Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dark smoke clouded around Jon’s face as he exhaled his cigarette, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Fred, fucking, Durst was oggleling him the entire recording session. He didn’t even need to be there for most of it, he just needed to throw his ideas around for his lyrics in Korn’s collab, All in the Family. It was a god awful rap battle they had started when they both got painfully drunk. It was so bad at first, even Head couldn’t stay till the end, and it’s Head. He’d taken a smoke break outside after he’d caught Fred staring at him. It wasn’t in an uncomfortable or creepy way, more like in admiration, he hoped. In all honesty, he noticed Fred becoming increasingly closer to him, both emotionally and physically. He would tell him things even he wouldn’t say to his bandmates, and the same went for Jon, but for some reason he didn’t mind. That’s what he just couldn’t get. Why don’t I care? I definitely should, what if maybe he’s just looking up to me? Thousands of ideas flew around in his head, trying to offer an explanation, but burying a less than godly idea.

Suddenly, after the most confusing 10 minutes of Jonathan’s life, Munky burst out from the doors next to him, prompting his immediate movement out of the way in order to not get fucking decked in the face. He was followed by Head, then David, Fieldy, and the rest of the producing crew. 

“Hey we're gonna go to the club, wanna go?!” Head’s drunken, slurred words and everybody else’s yelling basically made it impossible for Jon to decipher what he just heard. He just hoped it was a yes or no question and shook his head. The group didn’t even see him there. As the group of very , very drunk men made their trek to the closest club, Jon snuck inside the studio to pick up his stuff, expecting everybody to have left by then. But no, of course not! He thinks to himself as he sees nobody other than Fred sitting on the gross, cigarette stained couch writing in Jon’s notebook.

“Fred?”

“Oh, hi.” 

“....” it was almost like Fred was anticipating Jonathan to not come back, because he seemed so guilty about getting caught writing in Jon’s notebook. He stared at him in embarrassment.

“So um, did you think of anything, ‘cause I'm pretty sure we’re due to record by Monday.”

“Oh, right, the song!” Fred scrambled to grab a separate binder sitting next to him. It was a pretty hefty thing, with at least 200 pages, and it looked like it had been through hell and back with the amount of band stickers, duct-tape, and dirt that was on it. On the front in big graffiti letters read ‘Freddie D.” Fred had this goofy grin on his face, one that Jon had never seen before. Sure, he got giddy when he was drunk, but not that giddy. Jon shuffled over to the couch and sat next to him, reaching over to grab his notebook. As he flipped through the pages, he stopped at one he hadn’t seen before. It was a drawing, of Jonathan. Sketched, inked and everything. It was him in his green tracksuit when he did a show in Peru, sitting on a tricycle, and in a graffiti like script in the bottom corner was “F.D”. Jon’s face reddened at this small gesture. Nobody had made him art before, let alone of him.

“Hey Fred?”

“Mh.”

“Did you um, draw this?”

“Oh, you found it! I was damn near gonna die of boring shit earlier so I just found a magazine and started drawing random shit, and then I found one with you in it. You like it?”

Jon stared at it, and said probably the stupidest thing he’s ever said in his stupid goddamn life,

“It’s fucking gay man.”

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They sat there in awkward silence for what felt like hours. Fred felt so god damn ashamed, and red and embarrassed. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew Jon didn’t take any type of affection well, considering his past, but that was just fucking rude. Gay? I ain’t fuckin’ gay. Jon’s the goddamn gay one. The stupid goth gay one, with his stupid goddamn sissy-ass skirts and his nails. Fred thought that maybe if he made fun of him, maybe it would make him feel better. Except it didn’t, because he realized he was still thinking about Jon, even if it was in a hateful way. He could feel his face redden as he slowly scooted away from Jon, soon they were sitting on completely opposite sides of the room. Jon wrote away in his notebook while sitting in a brown beat-up recliner, while Fred had lit a cigarette and was staring into space, sobering up and still in awkward silence. He took his red Yankees Cap off and sat it next to him, running his hand across his bleach blonde buzz-cut. Finally, Fred spoke up. 

“That was fuckin’ mean.”

“What?” Jonathan looks up from his notebook, half annoyed at Fred’s words. His dark eye bags and pale skin illuminated by the fluorescent lights. The hum was the only thing filling the deafening silence. 

“The drawing, it wasn’t gay.” He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“I mean, it kinda was gay man. What am I, your muse or something?” he says both bluntly and mockingly.

“No it wasn’t Jon, and no you’re not.” Fred was suddenly becoming more angry than annoyed or embarrassed, realizing that Jon wouldn’t take this affection as well as he thought he would. His face, now redder than his infamous Yankees cap, was turned away from Jon in an attempt to hide his embarrassment and anger at his failed gesture of appreciation.

“I mean, I’m not saying it’s bad , it’s nice.” Jon comments in an attempt to console the, now clearly distraught Fred, now feeling bad for his past remarks. “I just said the wrong thing is all. It’s….”

“It’s what? You don’t have to lie and say it’s good.” Fred was clearly now just waiting for Jon to start laughing at him.

“You made me look, pretty ?” There was a glint of confusion in Jon’s voice, almost like he didn’t even know what he was saying himself. He stood up from his seat, slowly making his way towards the other man, and sitting next to him. Fred was now on his third cigarette, the strangely comforting smell of tobacco smoke lingering around him made Jonathan feel even worse about his earlier remark. “It really is good, man. I didn’t, I didn’t mean what I said earlier.” Jon picked at the peeling silver nail polish, avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, thanks I guess.” Fred said, “I thought you’d be above an apology.” he hoped Jon would see it as a joke, and that he did. Jon playfully punched Fred’s shoulder, inciting a snot from the other. He shoved Jon, and he shoved back, and soon they were wrestling each other on the floor, laughing and yelling obscenities at each other. Suddenly, they stopped and locked eyes. They could both feel this warm feeling building up inside them.

"You want a drink?" Fred asked, and Jonathan nodded his head.

Chapter Text

"Jesus Christ, it's cold in here!" 

"Jon, you gotta fuckin' jacket, get your stank ass breath away from me!" Fred laughed, shoving the very close Jonathan off of him. It had been at least an hour, not more though. Jon had pulled out some coke, along with an obscene amount of Jack Daniels. Which was a normal amount for him, apparently. The now quite dark recording studio

"But Fredieee, you're so hic! warm!" Jon scooted close to Fred, laying his head on the other's shoulder and interlocking their arms, "Can't we jus- hic! stay like this? Pleeeease?"

"Dude you sound like a fag."

"Oh please, I always sound like one. If you don't let me I'll bite you~."

"Okay, that was like, mega faggy. But I bet you won't." Jon proved him wrong. He stayed true to his word.

"OW, WHAT THE FUCK!" Jonathan then proceeded to get punched in the fucking face.

"I should be the one saying that, asshole!" Fred grabbed the side of his neck where Jon had bitten him. "If this," he gestured towards the bite marks, "leaves a goddamn mark you're getting more than a fuckin' punch."

That kinda felt good.

Fred froze. I wanna ask him to do it again, wait NONONONONO that means I'm gay. I'm not gay! I mean chicks bite me all the time, I probably just want a chick to bite me, yeah. Definitely that. He's just, y'knooooooow, like, really effemi-

"Fred."

"Hm, what?"

"You good? Looked like you were about to like, explode."

"...." Fred stared at Jon, his face red as ever.

"Freeeeed, hello?" He waved his hand in front of the other's face.

"Jon, can you- can you bite me again?"

".... What? Like now?"

".....yes."

"I mean, alrightttt, if you say soooo." Jon stood up with a wobble, and slowly tried to straddle Fred without falling on his face.

"WOAH what are you doing?!" It wasn't like Fred was trying to stop him, more just confused. They were both extremely confused.

"It's easier this way, I think?" Jon said while settling down into his new 'seat'. Fred turned his head away, partially due to embarrassment, and to give Jon a place on his neck to well, bite. Jon slowly leaned into the crook of Fred's neck, but looked up just to make sure he could continue. Fred nodded his head as he felt Jon's hot breath on his neck, his teeth barely grazing the skin.