Combination [ST & JP]

#2: Duck Face & Loud Mouth

Warnings: Umm F-bomb in every other sentence (particularly the beginning), a whole lotta kinky shit, and most importantly some dominant Joe.

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1984

"FUCK YOU JOE, YOUR AMP IS SO FUCKING LOUD!"

"FUCK YOU STEVEN, JUST SING LOUDER!"

To say this was common was the understatement of the year.

The toxic twins were being toxic, always bickering over the same lame things, but it was those lame things that had eventually torn them apart in nineteen seventy nine, and quite literally kicked both of them right in the nuts, on a night in the ruts.

Back to the present, a whole five years later, and that tough love had them clawing at each other's throats in ways no one but them could understand.

The microphone stand was violently kicked over and sent crashing to the floor. An innocent stack of papers also suffered the same fate. The feedback from Joe's amp whined in everyone's ears as it received a swift foot to the marshall logo, and was roughly switched off.

Joe was whipping the strap that held his guitar from his shoulders (because it was a useless electric without an amplifier) and was placing it down in a pool of black wires that littered the floor just in time for Steven's rage to blow up in his face.

"Oh, you want me to sing louder?" Steven jested harshly, bunching the collar of his top in his fists. "I'll fuckin' SCREAM in your ear until you can't fuckin' hear your fucking guitar!"

"Get off you fuckin' asshole!" Joe scowled, shoving the irritatingly aggressive shoulders back.

He tried to avoid the brown eyes that were burning heat through chilled curses and the teeth that gritted and clamped the smooth jaw, but not even pulling his dark eyebrows downwards as far as they would go, could provide a worthy escape.

An outrageously loud crash of cymbals interrupted their arguing, because their three other bandmates were also sharing their studio, and had had enough of the tiresome fighting.

Again.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! BOTH OF YOU!"

Once Joey had pinched the golden cymbal between his fingers, there was finally a moment of peace, by which the death glares of two alpha males were no longer accompanied by shitty comebacks.

Movement occurred around them, a guitar and a bass set on stands, drumsticks clicked together, but Joe was not even close to giving in when Steven was beginning to smirk at him. If anything, it just deepened his anger in a curl of his fists.

"We just got back together," Tom said, somewhere to the left. Trying to calm them down as usual. "Do you really want to break up again?"

Steven snorted, but gratefully decided to move somewhere else that wasn't two centimetres in front of him. Take his stupid mouth with him so it wasn't a drooling distraction.

"Yeah Joe, wanna fuck off again?"

In the next three seconds Joe genuinely considered putting his fist to good use, but he decided against it. Channelled the good nature in him and didn't lose his temper so childishly.

"Fuck you Steven," Joe mumbled, crouching to pick up the neck of his abandoned guitar. "You're a dick."

"Fuck you Steven, You're a dick," was the mimicked reply.

Tightening his fingers so they pressed down into taught strings against the fretboard, Joe silently made the short trip to the corner of the studio where he could place his instrument down safely.