Fic: Before We Get Much Older 1/1 (MCR, PG-13, Bob/Brian)
Title: Before We Get Much Older
Status: Complete
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Word Count: roughly 2,000
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in or related to bandom. Title from Baba O'Riley by The Who.
Pairing: Bob Bryar/Brian Schechter
Rating: PG-13
Betas and helpers: b_dsaint for the quick beta, ladyfoxxx and rosykate for the help.
Authors Notes: Written for torakowalski's birthday! She loves Bob/Brian and said it could be in an existing universe, so this is set roughly 15 years before You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison. You don't need to read that story to read this one. This also fills the kink bingo square for piercing/needleplay.
Summary: Brian's talked Bob into getting a lip ring. When you're sixteen, broke, and effectively homeless, that's a little more complicated than it sounds.
Bob isn’t sure about this. Brian’s a little too excited and the safety pin in his hand is one of those big one’s that the club kids put in their clothes for no reason and, like, a foot long. Okay, an inch, but every time he glides it through the flame of his lighter, Bob swears it gets longer.
“I’m not sure about this,” Bob says, his words a little slurred from trying to keep the ice pressed to the side of his mouth. It just doesn’t seem like a smart idea. He’s not worried about much, can’t be with the way he lives his life, but he’s pretty sure letting Brian shove a safety pin through his lower lip in the bathroom of a fucking Denny’s is the kind of unsanitary behavior he needs to worry about.
“You broke a plate glass window with your fist last week,” Brian says. It’s true, he did, Bob just doesn’t see the relevance. There had been a point to that - a stereo system they managed to hock for almost a hundred dollars that only just ran out. That broken plate glass window, and the cuts it left on his hand, had paid for hot food and new gloves for both of them; good because October’s barely started and it’s already freezing.
“That’s different.”
Brian nods and hops up on the counter next to the sink without dropping the needle. “It is. This’ll last. And it’ll look hot.” He reaches out with a foot, hooks it around Bob’s back and presses.
“That lasted,” Bob says, letting Brian tug him forward to stand between his legs. Of course once he gets there, it’s a little harder to think. “It got us here.”
“Here being the bottomless coffee for fifty cents?” Brian asks but he’s smiling. It does shit to Bob, Brian’s smile. It’s been getting him into trouble since the day they met. One day, Bob will mind. He’s pretty sure.
Except not today. Especially with the way Brian is taller than him like this, for probably the first time ever, and Bob can rest his hands on his thighs easy, just holding like he’s bracing himself. There’s room too, like there isn’t when they’re squeezed into the back of a shitty two door coup some complacent idiot didn’t have the good sense to put a security system on. It makes him think of better things he could be doing with his mouth then letting Brian shove a needle through it. But he agreed already and that’s pretty much all he’s got with Brian, or with anyone, really: his word.
So he doesn’t look down at his hands or up at Brian’s face, but past him to the mirror. He can think that way. “Don’t knock their coffee. Shit’s good.”
“Bob,” Brian says, leaning down and pressing a warm soft kiss to the side of Bob’s mouth not freezing under the ice cube. The contrast is dizzying. “Trust me.”
That’s not fair at all. Bob tries to muster a glare and mostly fails. “You’re an asshole.”
“Mmm,” Brian sighs, pulling Bob’s hand down and away from his mouth.
His fingers are almost numb but he doesn’t drop the ice. He’s not sure why; maybe because Brian’s dropping his lighter and sliding his fingers between Bob’s lips. That seems like a way more important thing to think about than cold fingers, even when Brian pulls his lower lip forward and taut in a distinctly unsexy way.
“Deep breath,” Brian says, which Bob kind of appreciates because he’d forgotten to do that. Breathe. “Don’t move,” he says, pressing the needle against the skin. He moves, fast and fucking brutal, pushing it through the skin and shit, shit, shit. The fingers resting on Brian’s thigh dig in, hard.
The pain is blinding but then Bob realizes he’s got his eyes squeezed shut. When he forces them open, Brian’s got his tongue sticking out on the side of his mouth and the safety pin is clean through Bob’s lip. His mouth tastes like blood and it’s dripping down his chin and on to his shirt and Brian’s dirty jeans.
“Okay,” Brian says on a relieved sigh as he lets go of Bob’s lip. He wasn’t sure that was going to work, Bob realizes and he squeezes Brian’s thigh even harder, making Brian wince because Bob has always been stronger than Brian. Stronger than most people. “Shit, ow.”
“Unth,” Bob grunts, waving the ice-wielding hand at his face because he’s dripping blood and holy shit his lip really fucking hurts, what with the safety pin sticking out of it. “Uh thck?”
“Chill the fuck out. We’re almost done.” Brian rolls his eyes and locks his ankles around the small of Bob’s back, pulling him even closer. Bob watches a look of intense focus darken Brian’s eyes but he can’t think much beyond the pain in his mouth and the solid feel of Brian’s legs wrapped around his waist.
Brian holds his chin in one hand and fishes in his pocket with the other, which is bad fucking planning on his part. He comes up with a small stainless steel ring that Bob hopes to fuck was never the piercing in Brian’s nose. That’s way over the intimacy line and Bob knows that Brian’s not crossing it. Probably.
“Seriously, hold still or this is going to hurt like fuck,” Brian says and Bob would smack the shit out of him because it already hurts. But he clenches his teeth and only grunts when Brian pulls the safety pin out and replaces it an agonizing second later with the ring. Then he closes it and wipes the blood off Bob’s chin with his fingers. “Done. We’ll have to find some Jack or something to disinfect it but, yeah.”
Bob’s lip is still stinging pain but it’s moving into a throb that aches in time to his pulse. It’s hypnotic. He’s going to have to drink his coffee through a straw. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
Brian reaches behind him and to the left, turns on the sink, and yanks down some of those obnoxious cheap-as-shit brown paper towels. There’s no hot water but that’s okay because when Brian brings the soaked, cool towel to his face to clean up the rest of the blood, it feels like blessed relief.
Bob leans into it, into Brian, finally dropping the mostly-melted shard of ice. “Still an asshole,” he mutters and slips his hand under Brian’s coat and shirt to press his icy fingers against his skin in retaliation.
“Fuck,” Brian hisses, jerking away but not far. There’s nothing behind him but empty counter space and he ends up nearly cracking his head on the wall before he catches Bob’s shoulders and pulling himself back up right. “Dick,” he grumbles and goes back to wiping blood off Bob’s face. He tries to frown but it doesn’t really hold. “You look seriously hot though.”
“Tell me this isn’t one of yours,” Bob says, forcing himself to resist the urge to tap the ring with his tongue. He’s only going to regret it.
Brian suddenly can’t look at him. If it were one of his two nose rings, he’d be laughing at Bob, teasing and taunting him with it. This, though, means Brian did something he doesn’t want Bob to know.
His fingers are warming up against Brian’s skin and he draws his hand forward to stroke up and down Brian’s side. “What?”
“I, kinda,” he shrugs and looks down at the blood on the knees of his jeans. “I borrowed some cash off Sean.”
Brian doesn’t ask his brother for things. Ever. Sean would give him anything, especially money, but Brian knows where it comes from. He knows what it costs Sean to get it. Bob knows that he knows and it’s why he doesn’t like to touch it. “When?”
Brian shrugs like it’s not a big fucking deal. “Two weeks ago?”
“We had money two weeks ago.” They’d been tapped by Steineckert’s people to move some product. They both knew Sean had hooked it up and it hadn’t paid half bad.
They could’ve had a follow up job, but Bob really hadn’t liked the way Steineckert looked at Brian. Steineckert was scum of the lowest order and he’d done nothing to hide the sick hunger in his expression. It was like Bob could see his brain working on how he’d make Brian into Sean version 2.0; planning how to string him out, turn him out, break him down, and use him up.
Bob has zero fucking patience for guys who turn people into toys like that. He’s been on his own since his mom died four years ago and learned to avoid and loathe that shit fast. He’d been twelve but he was big for his age and his mom had taught him what was and wasn’t right before he lost her. Protecting himself from guys like Steineckert had built a reputation Bob wasn’t sure he deserved. It did get him labeled the muscle though, so when he’d said no to that second job offer that had been the end of it. He was just glad that Brian hadn’t fought him on it.
“Yeah, for fucking food, booze and smokes,” Brian snaps, like he’s annoyed with Bob for thinking he’d spend what little they manage to scrape together on anything other than what they actually need. “This isn’t that. This is different.”
“This is something else,” Bob says, his throat tightening. He wants to kiss Brian right now but his mouth fucking hurts. He hadn’t thought that part out. It was poor planning on his part.
“Yeah,” Brian agrees, dropping the paper towel and resting his thumb on the skin just beneath the new piercing. It’s a gentle pressure but it hurts.
Bob flinches but doesn’t pull away. Fuck it. He’ll work around the pain. “You should kiss me now, asshole.”
“It’ll hurt,” Brian says, shaking his head.
Bob rolls his eyes and taps the corner of his lip that didn’t just get a needle shoved through it. “This side.”
Brian does, dipping his head down to kiss him gently on the left side. “You’re lopsided,” he murmurs when he pulls back.
Smiling hurts but Bob can’t help it. It’s fucking absurd and there’s still blood on his shirt. Brian looks tired and washed out under the halogen lights but also kind of beautiful. “Yeah, well, you like it.”
Brian doesn’t argue. He just kisses Bob again, careful but deeper and with tongue, though still lopsided. He pulls Brian’s hips closer to his and wonders if they want to risk getting thrown out.
“I was right though,” Brian says, his lips brushing against Bob’s cheek, dragging against rough stubble that’s just starting to head towards a beard because Bob can’t remember the last time they shelled out for shit like a razor.
Bob doesn’t say aren’t you always because with as much as his mouth aches, he’s not going to give Brian the validation and satisfaction. “About what?”
Brian tightens his legs around Bob’s waist. Fuck, the sink is really the exact right height for this and Bob barely remembers not to bite his lip in time. “How fucking hot you’d look like this. It suits you. I knew it would.”
He leans in again but this time he kisses Bob’s jaw, then back behind his ear and down. Brian bites the side of his neck and Bob thinks fuck it. There’s another Denny’s ten blocks east. Just fuck it.
The shitty coffee’s the same in every Denny’s. Brian’s only sucking a hickey the size of a golf ball onto Bob’s skin, while his mouth throbs like its bitten and kiss-bruised only more, in this one. This is worth getting thrown out or even arrested again. They just might if the manager on duty is that douche-bag who’s always trying to kick them out.
It doesn’t matter though. This, Bob thinks as he works on the ancient belt buckle holding up Brain’s jeans, is worth pretty much everything.
Status: Complete
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Word Count: roughly 2,000
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in or related to bandom. Title from Baba O'Riley by The Who.
Pairing: Bob Bryar/Brian Schechter
Rating: PG-13
Betas and helpers: b_dsaint for the quick beta, ladyfoxxx and rosykate for the help.
Authors Notes: Written for torakowalski's birthday! She loves Bob/Brian and said it could be in an existing universe, so this is set roughly 15 years before You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison. You don't need to read that story to read this one. This also fills the kink bingo square for piercing/needleplay.
Summary: Brian's talked Bob into getting a lip ring. When you're sixteen, broke, and effectively homeless, that's a little more complicated than it sounds.
Bob isn’t sure about this. Brian’s a little too excited and the safety pin in his hand is one of those big one’s that the club kids put in their clothes for no reason and, like, a foot long. Okay, an inch, but every time he glides it through the flame of his lighter, Bob swears it gets longer.
“I’m not sure about this,” Bob says, his words a little slurred from trying to keep the ice pressed to the side of his mouth. It just doesn’t seem like a smart idea. He’s not worried about much, can’t be with the way he lives his life, but he’s pretty sure letting Brian shove a safety pin through his lower lip in the bathroom of a fucking Denny’s is the kind of unsanitary behavior he needs to worry about.
“You broke a plate glass window with your fist last week,” Brian says. It’s true, he did, Bob just doesn’t see the relevance. There had been a point to that - a stereo system they managed to hock for almost a hundred dollars that only just ran out. That broken plate glass window, and the cuts it left on his hand, had paid for hot food and new gloves for both of them; good because October’s barely started and it’s already freezing.
“That’s different.”
Brian nods and hops up on the counter next to the sink without dropping the needle. “It is. This’ll last. And it’ll look hot.” He reaches out with a foot, hooks it around Bob’s back and presses.
“That lasted,” Bob says, letting Brian tug him forward to stand between his legs. Of course once he gets there, it’s a little harder to think. “It got us here.”
“Here being the bottomless coffee for fifty cents?” Brian asks but he’s smiling. It does shit to Bob, Brian’s smile. It’s been getting him into trouble since the day they met. One day, Bob will mind. He’s pretty sure.
Except not today. Especially with the way Brian is taller than him like this, for probably the first time ever, and Bob can rest his hands on his thighs easy, just holding like he’s bracing himself. There’s room too, like there isn’t when they’re squeezed into the back of a shitty two door coup some complacent idiot didn’t have the good sense to put a security system on. It makes him think of better things he could be doing with his mouth then letting Brian shove a needle through it. But he agreed already and that’s pretty much all he’s got with Brian, or with anyone, really: his word.
So he doesn’t look down at his hands or up at Brian’s face, but past him to the mirror. He can think that way. “Don’t knock their coffee. Shit’s good.”
“Bob,” Brian says, leaning down and pressing a warm soft kiss to the side of Bob’s mouth not freezing under the ice cube. The contrast is dizzying. “Trust me.”
That’s not fair at all. Bob tries to muster a glare and mostly fails. “You’re an asshole.”
“Mmm,” Brian sighs, pulling Bob’s hand down and away from his mouth.
His fingers are almost numb but he doesn’t drop the ice. He’s not sure why; maybe because Brian’s dropping his lighter and sliding his fingers between Bob’s lips. That seems like a way more important thing to think about than cold fingers, even when Brian pulls his lower lip forward and taut in a distinctly unsexy way.
“Deep breath,” Brian says, which Bob kind of appreciates because he’d forgotten to do that. Breathe. “Don’t move,” he says, pressing the needle against the skin. He moves, fast and fucking brutal, pushing it through the skin and shit, shit, shit. The fingers resting on Brian’s thigh dig in, hard.
The pain is blinding but then Bob realizes he’s got his eyes squeezed shut. When he forces them open, Brian’s got his tongue sticking out on the side of his mouth and the safety pin is clean through Bob’s lip. His mouth tastes like blood and it’s dripping down his chin and on to his shirt and Brian’s dirty jeans.
“Okay,” Brian says on a relieved sigh as he lets go of Bob’s lip. He wasn’t sure that was going to work, Bob realizes and he squeezes Brian’s thigh even harder, making Brian wince because Bob has always been stronger than Brian. Stronger than most people. “Shit, ow.”
“Unth,” Bob grunts, waving the ice-wielding hand at his face because he’s dripping blood and holy shit his lip really fucking hurts, what with the safety pin sticking out of it. “Uh thck?”
“Chill the fuck out. We’re almost done.” Brian rolls his eyes and locks his ankles around the small of Bob’s back, pulling him even closer. Bob watches a look of intense focus darken Brian’s eyes but he can’t think much beyond the pain in his mouth and the solid feel of Brian’s legs wrapped around his waist.
Brian holds his chin in one hand and fishes in his pocket with the other, which is bad fucking planning on his part. He comes up with a small stainless steel ring that Bob hopes to fuck was never the piercing in Brian’s nose. That’s way over the intimacy line and Bob knows that Brian’s not crossing it. Probably.
“Seriously, hold still or this is going to hurt like fuck,” Brian says and Bob would smack the shit out of him because it already hurts. But he clenches his teeth and only grunts when Brian pulls the safety pin out and replaces it an agonizing second later with the ring. Then he closes it and wipes the blood off Bob’s chin with his fingers. “Done. We’ll have to find some Jack or something to disinfect it but, yeah.”
Bob’s lip is still stinging pain but it’s moving into a throb that aches in time to his pulse. It’s hypnotic. He’s going to have to drink his coffee through a straw. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
Brian reaches behind him and to the left, turns on the sink, and yanks down some of those obnoxious cheap-as-shit brown paper towels. There’s no hot water but that’s okay because when Brian brings the soaked, cool towel to his face to clean up the rest of the blood, it feels like blessed relief.
Bob leans into it, into Brian, finally dropping the mostly-melted shard of ice. “Still an asshole,” he mutters and slips his hand under Brian’s coat and shirt to press his icy fingers against his skin in retaliation.
“Fuck,” Brian hisses, jerking away but not far. There’s nothing behind him but empty counter space and he ends up nearly cracking his head on the wall before he catches Bob’s shoulders and pulling himself back up right. “Dick,” he grumbles and goes back to wiping blood off Bob’s face. He tries to frown but it doesn’t really hold. “You look seriously hot though.”
“Tell me this isn’t one of yours,” Bob says, forcing himself to resist the urge to tap the ring with his tongue. He’s only going to regret it.
Brian suddenly can’t look at him. If it were one of his two nose rings, he’d be laughing at Bob, teasing and taunting him with it. This, though, means Brian did something he doesn’t want Bob to know.
His fingers are warming up against Brian’s skin and he draws his hand forward to stroke up and down Brian’s side. “What?”
“I, kinda,” he shrugs and looks down at the blood on the knees of his jeans. “I borrowed some cash off Sean.”
Brian doesn’t ask his brother for things. Ever. Sean would give him anything, especially money, but Brian knows where it comes from. He knows what it costs Sean to get it. Bob knows that he knows and it’s why he doesn’t like to touch it. “When?”
Brian shrugs like it’s not a big fucking deal. “Two weeks ago?”
“We had money two weeks ago.” They’d been tapped by Steineckert’s people to move some product. They both knew Sean had hooked it up and it hadn’t paid half bad.
They could’ve had a follow up job, but Bob really hadn’t liked the way Steineckert looked at Brian. Steineckert was scum of the lowest order and he’d done nothing to hide the sick hunger in his expression. It was like Bob could see his brain working on how he’d make Brian into Sean version 2.0; planning how to string him out, turn him out, break him down, and use him up.
Bob has zero fucking patience for guys who turn people into toys like that. He’s been on his own since his mom died four years ago and learned to avoid and loathe that shit fast. He’d been twelve but he was big for his age and his mom had taught him what was and wasn’t right before he lost her. Protecting himself from guys like Steineckert had built a reputation Bob wasn’t sure he deserved. It did get him labeled the muscle though, so when he’d said no to that second job offer that had been the end of it. He was just glad that Brian hadn’t fought him on it.
“Yeah, for fucking food, booze and smokes,” Brian snaps, like he’s annoyed with Bob for thinking he’d spend what little they manage to scrape together on anything other than what they actually need. “This isn’t that. This is different.”
“This is something else,” Bob says, his throat tightening. He wants to kiss Brian right now but his mouth fucking hurts. He hadn’t thought that part out. It was poor planning on his part.
“Yeah,” Brian agrees, dropping the paper towel and resting his thumb on the skin just beneath the new piercing. It’s a gentle pressure but it hurts.
Bob flinches but doesn’t pull away. Fuck it. He’ll work around the pain. “You should kiss me now, asshole.”
“It’ll hurt,” Brian says, shaking his head.
Bob rolls his eyes and taps the corner of his lip that didn’t just get a needle shoved through it. “This side.”
Brian does, dipping his head down to kiss him gently on the left side. “You’re lopsided,” he murmurs when he pulls back.
Smiling hurts but Bob can’t help it. It’s fucking absurd and there’s still blood on his shirt. Brian looks tired and washed out under the halogen lights but also kind of beautiful. “Yeah, well, you like it.”
Brian doesn’t argue. He just kisses Bob again, careful but deeper and with tongue, though still lopsided. He pulls Brian’s hips closer to his and wonders if they want to risk getting thrown out.
“I was right though,” Brian says, his lips brushing against Bob’s cheek, dragging against rough stubble that’s just starting to head towards a beard because Bob can’t remember the last time they shelled out for shit like a razor.
Bob doesn’t say aren’t you always because with as much as his mouth aches, he’s not going to give Brian the validation and satisfaction. “About what?”
Brian tightens his legs around Bob’s waist. Fuck, the sink is really the exact right height for this and Bob barely remembers not to bite his lip in time. “How fucking hot you’d look like this. It suits you. I knew it would.”
He leans in again but this time he kisses Bob’s jaw, then back behind his ear and down. Brian bites the side of his neck and Bob thinks fuck it. There’s another Denny’s ten blocks east. Just fuck it.
The shitty coffee’s the same in every Denny’s. Brian’s only sucking a hickey the size of a golf ball onto Bob’s skin, while his mouth throbs like its bitten and kiss-bruised only more, in this one. This is worth getting thrown out or even arrested again. They just might if the manager on duty is that douche-bag who’s always trying to kick them out.
It doesn’t matter though. This, Bob thinks as he works on the ancient belt buckle holding up Brain’s jeans, is worth pretty much everything.