| Current mood: | accomplished |
Title: Pink
Author: Quai-Dian (Isilme)
Fandom: Foo Fighters RPS
Pairing: Dave Grohl/Taylor Hawkins
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Taylor has a pink room...
Archive Permissions: Archive anywhere as long as my email address is on it (isilme@disenchantedlullabye.com)
Series/Sequel: No
Disclaimer: I don't know them. I don't own them. This is all my imagination. No harm intended.
Warnings: None.
Pink
Taylor hadn't been joking about the color of the Pink Room. It was pink. Really pink. Dave stared at the decor, the pictures on the walls, the long curtains, the white furniture, pink paint, pink bedspread. Very girl. Very Mimi.
He hated it.
Of course I wasn't so bad considering the reason he was in the room. Taylor was on the phone at that moment, telephone held between his ear and shoulder, glass ashtray in one hand, cigarette in the other. He was chatting with his mother, this innocent, sweet tone in his voice, little boy smile on his face. Dave grinned and Taylor caught him, managing to flip him off despite the fullness of his hands.
Dave went back to wandering around the room, noting now some things that were definitely not Mimi. Of course, none of her personal things were there anymore and a lot of Taylor's were, Taylor's brush and his cologne and lighters, random drum sticks, paperwork, unopened junk mail, magazines, CDs. It was a mess, but a charmingly Taylor one.
It was an odd meshing of memories and sensations for Dave. His serious dislike of Mimi playing into his current feelings for Taylor, all of it mixing and merging into an angry, nervous, excited ball of emotions in the pit of his stomach. He turned to watch Taylor settle on the bed, setting the ashtray on the comforter and taking the phone into his now free hand, taking a drag off his cigarette and flicking the ashes into the ashtray. He made the motions of saying goodbye to his mother, said 'yes, Mom,' and 'I know, Mom,' and 'I love you, too' in all the right places before turning the phone off and tossing it onto the floor.
"She told me to tell you 'hi'," Taylor said to Dave as he retrieved his cigarette and stuck it in his mouth. "She said she likes how you're wearing your hair now." He smiled a little and took the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing a slow steam of white smoke. "I didn't tell her that I don't agree."
"You don't, huh?" Dave wondered, sitting down across from Taylor on the bed. "Why's that?"
"'Cause," Taylor replied, twining a bit of his unruly blond hair behind his ear. "I kinda wonder what it'd be like to get a hold of your hair when it's long. You know, when we're kissing..."
"Or when I'm blowing you," Dave half interrupted, pulling the cigarette out of Taylor's fingers and taking a drag off it before he crushed it out in the bottom of the ashtray.
"Yeah, or that," Taylor agreed, his voice a little ragged as it caught in his throat. He watched as Dave leaned over the edge of the bed to place the ashtray on the floor, rolling onto his knees and crawling closer to Taylor. Dave licked his lips and Taylor swallowed, a little surge of electric current crossing the bare inches between them before Dave took Taylor's lips in a hard kiss.
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