![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: Operation ‘Take Care of Brendon’
Author: MistressKat /kat_lair
Fandom: Bandom, PATD/Empires
Pairing: Jon/Tom and pre Jon/Tom/Brendon
Rating: PG
Word count: 863
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: “We’re here to celebrate you finishing another successful year of education,” Jon announces.
Author notes: Written as a treat fordreamersdare who recently broken the 12k word count in her Masters dissertation… She requested a little something in the ‘Access All Areas’ ‘verse. Previously fics: Access All Areas (or: How Spencer Smith Got His Groove Back) and Of Cocoa Beans and Cautious Hearts
Brendon’s last exam of the year is on Friday afternoon. He’d grumble about the timing but some of his house mates have a Monday morning exam to still look forward to so he’s wisely been keeping his mouth shut. The exam hall is in one of the oldest buildings of the university and the thick stone walls seem to have hoarded all the coldness of the winter for the express purpose of releasing it on the stressed students in May. Trying to make your hand-writing legible when you’re shaking with cold or trying to make a half decent argument when your brain is sluggish like a hibernating snake is no way to win top marks. Quite frankly, at this point Brendon will be happy to just pass… Though a good grade would be nice of course.
He stays for the whole exam period even though the last twenty minutes are mostly spent adding commas and shivering. Once the time is called, Brendon gathers his bag and jacket and emerges blinking into the early evening sunlight. It’s not that late really and it is Friday but he is exhausted and feeling more than a little at loose ends now that the month of cramming and exams is finally finished. Honestly, he’s not really sure what to do with himself now or where to go and so he ends up just sitting down on the steps while the rest of class files around him with occasional waves and pats to the back. After the first few exams, people, Brendon included, had been interested in dissecting the questions and comparing their answers but by now everyone is out of fucks to give.
Gradually, the crowd thins out, the examiners walking out last, carrying boxes full of scripts. Brendon watches them disappear from sight, then watches his bus go past, then a pair of pigeons squabbling over a sandwich wrapper. He’s trying to gather enough co-ordination to get up and go home and maybe sleep for a week but the focus to actually do that seems to be slipping away like sand through his fingers.
“Did someone cut your strings?” a familiar voice suddenly asks, followed immediately by another, equally familiar one advising him to: “Tell us who it was and we’ll fight them for you.”
“And by that he means,” Jon says, sitting down next to Brendon on the steps, “that we’ll take some unflattering photos of them and post them on the internet.”
“The most vicious of burns!” Tom agrees, grinning down at them. “Whatcha doin’ Brendon?” he sing-songs.
“I… What?” Brendon looks from Jon to Tom and back again, somehow unable to make sense of the fact that they are actually here. “Shouldn’t that be my question?” he asks finally, not even bothering to try and suppress the smile spreading over his face. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Today was your last exam, right?” Jon raises an eyebrow at him.
“Yes, but…”
“Well, it should be obvious then!” Tom reaches down with both hands and when Jon grabs one Brendon instinctively follows suit. He’s pulled to his feet, bouncing a little off both Tom and Jon as the three of them stagger about some to find their balance on the steps.
“We’re here to celebrate you finishing another successful year of education,” Jon announces once they have all made it safely to the street level.
“You… really?” Brendon suddenly feels stupidly close to tears, the stress of the last weeks tumbling over in the face of such an open display of affection.
“Yes, really,” Tom promises. His voice is softer now, like he’s sensing how overwhelmed Brendon is feeling. He tucks Brendon under his arm for a brief moment, squeezing tightly.
“C’mon then,” Jon says, steering both of them toward the parking lot where their old, beaten up transit van is waiting. “Let’s get this party started!”
“Where are we going?” Brendon fumbles the seat belt three times before Tom calmly takes over and clicks it into place for him. “I really appreciate this guys, but I don’t think I’m up to clubbing or anything…” Brendon smiles sheepishly, feeling bad because Jon and Tom have gone to the trouble to come and get him and plan something, but he honestly doesn’t think he’s going to see the midnight and the thought of something like Ruby Rage with loud music and louder drinks is honestly making his skin crawl right now.
“No clubbing,” Jon promises, shifting gears and pulling the van into the evening traffic. “We were thinking of something a bit more… low key. With just the three of us?” The last part comes out like a question, as if he isn’t quite sure Brendon would be up it. Which, seriously? Sheer craziness.
“Disney marathon, pizza and ice-cream,” Tom elaborates in a clear attempt to sweeten the deal.
Brendon sighs happily, burrowing deeper into the frayed upholstery. He’s wedged in between Jon and Tom, warm and safe and no longer feeling like he has nowhere to go. “Sounds perfect,” he says, closing his eyes.
Over his dozing form, Jon and Tom exchange pleased little smiles. Operation ‘Take Care of Brendon’ is a go.
***
Title: Operation ‘Take Care of Brendon’
Author: MistressKat /
kat_lair Fandom: Bandom, PATD/Empires
Pairing: Jon/Tom and pre Jon/Tom/Brendon
Rating: PG
Word count: 863
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: “We’re here to celebrate you finishing another successful year of education,” Jon announces.
Author notes: Written as a treat for
dreamersdare who recently broken the 12k word count in her Masters dissertation… She requested a little something in the ‘Access All Areas’ ‘verse. Previously fics: Access All Areas (or: How Spencer Smith Got His Groove Back) and Of Cocoa Beans and Cautious HeartsBrendon’s last exam of the year is on Friday afternoon. He’d grumble about the timing but some of his house mates have a Monday morning exam to still look forward to so he’s wisely been keeping his mouth shut. The exam hall is in one of the oldest buildings of the university and the thick stone walls seem to have hoarded all the coldness of the winter for the express purpose of releasing it on the stressed students in May. Trying to make your hand-writing legible when you’re shaking with cold or trying to make a half decent argument when your brain is sluggish like a hibernating snake is no way to win top marks. Quite frankly, at this point Brendon will be happy to just pass… Though a good grade would be nice of course.
He stays for the whole exam period even though the last twenty minutes are mostly spent adding commas and shivering. Once the time is called, Brendon gathers his bag and jacket and emerges blinking into the early evening sunlight. It’s not that late really and it is Friday but he is exhausted and feeling more than a little at loose ends now that the month of cramming and exams is finally finished. Honestly, he’s not really sure what to do with himself now or where to go and so he ends up just sitting down on the steps while the rest of class files around him with occasional waves and pats to the back. After the first few exams, people, Brendon included, had been interested in dissecting the questions and comparing their answers but by now everyone is out of fucks to give.
Gradually, the crowd thins out, the examiners walking out last, carrying boxes full of scripts. Brendon watches them disappear from sight, then watches his bus go past, then a pair of pigeons squabbling over a sandwich wrapper. He’s trying to gather enough co-ordination to get up and go home and maybe sleep for a week but the focus to actually do that seems to be slipping away like sand through his fingers.
“Did someone cut your strings?” a familiar voice suddenly asks, followed immediately by another, equally familiar one advising him to: “Tell us who it was and we’ll fight them for you.”
“And by that he means,” Jon says, sitting down next to Brendon on the steps, “that we’ll take some unflattering photos of them and post them on the internet.”
“The most vicious of burns!” Tom agrees, grinning down at them. “Whatcha doin’ Brendon?” he sing-songs.
“I… What?” Brendon looks from Jon to Tom and back again, somehow unable to make sense of the fact that they are actually here. “Shouldn’t that be my question?” he asks finally, not even bothering to try and suppress the smile spreading over his face. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Today was your last exam, right?” Jon raises an eyebrow at him.
“Yes, but…”
“Well, it should be obvious then!” Tom reaches down with both hands and when Jon grabs one Brendon instinctively follows suit. He’s pulled to his feet, bouncing a little off both Tom and Jon as the three of them stagger about some to find their balance on the steps.
“We’re here to celebrate you finishing another successful year of education,” Jon announces once they have all made it safely to the street level.
“You… really?” Brendon suddenly feels stupidly close to tears, the stress of the last weeks tumbling over in the face of such an open display of affection.
“Yes, really,” Tom promises. His voice is softer now, like he’s sensing how overwhelmed Brendon is feeling. He tucks Brendon under his arm for a brief moment, squeezing tightly.
“C’mon then,” Jon says, steering both of them toward the parking lot where their old, beaten up transit van is waiting. “Let’s get this party started!”
“Where are we going?” Brendon fumbles the seat belt three times before Tom calmly takes over and clicks it into place for him. “I really appreciate this guys, but I don’t think I’m up to clubbing or anything…” Brendon smiles sheepishly, feeling bad because Jon and Tom have gone to the trouble to come and get him and plan something, but he honestly doesn’t think he’s going to see the midnight and the thought of something like Ruby Rage with loud music and louder drinks is honestly making his skin crawl right now.
“No clubbing,” Jon promises, shifting gears and pulling the van into the evening traffic. “We were thinking of something a bit more… low key. With just the three of us?” The last part comes out like a question, as if he isn’t quite sure Brendon would be up it. Which, seriously? Sheer craziness.
“Disney marathon, pizza and ice-cream,” Tom elaborates in a clear attempt to sweeten the deal.
Brendon sighs happily, burrowing deeper into the frayed upholstery. He’s wedged in between Jon and Tom, warm and safe and no longer feeling like he has nowhere to go. “Sounds perfect,” he says, closing his eyes.
Over his dozing form, Jon and Tom exchange pleased little smiles. Operation ‘Take Care of Brendon’ is a go.
***
no subject
on 2017-09-04 11:10 pm (UTC)It's in my dissemination plan to write within 6 months (ahahahahahahahaha). Figured I'd get it marked first to see if it was any good :D Have to consider journal options carefully though, because ethics delays fucked my sampling strategy and I ended up with a convenience sample rather than my carefully designed purposive sample *sighs*. That has ramifications. I also need to write a summary document for my participants/participating organisation. Because good research practice blahblahblah (which basically seems to mean THIS RESEARCH WILL NEVER END)
no subject
on 2017-09-07 08:16 pm (UTC)I think it's actually a rare study, certainly at masters/phd level and in social sciences, that ends up being anything else than a convenience sample when you scratch the surface. But yes, definitely try and get something out of it. You can't just keep all that new knowledge hidden...
no subject
on 2017-09-08 11:30 am (UTC)I think I have a weird attitude toward it, because so often my response is that no-one is going to die if it waits (and, you know, have worked in jobs where people might die if it waits, so tend to mean that when I say it...)
I think, especially with Masters, the timescales are crappy - you don't have long to drum up your participants and (for this one anyway) it fell smack bang in the summer holidays, which was rubbish for getting people. You don't have the luxury to do anything other than grasp desperately at the hand of anyone who agrees to take part. Hence crappy convenience samples. What worries me more is that so many students don't seem to consider that that might be a problem...
Maybe, maybe I will sit on the train on my approximate one million imminent journeys to London and write it then. Gotta use those hours somehow...