Starring: _opheliac as David <3 
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Fück him. Fück him and that messed up movie.

It's not really his fault, but my brain doesn't like to listen to the 'it's only a movie' logic and I freak myself out and it's a vicious cycle.

So yes I spent half of the fücking movie squeezing his hand to pieces and the other half with my face buried in his shoulder, but now here I am all alone ... in the dark with no Scott to protect me.

Do you know how many scary noises there are at fücking 2:30am in a hotel?

Of course I couldn't sleep, are you kidding me? So I tracked down the bottle of wine the hotel had left for Scott as a gift when he arrived (sorry buddy but you owe me) curled up on the couch in a blanket cave and tried to write. Staring at a blinking cursor is almost as terrifying as that fücking movie.

Ok, not at all but I'm getting nowhere and I'm almost out of wine.

Fück him!

I'm whiney with no wine and no one to whine to. Kill me. Who is onlineeeeee. David never sleeps he has to be awake.

Lance: UGH i'm trying to write this stupid mechanic story and I know shit about cars
Lance: You have a penis tell me things about cars

David: Excuse me, where did YOUR penis go? Why would you think I know shit?

Lance: Because you're like an encyclopedia ... and you google shit all the time

David: My knowledge of cars consists of knowing cars move, they have an engine and have tires.

Lance: UGH I can't update Knights because I haven't figured out what I want the next chapter to be and every one shot I start sounds like a babysitters club chapter

David: Nooooo I want Knights lets do that instead pls
David: Not stupid cars story

Lance: you can't see me but i'm pouting right now
Lance: the wine is almost gone

David: Oh good god then we're screwed. Get more wine!!! Have I taught you nothing?

Lance: I can't there isn't anymore it's all closed
Lance: fück i need to get laid and find more wine can you drink wine and get laid at the same time

oooooh one shot idea

David:What kind of world do we live in where we have water coming from our sinks but not wine
David: I do love the old wonderful cliché of licking wine off someone's body. Do that

Lance: we should get together and create hotel that has a wine faucet- is that the right word? faucet? fountain? hose?
Lance: ha hose
Lance: fireman stories are cliche too huh
Lance: scott with a hose
Lance: and a HOSE

David: Boy you're WASTEF
David: Wastef
David: Oh fück this

Lance: im not
Lance: I'm sort of
Lance: fuzzy
Lance: trust me i wish i was wasted

David: Anyway firemen are hotttt. No pun intended

Lance: if i was wasted then I could fücking sleep
Lance: you stole my sleep didn't you

David: Why did you try to get drunk anyway? Bad night?

Lance: you could say that

David: Wallowing in your 'I'll never be Scott Hoying's man' pity?

Lance: 100% Every second of every damn day. The struggle is real.
Lance: well, it's that and there was a guy and a fucking disturbing movie

Ok, that's probably more info than I should disclose but it's the wine's fault. He'll never figure it out

David: Ugh. Worst combo ever

Lance: and guy was cutesy and cuddly and now I'm here alone in the dark

David: OOooo tell me more about the guyyy daddy loves the gossip

Lance: nooooooooo don't want to talk about guy i can't have
Lance: i can never have ..like ever.

David: Guy was cute and cuddling you and yet you can't have him?

Lance: is it acceptable to use the word schlong in a fic?

David: ...what does that even MEAN

Lance: a dick dude it's a dick
Lance: you have one what do you call it
Lance: wangadangger ?

David: I literally cannot with you right now
David: If you must know I call mine Jackson 5.
David: Cause it's as big as five dicks.

Lance: hardy fücking har
Lance: is that why it's always lonely

David: too much to handle, what can I say

Lance: so no to the word schlong huh... how about ass swatter

David: Meat dagger?
David: Why won't you just use dick I'm so confused.

Lance: I'm just trying to distract myself from thinking about that stupid witch movie i was forced to endure

David: Oh horror movie night. Got it.
David: You should get cute boy to cuddle you some more. Maybe he can use his schlong to make it better

Lance: it's 2:30 am

David: Just saying

Lance: wishes and dreams, babe wishes and dreams
Lance: his schlong wants nothing to do with me

David: You said he was CUDDLING you

Lance: he's just cuddly

Not this again. Around and around we go.

David: I think his schlong would love to have some you time

Lance: it wasn't exclusive he does it to everyone

David: Oh yeah. Because we dick owners are such cuddly people

Lance: for all you know i could look like shrek

David: He was cuddling you during a horror movie. Seriously, you've written enough fan fiction to know what that means

Lance: well it was kinda a condition of me going
Lance: he was sad and used his jedi mind fücks to make me feel guilty
Lance: so i told him i'd go if he'd let me hold his hand

David: He was sad and wanted you.
David: That's all I'm saying.

Lance: he didn't want me he just didn't want to be alone
Lance: I mean go alone

David: Oh boy you're whipped

Lance: I wish there was whipping involved. sadly there is not.

David: I'm getting disturbing thoughts
David: You hate horror movies. And yet you went for him.

Lance: he gave me the puppy dog face!

David: Whipped.

Lance: it doesn't matter I'm practically his little brother

David: Friend zoned? Wow. Sorry man

Lance: omg i heard something
Lance: if i die you have to finish Knights ok? promise

David: Deal. I'll just make Scott and Emery fall in love then one of them will die to save the other. Yadda yadda

Lance: and i will come back to haunt you

David: I do love company, im not afraid

Lance: do you think you can use car oil for lube?

David: I think it could be slippery but I don't think its safe

Lance: damnit

David: Lotion? Hand cream inside the van? You know that kind of stuff?

Lance: imagine scott covered in grease though ...

David: Oooh with his blonde hair all greased and dirty. bless

Lance: kill me with hotness

David: Do you think we can manage to dump grease on him during next concert?

Lance: maybe we can petition him to get dirty in his next music video

David: Oh my god that would be incredible
David: I'll pray for that

Lance: wait i really do hear something

David: Call the police??

David: Lance?

David: hello? LANCE??
David: please tell me you're not dead.
David: I don't wanna have to write for you!
David: LANCE
David: IF YOU DON'T COME BACK HERE AND LET ME KNOW YOU'RE OK I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU

~~~

"Mitch?"

Shit , it's him. He's standing there with squinty eyes and unruly hair and all I can think about in that moment is how he'd look if I were on my knees in front of him. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." I feel a bit like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar. I don't know what I did to wake him up, but who knows.

"What are you doing up?"

Sleepy, shirtless Scott is one of my fav Scotts and the buzz of wine blurs my judgement just long enough for me to look him over slowly without restraint.

"Mitch?"

I know he caught me, but what can I say? I'm only human and I make mistakes. Still, my eyes are glued to him and the only thing I can do is try to distract him.

"I drank your wine." I hold up the empty bottle by the neck and I can see him soften with amusement.

"Mitchy, if you were scared you should have come and got me,"

BAHAHA

no.

"You have a photoshoot tomorrow. You have to be rested. I, on the other hand, can look like death and no one cares." He needs to go back to sleep. I should make him. "You have to go to bed."

"C'mon..."

He's holding out a hand... why is he holding out a hand. WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?

"I don't bite. C'mere."

He's laughing and only wearing boxers and I've had enough wine to make me second guess if I'm still awake. He can't say things like that when I'm tired and buzzed and he's half (mostly) naked in front of me.  

I can't seem to make myself to move or speak as he crosses the room and pulls the blanket from my shoulders and closes my laptop to set it and the empty wine bottle on the coffee table.  Oh shit he's serious. This is bad.  Bad.  Alll the badddd.  Bad bad bad. 

"Let's go, scaredy cat."

"Rude." It's his fücking fault I'm scared. How dare he mock --- OH MY GOD. SERIOUSLY!????

"What are you, Tarzan!? Scott, your spineeeeeeeeee."

I guess he got tired of waiting for my brain to catch up on the situation, because here I am staring at his gloriously perfect ɑss from my spot laid across his shoulder. Almost every brain cell yearns to reach down and smack it, but there must be that one little voice of reason hanging around in there who holds me back.  

There is no way this is happening. I'm totally dreaming.

"My spine is fine. You weigh like a pound."

OMG we're in his room. He's closing the door. Bad idea, Scooter. BAD IDEA. The moment my feet hit the ground my brain says FLEE but my body says FREEZE.

"Get in the bed."

Oh.my.fücking.GOD. SHORT CIRCUIT.

"It's my fault you went to the movie and I promised I'd protect you, right? I won't let anything happen to you. You act like we haven't slept in the same bed before." 

jid;ahirewahf;idajkl;llslsjfoie;a;;

"This is a bad idea. I'll keep you awake. What if I have nightmares or something!? What if-"

ⱭSSHOLE! I know i'm rambling but was it really necessary to PUSH? Fine fine I'm going.

"Stop pouting. You're my best friend and you're scared. Stop having a wine induced melt down.."

He's laughing again and soon we're both tucked into this huge bed but he's so close, his arm pressed against mine. I'm never ever ever ever ever ever going to be able to sleep with him next to me.

Oh God, the lights are out and I'm in his bed and he smells like fücking heaven. My nose is a fücking traitor. Maybe it's my brain. Nope, it's definitely my body. MY ENTIRE BODY IS A TRAITOR. I HATE YOU.

"Stop thinking and go to sleep, idiot."

Ok. So maybe this isn't so bad. It's not like he's spooning me or anything. And it's kinda sweet, right?

He really does smell so good.

Alright, this is kinda nice... and I am kinda tired. 

I know I'm drifting off as a whispered, "goodnight, Scott." escapes me. 

I'm probably imagining the fondness in the last words I hear before the dreamworld takes me.  

"Goodnight, Mitchy."