Fandom: Corybantic Dance 2
Characters: Marshall Song, Jasper Whitaker
Warnings: Marshall’s mouth
Notes: And, yesterday was Marshall’s day, so today I have to get them back together! Marshall and Jasper are in their early 30s, here. Also, Jasper belongs to my former co-author Haya, so my nuances are way off, here.
Jasper scratched his head, looking down at the set list for the night. Then he scratched it again, because his head actually itched. Last night was absolutely the last time he was using hotel shampoo. It was nice to get out of town, though. It so rarely happened.
He and Marshall had been making the rounds of the Boston club scene for more years than either of them cared to think about — it wasn’t the Broadway career they’d dreamed of in high school, but it paid well, and they were famous enough that if they switched clubs, the crowd followed. The people were pretentious twats, sure, but they were less experienced pretentious twats than he’d dealt with in the theatre, and that just made them playable. After all this time, he and Marshall got everything they wanted from a club — not that they asked much, but club owners were notorious for screwing all the staff that weren’t working the bar. It was, he’d found, all about demanding the ridiculous, and then ‘settling’ for what they actually wanted. Usually, he let Marshall make the initial round of demands.
They’d settled this weekend in Connecticut with some rave promoters, last month, who’d heard one of his more personal sets back at the Divine, and wanted him to fill some space for them on Friday night. Left to his own devices, Jasper was mad about anything with enough bass to level a venue — especially if it was subtle and constant, rather than stompy. He wanted a sound that you heard with your teeth, fingers, and femurs. Tonight, he’d be shaking up a field full of kids he wished he could have been in high school. Nobody ever had parties like this, back then. Or, if they did, he sure wasn’t invited.
Jasper smiled at the thought of the parties he had gone to. They had been damned fun, all things considered — like that one Rocky Horror Halloween party at Adam’s, when they’d done Mike up as Rocky, gold lame thong and all. He couldn’t believe, even now, that Mike had gotten talked into that.
"Kitten, I’m home!" Marshall sniffed loudly, and kicked the door shut, behind him, loud enough to wake the whole floor. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find Indian food at this hour? Next time, let’s go to New York."
Jasper shook his head to clear the annoyance. Marshall was just like that, he always had been. "Yeah, yeah. Tell me that bag has Tandoori chicken in it, and I’ll love you forever."
Marshall put on the most overdone sad face he could muster. "But, I thought you did love me forever, kitten!"
"Hm, you’ve got me there. How about I’ll make the maids cry when they try to wash your pillowcase?" Jasper snatched the bag and started to unpack it onto the top of the dresser, sniffing each container as he set it aside.
"Ooh. Promise?" Marshall stepped up behind Jasper and nuzzled behind his ear, reaching out to tap on one dish. "It’s that one, I think."
Jasper opened the container, and Marshall had been correct. "Aw, you do love me, Spark! Who else would go out before noon to find me Tandoori chicken for breakfast?" He gave Marshall a quick kiss, careful not to smear the plastic-perfect makeup, little different from how he’d worn it when they were in school.
Marshall grabbed another two containers, swiftly popping off the cardboard lids and dumping some of the rice from one into the other. "I dunno. Probably nobody, except maybe your mom. I mean, seriously, your mom is still weird enough for that."
"Mm, that’s true. Did I tell you she’s on a cruise with Dad? Finally got him to go." Jasper sat down on the edge of the bed to eat.
"Isn’t your dad fucking terrified of boats?" Marshall stopped stuffing his face long enough to look at Jasper.
"Mom said she was going to go without him. That was scarier than the boat." Jasper grinned. "I’m expecting a call any minute, something about how he’s stuck in Port Au Prince because he got so seasick he couldn’t get back on the ship."
"Remind me why your parents are still married?"
"Hey, I put up with you, wiseass." Jasper leaned forward and swatted at Marshall’s hip.
Marshall cocked his hip into the swat, smirking down at Jasper. "Come on, I’m not that obnoxious. And you’re not a flaky hippy."
"You know, I always wondered how my mom would get along with your dad. I think we both know how my dad would get along with your mom." Jasper laughed.
"My mom and your dad? My good god, the shouting would never stop," Marshall mused. "But, I don’t think your mom’s Korean enough. I mean, if she were just a little more Korean, I could almost see it."
Jasper almost choked, laughing. "K-Korean…" snicker "My mother…" cackle "Would that make her like your mom?"
Marshall slid down the dresser, snorting and gurgling in amusement. "Holy shit, I hope not! But — But, you know, all those Japanese monster movies? Maybe they’re really about Korean mothers." snort "Korean mothers whose kids married Japanese people."
"So, does that make your mom Mothra?" Jasper wiped the tears from his face with his wrist, still laughing.
"Oh, that’s it. We’re getting a movie to blow time with, before the show tomorrow. I demand that you sit through Godzilla vs. Mothra with me."
"Only if we do our own voiceovers," Jasper insisted, around a mouthful of chicken.
"Your son! He is not Korean enough!" Marshall squawked.
"Damn foreigners move into my country! You can damn well be American like the rest of us!" Jasper roared.
The two of them looked at each other and burst out laughing again. As the laughter subsided, Jasper spoke again. "It’s been, what, twenty-five years, at least. Will our parents ever stop being funny?"
"Better question: Are other people’s parents this funny? And if they are, why aren’t more people laughing?" Marshall retorted.
They considered this, for a brief time, before simultaneously exclaiming, "Mike’s mom!"
The laughter didn’t stop until nearly lunch.