|Current music:||Disease - Matchbox Twenty|
Author: Quai-Dian (Isilme)
Fandom: Foo Fighters
Pairing: Dave Grohl/Taylor Hawkins UST
Rating: R (for language)
Summary: Dave can tell the difference between his and Taylor's cigarettes.
Archive Permissions: Archive anywhere as long as my email address is on it (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Disclaimer: I don't know them. I don't own them. This is all my imagination. No harm intended.
Notes: Story written in 44 minutes for the contrelamontre Taste challenge. This is my second improv for this challenge because the new topic hasn't been posted yet and I wanted to do something in this fandom. For some reason cigarettes and UST seem to be my schtick lately.
For someone who didn't smoke, the difference between the taste of a Marlboro Red and a Parliament Light would be barely discernible at best. The lights, of course, weren't as heady or heavy or thick, but both cigarettes would taste like some kind of combination of car exhaust and stale spices to a nonsmoker. But, to someone who'd been smoking Reds for as long as he was able to afford them instead of Pallmalls, Parliament Lights tasted disgusting.
But beggars can't be choosers. And Dave had run out of his cigarettes several hours ago. Bumming Taylor's was better than nothing. They'd probably break for dinner in a little bit, anyway.
Taylor had this very unique way of folding himself up in a chair that Dave never imagined could be comfortable. His legs were so skinny that he could bend them at the knees and put his heels against his ass on the seat of the chair, wrapping his arms around his shins and balancing without having to prop any of his limbs on any other piece of furniture. At the moment he had one arm resting against his knee, a cigarette in his other hand, his bare feet sitting one on top of the other. Dave leaned an elbow on the mixing board and rested his chin on his fist, tongue tingling for another nicotine fix.
"What?" Taylor asked, noticing Dave staring at him intently.
"Can I have another one?" He felt a bit pathetic. He didn't smoke this much when he had his own pack.
"Dude, going for a two pack a day habit or something?" Taylor joked, sticking his own cigarette in his mouth and grabbing his Parliament Lights off the console to his right. He shook one out and offered the pack to Dave.
"Something like that," Dave replied, taking one and trapping the end between his lips. Taylor lit it for him. "Thanks, man."
"Yeah." Taylor had turned his head back to the board. He pulled his cigarette out and licked his lips, smoke slipping out in blurred tendrils as he contemplated the sheet of notes in front of him. He rubbed the center of his forehead with his thumb. "I don't think that loop's gonna fit, timing wise," he was saying, but Dave was concentrating on how thin the smoke he was inhaling felt.
"How do you smoke this shit?"
"I supplement with copious doses of Mary Jane," Taylor answered, tossing Dave a look that Dave couldn't read.
"You remind me of those fat people who go into McDonald's and order two Big Macs, a large order of fries and a Diet Coke. Light cigarettes aren't going to save you, T."
"It has nothing to do with them being better for me," Taylor smirked. "I just like the way they taste."
"I think they're nasty." Dave grimaced in punctuation.
"Then stop stealing them from me." Taylor twined a clump of messy blond hair behind his ear. "So, are we going to finish this fucking track or what?"
"Since when are you so anxious to work?" Dave grabbed Taylor's ashtray and tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette. "I was thinking dinner break."
"We gonna wait for Nate and Chris?"
Dave shrugged. "I guess."
Taylor took another drag off his own cigarette before stubbing it out in the glass bottom of the ashtray. "So, now what?"
"We could go to the gas station. So I can stop stealing your cigarettes."
"Fuck, you are such a snob," Taylor laughed. "Cigarette elitist."
Dave shrugged and grinned hugely. "Spoiled."
"No shit." Taylor unfolded his legs and stretched his arms above his head. "But it'd make more sense to just get them on the way to dinner."
Dave nodded. He was watching the way Taylor's t-shirt rode up a bit to reveal his bellybutton. Taylor arched his back and his spine popped obediently three times, next his shoulders as he rolled them and lastly his neck, his head tilting side to side. He'd seen Taylor do this hundreds of times. It's just that this was the first time he'd paid attention.
"I'm thinking Chinese," Taylor was saying, running his hands through knotted hair.
"Hmm," Dave nodded. He was thinking about Taylor's fingers now and Taylor was chewing a hangnail. Dave wasn't sure why he was noticing what he was, but he sort of liked the way it made his stomach feel.
"Then we can get your cigarettes." Taylor rolled his eyes a bit and Dave wondered if the Parliament Lights would taste better on Taylor's lips than on his. "Dude, are you okay?"
"Yeah. Fine." Better than okay, actually. Because now Taylor's eyes were on his and it caused some kind of circuit to complete because now he was licking his lips, brain fully bent on finding out if he was right or not.
"You look confused or something." There were words, but the sound was irrelevant. It was the air behind them, the warmth of breath, the form of the syllables on pink flesh, the way lips were still parted and just barely shiny. No, he wasn't confused at all.
The moment was completely smooth, turning in his rolling chair and palming the back of Taylor's neck, tugging Taylor forward and coming up to fit his lips against Taylor's without bumping their noses or kissing his chin instead. Dave's eyes were closed even though he was sure Taylor's were wide and he was licking out against smooth lips and curling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Taylor's neck. Taylor's hands were on Dave's arms but they weren't pushing, yet still not pulling and Dave tried a little harder, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of Taylor's lips.
That did the trick as Taylor's mouth moved slightly and Dave licked against Taylor's teeth. Taylor tried to say something, but Dave held him too close and took the opportunity to sink his tongue into the wet hot of Taylor's mouth. He tilted his head a little more, rubbed his lips over Taylor's, licked Taylor's pallet, the back of his front teeth. Found Taylor's tongue, slid roughly over it once before Taylor managed to retract it.
Dave closed his lips as he pulled back, a sultry little caress of his mouth over Taylor's bottom lip before he sat back in his chair.
"What the fuck was that?" Taylor said bluntly, irritated.
"You're right. They do taste better. But only on you."
Taylor wanted to ask what the hell Dave was talking about, but Nate appeared before he had the chance. And Dave smoked Marlboro Reds for the rest of the night.