Title: Etiquette
Author: Taimat/Tai_ness
Fandom: Avenged Sevenfold
Pairing: Brian Haner/Zacky Baker
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Groping/grinding, innuendo, cursing
Disclaimer: I do not own/know Brian Haner, Zacky Baker, or anyone else mentioned. I do not own any music or products mentioned. This was not written for profit, and I do not intend to cause harm to any character described within. I am not insinuating that this actually happened, nor do I believe that it did.
Summary: Are you allowed to dance to your own music?
Length: 972 words
Date: Completed June 11, 2006

~~~~~~~

“Oh, I just can’t wait to be king!” My fingers drummed out the beat on my chest as I barely restrained myself from dancing more.

Brian laughed from above me, and I glared up at him. I was currently using his lap as a pillow, and him shaking wasn’t making things very comfortable. I shifted and poked him in the stomach. “You’re interrupting the movie.” This only made him laugh harder, and I huffed and turned on my side, facing the screen and pouting. He finally quieted down, and I smiled as he threaded his long fingers through my hair. I brought my hand up near my mouth, resting it on his thigh, accepting the apology.

I continued to sing along through the rest of the movie, and Brian continued to get this adorable stupid grin whenever I did so. But I didn’t mind, really.

At the end, I was left wondering why I still had so much energy left. Maybe it was because I had turned our movie night into a sing-along.

“Brian,” I whined, “I’m bored.”

His fingers started working in my hair, stroking and tugging gently. I huffed. Damn bastard was lazy and was trying to make me the same -- which would usually have worked, save for the fact that this was apparently going to be one of my stubborn nights.

I rolled off the couch and to my feet, blinking as the world protested to being moved so quickly. I wandered off to our bedroom and gathered up my iPod and my speaker deck. Yeah, I know. I am so trendy it hurts sometimes.

“What’cha doin’?” came the sleepy yell from the couch.

I didn’t answer, as I was already on my way back. He watched groggily as I set my speakers up and started scrolling through my favorite playlist. Finding the song I wanted, I turned my head to look at him.

“Bri, dance with me.”

He blinked back at me. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“But tonight was supposed to be our lazy night!”

“Come on, Bri. Please?”

He groaned dramatically as he seemingly heaved himself off the couch, and I rolled my eyes and pressed play.

Dig Up Her Bones.

“You’re making me dance to The Misfits?”

I grinned. “Damn straight.”

“Better not be,” he growled softly as he pressed up behind me. I gasped as he quickly began moving his hips against mine, turning Dig Up Her Bones into a grinding song. Not that I minded. Hell no.

His hands rested on my hips, their grip loose as I moved on my own against him, and I could hear him singing softly in my ear. I grinned and leaned back against him, riding out the rest of the song. His fingers slipped beneath my shirt, tracing the place where skin met fabric, and I shuddered against him. Damn hands of his.

The next randomized song was The Ghost of You, and I blinked, trying to come down from my high enough to do a slow dance. I heard him chuckle and turned to face him. “Shut up and dance with me.”

“All right, all right.” He grinned and wrapped an arm about my waist. As we started to sway back and forth, I nudged my head against his shoulder. He smelled a little like cigarettes, a little like Axe, and a lot like Brian. I nearly purred as he stroked the base of my spine lightly, and I’m sure he could feel my slight pants against his neck. My left hand was twined about one of his belts, and the right was curled near my mouth, tugging gently at the fabric covering Brian’s chest. This was nice, came a passing thought. We hardly ever did stuff like this. Couple-y stuff. We were usually too busy touring and fronting the whole swinging bad-ass image.

And then my mouth dropped open and my eyes slid shut as the song built, Gerard’s entrancing voice filling the room. If despair were ever put into music, this was what it would sound like. I bit my lip to keep from groaning as the sound seemed to shoot through me in bursting waves. I admit, I had a thing for vocals. Makes you wonder why I was dating the lead guitarist.

I grinned to myself as the song ended, and then a very familiar drum beat rattled through the room. Blinded in Chains. I made a move to pull away and change the song, but Brian’s arm was strong at my back.

“Where’re you going?”

I looked at him for a moment. “To change the song.”

“Why?” he grinned.

“Brian,” I huffed, “you can’t dance to your own song!”

He only laughed. “And why not?”

“Because. . .because. . .it’s, like, a rule! You just can’t!”

He bent his head then to whisper in my ear, “No one’s here to see us, and I certainly don’t mind.”

Whatever my reply may have been was cut off as he slid a leg between mine, causing my lips to part as quickly as my thighs did. The pace was fast, and he pressed hard against me, nearly groaning lyrics into my ear. They vibrated through me like a machine gun, and I stopped even paying attention to what he was saying, though I knew every word by heart, and focused only on the rhythm of it.

I panted softly as he paused, letting my iPod take over for a moment, only to start up again as soon as the next verse began thirty seconds later. I shuddered and pulled at his shirt, and he bit at my ear gently.

“Zacky, baby?” His breath ghosted across my ear, and I bit my lip again, nodding to show that I had heard him.

“Are you allowed to fuck to your own song?”