Sing Me to Sleep
Oct. 5th, 2015 05:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i_am_tl_drTitle: Sing Me to Sleep
Characters: Quentin Kinley, Tyler Jordan Graham, and David Moore
Rating: PG
Word count: 1455
Notes: So I started writing this story in 2007 and stumbled across the first like... 400 words in a notebook and decided I had to finish it. It's cute.
Timeline: August 2014
It seemed to happen more and more since Tyler Jordan started going out on tours around Michigan and Wisconsin and the states below them. David would drag Quentin out to parties to keep him occupied, and Quentin would find a quiet corner somewhere to curl up in and call his boyfriend. Once he called while Tyler Jordan was on stage and he'd paused the whole set to answer his phone and get the crowd to scream for Quentin's benefit. That had made Quentin laugh, but it was the return call later that he'd needed, a little time to have Tyler Jordan's undivided attention.
This time, David had corralled Quentin into watching the Wizard of Oz synced up to Pink Floyd after David and Victoria had taken a bunch of mushrooms. Quentin never should have agreed to babysit, but they both had good trips, and he spent most of the night on the phone with Tyler Jordan, not even talking half the time. Tyler Jordan was taking a turn driving the van, only being allowed to late at night when the highways were almost empty. Quentin sat curled up with his knees tucked under his chin at the back of the movie-lit room. "Where are you?" Quentin asked for the fifth time since they'd started talking hours before. It was just after 2 a.m. now.
"I'm in the driver's seat," Tyler Jordan told him for the third time, then answered, "Somewhere outside Decatur."
"Oh," Quentin said. On the TV the Wicked Witch was melting, and on the van's radio David Bowie was crooning about being heroes.
"I, I would be king," Tyler Jordan sang along softly. "And you, you would be queen."
"Not even for you, loverboy," Quentin laughed, and Tyler Jordan huffed with amusement.
"What, you want to be king?" He opened his mouth to argue, but what came out was, "I do look better in eyeliner than you do."
"You'd make a killer queen," Quentin joked, unfolding his legs and laying down behind the couch. "I like you better out of the eyeliner."
"I like you better when we're not apart," Tyler Jordan said wistfully. "I'd rather be home tonight... I'd make you rub my shoulders."
"I'll rub your shoulders," Max offered sleepily from the first bench in the van. Tyler Jordan almost ran off the road in surprise. He hadn't known Max was listening.
"I heard that," Quentin said darkly. "Tell him I heard that."
"Nah, man, I'm good." Tyler Jordan was too nice to start shit, and he wanted to keep a comfortable distance between the singer of his band and his jealous boyfriend. "You go back to sleep."
"'Kay..." Max was mostly asleep already when he said it. Tyler Jordan sighed softly.
"I can practically hear you grinding your teeth, Q."
"If he touches you I'm gonna maul him," Quentin said, and Tyler Jordan glanced back in the rearview mirror to make sure Max was down.
"You're the only one I want to touch me," he said quietly, "I mean that, okay? I wish you were next to me in this van right now. I miss you."
"When are you coming home?"
"Two more days. We'll be in Chicago in a couple hours and after tonight's show we're heading back to Detroit."
"It's stupid how empty the bed feels without you in it," Quentin confessed. "I've had that bed for four years and it never felt too big until I got used to you being in it and then you weren't in it."
"Sleep on the couch and you might not notice."
"Tried that. If I sleep on the couch I'll just watch Netflix all night. I'll be fine, I just miss you like crazy." A hand flailed over the back of the couch and Quentin quirked an eyebrow. A second later David's face appeared.
"Hey man, you um, you're still here?"
"Yeah Dave. Where did you think I would be?"
"I dunno, like... anywhere else?" David scratched his head, curls flying everywhere. "Wanna burn a bowl?"
"Is that even a question? Of course." Tyler Jordan snickered into the phone, and Quentin huffed at him. "You want me to call you back?"
"Is that even a question?" Tyler Jordan echoed. "Unless you're going to pass out."
"If I'm going to pass out I'd rather do it with you talking to me," Quentin said, and Tyler Jordan made a kissy noise.
"Okay pookie. Go enjoy your weed. Tell David I said hi."
"I did that when you told me to at eleven."
"Yeah, but he's on shrooms. He probably forgot. Tell him again."
"Tyler Jordan says hi," Quentin said, and David rolled his eyes.
"Is that all you've been doing all night? Talking to him? You're codependent, bro."
"We're not codependent. Are we codependent?"
"I don't think so," Tyler Jordan said, "but I wouldn't call us healthy either."
"Yeah, probably not. Okay, you drive, I'll call you back in like ten minutes."
"I'll be here." Quentin slid his phone into his pocket and sat up, taking a swat at David, who ducked back just too slowly to avoid getting hit straight in his messy Jewfro.
"I'm not codependent," he said, and David shrugged. "I'm not. Just because he's my favorite person doesn't mean I'm dependent on him."
"Whatever you say, man. I didn't mean to ruffle your feathers. Get over here and hit the bong with me." Victoria was passed out against one arm of the couch when Quentin came around, and David scooted over a little to let Quentin sit on the other arm, handing him the two footer with a flourish. "Thanks for sticking around."
"No problem." Quentin hit the bong hard, then exhaled on a jaw-cracking yawn. "Have a nice trip?"
"Yeah, still feeling it. Gonna put Tory to bed and then take a walk, you wanna come with?"
"I think I'm done for the night. You still need a babysitter or will you be okay without me?"
"Aw, you're concerned? I'll be fine." David paused to pull at the bong, tipping his head back against the couch to blow out a plume of smoke. "What're you doing tomorrow?"
"I have an evening shift," Quentin said, making a disgusted face. "They keep fucking bouncing my schedule around. So sick of it."
"Shitty. Back to the afternoons on Monday?" David handed the bong over as Quentin nodded. "I'll see you Monday then."
"Okay, cool." Quentin burned the last of the bowl while David nudged Victoria awake just enough to half-walk, half-carry her into the bedroom, coming back out with sneakers on. "Don't get lost, dude."
"I'm tripping, I'm not retarded," David retorted, and Quentin shrugged, flopping back on the couch when the door closed behind David. He pulled his phone back out. It didn't even ring entirely once before Tyler Jordan picked up.
"Hey," Tyler Jordan said softly.
"Hi. Where are you?"
"On the other side of Decatur, now. What's up?"
"David went to take a walk. I'm like... eighty percent asleep right now."
"Aw, you're cute when you're mostly asleep."
"I'm not cute," Quentin said, much less forcefully than he usually defended against the word. "You're cute. You're adorable." Tyler Jordan breathed a laugh into the phone, and Quentin curled up on his side, wishing that Tyler Jordan was there to tuck back the hair that fell into his face. "You are."
"You're being adorable right now," Tyler Jordan said fondly.
"Come here and say that to my face."
"I wish. I'm like six hours away from you."
"Stop going away, then... I miss you when you're not here, angel. I miss your face."
"Downsides of dating a rock star, babe. You could come with us..."
"You'd get tired of me quick if I went on tour with you."
"Not gonna happen. I love you too much to get tired of you."
"You say that now."
"I'm saying it now and I'll keep saying it because it's the truth. I love you, Quentin, I love you so much, I love you when you're sweet and I love you when you're an asshole and I love you all the time."
"Tyler Jordan..." Quentin sighed quietly. "I love you too." Then he yawned right into the phone, and Tyler Jordan laughed.
"Going to sleep?"
"Mmhm. I don't want to hang up though."
"Then don't," Tyler Jordan said, and he turned up the radio a little. "Goodnight, lemon drop."
"Goodnight, schnookums," Quentin murmured, setting the phone down right next to his head and using one arm as a pillow. He could hear Tyler Jordan still, singing sweetly along to the late-night radio, turning alt-rock into a lullaby for the lover he wished was by his side.
Characters: Quentin Kinley, Tyler Jordan Graham, and David Moore
Rating: PG
Word count: 1455
Notes: So I started writing this story in 2007 and stumbled across the first like... 400 words in a notebook and decided I had to finish it. It's cute.
Timeline: August 2014
It seemed to happen more and more since Tyler Jordan started going out on tours around Michigan and Wisconsin and the states below them. David would drag Quentin out to parties to keep him occupied, and Quentin would find a quiet corner somewhere to curl up in and call his boyfriend. Once he called while Tyler Jordan was on stage and he'd paused the whole set to answer his phone and get the crowd to scream for Quentin's benefit. That had made Quentin laugh, but it was the return call later that he'd needed, a little time to have Tyler Jordan's undivided attention.
This time, David had corralled Quentin into watching the Wizard of Oz synced up to Pink Floyd after David and Victoria had taken a bunch of mushrooms. Quentin never should have agreed to babysit, but they both had good trips, and he spent most of the night on the phone with Tyler Jordan, not even talking half the time. Tyler Jordan was taking a turn driving the van, only being allowed to late at night when the highways were almost empty. Quentin sat curled up with his knees tucked under his chin at the back of the movie-lit room. "Where are you?" Quentin asked for the fifth time since they'd started talking hours before. It was just after 2 a.m. now.
"I'm in the driver's seat," Tyler Jordan told him for the third time, then answered, "Somewhere outside Decatur."
"Oh," Quentin said. On the TV the Wicked Witch was melting, and on the van's radio David Bowie was crooning about being heroes.
"I, I would be king," Tyler Jordan sang along softly. "And you, you would be queen."
"Not even for you, loverboy," Quentin laughed, and Tyler Jordan huffed with amusement.
"What, you want to be king?" He opened his mouth to argue, but what came out was, "I do look better in eyeliner than you do."
"You'd make a killer queen," Quentin joked, unfolding his legs and laying down behind the couch. "I like you better out of the eyeliner."
"I like you better when we're not apart," Tyler Jordan said wistfully. "I'd rather be home tonight... I'd make you rub my shoulders."
"I'll rub your shoulders," Max offered sleepily from the first bench in the van. Tyler Jordan almost ran off the road in surprise. He hadn't known Max was listening.
"I heard that," Quentin said darkly. "Tell him I heard that."
"Nah, man, I'm good." Tyler Jordan was too nice to start shit, and he wanted to keep a comfortable distance between the singer of his band and his jealous boyfriend. "You go back to sleep."
"'Kay..." Max was mostly asleep already when he said it. Tyler Jordan sighed softly.
"I can practically hear you grinding your teeth, Q."
"If he touches you I'm gonna maul him," Quentin said, and Tyler Jordan glanced back in the rearview mirror to make sure Max was down.
"You're the only one I want to touch me," he said quietly, "I mean that, okay? I wish you were next to me in this van right now. I miss you."
"When are you coming home?"
"Two more days. We'll be in Chicago in a couple hours and after tonight's show we're heading back to Detroit."
"It's stupid how empty the bed feels without you in it," Quentin confessed. "I've had that bed for four years and it never felt too big until I got used to you being in it and then you weren't in it."
"Sleep on the couch and you might not notice."
"Tried that. If I sleep on the couch I'll just watch Netflix all night. I'll be fine, I just miss you like crazy." A hand flailed over the back of the couch and Quentin quirked an eyebrow. A second later David's face appeared.
"Hey man, you um, you're still here?"
"Yeah Dave. Where did you think I would be?"
"I dunno, like... anywhere else?" David scratched his head, curls flying everywhere. "Wanna burn a bowl?"
"Is that even a question? Of course." Tyler Jordan snickered into the phone, and Quentin huffed at him. "You want me to call you back?"
"Is that even a question?" Tyler Jordan echoed. "Unless you're going to pass out."
"If I'm going to pass out I'd rather do it with you talking to me," Quentin said, and Tyler Jordan made a kissy noise.
"Okay pookie. Go enjoy your weed. Tell David I said hi."
"I did that when you told me to at eleven."
"Yeah, but he's on shrooms. He probably forgot. Tell him again."
"Tyler Jordan says hi," Quentin said, and David rolled his eyes.
"Is that all you've been doing all night? Talking to him? You're codependent, bro."
"We're not codependent. Are we codependent?"
"I don't think so," Tyler Jordan said, "but I wouldn't call us healthy either."
"Yeah, probably not. Okay, you drive, I'll call you back in like ten minutes."
"I'll be here." Quentin slid his phone into his pocket and sat up, taking a swat at David, who ducked back just too slowly to avoid getting hit straight in his messy Jewfro.
"I'm not codependent," he said, and David shrugged. "I'm not. Just because he's my favorite person doesn't mean I'm dependent on him."
"Whatever you say, man. I didn't mean to ruffle your feathers. Get over here and hit the bong with me." Victoria was passed out against one arm of the couch when Quentin came around, and David scooted over a little to let Quentin sit on the other arm, handing him the two footer with a flourish. "Thanks for sticking around."
"No problem." Quentin hit the bong hard, then exhaled on a jaw-cracking yawn. "Have a nice trip?"
"Yeah, still feeling it. Gonna put Tory to bed and then take a walk, you wanna come with?"
"I think I'm done for the night. You still need a babysitter or will you be okay without me?"
"Aw, you're concerned? I'll be fine." David paused to pull at the bong, tipping his head back against the couch to blow out a plume of smoke. "What're you doing tomorrow?"
"I have an evening shift," Quentin said, making a disgusted face. "They keep fucking bouncing my schedule around. So sick of it."
"Shitty. Back to the afternoons on Monday?" David handed the bong over as Quentin nodded. "I'll see you Monday then."
"Okay, cool." Quentin burned the last of the bowl while David nudged Victoria awake just enough to half-walk, half-carry her into the bedroom, coming back out with sneakers on. "Don't get lost, dude."
"I'm tripping, I'm not retarded," David retorted, and Quentin shrugged, flopping back on the couch when the door closed behind David. He pulled his phone back out. It didn't even ring entirely once before Tyler Jordan picked up.
"Hey," Tyler Jordan said softly.
"Hi. Where are you?"
"On the other side of Decatur, now. What's up?"
"David went to take a walk. I'm like... eighty percent asleep right now."
"Aw, you're cute when you're mostly asleep."
"I'm not cute," Quentin said, much less forcefully than he usually defended against the word. "You're cute. You're adorable." Tyler Jordan breathed a laugh into the phone, and Quentin curled up on his side, wishing that Tyler Jordan was there to tuck back the hair that fell into his face. "You are."
"You're being adorable right now," Tyler Jordan said fondly.
"Come here and say that to my face."
"I wish. I'm like six hours away from you."
"Stop going away, then... I miss you when you're not here, angel. I miss your face."
"Downsides of dating a rock star, babe. You could come with us..."
"You'd get tired of me quick if I went on tour with you."
"Not gonna happen. I love you too much to get tired of you."
"You say that now."
"I'm saying it now and I'll keep saying it because it's the truth. I love you, Quentin, I love you so much, I love you when you're sweet and I love you when you're an asshole and I love you all the time."
"Tyler Jordan..." Quentin sighed quietly. "I love you too." Then he yawned right into the phone, and Tyler Jordan laughed.
"Going to sleep?"
"Mmhm. I don't want to hang up though."
"Then don't," Tyler Jordan said, and he turned up the radio a little. "Goodnight, lemon drop."
"Goodnight, schnookums," Quentin murmured, setting the phone down right next to his head and using one arm as a pillow. He could hear Tyler Jordan still, singing sweetly along to the late-night radio, turning alt-rock into a lullaby for the lover he wished was by his side.
