ex_ajokerca
in
becum
Mine, Forever
Title: Mine, Forever
Pairing: Corey Taylor/MickDeth
Rating: PG13 for death/murder/cursing
Summary: Corey doesn't like sharing.
Notes: I'm sorry Zee Vee, but killing is what I do best. This was written for slashfightclub with the prompts: gun and pet shop.
Word Count: 2, 506
Had Mick known that by agreeing to spend the summer with his grandparents he would be spending it sitting behind the counter in a pet shop, he would have said no. At least if he stayed home he could’ve had the pleasure of going to the beach or bumming around Hollywood rather than cooped up in a place that didn’t even have a beach, let alone know what one was. And on top of it, the so called city sucked and when he informed his grandmother that, she laughed and told him that was why they lived on the outskirts of town. A sarcastic great, if we get killed nobody will know was his retort as well as his wide eyes taking in the woods outside. He didn’t even have the support of the animals that seemed to hate him.
Least to say, he wasn’t pleased with the arrangements of living in the middle of nowhere, Iowa to help his grandparents on a farm that was in one of the back areas of a city. There was no need for a farm right? The pet shop should have been plenty but it didn’t seem that his grandparents chose to move forward with the world and join up with them and watch TV rather then read the paper, make full cooked meals rather than pop something in a microwave - they had him getting up at five am so he could help with the chores of milking the cows, collecting eggs and feeding the rest of the animals.
Mick was ready to knock on death’s door and whisk him away to hell or wherever teens his age went when they wore eyeliner, sucked cock and played guitar rather than go to school. Although he was surprised to find his grandmother not the least bit bothered when she walked on him talking to his friend James. She laughed and told him that her sister was in love with a woman and they had been together longer than most couples she knew…so whatever made him happy. Mick figured that made things a little better but not completely, he was still stuck in the middle of the woods and cleaning up animal shit, sitting in a building with no air conditioning and if he walked across someone spitting tobacco into the middle of the road one more time he was going to scream.
He was only two weeks into the summer vacation…he still had a long way to go and he was already at breaking point, no matter how many times his grandparents told him that he would be ok and before he knew it, the summer would end and he would be back at home in sunny California. He knew it was just because his grandmother was tired of having to wake up him up and deal with all his whining and groaning, which he was trying (and failing) to stop on the other hand, anyone that knew him knew you didn’t try and wake him with a crowing rooster or cold water sprinkled onto his face…better yet, you didn’t wake him by coming into the room and stripping him of his blankets or pulling up the curtains to allow the light into the room. It was just - unheard of but that’s what happened when he lived with friends rather than parents and got away with murder because James could be a total pushover at times. It wasn’t Mick’s fault that James’ crush was a little obvious and he played with it.
With that kind of attitude it was no wonder that at the beginning of his third week he was woken up by someone that wasn’t his grandmother. Buried under the blankets and half under the pillows, Mick awoke to something softly touching his cheek and hot breath on his jaw. Right away he thought of Cubbie, James’ annoyingly cute cat that took it upon himself to come to Mick for food since James left early in the morning for work or just because Mick mixed the food rather then put it in half and half so the dry had no flavoring, either way, he wasn’t in the mood to get up right away and brushed the cat away, waving his hand and turning over onto his stomach. “Go ‘way Cubs, lemme sleep.” He was sleep ridden, deprived of those extra hours that he was so used too so of course he was going to brush the cat away…of course he was expecting the thing to make himself at home on his head not laugh at him which was just what ‘Cubbie’ did and even Mick was able to realize he wasn’t being tormented by the cat and being at his grandparents hadn’t been just a dream unless it was James and Cubbie. He ruled that out the second he heard a voice speak that was too heavily accented and hard to be his roommate’s.
“Cubs? You’re grandma never said you had an animal and by the way you acted she seems to think you dislike them a lot. I see she might be wrong if you’re expecting one to wake you up.”
He was awake at once, jolting up in the bed and looking at the guy standing before him, he had one hand on the blanket and the other behind himself so he wouldn’t fall over. “My roommate’s cat, I fee - what are you doing in my room? And who are you?” Mick held a secret soft spot for the cat but he wasn’t going to go babbling about it to some stranger…especially one that was in his room and that good looking. “Going to answer my question or just stand there? At least step back so you’re not so crowded around my bed and I can get a better look, maybe take off your shirt while you’re at it.”
He was met by laughing and a bunch of clothes hitting him in the face. “Get dressed, I’m going to help you run the shop today and then take you out so you can do something besides sit around.” Mick gave him a hard look and dropped back into bed, blankets coming up and back over his head.
“Yeah, okay.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Corey was asked by Mrs. Morris to show her grandson the ropes around the place he had put it off at once, coming up with excuses left and right why he couldn’t show some kid that probably turned up his nose to everything that life was a little harder out there in the woods. But he couldn’t put it off forever and Mrs. Morris kept coming to him until finally he said yes and she was thrilled …he found out why when he showed into a room that littered with clothing, make up covered the dresser and a skinny tattooed arm stuck out of the blankets.
At first sight he wished he had come earlier and not waited three weeks in but it changed the second Mick opened his mouth and let loose his tongue and Corey decided he didn’t know what the fuck he was getting into - he was amusing though so that was a plus. He questioned why he was doing it even more when he had to drag the other out of bed and threaten to shove him into a cold shower before the other teen was dressed and applying thin lines of eyeliner, while the flat iron behind him heated up. Corey was even there for when he peed, Mick unnerved by the other watching over him like a mother hen.
He even seemed less unnerved when Corey brought him into the shop rather than out to the barn to help his grandfather. The older and bigger teen had done that before even going upstairs to wake the boy he would be playing babysitter and amusing for the day. But it was annoying Corey that he was just standing there, arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face. “What? This is your job and suddenly you hate it?”
“I never said that, I never implied it - I’m trying to figure out who the fuck you are and why you’re here better yet, you seem to know what you’re doing, so why am I here?”
“Because you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing and your grandmother asked me to help you so it’s not a complete disaster. This is one of the only shops that gets mainstream business and I don’t think she wants to lose it because her idiotic grandson can’t do shit. But I’m not going to help you all the time, I have two other jobs and other things to do so while I’m not here you need to know what to do. First, since there is two of us you can open the shop and then go back and do inventory, if it was just you, you would wait until the end of the day and do it.” Corey flipped the sign that read ‘closed’ in big white block letters to the other side that was the very same only it said ‘open’. The lights were on and the day had started. “Take this with you, fill it out as you count things and try not to make a mess.”
Snatching the paper from the guy, Mick studied his face and tried to figure out what he had miss - suddenly he was getting bossed around by some gorgeous guy he didn’t even know? That wasn’t going to fly with him for very long and he made it know that he was rather annoyed when he stomped his way to the back, banging into everything and anything - then proceeded to trip right over a box of stuffed bones. “Are you kidding me?” He mumbled just as he heard footsteps and Corey’s voice.
“Can’t even send you to do something before you make a mess? Jesus Christ, kid.” He stopped short when he saw the teen sitting in the center of a ton of stuffed toys, looking quite surprised.
“The box was right in the fucking way.” He snapped and shoved it off, sending more flying and something metal hit the wall as well as a loud bang which had both males jumping and looking over to the side. “A gun…there was a gun in the fucking box.” His voice was sort of shrill, pulling on a curious and almost, but not quite, panicky edge, “Corey why the fuck was there a gun in the box?”
“Hell if I know! For all I know, one of your grandparents did it…they’re a little weird. You’re grandma is fucking off the wall actually.”
“So she just so happened to put a loaded gun, with the chip lax in a box of stuffed animals for dogs? What next, are you going to tell me it was a trap so in case someone wanted to steal a bunch of squeaky dog bones? That’s a real cock and bull story if I’ve ever heard one.” He started pushing the squeaky toys back into the box and let Corey handle the gun which he did with ease and a frown.
“I guess your right but still…how would it end up there of all places?”
With a snort, Mick thought of all the possibilities and crawled across the floor to grab a couple more bones, tossing them over his shoulder into the box, turning his head every so often to make sure they were at least coming close to it …his head was turned back, mouth opened to answer Corey when his hand came down in a puddle of something cold and sticky. Something that smelt like a rusted penny and a little bit of something else…something that made him want to gag and a whispering voice in the back of his head told him not to look but he turned his brown eyes down, jaw dropping and a small whimper leaving his mouth. His hand was resting in a puddle of blood, a huge puddle that seemed to get bigger and bigger as his eyes followed it across the floor to another box where a ratty converse lay right in front of it.
“Mick?” He heard his name called multiple times but he ignored it each time, staring soberly at the show that was blood stained as well as familiar (he was the only one that made faces in his eyes when he drew on his best friend’s shoe), “Mi-fuck…” Strong hands pulled him up and back and his back hit a strong chest but it didn’t tear his gaze from what was before him or the fact that his hand was soaked in somebody’s blood. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
Now that caught Mick’s attention…he wasn’t supposed to see that? Did that mean - “you knew…know? Is there a dead body in there!?” His eyes fleeted up to the bright blue ones he knew so well, “what did you do, Corey?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me! Fuck Corey, that’s a goddamn dead body! In my grandparent’s pet shop! And I know that shoe!” Over dramatics was his specialty and it was no different now, even as he pulled away from the bigger male and went over, ignoring the blood on his hands and started to open the box that was one of the few that wasn’t taped up and it was stained red in some spots. “You did a shit job of cleaning things up…”
“I was in a rush, I wanted him gone...fucking bitch hangs all over you and doesn’t give a fuck that you’re mine. And then he showed up in town looking for you last night…what the fuck was I supposed to do? Point out your house and send him on his merry way?” Mick flipped back the flaps and his jaw dropped, eyes widening as he caught sight of the bruised face, dark hair and…
“You killed my best friend!” He spun around, no longer wanting to see the green eyes that seemed to glow among the red. “Corey! How could you do that!?”
The older shrugged and walked over, looking down into the box and closed the flaps and pulled Mick towards the bathroom to help clean him up. “Because…there’s just something I didn’t like about him. He wanted you and I didn’t want to share.”
“So you killed him and hide the body in the back of the pet shop.”
Corey nodded as an answer, because he knew right off the bat what Mick’s next question would be. His young lover knew him way to well and seemed to be able to read his mind at times. He wasn’t proved wrong as he opened his mouth and asked his next question.
“How many times have you done this before? You obviously knew what boxes to use and what not to.”
“Ever since we started giving the cats that new wet food, you know, they’ll eat anything when you add the right flavoring.”
Pairing: Corey Taylor/MickDeth
Rating: PG13 for death/murder/cursing
Summary: Corey doesn't like sharing.
Notes: I'm sorry Zee Vee, but killing is what I do best. This was written for slashfightclub with the prompts: gun and pet shop.
Word Count: 2, 506
Had Mick known that by agreeing to spend the summer with his grandparents he would be spending it sitting behind the counter in a pet shop, he would have said no. At least if he stayed home he could’ve had the pleasure of going to the beach or bumming around Hollywood rather than cooped up in a place that didn’t even have a beach, let alone know what one was. And on top of it, the so called city sucked and when he informed his grandmother that, she laughed and told him that was why they lived on the outskirts of town. A sarcastic great, if we get killed nobody will know was his retort as well as his wide eyes taking in the woods outside. He didn’t even have the support of the animals that seemed to hate him.
Least to say, he wasn’t pleased with the arrangements of living in the middle of nowhere, Iowa to help his grandparents on a farm that was in one of the back areas of a city. There was no need for a farm right? The pet shop should have been plenty but it didn’t seem that his grandparents chose to move forward with the world and join up with them and watch TV rather then read the paper, make full cooked meals rather than pop something in a microwave - they had him getting up at five am so he could help with the chores of milking the cows, collecting eggs and feeding the rest of the animals.
Mick was ready to knock on death’s door and whisk him away to hell or wherever teens his age went when they wore eyeliner, sucked cock and played guitar rather than go to school. Although he was surprised to find his grandmother not the least bit bothered when she walked on him talking to his friend James. She laughed and told him that her sister was in love with a woman and they had been together longer than most couples she knew…so whatever made him happy. Mick figured that made things a little better but not completely, he was still stuck in the middle of the woods and cleaning up animal shit, sitting in a building with no air conditioning and if he walked across someone spitting tobacco into the middle of the road one more time he was going to scream.
He was only two weeks into the summer vacation…he still had a long way to go and he was already at breaking point, no matter how many times his grandparents told him that he would be ok and before he knew it, the summer would end and he would be back at home in sunny California. He knew it was just because his grandmother was tired of having to wake up him up and deal with all his whining and groaning, which he was trying (and failing) to stop on the other hand, anyone that knew him knew you didn’t try and wake him with a crowing rooster or cold water sprinkled onto his face…better yet, you didn’t wake him by coming into the room and stripping him of his blankets or pulling up the curtains to allow the light into the room. It was just - unheard of but that’s what happened when he lived with friends rather than parents and got away with murder because James could be a total pushover at times. It wasn’t Mick’s fault that James’ crush was a little obvious and he played with it.
With that kind of attitude it was no wonder that at the beginning of his third week he was woken up by someone that wasn’t his grandmother. Buried under the blankets and half under the pillows, Mick awoke to something softly touching his cheek and hot breath on his jaw. Right away he thought of Cubbie, James’ annoyingly cute cat that took it upon himself to come to Mick for food since James left early in the morning for work or just because Mick mixed the food rather then put it in half and half so the dry had no flavoring, either way, he wasn’t in the mood to get up right away and brushed the cat away, waving his hand and turning over onto his stomach. “Go ‘way Cubs, lemme sleep.” He was sleep ridden, deprived of those extra hours that he was so used too so of course he was going to brush the cat away…of course he was expecting the thing to make himself at home on his head not laugh at him which was just what ‘Cubbie’ did and even Mick was able to realize he wasn’t being tormented by the cat and being at his grandparents hadn’t been just a dream unless it was James and Cubbie. He ruled that out the second he heard a voice speak that was too heavily accented and hard to be his roommate’s.
“Cubs? You’re grandma never said you had an animal and by the way you acted she seems to think you dislike them a lot. I see she might be wrong if you’re expecting one to wake you up.”
He was awake at once, jolting up in the bed and looking at the guy standing before him, he had one hand on the blanket and the other behind himself so he wouldn’t fall over. “My roommate’s cat, I fee - what are you doing in my room? And who are you?” Mick held a secret soft spot for the cat but he wasn’t going to go babbling about it to some stranger…especially one that was in his room and that good looking. “Going to answer my question or just stand there? At least step back so you’re not so crowded around my bed and I can get a better look, maybe take off your shirt while you’re at it.”
He was met by laughing and a bunch of clothes hitting him in the face. “Get dressed, I’m going to help you run the shop today and then take you out so you can do something besides sit around.” Mick gave him a hard look and dropped back into bed, blankets coming up and back over his head.
“Yeah, okay.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Corey was asked by Mrs. Morris to show her grandson the ropes around the place he had put it off at once, coming up with excuses left and right why he couldn’t show some kid that probably turned up his nose to everything that life was a little harder out there in the woods. But he couldn’t put it off forever and Mrs. Morris kept coming to him until finally he said yes and she was thrilled …he found out why when he showed into a room that littered with clothing, make up covered the dresser and a skinny tattooed arm stuck out of the blankets.
At first sight he wished he had come earlier and not waited three weeks in but it changed the second Mick opened his mouth and let loose his tongue and Corey decided he didn’t know what the fuck he was getting into - he was amusing though so that was a plus. He questioned why he was doing it even more when he had to drag the other out of bed and threaten to shove him into a cold shower before the other teen was dressed and applying thin lines of eyeliner, while the flat iron behind him heated up. Corey was even there for when he peed, Mick unnerved by the other watching over him like a mother hen.
He even seemed less unnerved when Corey brought him into the shop rather than out to the barn to help his grandfather. The older and bigger teen had done that before even going upstairs to wake the boy he would be playing babysitter and amusing for the day. But it was annoying Corey that he was just standing there, arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face. “What? This is your job and suddenly you hate it?”
“I never said that, I never implied it - I’m trying to figure out who the fuck you are and why you’re here better yet, you seem to know what you’re doing, so why am I here?”
“Because you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing and your grandmother asked me to help you so it’s not a complete disaster. This is one of the only shops that gets mainstream business and I don’t think she wants to lose it because her idiotic grandson can’t do shit. But I’m not going to help you all the time, I have two other jobs and other things to do so while I’m not here you need to know what to do. First, since there is two of us you can open the shop and then go back and do inventory, if it was just you, you would wait until the end of the day and do it.” Corey flipped the sign that read ‘closed’ in big white block letters to the other side that was the very same only it said ‘open’. The lights were on and the day had started. “Take this with you, fill it out as you count things and try not to make a mess.”
Snatching the paper from the guy, Mick studied his face and tried to figure out what he had miss - suddenly he was getting bossed around by some gorgeous guy he didn’t even know? That wasn’t going to fly with him for very long and he made it know that he was rather annoyed when he stomped his way to the back, banging into everything and anything - then proceeded to trip right over a box of stuffed bones. “Are you kidding me?” He mumbled just as he heard footsteps and Corey’s voice.
“Can’t even send you to do something before you make a mess? Jesus Christ, kid.” He stopped short when he saw the teen sitting in the center of a ton of stuffed toys, looking quite surprised.
“The box was right in the fucking way.” He snapped and shoved it off, sending more flying and something metal hit the wall as well as a loud bang which had both males jumping and looking over to the side. “A gun…there was a gun in the fucking box.” His voice was sort of shrill, pulling on a curious and almost, but not quite, panicky edge, “Corey why the fuck was there a gun in the box?”
“Hell if I know! For all I know, one of your grandparents did it…they’re a little weird. You’re grandma is fucking off the wall actually.”
“So she just so happened to put a loaded gun, with the chip lax in a box of stuffed animals for dogs? What next, are you going to tell me it was a trap so in case someone wanted to steal a bunch of squeaky dog bones? That’s a real cock and bull story if I’ve ever heard one.” He started pushing the squeaky toys back into the box and let Corey handle the gun which he did with ease and a frown.
“I guess your right but still…how would it end up there of all places?”
With a snort, Mick thought of all the possibilities and crawled across the floor to grab a couple more bones, tossing them over his shoulder into the box, turning his head every so often to make sure they were at least coming close to it …his head was turned back, mouth opened to answer Corey when his hand came down in a puddle of something cold and sticky. Something that smelt like a rusted penny and a little bit of something else…something that made him want to gag and a whispering voice in the back of his head told him not to look but he turned his brown eyes down, jaw dropping and a small whimper leaving his mouth. His hand was resting in a puddle of blood, a huge puddle that seemed to get bigger and bigger as his eyes followed it across the floor to another box where a ratty converse lay right in front of it.
“Mick?” He heard his name called multiple times but he ignored it each time, staring soberly at the show that was blood stained as well as familiar (he was the only one that made faces in his eyes when he drew on his best friend’s shoe), “Mi-fuck…” Strong hands pulled him up and back and his back hit a strong chest but it didn’t tear his gaze from what was before him or the fact that his hand was soaked in somebody’s blood. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
Now that caught Mick’s attention…he wasn’t supposed to see that? Did that mean - “you knew…know? Is there a dead body in there!?” His eyes fleeted up to the bright blue ones he knew so well, “what did you do, Corey?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me! Fuck Corey, that’s a goddamn dead body! In my grandparent’s pet shop! And I know that shoe!” Over dramatics was his specialty and it was no different now, even as he pulled away from the bigger male and went over, ignoring the blood on his hands and started to open the box that was one of the few that wasn’t taped up and it was stained red in some spots. “You did a shit job of cleaning things up…”
“I was in a rush, I wanted him gone...fucking bitch hangs all over you and doesn’t give a fuck that you’re mine. And then he showed up in town looking for you last night…what the fuck was I supposed to do? Point out your house and send him on his merry way?” Mick flipped back the flaps and his jaw dropped, eyes widening as he caught sight of the bruised face, dark hair and…
“You killed my best friend!” He spun around, no longer wanting to see the green eyes that seemed to glow among the red. “Corey! How could you do that!?”
The older shrugged and walked over, looking down into the box and closed the flaps and pulled Mick towards the bathroom to help clean him up. “Because…there’s just something I didn’t like about him. He wanted you and I didn’t want to share.”
“So you killed him and hide the body in the back of the pet shop.”
Corey nodded as an answer, because he knew right off the bat what Mick’s next question would be. His young lover knew him way to well and seemed to be able to read his mind at times. He wasn’t proved wrong as he opened his mouth and asked his next question.
“How many times have you done this before? You obviously knew what boxes to use and what not to.”
“Ever since we started giving the cats that new wet food, you know, they’ll eat anything when you add the right flavoring.”