"Ia, Ia." EMH fanfic of nothing in particular.
This is solely for the lovely babes at Angora Chat!
It's somewhere around midnight, very nearly bedtime, and Jeff is on his computer, scrolling through pages and pages of nonsensical tweets, once or twice calling over his shoulder "VINNIE! What's a cat planet and should I be concerned?"
The Vince in question is sitting some ways away from Jeff, phone in hand, going through old texts and deleting those deemed uninteresting. (Most of them are from Evan; the guy texts like he types, and most of the texts are illegible like he'd chewed on the phone and hit SEND.) The television is on mute, the sounds of zombies chewing hungrily on flesh still ringing in Vince's head because he's memorized these movies down to the sound effects. He's deleting a text that reads WR R U @ VINI ?gna gna gna when he feels someone scratching at his head like he was Sparky and not a fully human Vince.
He tilts his head back to stare increduously at the visage of Evan, grinning maliciously back at him and giving his hair a few more tugs. "You need a fuckin' haircut, you know that?" He remarks, using Vince's neck as leverage to swing himself over the couch with, nestling comfortably next to his friend.
"You're one to talk," Vinnie says, because at the present moment, Evan's hair is hanging in long brown locks that cover his eyes and make it difficult to tell what he's thinking.
"I," Evan says, with his usual air of self importance, "got an appointment with my sister and a pair of scissors in the bathroom on friday. You," he reaches over, grasping Vince's face between his hands and squeezing, "are starting to look like a greasy rapist hobo."
"I'm not greasy!" Vince exclaims, a little hurt, as well as he can with Evan squishing his face. "Jeff, am I greasy?" He calls, but Jeff isn't paying attention, he's watching some video on youtube, narrated loudly by someone with an obnoxious canadian accent screaming about cats and factories.
Evan grins, "You deny the greasy but not the rapist!"
"There's a rapist on top of me."
"I deny nothing." Evan shrugs, tilting Vince's head to the side a little to play with his beard further.
"Why are you molesting Cthulhu?" Vinnie asks, after a long moment that was only awkward on his side, as Evan seems perfectly content where he is.
"Ia, ia," Evan answers, squishing Vince's head again, "Cthulhu ftghan."
Vince laughs at that, "I've got a cult now, huh?"
"Oh, yeahhh, Vin. Have you seen some of the comments we get? Ooh, Vince, how do you keep your beard so magical? Ooh, Vince, can I touch your beard? Ooh, Vince, I want to make sweet, passionate love to your BEARD..." The disturbingly accurate falsetto mockery is unnerving, and the last BEARD ended painfully, so Vince changes the suject.
"I get the point."
"What the hell, guys?" Jeff is suddenly besides them, blinking more from the shock of the video he's just seen rather than the mundane sight in front of him, while Evan continues to violate Vince's fangirl-worthy beard, unashamed.
"Do you KNOW how many chicks want to do this?" Evan asks out of the blue. "I could shave you and sell the hair and get like... eight hundred bucks."
"Please don't shave me."
"Please don't shave him." Jeff says. In response to Vince's stare, he just raises a fist into the air, "Ia, ia," he chants, and walks off.
It's somewhere around midnight, very nearly bedtime, and Jeff is on his computer, scrolling through pages and pages of nonsensical tweets, once or twice calling over his shoulder "VINNIE! What's a cat planet and should I be concerned?"
The Vince in question is sitting some ways away from Jeff, phone in hand, going through old texts and deleting those deemed uninteresting. (Most of them are from Evan; the guy texts like he types, and most of the texts are illegible like he'd chewed on the phone and hit SEND.) The television is on mute, the sounds of zombies chewing hungrily on flesh still ringing in Vince's head because he's memorized these movies down to the sound effects. He's deleting a text that reads WR R U @ VINI ?gna gna gna when he feels someone scratching at his head like he was Sparky and not a fully human Vince.
He tilts his head back to stare increduously at the visage of Evan, grinning maliciously back at him and giving his hair a few more tugs. "You need a fuckin' haircut, you know that?" He remarks, using Vince's neck as leverage to swing himself over the couch with, nestling comfortably next to his friend.
"You're one to talk," Vinnie says, because at the present moment, Evan's hair is hanging in long brown locks that cover his eyes and make it difficult to tell what he's thinking.
"I," Evan says, with his usual air of self importance, "got an appointment with my sister and a pair of scissors in the bathroom on friday. You," he reaches over, grasping Vince's face between his hands and squeezing, "are starting to look like a greasy rapist hobo."
"I'm not greasy!" Vince exclaims, a little hurt, as well as he can with Evan squishing his face. "Jeff, am I greasy?" He calls, but Jeff isn't paying attention, he's watching some video on youtube, narrated loudly by someone with an obnoxious canadian accent screaming about cats and factories.
Evan grins, "You deny the greasy but not the rapist!"
"There's a rapist on top of me."
"I deny nothing." Evan shrugs, tilting Vince's head to the side a little to play with his beard further.
"Why are you molesting Cthulhu?" Vinnie asks, after a long moment that was only awkward on his side, as Evan seems perfectly content where he is.
"Ia, ia," Evan answers, squishing Vince's head again, "Cthulhu ftghan."
Vince laughs at that, "I've got a cult now, huh?"
"Oh, yeahhh, Vin. Have you seen some of the comments we get? Ooh, Vince, how do you keep your beard so magical? Ooh, Vince, can I touch your beard? Ooh, Vince, I want to make sweet, passionate love to your BEARD..." The disturbingly accurate falsetto mockery is unnerving, and the last BEARD ended painfully, so Vince changes the suject.
"I get the point."
"What the hell, guys?" Jeff is suddenly besides them, blinking more from the shock of the video he's just seen rather than the mundane sight in front of him, while Evan continues to violate Vince's fangirl-worthy beard, unashamed.
"Do you KNOW how many chicks want to do this?" Evan asks out of the blue. "I could shave you and sell the hair and get like... eight hundred bucks."
"Please don't shave me."
"Please don't shave him." Jeff says. In response to Vince's stare, he just raises a fist into the air, "Ia, ia," he chants, and walks off.