fandomtownies | Groovy Tunes, Sunday

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Groovy Tunes, Sunday

Jono had an interesting Parents' Weekend going on, thus far. No visitors, no reason to hold office hours, since he hadn't actually taught anything in a while... Hannibal had a black eye that he intended to relentlessly tease him about (while secretly being a little proud of the kid who had given it to him, Jono figured it was a black eye that had been long coming), and The Smiths had a 5-LP boxed set reissue of The Queen Is Dead coming out that Jono was desperately trying to figure out preorders for.

Not for the shop, mind. For himself.

So, that was going to be his day, today. Beating his face against the internet and trying to make swag come out. When he was done with that he could get back to organizing events or something.

[OOC: Open!]

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To be fair, Hannibal was not-so-secretly rather proud of Sparkle, too.

Which didn't make his face hurt any less, but it would heal.

He came in, looked around, and headed for Jono, a faintly exasperated smile on his face. "Have you been attempting to buy something? The bank phoned about potential fraud."

Jono sulked a little bit at that.

//You'd think they'd know by now that one of us is a fan of English Rock,// he muttered, shaking his head. //Th'Smiths are doing a re-release of The Queen Is Dead, and if the bank thinks that me trying to sell my soul to Pledge Music in exchange for it is fraud, they clearly haven't been paying attention.//

He had a mighty need.

Hannibal tried not to broadcast his amusement too strongly, if only because he'd probably get teased about his black eye once more.

"In that case, you had better call them back." He handed Jono the card he'd written the number on. "I take it that's an album you particularly enjoy? And I trust you aren't actually selling your soul?"

These things had to be asked, Jono!

//Only sold my soul th'once,// Jono muttered, wrinkling his nose, //and the record was a bonus, it wasn't actually part of the deal.//

Still, he took the card and pulled out his phone all the same.

//But yes, I'm a bit of a Smiths fan. Not as vehemently as some bands,// ah, Pearl Jam, you understood him, //But enough to give the bank cause for concern, apparently.//

"I don't remember you playing them for me," Hannibal said. "Unless perhaps it has only been in passing."

//Was more obsessed when I was younger,// Jono admitted, lowering the phone for a moment. //This is largely a nostalgia thing, I'll admit.//

But it was his nostalgia thing, damn it.

Hannibal nodded. "Perhaps when you get the album, then, you can play it for me."

//Just as soon as I give the bank what-for,// Jono agreed, very nearly cheerfully. //Give me a moment?//

Committing fraud. Honestly. Next time he'd just order it on the Groovy Tunes account and buy it from himself, damn it.

"Of course," Hannibal agreed, amused. "Enjoy yourself."

He'd be looking at the sheet music for anything good.

Jonothon looked thoroughly disgruntled as he pulled out his phone and made a phone call.

A few minutes later, after hanging up, rolling his eyes, and muttering, //berk,// he looked back toward Hannibal. //Find anything good?//

"Nothing today," Hannibal said. "I take it you've straightened out the bank?"

//Straightened out as they ever are,// Jono muttered. //Give me another moment, would you please?//

Yes, yes he was reaching over to finish placing that pre-order. He wasn't going through this again if he could help it.

//Honestly.//

Hannibal smiled. "As long as you like."

A little bit more typing, a bit of annoyed squinting at the screen, and then Jono was sitting back and clicking over to the next tab to open the confirmation e-mail.

//Okay. Good. Victory.//

He'd be more excited about this once his records arrived.

//Remind me to just buy it through th'shop next time. Bloody hell.//

Hannibal chuckled. "I shall do my best."

He came and leaned on the counter next to Jono. "So tell me about the nostalgia of this. What makes it so worth remembering?"

//Besides the 'music from home' angle, you mean?//

Admittedly, that was at least part of it. Jono shrugged and shook his head.

//Here, give me a minute...//

Off to youtube he went, yes.

Hannibal listened, closing his eyes to focus on the music. His lips quirked upward a bit at the chorus, but he gave it his full attention for the entire length of the song, only then nodding and opening his eyes.

"The layering is particularly interesting, although there isn't as much variation as I care for personally," he said. He smiled at Jono. "But I can see several reasons it would resonate with you."

Jono gave his shoulders a shrug.

//Much as I appreciate musical complexity, you know most of my interest in music is about how I connect to it emotionally,// he agreed. //I, ah... This one's always spoken to me. Even before all this.//

Vague gesture toward fire. Equally vague shrug.

Hannibal smiled and put his hand out to stroke Jono's skin and fire. "Tell me about it. Or let me feel what it is for you."

Jono considered that for a few seconds, and then nodded, his flame curling up to dance around Hannibal's hand.

//I'll show you, then,// he replied. //It's a journey, but some emotions, I don't know if I can really put words to.//

Sometimes he didn't want to quantify why he liked something, beyond a vague because I do.

Hannibal understood that; as much as he enjoyed words, sometimes they got in the way. And he did love sharing things like this with Jono.

He left his hand in Jono's flame, stroking his cheek, and leaned forward to press against him, breathing in the scent of his hair, his flames around them both.

Well, Jono was going to have a difficult time turning the music back on to play for the both of them if he was pressed up against Hannibal like this, but that was where being a telepath came in handy. He opened his mind's eye a little for Hannibal to step into his 'front room,' of sorts, a warm nothing space with room for two.

//Might as well?//

Hannibal stepped in, smiled, and kissed Jono. "Show me."

Jono leaned in for that kiss. God, he'd move into his own head forever just to be able to do that if he thought he could get away with it. And he was grinning as he leaned back again and music started to play.

The nothing that they were sitting in lit up almost immediately, a sort of cool steel grey slipping into the space around them, waves and twists in it moving less with the beat, and more with Jono's emotions.

Hannibal watched the colors and shapes, let the emotions wash over and through him, and listened as the music played. He leaned into Jono and wrapped his arms around him and just experienced it.

And Jono held Hannibal close as the music played as well, his eyes closed even there inside his mind.

I am the son and the heir
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar

Familiar sounds and smells, the way that songs sometimes conjured. Nothing terribly coherent, but still almost tangible. Whispers of his great-granddad's voice, a brief taste of a favourite meal, the weather, the traffic, the ringing of bells...

I am the son and heir
of nothing in particular

Fire. The whole room went up in flames, went black around them with tongues of flame flicking upwards. It wasn't Jonothon's fire, though. It was something else, something he longed for, so much it ached, an angry red tattoo and a pair of glowing eyes and picking up a guitar for the first time and--

You shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way

Flatscan.

I am human and I need to be loved

Fire.

Just like everybody else does...

Jonothon was leaning in and kissing Hannibal hard, there, the music wrapping around him, his hands holding him right and a sort of desperation creeping through him like ink from that angry red tattoo.

Hannibal kissed back, his arms and lips and mind strong and fierce and calm, taking everything that Jono wanted to give to him, and meeting it with acceptance, joy, and understanding.

Everything was fire, now. Fire and desperation and-

There's a club-

Pain. Ripping him apart and taking out the entire room with him.

-and you leave on your own--

On a stretcher, begging for the pain to stop.

--and you want to die--

Being talked off a ledge.

And fire. And clinging. And kissing. And ripping at Hannibal's clothes right there in his head and crying and laughing and--

I am human and I need to be loved
just like everybody else does

Hannibal didn't try to fight or calm the fire - he reveled in it. Let Jono do as he liked, licked his tears and swallowed his laughs in kisses, ran hungry hands over his back and dug them into his sides.

Yes.

And then the song was over, and it was just the two of them in that warm emptiness again, Jono writhing against Hannibal, fingers digging into his back and fire and blood and liquid lust pouring out of cracks and tears that spread across his body like ink.

This had been his song, once.

Sometimes, it surfaced again, and every time it did, it was always more his than it had ever been before.

Hannibal spread those colors, the red of fire and blood and the sparkle of tears, the liquid that seeped from Jono's open cracks - painted them along Jono's skin and his own in whorls and loops, enjoying the artistry of it.

He added his own fierce emotions and affection to them, gold filling in the cracks and twining with the rest of it. They were beautiful like this, beautiful on their own and more beautiful together.

"See," Jono murmured with a mouth of fire and teeth that he was burying in Hannibal's throat, breathing him in as he spoke. "Music."

It was a delicious thing. Maybe he'd have to share more songs with Hannibal this way.

"Mm." Hannibal leaned into Jono, enjoying the teeth and fire, and closed his own mouth around Jono's ear, tasting it. "I might grow fond of this song after all."

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Groovy Tunes, Sunday

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