The story of a lonesome ol'Jerome

*Andy’s POV*

I dutifully followed behind Gwyn, carrying Sherpa’s bags of supplies. Once we were back inside the clinic, the little guy woke up. His scruffy, little, white head came poking out of the miniature, fleece sleeping bag (‘snug sack,’ Gwyn had corrected me), his black eyes bright. I wondered if he knew where we were by the smell? He had snaked his way out and started circling around his tiny carrier, pawing at the bars and biting at them, which pissed Gwyn off, saying it was bad for his teeth. Crazy little fucker!

I hoped Gwyn didn’t feel the need to share the fact that I had raspberried Sherpa’s wang with anyone. She might think it was funny, but I, well, didn’t. I would never hear the end of it. Especially from CC. He would mention it during every interview for the next year at least. Ugh.

We got Sherpa set up in a nice cage, in what was, apparently, a room for exotic mammal boarding. While Gwyn filled out a bunch of papers and put some stuff in their computer system, I decided to make a list on my phone of all the different things I could ask her tomorrow while we were driving. Gwyn had said Tacoma wasn’t too far, but I figured I should try and stay awake during the drive too, since we were going to get so little sleep.

Hmm… I figured I should start easy with some classic general questions. Like, maybe, where was she born? Where she grew up? Favorite color? Shit like that… I thought up a few random ones that were interesting. Then, I couldn’t help myself, I added a bunch of Black Veil-related questions. How long had she been a fan? Favorite album or song? Then, well… maybe it was narcissistic, but I was just dying to read her fan fiction! Though it would be really awkward if it sucked. Here’s to hoping it wasn’t a total teenage-pregnancy-incest-virginity-taking-Andley-cutting-fest-at-Hot-Topic-while-overdosing-and-Juliet-is-evil… It would be hard to show enthusiasm for that. Especially if it was full of pictures. And one more story where “YN” (Ashley had explained ‘your name’ to me) was mooning over my jawline, or my damned cheekbones, or my ‘deep, sexy voice,’ I just didn’t know… I guess I was in no position to complain if she had written a concert hook-up story. *snicker* Perhaps it would be best to ask about the story last? But if Gwyn had written really hot smut, I wanted to read it! Maybe I could just ask her what it was called, or what it was about, and find it and read it when she was asleep…

Notes

Oh Andy! Your flawless jawline! Your sharp cheekbones! Your deep, gravelly voice!

QOTD: anybody written a story with any of these things?
oh yes! bingo, especially for the concert hookup! XD