What Does Bob Do When He’s Not in Fan Fiction? (2/?)
Title: What Does Bob Do When He’s Not in Fan Fiction? (2/?)
Author: xx_anarchy_xx
Rating: R
Pairing: Implied Frerard, Implied Pete/Patrick, Implied Bert/Quinn/Jepha
Disclaimer: I own nothing but merchandise and an overactive imagination
Summary: What does Bob do when he's not in fan fiction?
Warnings: Swearing (cause we all know that's very naughty)
Author's Note: Got an idea for what Bob can do next? Suggest HERE and if I like it I'll write it. Simple as that. This story will very quickly rely on you guys. Have fun!
1. He Saves Us From the Zombie Hordes
On tour you get to know a lot of people; backstage crew, lighting and sound guys, roadies, but on the festival circuit you get to know many more. There’s a group of us that get together at the end of the day. We’re called The Drummer Club because its drummers only, like the childish thing of having a club house with the rule ‘no girls’. We seem to have an unspoken connection with each other; on stage it’s all hidden hand gestures and eye movements telling each other where to meet before we all have to move on for the next venue. The Club was started by me and Branden Steinechert, pissed off with having to listen to our respective front men fucking a band member on the bus. We started hanging around one of the parked buses, just smoking and talking like we used to when I was their sound guy. It was like nothing had changed even though it obviously had.
It became our routine, either Bert and Quinn or Jeph would…get going, or Gerard and Frank would, and we would text each other where to met to save each other from having to hear whatever sexual act they were performing.
After a few days we were joined by Andy Hurley, forced out of his bus by Pete and Patrick. He didn’t smoke; he just wanted somewhere to go. Derek Bloom escaped his bus for the same reasons. Kitty was the last to join but she just wanted somewhere to go after a day with Jimmy. The Drummer Club was assembled and basically we were a bunch of bitchy teenage girls. It was a good time to complain though, most of the time it was about why we were driven outside.
“It’s just…they’re so loud. You wouldn’t think it but they are,” Andy said, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the parked bus. We all hummed in agreement. We’d all heard Pete/Patrick at some point; they’re not exactly discrete about it.
“I’ve been there,” I said, taking a drag of my cigarette. Branden nodded, lighting his second cigarette of the session.
“I think we all have. Especially with those two,” he grinned. “They really have to learn the concept of keeping it private. They’re so close to being busted by your fans.”
“I know. To be honest I know they won’t be that surprised,” Andy smiled back, scratching behind his ear. Kitty sat on an equipment case opposite him. It didn’t have a name on the side or anything to say what was in it, it was just there.
“You guys need to do what I’ve done,” I smirked, pulling out my sidekick. I flicked through a couple of video clips until I came to one entitled ‘Gee & Frank bunks’.
“You fucking didn’t?” Kitty giggled, her bunches bouncing with the force of it.
“Yup. Next time I get woken up by those two I’m showing them this and threatening to put in on YouTube. It’ll be the most viewed thing on there!”
“That’s sneaky man. I like it. Might have to do the same thing,” Branden thought. I knew he was gonna do it too. I may have started a trend…
As we were all laughing about the prospect of band members being outed on YouTube (of all places) the door of the bus next to the one we were against opened and an unfamiliar face walked out and stood with us, lighting up like he was part of the group. We all stared at him until he got the message and fucked off.
“Fucking guitarist. Think they own the world,” Kitty muttered. We all grumbled along.
“Just cause they stand at the front of the stage doesn’t make them more important,” Branden spat onto the tarmac. The grumbles got louder. “Ohh, look at me, I can do fancy shit that makes me look like a genius when in fact I’m a fucking moron who only learnt guitar to make girls like me because I was incapable of getting them any other way.”
“Fuckers. This is The Drummer Club. If it weren’t it would just be The Band,” Andy pointed out. After yet more grumbles of how we’re not appreciated enough I stubbed out my cigarette and we went our separate ways for the night. I entered the bus praying that Gerard and Frank had finished whatever they were doing. I don’t know what it was but it made Frank go very high pitched.
Author: xx_anarchy_xx
Rating: R
Pairing: Implied Frerard, Implied Pete/Patrick, Implied Bert/Quinn/Jepha
Disclaimer: I own nothing but merchandise and an overactive imagination
Summary: What does Bob do when he's not in fan fiction?
Warnings: Swearing (cause we all know that's very naughty)
Author's Note: Got an idea for what Bob can do next? Suggest HERE and if I like it I'll write it. Simple as that. This story will very quickly rely on you guys. Have fun!
1. He Saves Us From the Zombie Hordes
On tour you get to know a lot of people; backstage crew, lighting and sound guys, roadies, but on the festival circuit you get to know many more. There’s a group of us that get together at the end of the day. We’re called The Drummer Club because its drummers only, like the childish thing of having a club house with the rule ‘no girls’. We seem to have an unspoken connection with each other; on stage it’s all hidden hand gestures and eye movements telling each other where to meet before we all have to move on for the next venue. The Club was started by me and Branden Steinechert, pissed off with having to listen to our respective front men fucking a band member on the bus. We started hanging around one of the parked buses, just smoking and talking like we used to when I was their sound guy. It was like nothing had changed even though it obviously had.
It became our routine, either Bert and Quinn or Jeph would…get going, or Gerard and Frank would, and we would text each other where to met to save each other from having to hear whatever sexual act they were performing.
After a few days we were joined by Andy Hurley, forced out of his bus by Pete and Patrick. He didn’t smoke; he just wanted somewhere to go. Derek Bloom escaped his bus for the same reasons. Kitty was the last to join but she just wanted somewhere to go after a day with Jimmy. The Drummer Club was assembled and basically we were a bunch of bitchy teenage girls. It was a good time to complain though, most of the time it was about why we were driven outside.
“It’s just…they’re so loud. You wouldn’t think it but they are,” Andy said, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the parked bus. We all hummed in agreement. We’d all heard Pete/Patrick at some point; they’re not exactly discrete about it.
“I’ve been there,” I said, taking a drag of my cigarette. Branden nodded, lighting his second cigarette of the session.
“I think we all have. Especially with those two,” he grinned. “They really have to learn the concept of keeping it private. They’re so close to being busted by your fans.”
“I know. To be honest I know they won’t be that surprised,” Andy smiled back, scratching behind his ear. Kitty sat on an equipment case opposite him. It didn’t have a name on the side or anything to say what was in it, it was just there.
“You guys need to do what I’ve done,” I smirked, pulling out my sidekick. I flicked through a couple of video clips until I came to one entitled ‘Gee & Frank bunks’.
“You fucking didn’t?” Kitty giggled, her bunches bouncing with the force of it.
“Yup. Next time I get woken up by those two I’m showing them this and threatening to put in on YouTube. It’ll be the most viewed thing on there!”
“That’s sneaky man. I like it. Might have to do the same thing,” Branden thought. I knew he was gonna do it too. I may have started a trend…
As we were all laughing about the prospect of band members being outed on YouTube (of all places) the door of the bus next to the one we were against opened and an unfamiliar face walked out and stood with us, lighting up like he was part of the group. We all stared at him until he got the message and fucked off.
“Fucking guitarist. Think they own the world,” Kitty muttered. We all grumbled along.
“Just cause they stand at the front of the stage doesn’t make them more important,” Branden spat onto the tarmac. The grumbles got louder. “Ohh, look at me, I can do fancy shit that makes me look like a genius when in fact I’m a fucking moron who only learnt guitar to make girls like me because I was incapable of getting them any other way.”
“Fuckers. This is The Drummer Club. If it weren’t it would just be The Band,” Andy pointed out. After yet more grumbles of how we’re not appreciated enough I stubbed out my cigarette and we went our separate ways for the night. I entered the bus praying that Gerard and Frank had finished whatever they were doing. I don’t know what it was but it made Frank go very high pitched.