(no subject)

[violentist]

97) The worst feeling in the world:

being bored enough to fill this shit out.

98) The best feeling in the world:

Playing your music, your way, because it's what you want

99) Who sent this to you?: Fuck you Gabe

100) I tag:
The secretary is doing this. I'm sure you'll be enthralled by her answers.

Comments

[gabe-bryan.livejournal.com]

I will be interested. Yes.

[gabe-bryan.livejournal.com]

Two coffee cups, he puts both on the the reflective surface of the counter, leaning over towards the girl on the other side. Same girl? Jeanie? Joanie? Joanie like Mad Men? He can't remember. It doesn't matter.

Gabe slides his headphones off so they hang around his neck. In this shiny spaceship of corporate fuckery he knows he stands out. Unshaven, again. Cargos that cut off just below the knee. Faith No More t-shirt (he wonders if she has a clue who they are). Flip flops. Fuck he's loving the weather finally kicking into gear. Unpredictable but hot. The shower that had pelted down while he was on the subway clearing again into a steamy mess that seemed to spread the unseasonal humidity through the city. He really loved it.

"Hey, beautiful."

She smiles. Of course she smiles.

"I'm here to see the asshole upstairs. But the coffee is for you."

The pass is slid across the counter. He signs in.

Reason for Visit: Blow Job.

He smiles at the idea. Writes instead:

Reason for Visit: Personal.

"I want him all to myself for an hour - unless the building is on fire hold his calls, OK?"

Gabe couldn't imagine working a place like this. The weird homogeneity of the suits that come and go. The idea they're hip and cool because they don't wear fucking ties. The oppressive and overwhelming routine of it. He can't imagine being able to play the way Matthew can and then doing this. As good at this as he is. As pretty as his life style is. Doing this. Bullshit.

It makes him want to hit every button on the elevator just to see the reaction.

He doesn't.

Coming out at Matt's floor he walks right into the office, headphones still around his neck, drinking his coffee. He closes the door behind him. Locks it.

"You're an motherfucking piece of work, Matt."

The voice isn't whiny or plaintive. It's cool and calm and before the smirk, which Gabe is expecting to emerge across Matthew's face, can even emerge, Gabe's closed the space between them. Coffee on the desk he's suddenly got his hand on the back of Matt's neck. Gabe's a big guy, a strong guy, and there's just a small part of him that wants Matt to acknowledge it - and then his lips go straight for Matt's neck, a weird moment of contrast, a slightly submissive gesture as hands run down and he's unbuckling Matthew's belt.

"I've got an hour."

He sits on Matt's desk, still pulling on the belt.

"I want to watch real housewives."

And whether that's true or not - up to Matthew to decide.