life's hard when you're ridiculously nancy. (midnightsausage) wrote,
life's hard when you're ridiculously nancy.

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tweepop boys!

This isn't so much a real proper well written fic as just a bunch of stream of consciousness riffing. For ratherblank, who I mentioned this to, and she was like "THIS NEEDS TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN YESTERDAY", and she pretty much turned me onto Sondre Lerche, so y'know, props!

Darren Hanlon. (Darren Hanlon's lovely girlfriend. no really, she's delightful. I sat in front of her at one of Darren's Christmas gigs, she was very nicely dressed and smiled just like that photo ALL THE TIME.) He's Australian.
Jens Lekman. He's Swedish, but now lives in Melbourne, Australia.
Sondre Lerche. (also, watch this video for "Two Way Monologue", it's ADORABLE. Here is a zip of the album of the same name.) He's Norwegian.

(tbh there's probably more of this, and it could be heaps better written, but ugh, I'm so tired right now, I might come back to it later.)

So, Sondre, Jens and Darren move into a house together! It's a sort of oldish, ramshackle place, lots of trees in the front yard, ivy all over the front, and it has a balcony, which was one of the main reasons they wanted to rent it in the first place ("We can have gin and tonics and singalongs on it in the afternoons!"). The paint's chipping, and the kitchen is straight out of the 70s, but they all feel it's part of the house's charm.

Darren lives in the one bedroom on the ground floor. This is mainly because he's the most outgoing, and he and his girlfriend tend to get in fairly late at night, so, being the considerate fellow that he is, he volunteered to take it so that he wouldn't disturb the others stomping up and down the stairs at 3 in the morning. (his girlfriend, by the way, is lovely. She apologises when she eats the last of the cereal, and insists on buying more. "What kind would you like? Rice Bubbles? Sultana Bran? Just Right?" "Well, what did you eat the last of?" "...the Coco Pops." "WHAT." "Don't panic, Sondre, we can get more! There can definitely be more Coco Pops, I promise." Meanwhile, Darren's girlfriend is close to tears, and then Sondre feels bad for getting so mad. He didn't mean it! He makes her a cuo of tea, and Jens offers her a tissue, and Darren gives her a hug, and all's well again.) The other two have bedrooms upstairs. Jens has the one that faces onto their backyard, and therefore gets the most sun, but Sondre's is a little bigger and has a huge closet, which he figures he uses more than he would a lot of sunshine.

On Sundays, Darren invites whoever wants to come over for veggie burgers and an impromptu concert. (this is absolutely canon, his fans come over and he makes them veggie burgers and plays a set or two!) They make the veggie burgers ahead of time, the three of them bumping elbows and getting in each other's way in their tiny kitchen while they chop up carrots, onions, mushrooms, capsicum, etc. etc. They invented the recipe one boring weekend, and although everyone repeatedly asks for it, they always tell them that they "cannot reveal the Wu Tang secret". Even though they are the three whitest boys in the history of ever, people accept this, and just keep coming every Sunday for more. They usually do a set each, depending on how they're feeling and whether they've written any new songs the week before. They usually have this either in their backyard, with everyone sprawled on what little lawn furniture there is and on the tiny patch of grass, or in their living room, people lined up on their second hand couch they found at an op shop which occasionally gooses people with loose springs (this makes Sondre cackle evilly, because he learnt within the first week which cushions not to EVER sit on), seated on the slightly threadbare paisley carpet on whatever spare cushions are lying around. Sometimes they do trios, or occasionally Darren and Jens will do a ukulele duet while Sondre plays the tambourine. Most often, this ends up being "Don't Stop", because they all know it, and, as Darren found, it works well on ukulele? Who would have thought.

Quite often, one of them will be in the spare room downstairs, writing a song, and the others will come in just to listen, and it will inevitably become a group effort. Although none of these songs ever see a proper recording studio or a paying gig, they're the sort of things the three of them go around humming for weeks afterwards. Jens is particularly bad for this, whistling the song they wrote last week tentatively called "Planting Poppies" (mainly because that's what they were doing at the time, not because it actually has anything to do with poppies) until the other two want to strange him. There's an easy camaraderie between them, lots of private jokes and good natured mocking going the time the fridge broke down and Sondre and Jens proceeded to spend the week singing "broken fridge, broken fridge..." to the tune of "Brooklyn Bridge", or the time in the winter when they're trying to light a fire in their somewhat suspect fireplace (Darren is convinced it's actually plugged up, which is why it fills the house with smoke whenever they attempt to use it) and the book Jens has carelessly left in front of it catches fire, and it's Darren's turn to spend the week singing "you set my hearth on fire" (see; "Pocketful Of Money"), which is such a terrible pun Jens and Sondre want to kick him out on the spot, but then he makes them lemon upsidedown cake, and they can never stand by a decision like that in the face of Darren's baking skills, which are surprisingly brilliant.

Jens is an early riser. Sondre and Darren are not, except under duress. Occasionally, Jens will coax one or the other of them out of bed with tea and up onto the roof to watch the sun rise. Mostly Sondre, because they do live next door to each other, room-wise, and because he's more convincible than Darren at that time of the morning. The two of them have deep and meaningfuls about how much they miss Scandanavia (because idk, Jens lives in Melbourne now, and I can defs see them living in a sharehouse there?), but also how nice it is to actually have the sun rise at a reasonable time of day ("Well, if you call this reasonable," grumbles Sondre), and...gosh, just everything! Sometimes, though, they don't talk about anything, just sit and sip their tea and watch the sky slowly fade up to a sort of shivery pale yellow, progressively tinted with pink, then blue, like a preschooler's first watercolour. It's perfect.
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