My plane is Tuesday.” Maja lights a cigarette, holds it as far away from the bed as she can. She shouldn’t smoke, she knows, it’s horrible for the voice, but she’s toned it down to half a pack a day. That counts for something, or at least it should. “But we are going out tomorrow night. You should come with us.”
Patrick tilts his head and looks at her. “You just want to see me in bed with Travis and William,” he says, smiling a little.
”Maybe.” Maja looks back at him. “Are you saying no?”
Patrick reaches out and tugs her back by her shirt. “I’m saying I get to watch, too,” he says, voice all innocence.
Maja grins and peels the shirt off. “Jesper would love you,” she says. Her voice is a growl.
Patrick walks his fingers up her thigh. “Oh, c’mon,” he teases. “Save something for the next trip.”