(c) In Vogue (PG-13)

by **rock and/or roll** Sat 28 Nov 2009, 3:25 pm

Title: In Vogue
Author: Smashed Pumpkin
Rating: PG-13 for swearing, sexual references and drug references
Fandom: Marilyn Manson- characters are Manson (Brian) and Twiggy (Jeordie)
Type: One-shot/drabble
Summary:
Sex, drugs, rock and roll.

Emphasis on the sex.

Note: I wrote this for a word drabble contest on mibba- my word was 'popular.'
Also, the lyrics in italics are from the songs Popular by Darren Hayes and User Friendly by Marilyn Manson

In Vogue.

The room smelt of fish, melting hairspray, and sweat.

Beige sheets were holding it all in, draping around Twiggy as he lay there in the middle with limbs sprawled out, nonchalant and utterly fucked (in more ways than one). Make-up was bleeding down his face, and Brian wasn’t sure whether it belonged to Twiggy-gone-Jeordie or the frazzle-haired girl he’d passed, leaving the room with her skirt somewhere around her chest.

Either way it looked like a crime scene.

Brian sat down in the armchair by the side of the bed- it looked like a throne and smelt like pot, and as he settled Jeordie flopped over and shoved his smeared face into the pillows.

“Did you get a number?”

“No, no.” Jeordie sighed almost peacefully into the material. “But...that’s alright. She’ll find me later. They always do, they love me.”

“They’re sexual leeches. They love what you do for them.”

I want to be popular.

“Don’t I get a bedtime story?”

Jeordie’s lip tweaked, his left-over make-up cracking a little. His eyes were shining and Brian couldn’t quite tell whether it was from the weird coppery-lighting or the sex or the different shades of green he’d inhaled. But they looked at him with silent expectation and Brian sighed, climbing onto the bed next to his best friend.

“There once was a man called Jeordie. He annoyed his friend Brian, so karma hit him with a bus which paralysed him from the waist down and he could no longer whore around. Jeordie was sad. The end.”

Jeordie considered this, the look of soft amusement never changing. “You didn’t build up the story, not enough exposition. And I could still go down on other people. And there’s nothing wrong with finding enjoyment in casual sex.”

“Enjoyment being the key word there.”

She says ‘I’m not in love but I’m gonna fuck you ‘til someone better comes along.’

His eyes were red now, and Brian knew it wasn’t the pot or the lack of sleep (though he definitely had those two in spades). Sitting there on the bed, still in his stage clothes with make-up smudged in every direction on his face, Jeordie looked like some kind of zombie mime. All amusement was gone as he looked up at Brian.

“You know, I felt kinda bad ‘cause I thought I was using them. But it was the other way around all the time, wasn’t it.” Brian tried to speak but- “If you say you told me so I will have to punch you. Hard. In the balls.”

Brian stepped out of the doorway and into the room: it would have been nice enough with its white bed sheets and cream carpet, if the bed sheets weren’t creased to pieces and the carpet wasn’t stained with what smelt like metho. He just clambered onto the bed though, as he’d done many times before.

“I’m sure I couldn’t make you feel any shittier than you do already, right?”

Jeordie sighed into the warmth of the room; he looked the most dejected he’d ever been.

And Brian went on- “Look, this industry is messed up. There’re people everywhere looking to get rich off someone else’s name and creep their way up from the bottom. It’s shitty, but it’s fact.”

Both became silent for a moment as the words stung the air, Jeordie’s clumped eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he contemplated.

“Besides, I did tell you so.”

And it was with a wry smile that Brian darted over the reeking patch of alcohol and out the door before Jeordie could so much as form a fist.