fic: generation kill - brad/ray
Nov. 8th, 2009 01:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityThe One Where Ray's Gonna Be in a Band One Day and Brad's a Computer Geek
Brad/Ray highschool AU
PG-13 for Ray's potty mouth
509 words
a/n: and now for something completely different?
Ray's going to be in a band one day. He doesn't really know how to sing and he's never had guitar lessons, so he fucks up a lot, but one day. One day he'll be famous. He tells Brad about it all the time. Like now, when Brad just got home from buying the new expansion for his game and is on a mission to be the first player on his server to hit the level cap. Ray knows how important this is to him. Ray just doesn't care.
"Man, it's going to be so awesome. Do you even know how much pussy rock stars get?" Rays says, leaning against Brad's headboard, the Ibanez he bought last year from some pawn shop in Richardson laying across his knees. His jeans have various rips in them, but not in the trendy "I'm a douchebag and bought them this way" way, Ray just does a lot of stupid shit, like hitting a deer on his dirty bike. Most of his clothes have holes in them; his mom stopped buying new ones the year he turned sixteen.
"Do you?" Brad lifts his eyebrows, but doesn't look away from the computer screen. He's trying not to get his ass stomped into the ground by a particularly nasty gnome at the moment. Behind him, Ray's fingers walk gently across the guitar strings; Brad likes the sound it makes. Soft and delicate, no rhyme or reason, just chords. Sometimes when Ray plays he feels the vibration of them underneath his skin.
"Whatever Brad. You know they do, all tatted up and pierced and hot and sweaty after performing. Hell, I'd fuck a rock star."
Brad smirks; the gnome is defeated. He spins around in his chair and looks at Ray. "Yes, Ray. You spent a whole summer jerking off to Styx. You got a hard-on every time you listened to Renegade. I know."
"Hey, Styx is fucking awesome, asshole," Ray says defensively. Brad thinks its hilarious. You can insult him, his mother, his house, his entire family, but don't you dare talk about Styx. "You're just jealous you're not as cool as me, homes. You're still going to be right here, right behind your piece of shit computer playing fucking role playing games online while I'm half way across the country autographing the biggest tits you've ever seen and fucking so much my dick chafes."
"Yes, I'm jealous of your completely made-up, imaginary lifestyle, Ray. You're so astute," Brad deadpans, but his lips twitch, itching to curl up in the corners; he can't hold it. He spins back around in his chair, smiling at the screen in front of him instead of at Ray. "Play Sweet Caroline again. You fucked it up so bad last time I was afraid Neil Diamond was going to bust through the door and stab you in the throat."
Ray grins and shakes his head as he strums out the first couple of chords.
Where it began, I can't begin to know when
But then I know it's growing strong
Brad/Ray highschool AU
PG-13 for Ray's potty mouth
509 words
a/n: and now for something completely different?
Ray's going to be in a band one day. He doesn't really know how to sing and he's never had guitar lessons, so he fucks up a lot, but one day. One day he'll be famous. He tells Brad about it all the time. Like now, when Brad just got home from buying the new expansion for his game and is on a mission to be the first player on his server to hit the level cap. Ray knows how important this is to him. Ray just doesn't care.
"Man, it's going to be so awesome. Do you even know how much pussy rock stars get?" Rays says, leaning against Brad's headboard, the Ibanez he bought last year from some pawn shop in Richardson laying across his knees. His jeans have various rips in them, but not in the trendy "I'm a douchebag and bought them this way" way, Ray just does a lot of stupid shit, like hitting a deer on his dirty bike. Most of his clothes have holes in them; his mom stopped buying new ones the year he turned sixteen.
"Do you?" Brad lifts his eyebrows, but doesn't look away from the computer screen. He's trying not to get his ass stomped into the ground by a particularly nasty gnome at the moment. Behind him, Ray's fingers walk gently across the guitar strings; Brad likes the sound it makes. Soft and delicate, no rhyme or reason, just chords. Sometimes when Ray plays he feels the vibration of them underneath his skin.
"Whatever Brad. You know they do, all tatted up and pierced and hot and sweaty after performing. Hell, I'd fuck a rock star."
Brad smirks; the gnome is defeated. He spins around in his chair and looks at Ray. "Yes, Ray. You spent a whole summer jerking off to Styx. You got a hard-on every time you listened to Renegade. I know."
"Hey, Styx is fucking awesome, asshole," Ray says defensively. Brad thinks its hilarious. You can insult him, his mother, his house, his entire family, but don't you dare talk about Styx. "You're just jealous you're not as cool as me, homes. You're still going to be right here, right behind your piece of shit computer playing fucking role playing games online while I'm half way across the country autographing the biggest tits you've ever seen and fucking so much my dick chafes."
"Yes, I'm jealous of your completely made-up, imaginary lifestyle, Ray. You're so astute," Brad deadpans, but his lips twitch, itching to curl up in the corners; he can't hold it. He spins back around in his chair, smiling at the screen in front of him instead of at Ray. "Play Sweet Caroline again. You fucked it up so bad last time I was afraid Neil Diamond was going to bust through the door and stab you in the throat."
Ray grins and shakes his head as he strums out the first couple of chords.
Where it began, I can't begin to know when
But then I know it's growing strong
no subject
Date: 2009-11-09 10:14 am (UTC)