Disclaimer: If I had three wishes... You know what I would wish for. I also don't own YouTube, or any other reference to pop culture.
A/N: Whoa, this chapter kind of wrote itself? And I quite liked it?
We're still discussing the possibility of having a writing contest in this fandom. Go check the forum in case you're interested. You can find a link on my profile or lozzigurl's. Don't be shy! ;)
Let's try to save this fandom from its impeding doom!
"What are you–" Dougie bit a moan back, as a brunet kept latching hungry, sloppy kisses along his neck.
"I'm very good at this," the brunet grinned mischievously, blue eyes darkened with lust, biting along the other boy's collar bone. "Wait till you see what I can do," he breathed, his tongue vibrating against Dougie's skin.
"Fucking hell," the blond's eyes flew open, vision not completely in focus, hands searching for the source of the buzzing and movement, finally taking his mobile away from his neck.
His room was mostly dark, meaning he had slept due to boredom, just wasting his time doing something not-so-productive on the phone, mostly idly navigating random YouTube videos of morally questionable humour.
He checked the screen to see who was calling, but it wasn't a number he recognised. The first thought that occurred him was it being one of the guys from the audition, to tell him he had gotten in, but Dougie quickly dismissed it, as he already lost count of how many times his expectations only led to disappointment.
"You probably rang the wrong number, and I'll be glad if you don't call again," he lashed his frustration on the person on the other end, before they could even got a word outside their mouth.
"Well, that was a quite unexpected reaction, Douglas," a male voice spoke with a thick accent, chuckling over the sound of paper rustling, as Dougie could infer from the noise in the background.
"I'm sorry, who are you, again?" he pushed himself against the headboard, now more interested in the mysterious caller, as the other boy clearly knew him from somewhere, even if Dougie himself couldn't exactly guess who it was.
"Douglas Poynter, right?" The stranger cleared his throat. "It's from the band audition you went to last week?"
"Yes?" Dougie could feel his heart start to beat faster, his palms getting considerably sweaty, whilst he tried his hardest to forget about his own emotions and just focus on the voice speaking to him.
"We're sorry about taking so long to get back to you, but I'm calling to let you know that you're our new band mate," the voice all but beamed over the phone.
"Holy fuck," was all that escaped Dougie's lips, he tumbling on his way outside the bedroom, speeding up to go tell the good news to his sister.
"You what?" Mrs. Poynter asked, clearly bewildered after hearing the news from her son.
"I'm in a band, and I'm moving with them into the band house," Dougie balled his hands into fists, knuckles turning white from the excessive force he was applying; he knew it wouldn't go smooth with his mum.
For two hours from then, Mrs. Poynter painted a horrifying scenario in which Dougie would just end up homeless and living under a bridge for not pursuing his degree, quitting his last year in school to join a bunch of equally crazy kids that didn't know a thing about real life and responsibilities of an adult's life.
Of course, he tried to argument back, but he knew too well –almost 18 years of experience– that once she was on a roll about something, the woman was pretty much unstoppable, like a great force of the nature, like a tornado or a tsunami. The first two times he tried to interrupt her only added a whole speech of how that was the least worse of the cases, and brought up the possibility of Dougie's new band mates actually try to harvest his organs in the middle of night and dispose of his body in many plastic bags around the town.
"Can you please believe in me?" he pleaded with gleaming eyes, hugging his mother tightly. "Just for once?"
Taken by surprise, Mrs. Poynter started crying, telling him how could she possibly be okay with handing her son to a bunch of strangers and an unknown future, and reassuring that she more than anyone believed in his talent, making Dougie also cry on her shoulder.
"You're not losing me, Mum," he smiled through tears. "I'm going to make you so proud. Just wait and see!"
Nerves got the best of Dougie, and he sort of had frozen on the passenger seat of his family's car, watching a modestly sized house in which he would properly meet the guys. Daniel –or Danny, like the boy had told Dougie– said he would get along well with the other guitarist, telling him how nice and wonderful the Tom guy was, making Dougie question if they already knew each other for a long time. They sure sounded awfully close.
"I'm going with you," are the last words he would like to hear from his mother's mouth, but he already anticipated much. "I'm not going to just give some strangers take care of my underage son."
"I already told you they think I'm 19, mum!" Dougie snapped his neck to look at her, fearing that someone might have heard them. "You want this to work, right?"
"Ok, ok, but I'm still meeting them," she stated, getting out the car to show that the matter wasn't up to discussion.
Grabbing his bass and luggage, Dougie made his way to the front door of his new home, his mother tailing right behind him. Nervously pressing the door bell, it didn't take long till steps could be heard from behind the door, followed by a muffled thud, laughter and a bunch of indiscernible noise.
"Hello, Douglas," a brown-eyed blond opened the door smiling from ear to ear. "I'm Thomas Fletcher. Just call me Tom."
"Hi, Tom!" Dougie took Tom's hand and shook it. "This is my mum."
"Nice meeting you, Mrs. Poynter," he kissed the older woman hand. "You got a very talented son, ma'am."
"Thank you, Thomas," she giggled, impressed with the boy's gallant ways, not noticing that he winked at Dougie, probably showing how he expected to see worried parents at their door.
Tom ushered the Poynters inside the house, telling them to not mind the mess, as he and Danny just had moved two days before and didn't really have the time to put everything in place, mainly because they got tired to the bone in the first day, and then went out to celebrate on the second day. Plus, they would get the work done faster with two more pair of hands.
"Speaking of Danny, where is he?" Dougie looked around, finding it strange to not see the brunet boy; he could swear he heard his laugh when he first got there.
"You can start helping now," Dougie found himself being pulled over to a couple of big boxes and a lot of random stuff in a big pile that seemed to be shaking. "Help me dig him before he suffocates," Tom points to the pile that now seemed to be grumbling something.
"I thought tha' was my end," Danny finally stood up, dusting himself and spitting a guitar pick out. "How did it even got in there," he chuckled, before finally acknowledging their visitors.
The freckled boy pulled Dougie into a quick hug, and proceeded to greet Dougie's mum in a manner mirroring Tom's earlier actions.
"Now that I know you two are lovely lads, I can at least be a bit more at ease," she said, kissing Dougie and bidding them all goodbye.
"Now, let's get you to your room, shall we?" Tom smiled, closing the door behind him. "Me and Dan already picked ours, because we were here first, obviously."
"Wow, that's so much bigger than my old room," Dougie breathed in awe, taking in all the space that he now would call his room.
"It's actually smaller than our rooms," Danny shrugged. "I would have chosen it if it wasn't so far from To–"
"Come on, let's test your mattress," Tom pushed Danny out the way, looking a bit flustered, and for some reason it was almost as if he didn't want the boy to finish his sentence.
The next second, Dougie was thrown on his mattress by his limbs, the other two laughing and jumping on it with him. He knew it wouldn't possibly be the behaviour expected of young adults, but he didn't care about it at all; he just wanted to have some fun with his new friends.
Soon they were all panting on the floor, limbs splayed, as each tried to hold the laughter and just catch their own breath, but failing miserably in doing so. If that was how his days were going to be from that moment on, Dougie was more than glad that he got in the band with some "random strangers", how his mother had put it before meeting Tom and Danny.
"You know what's funny?" Dougie started giggling again. "Mum thought you guys would harvest my organs whilst I was asleep, and dispose of my body along the trash," he was now laughing with all his being, shaking almost convulsively.
"She did?" Tom asked, eyeing Danny, who was looking back at him with a malicious glint in the eye. Both started laughing in a sinister way, and Dougie stopped dead in his tracks when he realised their evil eyes on him.
"Guys?" he risked, panicking when he felt Danny's large hands grab his wrists and Tom quickly sitting on his legs, completely immobilising him. "Guys, you are freaking me out!"
"I don't remember saying that we wouldn't do anything to you," Tom's face had 'mischief' written all over it.
"Me neither," Danny's head also hovered above Dougie's face, making cold sweat wet his temple.
That's when a merciless and ruthless torture started, Tom's hands acting like blooming drunk tarantulas wandering about Dougie's sides, making it hard for the younger boy to breathe and form logical and coherent sentences between huffs, desperately trying to wriggle his way out of the older boys' grasp, being tickled until he almost passed out.
"You two are the worst," he tried to compose himself, kicking Tom's shin and landing a punch on Danny's shoulder. "I hope the other guy–"
Dougie stopped mid-sentence. Ever since he put his feet inside the house, neither of the guys said anything about the 4th member. Maybe they didn't find anyone good with the audition for a drummer? Dougie was about to voice his curiosity, when the door bell rang, Tom and Danny bolting downstairs to get the door, being followed close behind by him.
"And now we're complete," Tom beamed at both Dougie and Danny, letting a tall brunet with blue eyes– and in insanely good shape– inside the house. "Danny, Dougie, this is Harry."