If I Were Gay
Twist
Summary: Herbert and Pip go out drinking. Unexpected things happen. Songfic to Stephen Lynch's "If I Were Gay."
A/n: Sometimes it's best not to ask. This is one of those times. Parody of Herbert/Pip slash. Not graphic. // signifies the beginning and ends of the song lyrics. Have a great time.
Disclaimer: The song "If I Were Gay" belongs to Stephen Lynch. Herbert and Pip belong to Charles Dickens. Everything else may be divided up amongst yourselves.
~
"Oh, come on then, Pip. One night of fun? Please?" I looked into Herbert's pleading eyes. He gave me the lower-lip tremble that made him look like a wounded puppy. I hurled a pen at him.
"No. I have to study."
"Please, Handel? I promise we won't be out that late! I'll get you home in time to study your mathematics or whatever you happen to be working on at the immediate time! Please, just one night?"
I sighed. "I suppose just for a couple drinks." And with a twisted, demonic, un-puppy-like grin Herbert grabbed my arm and we headed out for the nearest pub.
Several Hours Later . . .
"I tol' you . . . you . . . drinks we would only be for few us." Herbert slurred something incomprehensible. I was slumped over onto the table and Herbert likewise. I suddenly noticed the presence of a human hand on my knee.
//Here we are,
Dear old friend,
You and I
Drunk again//
"Wha' are you doin' . . . Herb?" I nudged my drink closer to me.
"I like you a lot . . ." he slurred. There came a drunken giggle.
//Laughs have been had
And tears have been shed
Maybe the whiskey
Has gone to my head//
"I like you too, Herb . . ." My mind flowed to a slightly more sober level. My companion's hand was fiddling with the fastenings of my trousers. I pushed him away. Something was not right.
"I mean, I really really like you, sort of thing . . . You're pretty, y'see?"
//But if I were gay
I would give you my heart
And if I were gay
You'd be my work of art//
"You're pretty too, Herb," I muttered back, taking a swig of the lovely amber fluid. "But I'm not sure I like you that way that way, y'see?" I nudged the hand away from my trouser fastenings again. Herbert giggled.
"I think I love you, Pip. I think I have. You're pretty."
//And if I were gay
We would swim in romance
But I'm not gay
So get your hand out of my pants//
"Out of the pants, Herb," I warned, drunkenly. That was my first mistake when I look back upon the incident.
"But I like your pants; they're warm 'n stuff . . ."
"Yes, Herb. They are very warm. You bought them for me." I giggled and took a swig. His hand was slowly migrating down the front of my trousers.
"I really, really, really like you Pip. A lot. I want you."
//It's not that I don't care
I do
I just don't see myself
In you//
"What are you alluding to, Herb? Are you being silly again?"
"Ah, no Handel. I really like you a lot." It was at times like this that his bizarre accent came out. His hand was also fishing around in a very sensitive part of my anatomy.
"We're drunk, you know," I said, slapping the front of my pants.
"Yep."
//Another time
Another scene
I'd be right behind you
If you know what I mean//
"Pip, I think I want to kiss you."
"I'm-er your than drunk am," I said after finishing off a rather large swing. Herbert did the same, and the beer dribbled down his chin like a golden waterfall. His hand poked something sensitive. I squirmed.
//And if I were gay
I would give you my soul
And if I were gay
I would give you my whole . . . being!//
"I like to watch you dress sometimes," Herbert confessed. His hand groped around in the front of my drawers. I admit, I may have nudged it a little.
"I do the same, but I never really like it a lot. Except when you took off all your clothes. You always leave something on, damn you." I took another deep drink of the beer. Herbert smiled. Through my kaleidoscope of alcohol, I noticed his body slumping more forward than was probably necessary.
//And if I were gay
We would tear down the walls
But I'm not gay
So won't you stop cupping my . . . hand!//
"Out!" squealed, giving the front of my own trousers a sharp tap. Herbert laughed and removed his hand. I finished my beer. "Home we should go, oh yes we should go," I sang tunelessly.
"Okay," Herbert said. We helped one another to our feet and staggered out of the door into the London night and homeward bound.
//We've never hugged
We've never kissed
I've never been intimate
With your fist//
Back at the apartment we engaged in some of the sloppiest kissing Herbert said he had ever done. I had never kissed anyone's mouth before, so I wasn't to know. We rolled over each other on the floor and struggled with the fastenings on one another's coats, for some reason. Herbert managed to get me pinned under the kitchen table, and we engaged in stationary affection for a moment or two.
//You have opened
Brand new doors
Get over here and
Drop your drawers!//
Herbert's pants feel down around his ankles. I grinned. This promised to be the beginning of a wonderful new relationship.
Twist
Summary: Herbert and Pip go out drinking. Unexpected things happen. Songfic to Stephen Lynch's "If I Were Gay."
A/n: Sometimes it's best not to ask. This is one of those times. Parody of Herbert/Pip slash. Not graphic. // signifies the beginning and ends of the song lyrics. Have a great time.
Disclaimer: The song "If I Were Gay" belongs to Stephen Lynch. Herbert and Pip belong to Charles Dickens. Everything else may be divided up amongst yourselves.
~
"Oh, come on then, Pip. One night of fun? Please?" I looked into Herbert's pleading eyes. He gave me the lower-lip tremble that made him look like a wounded puppy. I hurled a pen at him.
"No. I have to study."
"Please, Handel? I promise we won't be out that late! I'll get you home in time to study your mathematics or whatever you happen to be working on at the immediate time! Please, just one night?"
I sighed. "I suppose just for a couple drinks." And with a twisted, demonic, un-puppy-like grin Herbert grabbed my arm and we headed out for the nearest pub.
Several Hours Later . . .
"I tol' you . . . you . . . drinks we would only be for few us." Herbert slurred something incomprehensible. I was slumped over onto the table and Herbert likewise. I suddenly noticed the presence of a human hand on my knee.
//Here we are,
Dear old friend,
You and I
Drunk again//
"Wha' are you doin' . . . Herb?" I nudged my drink closer to me.
"I like you a lot . . ." he slurred. There came a drunken giggle.
//Laughs have been had
And tears have been shed
Maybe the whiskey
Has gone to my head//
"I like you too, Herb . . ." My mind flowed to a slightly more sober level. My companion's hand was fiddling with the fastenings of my trousers. I pushed him away. Something was not right.
"I mean, I really really like you, sort of thing . . . You're pretty, y'see?"
//But if I were gay
I would give you my heart
And if I were gay
You'd be my work of art//
"You're pretty too, Herb," I muttered back, taking a swig of the lovely amber fluid. "But I'm not sure I like you that way that way, y'see?" I nudged the hand away from my trouser fastenings again. Herbert giggled.
"I think I love you, Pip. I think I have. You're pretty."
//And if I were gay
We would swim in romance
But I'm not gay
So get your hand out of my pants//
"Out of the pants, Herb," I warned, drunkenly. That was my first mistake when I look back upon the incident.
"But I like your pants; they're warm 'n stuff . . ."
"Yes, Herb. They are very warm. You bought them for me." I giggled and took a swig. His hand was slowly migrating down the front of my trousers.
"I really, really, really like you Pip. A lot. I want you."
//It's not that I don't care
I do
I just don't see myself
In you//
"What are you alluding to, Herb? Are you being silly again?"
"Ah, no Handel. I really like you a lot." It was at times like this that his bizarre accent came out. His hand was also fishing around in a very sensitive part of my anatomy.
"We're drunk, you know," I said, slapping the front of my pants.
"Yep."
//Another time
Another scene
I'd be right behind you
If you know what I mean//
"Pip, I think I want to kiss you."
"I'm-er your than drunk am," I said after finishing off a rather large swing. Herbert did the same, and the beer dribbled down his chin like a golden waterfall. His hand poked something sensitive. I squirmed.
//And if I were gay
I would give you my soul
And if I were gay
I would give you my whole . . . being!//
"I like to watch you dress sometimes," Herbert confessed. His hand groped around in the front of my drawers. I admit, I may have nudged it a little.
"I do the same, but I never really like it a lot. Except when you took off all your clothes. You always leave something on, damn you." I took another deep drink of the beer. Herbert smiled. Through my kaleidoscope of alcohol, I noticed his body slumping more forward than was probably necessary.
//And if I were gay
We would tear down the walls
But I'm not gay
So won't you stop cupping my . . . hand!//
"Out!" squealed, giving the front of my own trousers a sharp tap. Herbert laughed and removed his hand. I finished my beer. "Home we should go, oh yes we should go," I sang tunelessly.
"Okay," Herbert said. We helped one another to our feet and staggered out of the door into the London night and homeward bound.
//We've never hugged
We've never kissed
I've never been intimate
With your fist//
Back at the apartment we engaged in some of the sloppiest kissing Herbert said he had ever done. I had never kissed anyone's mouth before, so I wasn't to know. We rolled over each other on the floor and struggled with the fastenings on one another's coats, for some reason. Herbert managed to get me pinned under the kitchen table, and we engaged in stationary affection for a moment or two.
//You have opened
Brand new doors
Get over here and
Drop your drawers!//
Herbert's pants feel down around his ankles. I grinned. This promised to be the beginning of a wonderful new relationship.