Name: Roommates, or 'How Ash Redfern Ruined My Life and Everything in it.'
Summary: Quinn regretted his sister putting the ad for a roommate in the newspaper for him every single day – especially since the person to reply was flamboyant and messy Ash Redfern, the polar opposite to clean and refined John Quinn.
Genre: Humour(?)
Notes: Oh god. I enjoy Quinn being a clean freak too fucking much. If you've read Ménage a 3, this first chapter will be like, REFERENCES EVERYWHERE.
Written to – Guy Love, mainly. (My iPod is trying to tell me something here.)
Chapter 1a
The door buzzed, driving pins of pain into Quinn's eyelids, he rolled over, trying to muffle the sound with a pillow, and settled back to sleep.
That is until the buzzing got worse, more often, eventually it began to buzz out the tune to Star Wars and Quinn could ignore it no more. He dragged himself from the bed, hitting the button to open the door without much thought and tried to manoeuvre his way into a pair of jeans when someone opened the front door and strode in. He had assumed it was Rashel, so he continued to shimmy into his Jeans, trying to find a shirt when someone loudly exclaimed:
"Jeeze, dude, put it away."
Quinn yelped and fell over his sofa in surprise, crashing into an empty bowl from the night before – clean that up quickly – and looked up.
The man looked weird from where Quinn was lying, his noise slightly too pointed and his eyes the colour of a wet day in Languedoc but partially hidden by his hair. Quinn hefted himself up, buttoning his jeans as he stood and said to the disgusted looking stranger, "Who are you and what do you want?"
"Came her about the ad." The stranger sat hesitantly down on the sofa, moving a pile of stray magazines and books so they could rest on the floor. Quinn couldn't help but wonder why his apartment was such a mess.
A mess by his standard was a pot noodle on the floor and a few stray cups, by the way, so the sheer carnage of his living room was enough to make him slap someone. He began to collect plates and cups as the stranger made himself at home.
"What ad?" he asked, and found a newspaper thrust into his hand.
He pulled his head through the shirt neck and exclaimed, "Applicants must have nice butts?"
"I think you'll find my butt is fine." The stranger said, "And you wrote the ad, so stop sounding so surprised."
It was then that it clicked for Quinn, at that very moment when his phone buzzed and he saw that he had a text from his sister Lily.
Bitch Queen, 2pm: I heard about Morgead moving out nd thought u might need some help paying rent.
Me, 2:23; I will end you. Slowly.
Bitch Queen, 2:24; Luv to see you try, lil bro.
"Alright," Quinn settled down, "I do need help paying the rent, but there's conditions."
"Go on."
"Do your own laundry. We split the food bill and the rent, I pay for electricity and all that shit. If you want to use the phone, you can help pay for the bill oh and try to avoid bringing girls back here."
The man looked about ready to interject, but Quinn cut him off.
"No men, either. I'm Quinn."
The man stood, grinning from ear to ear and pulled Quinn into a warm hug. Quinn stood in horrified shock as the man said in his year, "Thanks, man. The name's Ash."
Then he pulled back, fingers still gripping Quinn's shoulders and brightly exclaimed, "Imma go get my stuff, see you in a few!"
He was gone in a haze of too-strong-perfume and youthful enthusiasm. Quinn glanced down at where Ash'd been sitting, seeing a pile of the kid's loose change left there, and sat down in the space next to it, sighing heavily.
The kid – What kind of name is Ash anyway?- didn't seem like the clean type to respect someone else's boundaries. At all.
To be honest, he seemed a lot like the type of people that bullied him back in school for his height and called him a queer because he hung about with a group of girls and Galen Drache for Christ sake.
Well, time to call the landlord, he though to himself, digging about in his deep pockets - seriously, his pockets were incredibly deep, it was like a subspace suitcase in there - for his discarded and semi workable phone.
But after that, Quinn's eyes narrowed, I'm going to slaughter Lily.
AND THE SCENE IS SET.
I couldn't help but do the "A wet day in Languedoc" thing. Oh by the way, Languedoc is in southern France, and it's always sunny there. And I can't shake the headcanon of Lily texting like a adolescent boy. Ever.
WELP HEADCANON ASH EVERYWHERE. I'll try and make him less OOC next chapter I promise.
Chapter one part two soon, I promise. :'3