Maria (slave_o_spike) wrote,

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"The Hitcher" Chapter 5

So remember that little experiment of mine I started a while back? My bad fic experiment? Well, since I decided to start blogging and writing again, I decided to pick this up again too.

The idea was to write a chapter for half an hour and see what I came up with. So, in keeping with my New Year's resolution to write something everyday, if I don't have anything to blog about, and I don't have some fic or chapter written, I'll just write a chapter of this fic. So here's the next installment.

Title: The Hitcher
Chapter: Chapter 5
Pairing: Brian/Justin; some mild, not really there Justin/Ethan - in fact, they don't have all.
Genre: Badfic/Horror/Suspense
Rating: S for stupid
Summary: You've seen the movie. Come on. You haven't? Okay. Justin picks up more than he can handle (and I don't mean a raging case of herpes) when he picks up a hitchhiker. Chaos ensues.

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys or Cowlip. If the events that happened to Ethan in the past sound familiar to you, I assure you that it is only purely coincidental.

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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

Since it's been such a long time, here is where we left off (the last bit of chapter 4):

"There's no wifey at home," Brian said as he twirled the ring around his finger, "I just wear it so people think I'm trustworthy."

It was at that exact moment in space and time that warning bells went off in Justin's head and that he realized he just might have made a mistake in picking this guy up.

Still, he had to ask the question, as he turned slightly to take in Ethan's pale face and the man in the back seat.

"And are you, Brian, trustworthy?"

"No," Brian said as he pulled a knife out of nowhere and held it to Justin's throat.

Chapter 5

There was this one time Ethan remembered waking up in a strange bed on top of the roof of a strange house, having very little knowledge of how he got there.

It took about 15 minutes and 3 cups of weak coffee to realize that he had gone to a kegger party at some frat house the night before at one of his friend's insistence and somehow he had drank too much of the piss water, then graduated to a bottle of Bacardi rum only to end up dancing on top of the coffee table while singing 'Two Tickets to Paradise' (a classic Eddie Money in Ethan's mind) at the top of his lungs.

He then threw up on the girl nearest to him and proceeded to pass out.

How he got into a bed that had been placed on top of the Simga Nu house would remain a mystery to him to this day.

However, it had taken him only 5 minutes after waking up, lying in a ditch next to the Chevelle how he had gotten himself into that position.

"Ethan! Ethan where are you?" a raspy voice could be heard calling.

"Here," Ethan groaned .

At least they had both survived the crash.

And looking at the car before him, it appeared the car had also. It looked like a car that had just rolled down a cliff, but for the most part, it was still in tact.

Thank God, the good ole U.S. of A. and Chevy for the ingenuity and durability of the American car manufacturer.

"Fuck!" Justin spat as he looked at his car. Before turning to Ethan, Justin bent over and coughed up once again, his side painful as he walked toward where he had heard the voice.

Moaning once more, Ethan elevated himself into a sitting position all the while keeping his eyes on Justin, who seemed about to queen out.

"What in the hell...I mean what the fuck!?!" Justin screamed.

And it appeared it would be the mother of all queen outs.

"I mean fuck! Fuck! Fuckity fuck fuck!!!" Justin yelled.

"So, all that prep school education," Ethan said trying to lighten the dire situation, "and all you can say..."

"Don't Ethan," Justin warned in a very low, very scary voice.

Ethan would have preferred the full blown queen out right about now.

"I mean what the fuck were you thinking? Fuck!" Justin groused, his voice losing the intensity from before, becoming more weary.

"I was improvising Justin," Ethan rationalized. "I mean, he had a knife and we had dick squat."

"The cigarette lighter?"

"I saw it in a movie once..."

"That was some good improvising...but," Justin huffed, "if you had burned the hand holding the fucking knife!"

"Okay, you're right, his knife holding hand would have been a better choice," Ethan agreed as he held both his hands up in surrender.

"Yeah, just burning the other hand made him more nervous, which caused him to nick me and," just as Justin had said that, he reached up and felt around the tender part of his neck, Ethan standing up to inspect the area as well. "Is it deep?" Justin asked in a small voice.

"Naw, just a scratch. I think you freaked out more from the knife you can see," Ethan said as he waved at the car before him.

"Shit! I can't believe I rolled the car down a fucking cliff!"

"Yeah, well...believe it," Ethan mumbled as he surveyed the cliff and then the car.

Justin glared at Ethan. If his lover's eyes had been laser beams, Ethan would have been a burning pile of ash at that moment.

"Look, I know it was stupid, but fuck Justin! He had a knife at your throat and he would have...would have...uh Justin?" Ethan stopped as he took a look around.


Something was wrong.

Something was missing.

"Where's Brian?"


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