[ SMUT WARNING
and if you are an isaiah girlie, there is a heartbreaking tiktok that had me grinning like a monster as I made it if you wanna go look at it
also I probably won't be updating again until monday or tuesday because my brother is getting married this weekend ( don't congratulate them it's a stressful rushed nightmare and they don't need to be getting married rn ) ]
☆︎
I MUST ADMIT THAT I THINK I PREFER YOU NOT COVERED IN BLOOD — OR ANYTHING, FOR THAT MATTER.
☆︎ SEPTEMBER, 1999 ☆︎
Mark began loosening his tie the moment he stepped into his dark apartment, tired after a long day of work. Sure, he'd saved a little boy who was kidnapped while riding his bike, but now all he could think about was grabbing a beer and relaxing. He'd bruised his ribs badly when tackling the man responsible for taking the boy, and Mark was certainly feeling it now that the adrenaline was all gone.
He let out a groan as he lowered himself onto his couch while also reaching for his remote. And while scrolling through the channels, he rested his cold beer bottle against his side, wishing he'd of grabbed an ice pack as well before sitting down.
One of the first things Mark learned after going into law enforcement was that he hated watching the news. His job was already dark and depressing enough in a town full of so much crime, but he found himself turning the channel to E! News — he didn't really consider it a news channel.
Two anchors named Todd and Ellise were on screen with footage of some kind of award show airing behind them on the green screen. The detective recalled vaguely about something happening that required a lot of their officers to help direct traffic and cover security, but he didn't know the details since he wasn't involved.
"Tonight, the MTV Video Music Awards were held in Los Angeles and hosted by comedian, Chris Rock," Todd was saying. "The last award was given moments ago to Fatboy Slim's video Praise You for Best Choreography in a Video. It also was awarded Breakthrough Video."
"But he was not the big winner of the night, was he, Todd?" Ellise asked, grinning brightly.
"No, he was not."
"The Woodsboro Killers, who released their music video for their hit song Happening Again a mere three days before the cutoff for this award season—"
"And they were lucky they did," Todd chimed in as Ellise nodded.
"Yes, they were, because they went home tonight with four awards — Best Editing, Best Direction, Best Special Effect. Boy, that horror makeup sure was spooky," Ellise said, shivering for effect. "And then they also won Best New Artist in a Video."
"And it was a special treat that two of the band members were asked to be presenters for Best Male Video, the first award of the night," Todd said, beginning to chuckle. "I don't think I've ever seen two people more excited to be where they are so early in their careers."
Then the video swapped from the two anchors and showed footage from the award show. Mark sat up better when he saw Indiana and Jackson on the stage, standing behind a microphone. Mark thought she looked gorgeous in a gold, sparkly dress, her dark hair in perfect waves. Indiana was the one holding the Moonman while Jackson had the card to read from — he was in a black suit lined with gold glitter to match his best friend's attire.
"This year's nominees are truly some of the greats," Jackson said, seeming quite calm despite being in front of such a huge crowd and broadcasted across the world. "We have Rickey Martin's Livin' la Vida Loca, Lenny Kravitz's Fly Away, Will Smith's Miami, and Eminem's My Name Is."
"The talent and creativity of these iconic artists shines through with these music videos," Indiana added, a dazzling grin on her face. "And the winner of Best Male Video goes to..."
Jackson opened his envelope and smiled, clearly happy about the name. "Will Smith — Miami!"
The camera then panned out to the audience as everyone cheered for the singer as he made his way to the stage. And Mark couldn't help but laugh when the camera caught a glimpse of Indiana and Jackson elbowing each other and bouncing on their toes as they realized they were about to meet Will Smith. Jackson tried to pry the Moonman from Indiana's grasp so that he could be the one to give it away, but she wasn't budging.
Once Will reached them, Jackson congratulated him, but you couldn't hear it over the applause. Then the boys did a handshake and Will pat Jackson on the back, who looked giddy over such a simple interaction. Finally, Indiana handed him the award, and Will leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.
After that, the camera stayed on him as he gave his acceptance speech, but Mark only watched as Indy and Jackson scurried back and whispered to each other excitedly about meeting the superstar for just a few seconds. It was a little out of focus, but you could tell when Indiana said 'Will fucking Smith!' But he could only look at Indy for a few more moments before it went back to the news anchors.
"They were positively star-struck by that interaction," Todd said, chuckling to himself.
"And they had no clue how well their night was about to go," Ellise added.
Then they were gone again and replaced by a montage of the big night for the music video that had only been out for three months.
Mark watched as a young boy who he recalled as Randy Meeks from the Ghostface attacks received an award for editing. And he laughed as Randy emphatically insisted that the other nominees had better tactics than he used and that they should've won. Since the artists were also brought on stage for that one, Sophia ended up pulling Randy away from the microphone while Isaiah gave a short speech praising all of Randy's hard work since the boy couldn't do it himself.
Admittedly, Mark wasn't thrilled over what he saw when Best Direction was awarded to their director, Roman Bridger. The footage cut to him in the audience as he got up. Indiana was in the seat next to him and hugged him tightly, saying something to him that couldn't be heard over the applause. But then Roman kissed the corner of her mouth before going to retrieve his award.
Mark spent two days with Indiana months ago and figured she had already forgotten about him, so he didn't know why he was so grumpy over the interaction. And clearly, she wasn't thinking of him while she was in L.A. again — she'd be celebrating her big wins, not wondering about a random bar hookup.
The montage ended as The Woodsboro Killers won the award for Best New Artist. The five musicians were ecstatic as they rushed onto the stage, hugging each other and jumping around excitedly. Much to the crowd's amusement, Luca thanked Windsor College for kicking him out so that he could be there. They all took turns thanking parents, their manager, Roman, and their friends who supported them.
"Music means so much to all of us here tonight," Indiana said, the last of them to speak as Sophia passed her the award to hold. "And I can't imagine being up here with anyone other than these four. They're my family, and I can't wait to keep making music with them long after we aren't considered new."
The news segment then moved on to talk about the rest of the events that happened at the award show, which Mark barely paid attention to. But he left it on, hoping for another glimpse of Indiana.
Mark had seen the music video that received so much praise during the night — he meant it when he told Indiana that they'd gained a fan that night after seeing them play in the bar. He thought it was fun and creative, a way to show love for classic horror movies while also ignoring the impact of the Stab movies altogether.
The Woodsboro Killers were growing quickly and their album sales were skyrocketing with each week as more and more radio stations played their music. Mark was glad that they were getting some happiness and success after the horrible things some of them had been through.
Finally, the coverage of the VMAs ended, and Mark turned the channel to a football game. Then he got up to go and get another beer and discard his first bottle of the night. While staring into his open fridge, his landline rang, making him look at the phone on the wall in confusion given that it was nearing midnight.
Mark pushed the fridge door shut with his leg before moving to pick up the phone, leaning against the kitchen wall as he did so. "Hello?"
"Hey, Mark," a familiar and soft voice spoke, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Um, sorry to call so late. This is—"
"Indiana," he breathed out.
On the other end, Indiana was grinning at her feet that were shoved in a pair of sparkly heels, something inside of her growing warm over the thought of him recognizing her by her voice alone.
"Yeah," she said, letting out an airy laugh. "At the risk of being totally turned down and embarrassed, I thought I might call and see if that offered for whenever I'm in L.A. was still on the table?"
Mark couldn't help but grin, happy that she had, in fact, not forgotten about him and was still thinking about him even after a night of winning awards. "Well, I didn't make it to level five and find out your favorite scary movie, did I?"
"No. No, you didn't," she said, twirling the cord of the hotel phone in anticipation.
"I guess I'll just have to try harder this time around," Mark declared. "Need help finding the place?"
"Trust me, I remember your address."
☆︎
Luca stumbled into the hotel room, still giggling about something that he thought about while riding up in the elevator. He was only meant to run up and grab his wallet before meeting some others outside to go to an after-party. But he stopped short when he saw Isaiah sitting on the edge of one of the queen-sized beds, looking down at his lap.
"Hey, there you are," Luca greeted his roommate, coming closer. "Get a move on. Roman and I agreed to slide you all drinks when the bartender isn't looking. It's time to celebrate."
Isaiah just rubbed his face and kept looking down. "Yeah," he mumbled. Then Luca heard him sniff. "I'll be there in just a second."
"Zay," he said in a softer tone, coming over. He halfheartedly knocked his foot against Isaiah's calf, getting his attention. "What's up? You should be bouncing off the walls. Four freaking VMAs!"
Hesitantly, Isaiah looked up and forced a smile, but Luca's own fell when he saw the younger boy's red-rimmed eyes. In an instant, he sat next to him on the bed, frowning deeply. "What happened?"
"I, um—" He paused to rub his eyes. "Jack and Soph were calling their parents. Randy called up Martha and Sid. Indy called Virginia. I, uh, I tried to call my parents to tell them we won — I didn't know if they'd be watching or not."
Luca didn't have many interactions with Isaiah's divorced parents. In fact, he'd not met his mother at all. The unpleasant stories were enough. And while Isaiah's father wasn't religiously overbearing and strict didn't mean he was a perfect parent either. He barely paid attention to Isaiah aside from occasionally checking in every few weeks.
"What'd they say?" Luca asked, knowing it wouldn't be good.
"Dad didn't answer," Isaiah whispered. "Then Mama started yelling at me about the video and kind of music we're making. Went on about how I was disappointing her and succumbing to the world. I hung up once she started quoting the scripture."
When Luca wrapped his arm around him, Isaiah leaned his head against his shoulder. Luca knew that the younger boy still felt like religion was an important part of his life, but Isaiah couldn't help but always be reminded of his mother's hatred when he tried to find any kind of peace in it. So, his mother trying to use it to criticize the music and band that he loved so much was hard for him.
"I'm sorry that you don't have parents who don't appreciate you, Zay," Luca said softly. "And I can't make that part better — I can't even make my own dad like me. But just know that you're always going to have a family outside of them — Virginia, Indy, Jax, Soph, Dewey, Randy, Martha. All of us. And we're gonna be there for every big moment in your life because we don't want to miss them."
"Good," Isaiah said quietly. Then he shifted his head a bit to look up at Luca, managing a real smile. "I'd rather you be there than my parents anyway."
For just a moment, the two boys gazed at each other softly, enjoying a rare moment alone when not surrounded by everyone else in their hectic lives. And it was Luca whose eyes trailed down first, but Isaiah was the one to lean closer. When Luca spoke, he was so close that he could smell the fruity scent of the drink he'd had earlier.
"We shouldn't," Luca whispered, lips impossibly close to Isaiah's. "I don't want you to regret it."
"Because of the band?" Isaiah asked, glancing nervously from his lips to his crystal blue eyes and back again.
"Amongst a million other things that would make it a bad decision," he said, sounding a little amused.
"I don't think it'd be so bad," he murmured, brushing his nose against his.
Luca slowly ran his thumb back and forth along Isaiah's side through the thin material of his dress shirt. "I guess it might not be so bad, either."
Then he leaned down and kissed Isaiah slowly like he knew the gentle boy deserved, pulling him closer. And Isaiah melted while simultaneously feeling like his heart was going to break free from his chest, beating on the bars of his ribs as he kissed Luca's surprisingly soft lips.
And when they parted, Isaiah couldn't stop smiling as they pressed their foreheads together. Luca's eyes were shining as he reached for Isaiah's hand. "Now will you go to the party with me?"
"There's nowhere I'd rather be."
☆︎
Maybe Indiana should've been nervous as she knocked on Mark's apartment door since they barely knew each other, but she wasn't. She was excited and still running on all the adrenaline coursing through her after such a big night.
The door swung open, and she was greeted by the handsome, older man. As he leaned against the doorframe, Indiana took in his appearance. The sleeves of his dress shirt were pushed up, showing off his forearms, and the top buttons were undone. He hadn't shaved in a few days, and Indiana was dying to know what the short scruff felt like against her skin.
His light green eyes scanned her form, taking in her fitted, shining dress and sparkly makeup. Her hair was curled and up in a pretty style with the sides braided in a way that made Mark want to run his hands through and ruin it. She looked just as gorgeous as the last time he saw her.
"You look—"
"Yeah," Indiana cut him off, smirking. "I know."
Mark let out a huff, slowly dragging his eyes back up her body to meet her gaze. "Do ya?"
She raised an amused eyebrow. "Can I come in?"
In response, Mark pushed off the doorframe, leaving a gap for her to step inside. She made a point to brush up against his chest as she slid past him.
"So, what brings VMA winner, Indiana Winger back to my humble abode?" he asked with a coy smile, leaning against his closed door.
Indiana felt excited over the fact that Mark was paying attention to her career and already knew she was in L.A. for the night. But she couldn't let him know that. "What are you, a stalker?" she asked teasingly, stepping closer to him. They were the same height with her in a set of heels. "Thought I'd have to wait a few more years before I was famous enough for one of those."
"Not a stalker, but an incredibly impressed fan," Mark told her.
"So, did you like our video?" she asked, trying to make a bit of conversation before getting to what she really wanted — him.
"It was amazing. You were amazing," Mark said while reaching for her hand to pull her close to him. "Though I must admit that I think I prefer you not covered in blood." Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned in, his lips hovering over hers. "Or anything, for that matter."
Indiana knew it was so fucked up that something so simple as not being turned on by the sight of her covered in blood was considered a green flag at this point in her life. But that was a talk to have with her therapist, not the incredibly attractive and muscular man that she was pressed up against.
Instead, she leaned in the rest of the way to kiss him, finding that she'd actually missed the feeling even after only spending two short days with him. Mark cupped the back of her neck, keeping her in place as he instantly deepened it, sliding his tongue into her mouth without any resistance on her end.
Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt while also untucking it from his jeans, not once breaking the heated kiss as she pushed the fabric over his broad shoulders. Feeling his firm chest underneath her wandering hands made her hum happily against his mouth.
Then Mark moved suddenly, turning them around so that Indiana was the one pressed against the door from the front. Her eyes fell shut as his lips roughly traveled down the side of her neck, leaving biting marks and soothing kisses after them. And his hands moved up her thighs, bunching up the fabric of her dress until it was over her hips and her thin pair of underwear.
Indiana let out a breathy whimper as he began to rub long, teasing strokes against her covered core. That, coupled with the growing bulge pressed against her ass had her growing incredibly impatient.
"Mark," she moaned before turning her head to capture his lips in another kiss. And she didn't bother to stop kissing him messily as she kept mumbling against his lips. "Need you."
"I'm right here," he said, biting her bottom lip. Then he pulled his fingers away from her clit, making her whine in protest and grind back against him, making him groan lowly.
Rather than return to where she wanted him, his hands instead sought out the zipper on the back of her dress. He pushed the thin straps off her shoulders, letting the garment drop to the ground, revealing lacy underwear and a smooth, bare back.
"Oh, fuck me," Mark groaned, teeth grazing her shoulder. "Do you ever wear a bra?"
"I'm sorry? You want me to put more clothes on right now?" she asked, laughing a little.
But her laughter was cut off when Mark moved her suddenly and effortlessly, lifting her up and carrying her to the couch, his arms underneath her back and behind her knees. She grinned and leaned in to kiss his neck during the short trek, the new scruff scratching her lips as she did.
Mark tried to drop her on the couch, but she kept a firm grip on him and brought him down with her, making him chuckle as he braced his hands on the arm of it, hovering over her. His hazy gaze ran down her form.
"You are so goddamn gorgeous," he groaned, Indiana rubbing her thighs together from the sound of it and his compliment.
"You're not so bad yourself," she said teasingly while winding her fingers in his hair.
"How long are you in town for?" Mark asked while seeking out her chest, brushing his thumbs slowly against her nipples, feeling them harden from the attention.
"Just tonight," she mumbled while shifting her hips up slightly, rubbing against his jeans. In response, he lowered himself, putting nearly all of his weight on her, keeping her pinned to the couch. "Doing some talk show then going home after."
Mark was both disappointed by the shorter amount of time together and also a little filled with pride over the fact that Indiana was spending her one night with him instead of partying with the countless celebrities she'd been rubbing elbows with all night.
"Well, then I guess I better make good use of my time," he told her before moving down her body.
He trailed soft kisses down her stomach and hips, brushing his nose against the band of her underwear before hooking his fingers around it and dragging the last piece of her clothing from her body. Then he was right where she wanted him, between her legs, pressing his tongue flat against her and dragging it up from her entrance to her clit.
Indiana's eyes fell shut, one hand grabbing onto the arm of the couch behind her and the other tangling in his curly hair tightly. His mouth was just as good as she remembered — better given the way the scruff on his jaw was rubbing against her thighs in a way that almost hurt as he ate her out like he was fucking starved. She was lost in the mix of his swirling tongue and the way he'd stop to suck on her clit when changing the pace.
"Oh, fuck, Mark," she moaned out. "You—"
Whatever she was going to say died out and turned into a choked gasp as Mark slid two long fingers into her, keeping his mouth just above and focused on the bundle of nerves that had every inch of her body singing for him. Indiana released the couch and let her arm fall over her mouth, stifling her cries as she shifted forward, meeting the constant thrusts of his fingers.
"Oh, no, Honey," Mark said, pulling back, his breath washing over her sensitive cunt. She ached from the loss of his mouth. "I wanna hear you. I want the fucking neighbors to hear you."
Another moan fell from her mouth as he returned to his work, and Indiana didn't bother to try and silence it this time. When she pulled at his thick hair, he groaned, the vibrations making her feel a million times better as he also bent his fingers the slightest bit, hitting a new spot inside of her.
"Oh, god. Mark — fuck, I'm gonna — ah!"
"I know," he murmured against his skin, keeping up the pace that had her struggling to catch her breath.
It only took a few more strokes of his fingers before Indy reached an orgasm, crying out from the feeling. And Mark continued to move his fingers in and out of her at a slower pace, working her through the overwhelming feeling until her head fall back against the arm of the couch. Then she whined when he finally pulled his fingers out of her.
Through hooded eyes, she watched as he traced his fingers covered in her cum in a line up her stomach, leaving a trail behind that he soon swooped down to lick clean with his tongue. Indiana took in a sharp breath as the cool air hit the expanse of her wet skin.
Indiana then grabbed the sides of his stupidly handsome face and pulled him in for a kiss, sucking on his bottom lip harshly. He moaned happily against her, sliding his hands underneath her back, pulling her hips up to meet his.
Deciding to take him by surprise, Indiana pushed him onto his back, them ending up on the other end of the couch. Her hair fell over them like a curtain as she continued to kiss him, letting her hands wander lower and lower on his abdomen to find his belt.
But then she heard Mark take in a sharp breath, and not the fun kind — it was a wince. She instantly pulled back and looked down at him with a frown, catching his grimace before it disappeared.
"Why'd you stop?" Mark asked her, tilting his head a little as he rubbed his thumbs across her hipbones.
"Are you hurt?" she asked him, slowly looking away from his face. And as she did, she finally was out of her clouded headspace enough to see the fresh, darkening bruise on his left side, right over his ribs. "Shit, Mark. What happened?"
Mark shook his head, not wanting to make a big deal out of it when the girl that he'd been slightly obsessing over was naked on his lap. "Got knocked into at work today. Don't worry about it," he told her softly, appreciating that she at least cared. Then he grabbed her hips a little tighter, dragging her core against the bulge in his jeans to get her back on track. "Trust me — it won't affect my performance."
"Still," Indiana said, moving her hands down his body with a gentler touch this time. "I don't want you hurting. I think I can take care of you just this once."
Mark raised an eyebrow, a small smile on his lips as she undid his belt. "There are gonna be other times?"
She smirked down at him. "Musicians are in L.A. all the time."
Then she leaned down and placed slow, open-mouthed kisses on his collarbone and chest, moving downward. She was careful not to go near the tender bruise, going at what Mark thought was a torturously slow pace as her lips neared the white band of his boxer briefs that were sticking out from his jeans.
Finally, Indiana pulled the jeans off his legs, him helping her shove the material down his thighs. Once it was gone, she began to palm him through the fabric of his underwear, watching how his eyes fluttered shut for a moment as his hips shot up, meeting her touch. She kept at it until the fabric was impossibly strained before peeling the last of his clothing back, watching his cock as it sprung free.
Her jaw went a little slack, suddenly recalling how it felt to have in her mouth, choking and gagging on it with tears flowing from her eyes while Mark praised her with each thrust into the back of her throat.
"Forgot how big you were," she mumbled, feeling a little dazed just looking at it.
She grabbed his length and pumped it a few times, loving how he said her name in a sigh, leaning his head back against the arm of the couch. Then she leaned down and licked from the base to his pink tip, gathering the bit of precum that'd spilled out.
"F - fuck!" Mark swore, his whole body tensing as she wrapped her mouth around him. "God, Indy, you don't know how many times I've fucked my fist wishing it was your mouth—" Indy couldn't help but whine around him as he admitted to something so sinful. "— but right now, I need you."
Indiana did as requested and took him from her mouth, though she did run her hands along the length of his erection a few more times before readjusting herself. Mark set his hands on her sides, helping guide her as she lowered herself down onto his cock, their low moans mixing as she adjusted to his size.
They started slow, Indy taking a moment to find a rhythm as she began to move her hips back and forth. And her mouth hung open as Mark trusted into her from below, sending warm shocks of pleasure up her body. She braced herself against his strong shoulders, nails digging into them.
"Fuck, you feel so good, Mark. So good."
"You too," he muttered, grasping her hips so tight that there'd be bruises as he leaned up, readjusting their angle a bit so that he could reach her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth. She moaned and let her hands wander from his shoulder to his unruly hair, tugging on the strands while looking down at him, speeding up her movements on his throbbing cock. "God, you look so pretty on top of me."
Then he leaned back on one hand, thrusting from a new angle, one that momentarily convinced Indiana he was in the process of ruining her for anyone else — not that she'd ever fucking admit it. Not that she could even find the breath to admit it. All she could do was moan and whimper and lean down to press her forehead to his while continuing to ride him.
"Mark — ah!"
Mark let out a breathless scoff that came off as more of a grunt. "Can't even get a sentence out, Honey?" he asked teasingly.
And she just nodded, unable to really think of anything but the deep spot he kept brushing inside of her. "So good — too good."
The broken moan she suddenly let out was silenced as he kissed her, biting at her already swollen lips. And while her eyes were shut, she missed it as he let go of her side and slid his free hand between them, thumb finding her already sensitive clit.
Fuck, she wasn't gonna last much longer.
"Oh, my god — oh, Mark—" The damn broke, as she knew it would, and her second orgasm washed over Indiana, her whole body shuddering as she fell against Mark's firm chest as she recovered.
But she couldn't recover, because Mark moved them so incredibly fast, and Indiana found herself on her back once again, the man she was so enamored with above her. She let out a choked cry as he continued to pound into her at a brutal pace, not letting her catch her breath. "Mark, fuck. Mark!"
"Take it, Honey," he pleaded, thrusting with more force now that he was on top. "Just take it for me. Know you can."
Indiana's eyes rolled back a bit because just hearing him beg for her to let him keep going made her feel close to the edge all over again. "I can," she whimpered breathlessly as he continued to thrust into her without care for how sensitive she was. She moved her leg up and wrapped it around his waist, meeting each of his movements. "I can take... oh!"
Mark began sucking on her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. "Fuck, I'm close. So close. Can I finish inside?" he asked breathlessly. Indiana didn't have a chance to confirm she was still on the same birth control as last time. But as soon as she nodded frantically, giving him the go-ahead, he pressed his lips to hers.
His breathing shuddered as he pressed her harder into the couch, his thrusts growing a little sloppy. Then she felt his cock twitch inside of her before he came. And just the force of it had her clenching around him, that third orgasm coming out of her with ease.
"Goddman," Mark groaned, his whole body weight resting on hers in a way she feared she was far too comfortable with. And he stayed there for a moment, forehead pressed to her collarbone as he caught his breath.
Then he lifted his head, and she could see the soft smile on his lips as he looked down at her. "Congratulations, by the way," he told her. "Don't think I said that before."
Indiana laughed and leaned up to peck his swollen lips. "Thank you," she said. "For that and for letting me come over."
Mark kept kissing her leisurely for another minute, his fingers lightly brushing her cheeks and her neck, his touch so soft in comparison to earlier. But finally, he had to pull out of her, Indiana whining against his lips from the sudden emptiness.
"Care for a shower?" he asked her while tucking a strand of tangled hair behind her ear.
Indiana let out a breath. "I'm gonna need a break before going again."
He laughed and pressed his forehead to hers. "I meant just a shower."
"Mark," she whispered sweetly, winding her fingers in his hair, "we may not really know each other that well, but I do know just a shower with you would not be just a shower."
"And are you complaining about that?"
"No, Sir, I am not."
☆︎
"I just think it's an incredibly fucking stupid name for a talk show," Sophia grumbled, crossing her arms.
"I mean, I think it's kind of catchy," Luca said, throwing out his hands dramatically as he said, "One Hundred Percent Cotton!"
"Shut the fuck up, Lu. You were in a band called the Lethal Lawnmowers," she shot back, rolling her eyes.
"She's got you there," Isaiah said quietly. At him taking Sophia's side, Luca let out a dramatic gasp and dropped Isaiah's hand that he'd previously been holding.
To the side, Indiana, Jackson, and Rod were ignoring the other two and they bickered. They were all backstage, waiting for their segment on Cotton Weary's fucking talk show. It was filmed in front of a live audience and would air later that night.
Indiana did not want to be there — like, she didn't think she'd ever thrown a bigger bitch fit in her life. But Rod didn't care how much she hated Cotton. The best place to go after the success of their VMAs was his highly popular show. And they'd be riding that success by announcing their North America tour that would start the first of October and go through January.
Even after caving and agreeing to the interview, Indiana spent a good hour on the phone with Sidney, trying to brainstorm ways to make him look stupid on TV. Though his editors would probably cut anything that did so since it wasn't live.
Normally, Rod stayed ahead of the game and got in between any of the bandmates when they started a stupid, senseless argument, but for now, he was lecturing — parenting — Indiana.
"And you thought it was a good idea to disappear for hours with no note only to show up at four in the fucking morning with a goddamn bite taken out of your neck?" he asked, his face going a little red.
"There is not a gaping bite mark on my neck," Indy said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not a piece of cartoon food."
"Rod's not that far off," Jackson muttered, a childish smirk on his face.
A makeup artist was dutifully covering up the hickies on Indiana's neck, as well as the distinctly teeth-shaped bruise at the base of her collarbone.
"I am never bringing you to L.A. ever again," Rod muttered, rubbing his forehead.
"Right," Indiana said flatly. "So we're just gonna cancel the multiple shows you just booked in the second most populated city in the country?"
"If you're gonna keep going back to that fella, then yes," he snapped, being overdramatic as always about these things.
"Rod, you gotta lighten up," Jackson said, patting his shoulder. "Call Virginia up and complain like always to calm down."
"I will calm down when I'm good and ready to," he huffed. Then he pointed an accusing finger at Indiana, who bit her lip to keep from grinning. "You think this is so funny? When you all are called out there, you have to hug Cotton."
Indiana's smile instantly dropped. "No, I do not! We all are doing handshakes."
"Oh, no," he smirked. "Since you wanna add to my gray hair, you're gonna go out there all smiles and have a big hug for the man that showed up with your sister and helped stop the Ghostface attack."
She scoffed and rolled her eyes — Rod knew just as well as everyone else in her life that Cotton was seconds away from killing all of them unless Sidney agreed to help paint him as a hero. And even though Sidney didn't actually agree to anything because Indiana killed Nancy, the girl still ended up doing a Diane Sawyer interview with him, which led to him getting this show.
"Hug him and be a delight and let him know he and his little girlfriend have tickets waiting for them for the final show back here in L.A. once the tour ends," he instructed.
"You're horrible," she grumbled.
"And be prepared for him to talk about Stab 3 and—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the hunt for a new Sidney and Indiana," she said, waving him off. "I know the drill. Bite my tongue and be as pleasant as I can stand before changing the topic."
It made the front pages when the news broke that quite literally no one aside from Jennifer Jolie was returning for the third installment of the Stab series. Without real-life events to base it on, the scriptwriters were floundering on what to do with the storyline. Rumors were going around that the script was so bad that the A-list cast full of superstars refused to do it. Others just suspected they thought it was morally wrong to portray things that never happened to the real people they were playing — though Indiana didn't think their morals were all that great to begin with if they agreed to the first two films in the first place.
"Hey, Rod," Jackson spoke up, looking around the set. "We're gonna get those shirts with '100% Cotton' on them for coming on the show, right?"
"Yeah," Rod said, frowning a little as Jackson changed the subject so randomly. "But I figured you guys wouldn't want them."
Jackson looked pointedly at him. "A free t-shirt is a free t-shirt, my man."
"You are about to make hundreds of thousands of dollars on this tour and you're worried about not paying for t-shirts?" the older man asked.
Indiana stepped to the side so that she was next to Jackson, her arms crossed. "A free t-shirt is a free t-shirt."
"Oh, my god," he said, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, you'll get your goddamn t-shirts if you cover up your hickies and act presentable on air without arguing with me."
"See, now, if you'd of mentioned earlier that the free t-shirt was on the table, you'd have gotten no resistance from me earlier."
"Yeah, Rod," Jackson said, shaking his head in disappointment. It's why he'd mentioned the shirts to begin with. "It's like you don't even know her after almost a year of working with her."
"Jesus. Just go get your fucking mics, you two."