mercyrobot: (pingu don't want to)
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Don't get excited! This isn't that thing, and I think everyone's probably seen this by now. But as that thing is one possible future of this thing, I figured I'd better put it somewhere convenient. That thing is coming very soon.

Title: (Peace and) Fucking Off
Characters: Jones, Pingu (gen!?)
Rating: PG
Words: 645
Notes: Originally posted here at [livejournal.com profile] booshbattle for the prompt please make something nice happen to Pingu. There's really not much else to it.



Nathan somehow can't get his head round the fact that the projections don't actually need constant minding, and he wouldn't even take the remote that Pingu specially programmed for him. "Fuck it up and I'll put your balls in a hoover, yeah?" Nathan said with laughter and claps on the back.

So here he is, trying not to watch the animations he's made of Nathan's monkey cock collage. At least he gets a safe spot behind the sound board where no one's bumping into him or screaming nonsense in his face or trying to electrocute him. Claire brought him a drink but Nathan took it away. He stares into the middle distance wondering what would happen if he just picked up one of those turntables and threw it into the heaving crowd. He won't, of course. Even if he did, Nathan would probably find some way to turn it into some kind of artistic stunt that was entirely his own idea.

Someone snaps their fingers in front of his nose and he jumps. Turns out it's a good job Nathan didn't let him keep the drink, because he would've spilt it just now. As it is, he only knocks over a pile of CDs.

"Sorry, mate!" shouts the someone, and bends down to help pick them up. The someone is Jones, whom he knows by sight and reputation but has never actually spoken to. Pingu wouldn't have thought he'd be caught dead here.

"Not your fault," Pingu says, possibly not loudly enough to be heard.

"You're Pingu?"

Fuck, here it comes. Pingu nods.

"Claire said you did all the animation?" Jones says with a wave at one of the screens.

Wait, what? "I...yeah. I mean, Nathan told me what to--"

"Yeah, 'm not blamin' you for the zoo porn, that's got Barley's name pissed into it," Jones says with a laugh. He's leaning close enough to Pingu's ear that he can feel warm puffs of air. "But that thing with the bullets was well genius. I got a gig in a couple weeks that needs better shit than I can do, and I couldn't pay you much, but-- fuck, sorry, what'm I doing? I'm Jones."

"I know." What a stupid thing to say.

"Anyway, d'you think you'd--"

"Yes," Pingu says before he can talk himself out of it.

"Brilliant!" Jones smiles a smile that makes Pingu want to smile, and hands him a mobile. "Just dial it in there, I'll save it later." He puts the numbers in and tries to hand the phone back to Jones, but Jones is staring openmouthed at the stage and at the audience chanting 'Preacher man,' and at Dan slouching his way into the spotlight. "Fucking cunts. I can't fucking watch this. I'll ring you in the week, yeah?" Jones says without even looking at Pingu. He also walks off without his mobile. Calling after Jones does no good. Nathan will be too busy mooning over Dan to notice whether Pingu's there or not. He's able to slip quickly through the spaces between people and get out the back door in time to see Jones rifle through his pockets and mutter something.

"Looking for this?"

"Yeah, cheers," Jones says. His smile as he takes the mobile is completely different from the one earlier. It's got an angry twist to it, but it gentles a bit when he looks up at Pingu. "'m not normally a total prick who fucks off mid-conversation, sorry. C'mon and I'll buy you a drink somewhere less shit."

Pingu shakes his head and points back over his shoulder. "I've got to--"

"No you don't. Let the little shit blow out his P.A. His mum'll just buy him a new one, fuck him. You're apparently the only person in Hosegate I don't wanna actually murder right now, so...." Jones extends a hand.

Pingu takes it.


...What (maybe) happens next. (NC-17)

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