Revenge...
Title:Revenge (is bittersweet)
Pairing:Ryan Ross/Gerard Way, Ryan Ross/Mikey Way
POV: You = Ryan
Disclaimer: I don't own any bands or music labels or coffee makers.
A/N:I wrote this off a weird dream I had, so if it feels like it doesn't make sense, or abruptly stops....that's why.
It had been one hell of a day, finally getting to meet the band you'd said yourself 'makes me dance'. You still had something to prove though, as you carefully opened the door to My Chemical Romance's tour bus. They were still backstage, you knew, so really there was nothing to be worried about. You are the Ryan Ross, of Panic! At the Disco after all. First off you head to the bunks and take the pajamas you know he always puts on after a show, so he'll have to go looking for them. Then kicking around some stray shoes and clothing to clear a pathway, you find your way to the back lounge, stopping first of course to check in the bathroom mirror that your eye-liner is still pristine.
You sit lightly on one of the couches, after brushing off various pieces of trash, arranging yourself to look as inviting as possible. Leaning sideways against the back of the couch, staring determinedly at the door. You hear movement near the front of the bus and your heart beats faster. Then faster still when you hear his voice float through the door, where you sat well secluded. Footsteps shuffling, until finally the door opens. "Fine, I'll check the fucking lounge, they're not in-"
You cut him off, holding up the skeleton pjs, "Looking for these?" You're lines are so cliche, but you simply use them best.
He just looks at you oddly and you use the moment to take in his appearance; sweat drenched, makeup running or wiped off completely.He's holding a water bottle in one hand, he runs the other through his hair. He then walks over and sits at the end of the couch not occupied by you, and takes a swig of his water. You take this opportunity to drop the sleep wear and climb into his lap.
He looks surprised to say the least as you lean down and roughly capture his lips with yours. His mouth doesn't respond even as you weave your long fingers into his greasy and ratted hair. He lets you kiss him for almost a full minute, you know because that's how long you can hold your breath.
You pull away, only far enough to breathe but still feel his shallow breaths ghost over your face. Your eyes are still closed, hands still tangled in his unruly locks, already half hard without any contact. He doesn't say anything so you lean back in, aiming for his neck and wondering if he likes to get bitten.
You barely latch on when he pushes you away, sending you toppling backwards onto the dirty floor. You finally open your eyes, looking up into his bewildered expression. He stands up, and after grabbing his pajamas, walks to the door. You're still lying on the trash heaped floor when he turns back and says, "I'm straight, really I'm flattered...thank you, but no thank you."
He staggers off as you pick yourself up, and attempt to gather the shattered pieces of your battered heart. You sit, not quite sobbing but still crying harshly, on the musty couch as someone else comes into this part of the bus.
"Yeah, I found him...don't worry about it, we're both going to practically the same place.....Right...okay Pete, I get it, you're his mother and you're worried...'Kay, bye." You hear a phone click shut, and then Mikey Way is sitting next to you.
You look up when he offers you a soda, "No thanks." you reply despondently. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shrug, then his arm's around you. You tense up, your need for human contact devoid for the night. He doesn't remove his arm, he just uses his other hand to text someone back, occasionally setting his phone down to grab his can off of the arm of the couch. You worry that he's going to knock it over.
Eventually he does just that, shrugging it off and finishing another text before finally stowing his phone in his pocket. You look over at him. He appears to have already taken a shower, possibly back at the venue though because his hair looks at least partially dried. He doesn't warn you before leaning in and placing a light kiss upon your lips.
He pulls back, chewing on the inside of his cheek; you hadn't noticed how smoldering his eyes are. You hadn't noticed much about Gerard Way's brother to be honest. You knew him as 'the one with the glasses and the beanie that plays bass', you hadn't really noticed how much that image had changed. He definitely wasn't wearing either glasses nor a beanie. His chin was more defined than his brother's, his lips thinner but aesthetically pleasing just the same.
"I'm not as picky as my brother." He says, and really, you should be offended. Though somehow, you get the feeling that's not exactly what he meant. That's when you notice that the bus is moving, and it hits you that you should be on your own bus, going to the venue you have to play tonight. He sees your eyes go wide as you look behind you through a small window to see streetlights flashing by. "Don't worry, we're playing pretty much the same town as you guys tomorrow, and I talked to Pete, so it's not like we're kidnapping you."
He still hasn't removed his arm from around your shoulders. You can still feel the brush of his lips against yours, you can still feel the rejection from his brother, your idol. You almost lunge forward as you re-attach your lips to his, biting his lower lip and not waiting for permission to invite yourself inside. He gladly let the kiss escalate until you were pretty sure it was going further than making out.
His hands had long since found their way under your tight red shirt and the buckle of your belt. Your own hands grasped out for the zipper of his jeans, pulling down, popping apart the button easily enough. Things rushed by in a whir of heat, and fumbling, but most of all what you felt as revenge. It didn't take long for you to feel the familiar pulsations of release before you lay spent, slowly drifting off on the raggedy couch in the back lounge of the My Chemical Romance tour bus.
Musing in the afterglow and partial sleep stupor, you couldn't help but be amused that you still seduced a Way brother. Actually, Mikey was almost better than you'd dreamed Gerard to be...almost. You still dreamed that night, about betrayal and smokey eyes cutting through your soul and the last of your restraint.
When you awoke the sun was pouring in through the small window above the couch, you were laying half on Mikey who was still fast asleep. You got up carefully, gathering things like your belt and shirt, one of your shoes. Walking into the kitchenette area of the bus, and tugging your shirt back on you see a couple other members of the band sitting around. Ray, on a laptop mindlessly skimming through something, and Frank attempting to make toast in the microwave.
As the microwave beeps, Frank looks up to see you standing awkwardly in the middle of the bus. "Hey, you're that kid from the band we met last night...Panic! at the whatever, what're you doing here?"
Ray looks up too, finally seeing you there. You stand without a good explanation, 'I came to sleep with your lead singer', 'I figured I could seduce Gerard Way into having gay sex with me.' No, those didn't really seem like smart things to say. Gerard walked in from the bunk area then, heading straight for the coffee maker.
"Hey Gerard, what's this kid on our bus for? We don't need another guitarist...you're...you're not replacing me are you?" Frank sounded sincerely worried as he trailed off, Gerard rolled his eyes and blew the steam from the top of his mug.
"He wound up on the wrong bus, we took off before we found him....that's why we're stopping before we get all the way to Austin, to drop him off...and no, Frank, we're not replacing you..." You could almost swear you heard him mumble 'idiot'.
The bus came to a halt, causing everyone to jolt forward. "Well, I guess this is your stop." Frank said pointing to the bus door as he gnawed at his rubbery bread-excuse-for-toast.
Before you could take a step towards the exit, Mikey stumbles out of the back lounge, rubbing his eyes with one hand while the other re-buttons his jeans. He yawns and completely passes by you on his way to get coffee. Everyone's staring at him including you. Finally as he's sipping at his hot drink, he notices you standing in the middle of everything, and everyone's eyes on him.
Bob, their drummer you remember, walks into the scene. He takes a good look before shaking his head and retreating from whence he came and mumbling something like, 'too damn early for your drama.''
There's banging at the door, Frank answers it and it's Spencer. He tentatively steps up into the bus, trying to look intimidating. You just step past the brothers who are sharing looks of hurt and regret and step down the stairs, pulling Spencer with you. You don't talk to him about it when you get back to your own bus, just ignore his questions and go straight to your bunk.
You don't feel used, in fact you feel like you've used Mikey in this mess. 'Did you really get back at Gerard way, was it even worth him in the first place?' It feels like fucking up with Pete Wentz all over again...There, you realize as you turn your iPod up to eardrum popping level, that revenge is bittersweet.
Pairing:Ryan Ross/Gerard Way, Ryan Ross/Mikey Way
POV: You = Ryan
Disclaimer: I don't own any bands or music labels or coffee makers.
A/N:I wrote this off a weird dream I had, so if it feels like it doesn't make sense, or abruptly stops....that's why.
It had been one hell of a day, finally getting to meet the band you'd said yourself 'makes me dance'. You still had something to prove though, as you carefully opened the door to My Chemical Romance's tour bus. They were still backstage, you knew, so really there was nothing to be worried about. You are the Ryan Ross, of Panic! At the Disco after all. First off you head to the bunks and take the pajamas you know he always puts on after a show, so he'll have to go looking for them. Then kicking around some stray shoes and clothing to clear a pathway, you find your way to the back lounge, stopping first of course to check in the bathroom mirror that your eye-liner is still pristine.
You sit lightly on one of the couches, after brushing off various pieces of trash, arranging yourself to look as inviting as possible. Leaning sideways against the back of the couch, staring determinedly at the door. You hear movement near the front of the bus and your heart beats faster. Then faster still when you hear his voice float through the door, where you sat well secluded. Footsteps shuffling, until finally the door opens. "Fine, I'll check the fucking lounge, they're not in-"
You cut him off, holding up the skeleton pjs, "Looking for these?" You're lines are so cliche, but you simply use them best.
He just looks at you oddly and you use the moment to take in his appearance; sweat drenched, makeup running or wiped off completely.He's holding a water bottle in one hand, he runs the other through his hair. He then walks over and sits at the end of the couch not occupied by you, and takes a swig of his water. You take this opportunity to drop the sleep wear and climb into his lap.
He looks surprised to say the least as you lean down and roughly capture his lips with yours. His mouth doesn't respond even as you weave your long fingers into his greasy and ratted hair. He lets you kiss him for almost a full minute, you know because that's how long you can hold your breath.
You pull away, only far enough to breathe but still feel his shallow breaths ghost over your face. Your eyes are still closed, hands still tangled in his unruly locks, already half hard without any contact. He doesn't say anything so you lean back in, aiming for his neck and wondering if he likes to get bitten.
You barely latch on when he pushes you away, sending you toppling backwards onto the dirty floor. You finally open your eyes, looking up into his bewildered expression. He stands up, and after grabbing his pajamas, walks to the door. You're still lying on the trash heaped floor when he turns back and says, "I'm straight, really I'm flattered...thank you, but no thank you."
He staggers off as you pick yourself up, and attempt to gather the shattered pieces of your battered heart. You sit, not quite sobbing but still crying harshly, on the musty couch as someone else comes into this part of the bus.
"Yeah, I found him...don't worry about it, we're both going to practically the same place.....Right...okay Pete, I get it, you're his mother and you're worried...'Kay, bye." You hear a phone click shut, and then Mikey Way is sitting next to you.
You look up when he offers you a soda, "No thanks." you reply despondently. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shrug, then his arm's around you. You tense up, your need for human contact devoid for the night. He doesn't remove his arm, he just uses his other hand to text someone back, occasionally setting his phone down to grab his can off of the arm of the couch. You worry that he's going to knock it over.
Eventually he does just that, shrugging it off and finishing another text before finally stowing his phone in his pocket. You look over at him. He appears to have already taken a shower, possibly back at the venue though because his hair looks at least partially dried. He doesn't warn you before leaning in and placing a light kiss upon your lips.
He pulls back, chewing on the inside of his cheek; you hadn't noticed how smoldering his eyes are. You hadn't noticed much about Gerard Way's brother to be honest. You knew him as 'the one with the glasses and the beanie that plays bass', you hadn't really noticed how much that image had changed. He definitely wasn't wearing either glasses nor a beanie. His chin was more defined than his brother's, his lips thinner but aesthetically pleasing just the same.
"I'm not as picky as my brother." He says, and really, you should be offended. Though somehow, you get the feeling that's not exactly what he meant. That's when you notice that the bus is moving, and it hits you that you should be on your own bus, going to the venue you have to play tonight. He sees your eyes go wide as you look behind you through a small window to see streetlights flashing by. "Don't worry, we're playing pretty much the same town as you guys tomorrow, and I talked to Pete, so it's not like we're kidnapping you."
He still hasn't removed his arm from around your shoulders. You can still feel the brush of his lips against yours, you can still feel the rejection from his brother, your idol. You almost lunge forward as you re-attach your lips to his, biting his lower lip and not waiting for permission to invite yourself inside. He gladly let the kiss escalate until you were pretty sure it was going further than making out.
His hands had long since found their way under your tight red shirt and the buckle of your belt. Your own hands grasped out for the zipper of his jeans, pulling down, popping apart the button easily enough. Things rushed by in a whir of heat, and fumbling, but most of all what you felt as revenge. It didn't take long for you to feel the familiar pulsations of release before you lay spent, slowly drifting off on the raggedy couch in the back lounge of the My Chemical Romance tour bus.
Musing in the afterglow and partial sleep stupor, you couldn't help but be amused that you still seduced a Way brother. Actually, Mikey was almost better than you'd dreamed Gerard to be...almost. You still dreamed that night, about betrayal and smokey eyes cutting through your soul and the last of your restraint.
When you awoke the sun was pouring in through the small window above the couch, you were laying half on Mikey who was still fast asleep. You got up carefully, gathering things like your belt and shirt, one of your shoes. Walking into the kitchenette area of the bus, and tugging your shirt back on you see a couple other members of the band sitting around. Ray, on a laptop mindlessly skimming through something, and Frank attempting to make toast in the microwave.
As the microwave beeps, Frank looks up to see you standing awkwardly in the middle of the bus. "Hey, you're that kid from the band we met last night...Panic! at the whatever, what're you doing here?"
Ray looks up too, finally seeing you there. You stand without a good explanation, 'I came to sleep with your lead singer', 'I figured I could seduce Gerard Way into having gay sex with me.' No, those didn't really seem like smart things to say. Gerard walked in from the bunk area then, heading straight for the coffee maker.
"Hey Gerard, what's this kid on our bus for? We don't need another guitarist...you're...you're not replacing me are you?" Frank sounded sincerely worried as he trailed off, Gerard rolled his eyes and blew the steam from the top of his mug.
"He wound up on the wrong bus, we took off before we found him....that's why we're stopping before we get all the way to Austin, to drop him off...and no, Frank, we're not replacing you..." You could almost swear you heard him mumble 'idiot'.
The bus came to a halt, causing everyone to jolt forward. "Well, I guess this is your stop." Frank said pointing to the bus door as he gnawed at his rubbery bread-excuse-for-toast.
Before you could take a step towards the exit, Mikey stumbles out of the back lounge, rubbing his eyes with one hand while the other re-buttons his jeans. He yawns and completely passes by you on his way to get coffee. Everyone's staring at him including you. Finally as he's sipping at his hot drink, he notices you standing in the middle of everything, and everyone's eyes on him.
Bob, their drummer you remember, walks into the scene. He takes a good look before shaking his head and retreating from whence he came and mumbling something like, 'too damn early for your drama.''
There's banging at the door, Frank answers it and it's Spencer. He tentatively steps up into the bus, trying to look intimidating. You just step past the brothers who are sharing looks of hurt and regret and step down the stairs, pulling Spencer with you. You don't talk to him about it when you get back to your own bus, just ignore his questions and go straight to your bunk.
You don't feel used, in fact you feel like you've used Mikey in this mess. 'Did you really get back at Gerard way, was it even worth him in the first place?' It feels like fucking up with Pete Wentz all over again...There, you realize as you turn your iPod up to eardrum popping level, that revenge is bittersweet.