Fic: Familiar
Title: Familiar
Author: she_burns1
Beta: lordstarfish
Pairing: Jemaine/Demetri, with respects to Bret/Jemaine
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jemaine meets someone familiar at a bar.
Disclaimer: I do not owns the ‘Flight of the Conchords’ or anything connected with them.
Spoilers: After ‘The Third Conchord’.
Warnings: Alcohol, slash, some sadness.
Prompt: un_love_you #25 - You remind me of someone.
He’s the last person you expected to see. In fact, when you first saw him at the bar, you didn’t even recognize him, but once you did, you decided you might as well go up and say ‘hi’ because, really, what else are you doing?
Bret is off doing god-knows-what with the latest bastard girl who has attached herself to him and you, as usual, have been doing nothing but striking out. You walk over and clear your throat, so that he’ll turn and look at you, his face expressionless. You hold up your hand weakly, your thoughts centering on how maybe this was a bad idea but you charge ahead, “Hey.”
“Do I...? I know you…” He says, pushing at the long hair that hangs just above his eyes.
“Yeah, ‘s me. Jemaine. Used to be partners with Todd before-”
“Oh, yeah, right, I remember you now. Todd talks about you now and then but…well, you know Todd.”
You don’t, actually, as you certainly didn’t enjoy any of the time you spent with him. But you just nod your head and he smiles at you and for some reason you feel warm, because the look, it’s familiar. Not because you remembered him smiling at you like this before, but because the look is familiar in some other fashion you can’t put your finger on.
He moves a bit away from the bar, saying simply, “So…you recognized me, huh?”
“Hard not to. What with the fame and all. Demetri, one half of the ‘Crazy Dogggz’,” You do air quotations with your fingers when you say this last part, because you’ve always hated when people have done that, and frankly, you hate his band, though you’re not quite sure if you hate him.
You decide that you don’t as he laughs, “Yeah, that’s true…I guess. So far tonight’s been good though…not much recognition.”
“Why…why are you here?”
Demetri shrugs, “Not much else going on. Todd’s off with some girl and I’m…not.”
You know how that feels.
“Really? But…you guys are famous now. You should be rolling in…girls…and money…and…other things you roll in when you’re famous…”
“Rolling’s not for me. Not so much. Just wanted a drink. Wanted to be left alone.”
You take the hint and turn away slightly, your response an embarrassed, apologetic mumble.
He catches your shoulder, stopping you dead in your tracks and you look at him, stunned, “Aw, no, hey, wait up, man. I didn’t mean…I mean, hey, you’re here and…I mean, I kinda know you…let me buy you a drink.”
You lick your lips and figure, why not? So you nod your head and get closer to the bar and closer to him. He easily flags down the bartender and orders some drink you’ve never heard of and when he asks what you want you say the same as him because you want to look cool.
He starts asking you about how you’ve been and how Bret is and you give easy, short answers because you’re nervous. You don’t know why you’re nervous, except for the fact that you feel sort of overcome with this strange sense. It’s like déjà vu but you can’t quite nail down why, other than the fact that you’ve noticed that Demetri is sort of scrawny and bright eyed.
And that doesn’t make any sense, so when your drink comes you eagerly grab it and take a mighty sip. It tastes good, fruity and cool and you find you can’t even taste the alcohol. Huh. If Murray had wanted you to look rock and roll why hadn’t he ordered one of these drinks instead of those awful beers he was always trying to get you and Bret to drink?
Thinking of Murray, you turn to Demetri and ask about him. Demetri’s lips lift in one corner and he starts to tell you how your sort-of-not-really manager is doing and you notice how when he talks he is animated and sort of innocent and again there is something about him that you can’t quite place.
It’s in his looks and his mannerisms and the way he talks. It reminds you of someone and you’re not sure who, but as you finish your drink and he gets you another, you realize you find it sort of…attractive.
And ok, maybe attractive isn’t the right word, because if it was the right word that would mean you’re attracted to him and that can’t possibly be right as you’re straight. You like girls. Women. Breasts. Yup. That’s what you like. You’ve never liked anything different, never even entertained the idea.
But then as you’re on to your third (fourth?) drink you start to remember a night that you were lonely and sharing a twin bed in a hotel room on some tour. A slender, but certainly masculine, form in front of you. A firm, warm body that you spooned, sticky, synthetic strands of blonde hair running along your mouth and your nose and eventually you just pulled the wig away because it was annoying and then your nose was buried in a mess of sweet smelling, curly dark hair and the erection that came from all of it…it was an accident…an accident…
And the more you drink the blurrier things are becoming and Demetri is suddenly gone but no, he’s still next to you, but he’s gone because it’s Bret standing there. No. No, can’t be Bret. There’s no beard…no curly hair…but the body…it’s about the same. Same build.
And the eyes, the voice, the look…oh god, the look is so similar. It’s like looking in his face, Bret’s face, but not and you find yourself wanting to tell him things, all sorts of terrible, dark secret sort of things and he’s shushing you and helping you to walk and everything is sort of floating in and out of your perspective.
All of the sudden it seems you’re in some other place entirely. Some other place that certainly isn’t the bar you were in. Some room you’ve never seen before and it’s nice. Fancy. Like a palace, and you hear a distant voice telling you it’s a hotel room and that Todd probably won’t be coming back, so it’s ok if you want to stay here. And you do want to stay. You want to stay but you also want something else.
And you find it as you manage to get a hold of him. His wrist and then his chest, his shirt bunched up in your hands, and you’re clutching at him pathetically and mumbling all sorts of things you never would have thought of to say before. And you can hear them aloud, sort of hollow and faint and humiliating, and he’s still trying to shush you but you keep talking because it feels good to get it all out. Cathartic.
It’s like peeling off a band-aid but the wound is not yet healed and you feel like you’re bleeding out. You realize you’re all kinds of messed up you didn’t even know about. And then you’re standing again, level with him and he’s not Bret, he’s not Bret…
But he reminds you of Bret.
His body and those bright eyes and the looks and oh god, you’ve lost your mind as you bend down and press your lips to his. And he goes stiff. Like a board. You’d heard that phrase before, but never understood it until right now. He is frozen, solid, and you should stop, but you don’t, you just keep right on pressing your mouth to his, lips hungry and your tongue is a sloppy, hideous monster that is lashing at his mouth and then something happens and somehow his mouth is open and you’re kissing…oh god…you’re kissing a man. This is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong…
But then there’s this groan in the air and there’s a tongue in your mouth and, oh no, no, he’s kissing back and you’re enjoying it and his hands are in your hair and you say his name. He pauses and looks at you, eyes wide.
“Jemaine…”
You can’t manage speech and try to kiss him again but he backs away, “Jemaine…you just…you called me Bret…”
You shake your head, it’s heavy and sluggish, you can’t breathe and you’re so hard it hurts but somehow you manage speech, “What?”
“You called me Bret just now.”
“Nnnn…no. No, I didn’t.”
“You did…Jemaine,” and it’s hard to see him but he runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, “Jemaine, you need to go to sleep.”
You blink stupidly, and when you speak it’s a whine, “Nno, no I donna-”
“You do, come on, get in bed…I’ll…I’m gonna go back out and you can just…sleep here.”
Your arms are open but he side-steps them, instead directing you to the bed in a way in which he’s not touching you but more directing you with his motions. You sigh and find yourself following the unspoken instructions. The mattress feels like heaven and you feel yourself falling into unconsciousness just as the door out clicks shut.
Eventually I'll stop beating up on poor Demetri - honest!
Hopefully you all enjoy this, as it's just the first of much angst that I've written for this community (sentence awkward?). It's also the first time I've tried a different kind of POV.
Frankly this isn't my favorite snippet that I've written for the community thus far, but it was the one I chose to post tonight. Man, I've got to stop putting these extra notes after the stories - lol.
The store is finally open - finally.
Tomorrow I basically close on my own! D:
I think I'll do okay, but over all I'm pretty much 'worry, worry, worry'. At least I have both Monday and Tueaday off! *_*
PS - I miss you, guys.
Author: she_burns1
Beta: lordstarfish
Pairing: Jemaine/Demetri, with respects to Bret/Jemaine
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jemaine meets someone familiar at a bar.
Disclaimer: I do not owns the ‘Flight of the Conchords’ or anything connected with them.
Spoilers: After ‘The Third Conchord’.
Warnings: Alcohol, slash, some sadness.
Prompt: un_love_you #25 - You remind me of someone.
He’s the last person you expected to see. In fact, when you first saw him at the bar, you didn’t even recognize him, but once you did, you decided you might as well go up and say ‘hi’ because, really, what else are you doing?
Bret is off doing god-knows-what with the latest bastard girl who has attached herself to him and you, as usual, have been doing nothing but striking out. You walk over and clear your throat, so that he’ll turn and look at you, his face expressionless. You hold up your hand weakly, your thoughts centering on how maybe this was a bad idea but you charge ahead, “Hey.”
“Do I...? I know you…” He says, pushing at the long hair that hangs just above his eyes.
“Yeah, ‘s me. Jemaine. Used to be partners with Todd before-”
“Oh, yeah, right, I remember you now. Todd talks about you now and then but…well, you know Todd.”
You don’t, actually, as you certainly didn’t enjoy any of the time you spent with him. But you just nod your head and he smiles at you and for some reason you feel warm, because the look, it’s familiar. Not because you remembered him smiling at you like this before, but because the look is familiar in some other fashion you can’t put your finger on.
He moves a bit away from the bar, saying simply, “So…you recognized me, huh?”
“Hard not to. What with the fame and all. Demetri, one half of the ‘Crazy Dogggz’,” You do air quotations with your fingers when you say this last part, because you’ve always hated when people have done that, and frankly, you hate his band, though you’re not quite sure if you hate him.
You decide that you don’t as he laughs, “Yeah, that’s true…I guess. So far tonight’s been good though…not much recognition.”
“Why…why are you here?”
Demetri shrugs, “Not much else going on. Todd’s off with some girl and I’m…not.”
You know how that feels.
“Really? But…you guys are famous now. You should be rolling in…girls…and money…and…other things you roll in when you’re famous…”
“Rolling’s not for me. Not so much. Just wanted a drink. Wanted to be left alone.”
You take the hint and turn away slightly, your response an embarrassed, apologetic mumble.
He catches your shoulder, stopping you dead in your tracks and you look at him, stunned, “Aw, no, hey, wait up, man. I didn’t mean…I mean, hey, you’re here and…I mean, I kinda know you…let me buy you a drink.”
You lick your lips and figure, why not? So you nod your head and get closer to the bar and closer to him. He easily flags down the bartender and orders some drink you’ve never heard of and when he asks what you want you say the same as him because you want to look cool.
He starts asking you about how you’ve been and how Bret is and you give easy, short answers because you’re nervous. You don’t know why you’re nervous, except for the fact that you feel sort of overcome with this strange sense. It’s like déjà vu but you can’t quite nail down why, other than the fact that you’ve noticed that Demetri is sort of scrawny and bright eyed.
And that doesn’t make any sense, so when your drink comes you eagerly grab it and take a mighty sip. It tastes good, fruity and cool and you find you can’t even taste the alcohol. Huh. If Murray had wanted you to look rock and roll why hadn’t he ordered one of these drinks instead of those awful beers he was always trying to get you and Bret to drink?
Thinking of Murray, you turn to Demetri and ask about him. Demetri’s lips lift in one corner and he starts to tell you how your sort-of-not-really manager is doing and you notice how when he talks he is animated and sort of innocent and again there is something about him that you can’t quite place.
It’s in his looks and his mannerisms and the way he talks. It reminds you of someone and you’re not sure who, but as you finish your drink and he gets you another, you realize you find it sort of…attractive.
And ok, maybe attractive isn’t the right word, because if it was the right word that would mean you’re attracted to him and that can’t possibly be right as you’re straight. You like girls. Women. Breasts. Yup. That’s what you like. You’ve never liked anything different, never even entertained the idea.
But then as you’re on to your third (fourth?) drink you start to remember a night that you were lonely and sharing a twin bed in a hotel room on some tour. A slender, but certainly masculine, form in front of you. A firm, warm body that you spooned, sticky, synthetic strands of blonde hair running along your mouth and your nose and eventually you just pulled the wig away because it was annoying and then your nose was buried in a mess of sweet smelling, curly dark hair and the erection that came from all of it…it was an accident…an accident…
And the more you drink the blurrier things are becoming and Demetri is suddenly gone but no, he’s still next to you, but he’s gone because it’s Bret standing there. No. No, can’t be Bret. There’s no beard…no curly hair…but the body…it’s about the same. Same build.
And the eyes, the voice, the look…oh god, the look is so similar. It’s like looking in his face, Bret’s face, but not and you find yourself wanting to tell him things, all sorts of terrible, dark secret sort of things and he’s shushing you and helping you to walk and everything is sort of floating in and out of your perspective.
All of the sudden it seems you’re in some other place entirely. Some other place that certainly isn’t the bar you were in. Some room you’ve never seen before and it’s nice. Fancy. Like a palace, and you hear a distant voice telling you it’s a hotel room and that Todd probably won’t be coming back, so it’s ok if you want to stay here. And you do want to stay. You want to stay but you also want something else.
And you find it as you manage to get a hold of him. His wrist and then his chest, his shirt bunched up in your hands, and you’re clutching at him pathetically and mumbling all sorts of things you never would have thought of to say before. And you can hear them aloud, sort of hollow and faint and humiliating, and he’s still trying to shush you but you keep talking because it feels good to get it all out. Cathartic.
It’s like peeling off a band-aid but the wound is not yet healed and you feel like you’re bleeding out. You realize you’re all kinds of messed up you didn’t even know about. And then you’re standing again, level with him and he’s not Bret, he’s not Bret…
But he reminds you of Bret.
His body and those bright eyes and the looks and oh god, you’ve lost your mind as you bend down and press your lips to his. And he goes stiff. Like a board. You’d heard that phrase before, but never understood it until right now. He is frozen, solid, and you should stop, but you don’t, you just keep right on pressing your mouth to his, lips hungry and your tongue is a sloppy, hideous monster that is lashing at his mouth and then something happens and somehow his mouth is open and you’re kissing…oh god…you’re kissing a man. This is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong…
But then there’s this groan in the air and there’s a tongue in your mouth and, oh no, no, he’s kissing back and you’re enjoying it and his hands are in your hair and you say his name. He pauses and looks at you, eyes wide.
“Jemaine…”
You can’t manage speech and try to kiss him again but he backs away, “Jemaine…you just…you called me Bret…”
You shake your head, it’s heavy and sluggish, you can’t breathe and you’re so hard it hurts but somehow you manage speech, “What?”
“You called me Bret just now.”
“Nnnn…no. No, I didn’t.”
“You did…Jemaine,” and it’s hard to see him but he runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, “Jemaine, you need to go to sleep.”
You blink stupidly, and when you speak it’s a whine, “Nno, no I donna-”
“You do, come on, get in bed…I’ll…I’m gonna go back out and you can just…sleep here.”
Your arms are open but he side-steps them, instead directing you to the bed in a way in which he’s not touching you but more directing you with his motions. You sigh and find yourself following the unspoken instructions. The mattress feels like heaven and you feel yourself falling into unconsciousness just as the door out clicks shut.
Eventually I'll stop beating up on poor Demetri - honest!
Hopefully you all enjoy this, as it's just the first of much angst that I've written for this community (sentence awkward?). It's also the first time I've tried a different kind of POV.
Frankly this isn't my favorite snippet that I've written for the community thus far, but it was the one I chose to post tonight. Man, I've got to stop putting these extra notes after the stories - lol.
The store is finally open - finally.
Tomorrow I basically close on my own! D:
I think I'll do okay, but over all I'm pretty much 'worry, worry, worry'. At least I have both Monday and Tueaday off! *_*
PS - I miss you, guys.