Frank & Clint | Monday Afternoon

[x-hawkeye.livejournal.com]

Frank and Clint decide to check out parts of the mansion they're unfamiliar with before the conversation turns to their musical preferences.


The door creaked as Frank eased it open. "Okay. Third room. If this one isn't something cool, we go play Halo instead," he muttered to Clint over his shoulder, before sticking his head inside.

He had no idea how they'd ended up exploring the mansion at that hour of day. If asked, Frank planned to blame it all on Clint.

"Dude," Clint said, peering over the other boy's shoulder. "Dude, I think that's like. A trombone or something. I used to play a trombone in marching band."

"You were in marching band?" Frank raised an eyebrow at that, before stepping into the room. "...Dude. Didn't see that coming. Did you wear, like... the uniforms and stuff?"

He glanced around the room, and raised his other eyebrow. "Wow. That's... a lot of musical instruments. What even is that one?" he asked, pointing at some bizarre monstrosity of brass tubes.

"In middle school," Clint confirmed. "And yeah, the uniforms were required. It was a lot of coordinated movement and stuff. Not bad, just not something I felt the need to continue, y'know? But dude, you're right. That's a ton of instruments."

"Really, really would never have seen you as the marching band type. Gonna be straight with you here, Clint, you always struck me as more of a punk."

Clint looked down at himself, then back up at Frank, and smirked. "Right. Cause I don't wanna live to be 34," he deadpanned. "Whatever, you're so full of crap. I bet you listen to, like. Yo-Yo Ma or something."

If there is a universal truth, it is that thou shalt not insult a teenage boy's taste in music by insinuating he likes a cellist. So Frank believed, anyway. "Hey, my taste in music is impeccable! I saw Blink live, once, man!"

"On what, their reunion tour with Panic! at the Disco?" Clint asked, laughing. "Whatever, one of my foster dads really likes Yo-Yo Ma. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Who says I'm ashamed? I just don't like Yo-Yo Ma." He paused, grinned. "And there is nothing wrong with Panic! at the Disco. Without them, who would we heap our scorn on?"

"I dunno, some of their stuff's catchy. I sort of dated a girl last summer who really, really liked them." Clint paused for a moment, approaching the trombone almost curiously. "Kind of off putting, to be honest. Like, she kept talking about how she was gonna marry the lead singer and I didn't really measure up. She didn't say that specifically. But it was heavily implied."

Frank winced in sympathy. "And that didn't put you off 'em?" he asked, with a certain morbid curiosity. I mean, don't get me wrong, Write Sins is kind of cool, but..."

"Nah, not their fault I dated a crazy chick," Clint said, smiling. "Three Days Grace is more my style, though. Sometimes."

"The Superman guys?" asked Frank, his metaphorical ears pricking up. "They're cool. I never heard any of their other stuff though."

Clint frowned for a moment as he tried to place the reference. "I don't think Three Days Grace has a song about Superman. Three Doors Down has that song 'Kryptonite' that talks about Superman, though. Unless it's a new song I haven't heard yet?"

Frank paused, considered a moment, and winced. "Nah. I... may have mixed the two up. Three Doors Down I know. Three Days Grace I don't. I stick with Sum 41 these days."

Picking up the trombone, Clint inspected it for a moment, then glanced over at Frank. "I'll have to play you some of their stuff when we get back to the suite. I'm sure you've heard a couple of their songs. They're on the radio pretty frequently. And I like Sum 41. They haven't put anything new out recently though, have they?"

"Not for a while, no. But heck, man, good punk never gets old," said Frank, looking at the trombone speculatively. "I mean, Fat Lip just works. You ever need something to make you feel like a badass, you play that song."

"Doesn't that song talk about how the doctor said the dude's mom should've had an abortion?" Clint looked at his friend askance. He made the observation banking on the fact that Frank probably wouldn't know about Three Days Grace's "(I Hate) Everything About You."

"Dude. Artistic license." Frank replied, smirking. "Besides. I said badass, not 'morally upright member of society.' It's like that song they had on cracked.com a while back. Sometimes, you just wanna be the bad motherfucker."

"Okay, I'll give you that," Clint said, putting the trombone back down. "Dude, let's go before we knock over something that's like a hundred years old or something. I really don't wanna have to tell a teacher about that."

"Works for me," said Frank. "I told you man. Halo. Way more fun, way less chance of property damage." He headed towards to door. "Although we clearly need to compare music libraries, now. I mean, Marching Band, dude. Your cred has taken a beating."

"Pssh," Clint said, snorting softly as he headed for the door. "My cred is just fine. Wait till you hear what I've got on my iPhone, man."