![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
behindthecTitle: I'm A Mascot For What You've Become [1/1]
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lolab
Pairing: Gabe/William
Rating: PG
Words: ~670
Dedication:bunniesontoast.
Notes: No, I'm not doing holiday drabbles for my friends (I'd be here for years!), but Helen's stuck with me since my first Gabilliam even though I haven't written them since like, March, and I know how much she misses them, but she's been awesome and supportive of every fucking thing I've written all year, and I love her and love watching her develop as a writer. The end. So I said "I want to write you a Gabilliam drabble, prompt me." This was her prompt. I rolled my eyes and complained it wasn't a prompt. Then I wrote this. Title from FOB.
"Voyeur much?"
"Shut up," William replies automatically, punching Sisky in the arm -- or, trying to while not looking at him at all, which means the punch lands somewhere around the vicinity of his hip. Very manly.
Sisky just chuckles and walks away like he's won so hard he doesn't need words, and seriously, Bill hadn't even heard him sneaking up. Speaking of fucking voyeurs. He totally hates his band sometimes. (Mostly he just wishes that were true.)
He's not delusional. There's nothing creepy in this. Watching Gabe with the fans is like watching a performance -- not because Gabe is performing; there's nothing fake or fronted about it. In fact, it's the most genuine Bill ever sees him outside of when they're alone, and they haven't had much alone time lately, so he'll take what he can get.
It's like a performance only because he can't take his eyes from it; it's engaging and entertaining and it makes him laugh, watching him tease and joke and pull silly faces and talk to them like they're his friends, not the obnoxious teenies who want to have his babies. William never knows quite what to make of them. He's good with them, and he's always worked hard at never taking them for granted, always being polite, always trying to indulge them to the extent he's able. But they're different with Gabe, freer, and it's not that William envies it; he's long past wishing for a personality he knows he'll never have. But he does admire it.
And, yeah. He loves to watch it.
And, maybe, deep down, he kind of wants to be a part of it. It sounds so selfish like that, because he gets more from Gabe than the fans ever will. Maybe not everything he wants, but that's another story and another bottle of Jack's altogether. Still, sometimes he misses the other side of it, living for the thirty-second rush of being in the spotlight of Gabe's eyes, having his attention on you and only you for a flashing moment, and letting it carry you on a high for the rest of your week, month, year.
Maybe it's Gabe he's taken for granted.
Or maybe not, because when Gabe looks up abruptly from the crinkling poster in his hands and spots William across the lot, perched inconspicuously in the shadows by one of the venue's side doors, he smiles, all his attention briefly on William, and William's heart leaps.
Gabe keeps smiling as he glances quickly back to the poster, not wanting to draw attention to the line of his gaze, and William watches his lips move as he slips back into conversation with the girl in front of him. The words and his smirk keep them all occupied when his head turns upward again to catch William's eye, and this time it's more than acknowledgment; it's invitation.
He waits until Gabe's long, flannel-covered arm is extended in front of him and the girl, camera in hand, before he pushes off the wall, weaving his way through the empty parking lot even before the crowd begins to thicken (because that's what he does, William just weaves no matter the amount of space he has to work with). When he starts getting slack-jawed stares of recognition, the crowd easily makes way for him to keep up his pace until he's at Gabe's side. The only sign he has that Gabe registers his presence is the body language, the way the tired, performance-weary muscles in Gabe's shoulder relax as William hooks his chin over it, nose at Gabe's ear, and plants himself there as the camera flashes, blinding-bright in his peripheral vision.
Gabe is sure to inspect the LCD screen at once, make sure it came out okay, and he smiles and thanks the girl as they exchange farewells.
William keeps his chin hooked where it is as the next minion approaches, and Gabe makes no effort to move him, only smiling wide enough for William to feel it.
fin.
Author:
lolab Pairing: Gabe/William
Rating: PG
Words: ~670
Dedication:
bunniesontoast.Notes: No, I'm not doing holiday drabbles for my friends (I'd be here for years!), but Helen's stuck with me since my first Gabilliam even though I haven't written them since like, March, and I know how much she misses them, but she's been awesome and supportive of every fucking thing I've written all year, and I love her and love watching her develop as a writer. The end. So I said "I want to write you a Gabilliam drabble, prompt me." This was her prompt. I rolled my eyes and complained it wasn't a prompt. Then I wrote this. Title from FOB.
"Voyeur much?"
"Shut up," William replies automatically, punching Sisky in the arm -- or, trying to while not looking at him at all, which means the punch lands somewhere around the vicinity of his hip. Very manly.
Sisky just chuckles and walks away like he's won so hard he doesn't need words, and seriously, Bill hadn't even heard him sneaking up. Speaking of fucking voyeurs. He totally hates his band sometimes. (Mostly he just wishes that were true.)
He's not delusional. There's nothing creepy in this. Watching Gabe with the fans is like watching a performance -- not because Gabe is performing; there's nothing fake or fronted about it. In fact, it's the most genuine Bill ever sees him outside of when they're alone, and they haven't had much alone time lately, so he'll take what he can get.
It's like a performance only because he can't take his eyes from it; it's engaging and entertaining and it makes him laugh, watching him tease and joke and pull silly faces and talk to them like they're his friends, not the obnoxious teenies who want to have his babies. William never knows quite what to make of them. He's good with them, and he's always worked hard at never taking them for granted, always being polite, always trying to indulge them to the extent he's able. But they're different with Gabe, freer, and it's not that William envies it; he's long past wishing for a personality he knows he'll never have. But he does admire it.
And, yeah. He loves to watch it.
And, maybe, deep down, he kind of wants to be a part of it. It sounds so selfish like that, because he gets more from Gabe than the fans ever will. Maybe not everything he wants, but that's another story and another bottle of Jack's altogether. Still, sometimes he misses the other side of it, living for the thirty-second rush of being in the spotlight of Gabe's eyes, having his attention on you and only you for a flashing moment, and letting it carry you on a high for the rest of your week, month, year.
Maybe it's Gabe he's taken for granted.
Or maybe not, because when Gabe looks up abruptly from the crinkling poster in his hands and spots William across the lot, perched inconspicuously in the shadows by one of the venue's side doors, he smiles, all his attention briefly on William, and William's heart leaps.
Gabe keeps smiling as he glances quickly back to the poster, not wanting to draw attention to the line of his gaze, and William watches his lips move as he slips back into conversation with the girl in front of him. The words and his smirk keep them all occupied when his head turns upward again to catch William's eye, and this time it's more than acknowledgment; it's invitation.
He waits until Gabe's long, flannel-covered arm is extended in front of him and the girl, camera in hand, before he pushes off the wall, weaving his way through the empty parking lot even before the crowd begins to thicken (because that's what he does, William just weaves no matter the amount of space he has to work with). When he starts getting slack-jawed stares of recognition, the crowd easily makes way for him to keep up his pace until he's at Gabe's side. The only sign he has that Gabe registers his presence is the body language, the way the tired, performance-weary muscles in Gabe's shoulder relax as William hooks his chin over it, nose at Gabe's ear, and plants himself there as the camera flashes, blinding-bright in his peripheral vision.
Gabe is sure to inspect the LCD screen at once, make sure it came out okay, and he smiles and thanks the girl as they exchange farewells.
William keeps his chin hooked where it is as the next minion approaches, and Gabe makes no effort to move him, only smiling wide enough for William to feel it.
fin.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 01:47 am (UTC)you are not a MINION. you are speshul. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 01:49 am (UTC)oh, lol. i thought i was a minion xD d'aww *jailbait snuggles*
RETURN OF THE JAILBAIT JOKES xD
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 02:03 am (UTC)brb writing depressing pwf flashbacks
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 02:05 am (UTC)