One more day to go!
Ninth day's prompt is song.
Punchline
Saline sweat falls into his eyes, Rick blinks them away. His fingers hurt, but all that euphoric scream, the sheer heat, and the endorphin rushing in his vein, it'll all be worth it. Encore is the best part of any performance.
Mikey screams encouragement for the audience to shouts louder. It's a cue for Chris to crank up a few beat on his drum. Rick plays a few hook lines with his guitar. The audience screams impossibly louder.
::
They've been on Warped for a couple of months now. Rick is so exhausted. His joints crack like an old man's these days.
"Gross," Chris throwed at him as Rick yawned and wiped the drool from his face.
He ignores Chris. He's been up all night writing a song with Mikey after their performance yesterday. He had groaned when Mikey approached him with a twinkle in his eye.
"Rick, catch!" Lana warns him just briefly before something sails toward Mikey.
Rick, with years of footbal training during highschool, catches the ball of paper Lana throws him more out of reflect than anything.
"What?" Rick says.
"Just something funny," Lana tells him, a crooked smile stretches her lips.
Rick examines the crumpled paper in his hand. It looks like a cut out of a newspaper. He smooths it out of the ball shape. His eyes widen when he sees the picture front and center.
"Ugh," he groans. "How drunk again were we?"
Lana snickers.
::
How close was too close before? Had Mikey always rests his head in Rick’s lap to play his Gameboy? Rick knows for-fucking-sure that he’s never paid so much attention to the way his friend's fingers deftly manipulate the buttons, the rapid tap of his thumb on B, even though he has an inventory full of great balls and they both know button-mashing doesn’t do shit to increase your catch rate.
He plays with Mikey's hair anyway. The strands are dry and coarse after so many bathroom dye jobs, and so far, red is Rick's favorite color on Mikey.
"Hey, Rick," Mikey starts. "Do you think we can play the song we make yesterday tonight?"
Rick watches Lana out of the corner of his eyes. The girl is looking amused - too fucking gleeful and that indicates more than anything that bets have been placed.
"If everyone adds their part into the song sometime before tonight's performance, I suppose," Rick says.
He wants to ask Mikey, but Rick is too chicken to do something about it. There's just no way to make it not awkward. How do you approach your best friend and ask question like, did you kiss me last night?
Ugh. Except that Mikey had as the photographic evidence has shown.
"Guys, what do you think?" Mikey puts down his Gameboy and asks the room at large. He surpresses a yawn then turns to circle his hands around Rick's stomach, nuzzling his face into Rick's shirt.
Rick tenses a little bit. It's normal occurence, Mikey and him have always been a tad bit touchy feely.
Lana honest to God bursts out laughing. Rick gives her the stink eye.
::
Rick is drunk. He slurs most of his words as he babbles nonsense to Mikey.
Mikey wraps his arms around Rick to help him walk back to their bus. His hands are surprisingly gentle around Rick's waist.
"Hmmm," Rick comments. He's about one second away to launch into a poetic tirade about Mikey's arms when Mikey suddenly slams him against the side of the bus.
Rick has a fleeting thought about how it must not be fun to kiss someone as drunk as him, but Mikey does it anyway. He mashes his lips on Rick's and Rick can taste the alcohol and ciggarette they have been indulging the better part of the night.
Rick tries to kiss back. It is sloppy as hell; saliva wets the lower half of both their faces when they separate. Mikey laughs at him.
::
Rick doesn't remember anything about that kiss. Someone must have been lounging in hiding at the bushes, to catch the member of the band doing things stupid enough to make it into media. Well, it hasn't blown out of proportion yet as far as stupid things go (their agents, for one, would have burned their ears with their phonecalls for indication).
And, Rick and Mikey, have been known to be close. All those fanfictions... there is no flame without smoke. Ugh.
"Tonight," Mikey shouts to the crowd. "We'd like to play a new song. I wrote the song just last night and my buddies add their parts into it ASAP so we could play it tonight. I'd really want to dedicate this song for someone."
That last statement perks Rick's ear. He doesn't remember Mikey saying anything about writing song for someone.
"Some of you may have seen the newspaper this morning?" Mikey continues.
Dread creeps along Rick's spine. He always has this intuition when Mikey is seconds away from doing stupid things, like that one time Mikey tried to do coke for example.
"Well," Mikey says. "If you haven't you should read it."
Rick nearly cringes when Mikey turns to face him. Mikey gives him a dopey smile and walks over to him. He doesn't give Rick any chance to deflect.
The crowd screams as Mikey lands a soft kiss on his lips.
"It's for you Rick," Mikey whispers, just for him.
Rick hears Lana's guffaw somewhere on his right.
Punchline
Saline sweat falls into his eyes, Rick blinks them away. His fingers hurt, but all that euphoric scream, the sheer heat, and the endorphin rushing in his vein, it'll all be worth it. Encore is the best part of any performance.
Mikey screams encouragement for the audience to shouts louder. It's a cue for Chris to crank up a few beat on his drum. Rick plays a few hook lines with his guitar. The audience screams impossibly louder.
::
They've been on Warped for a couple of months now. Rick is so exhausted. His joints crack like an old man's these days.
"Gross," Chris throwed at him as Rick yawned and wiped the drool from his face.
He ignores Chris. He's been up all night writing a song with Mikey after their performance yesterday. He had groaned when Mikey approached him with a twinkle in his eye.
"Rick, catch!" Lana warns him just briefly before something sails toward Mikey.
Rick, with years of footbal training during highschool, catches the ball of paper Lana throws him more out of reflect than anything.
"What?" Rick says.
"Just something funny," Lana tells him, a crooked smile stretches her lips.
Rick examines the crumpled paper in his hand. It looks like a cut out of a newspaper. He smooths it out of the ball shape. His eyes widen when he sees the picture front and center.
"Ugh," he groans. "How drunk again were we?"
Lana snickers.
::
How close was too close before? Had Mikey always rests his head in Rick’s lap to play his Gameboy? Rick knows for-fucking-sure that he’s never paid so much attention to the way his friend's fingers deftly manipulate the buttons, the rapid tap of his thumb on B, even though he has an inventory full of great balls and they both know button-mashing doesn’t do shit to increase your catch rate.
He plays with Mikey's hair anyway. The strands are dry and coarse after so many bathroom dye jobs, and so far, red is Rick's favorite color on Mikey.
"Hey, Rick," Mikey starts. "Do you think we can play the song we make yesterday tonight?"
Rick watches Lana out of the corner of his eyes. The girl is looking amused - too fucking gleeful and that indicates more than anything that bets have been placed.
"If everyone adds their part into the song sometime before tonight's performance, I suppose," Rick says.
He wants to ask Mikey, but Rick is too chicken to do something about it. There's just no way to make it not awkward. How do you approach your best friend and ask question like, did you kiss me last night?
Ugh. Except that Mikey had as the photographic evidence has shown.
"Guys, what do you think?" Mikey puts down his Gameboy and asks the room at large. He surpresses a yawn then turns to circle his hands around Rick's stomach, nuzzling his face into Rick's shirt.
Rick tenses a little bit. It's normal occurence, Mikey and him have always been a tad bit touchy feely.
Lana honest to God bursts out laughing. Rick gives her the stink eye.
::
Rick is drunk. He slurs most of his words as he babbles nonsense to Mikey.
Mikey wraps his arms around Rick to help him walk back to their bus. His hands are surprisingly gentle around Rick's waist.
"Hmmm," Rick comments. He's about one second away to launch into a poetic tirade about Mikey's arms when Mikey suddenly slams him against the side of the bus.
Rick has a fleeting thought about how it must not be fun to kiss someone as drunk as him, but Mikey does it anyway. He mashes his lips on Rick's and Rick can taste the alcohol and ciggarette they have been indulging the better part of the night.
Rick tries to kiss back. It is sloppy as hell; saliva wets the lower half of both their faces when they separate. Mikey laughs at him.
::
Rick doesn't remember anything about that kiss. Someone must have been lounging in hiding at the bushes, to catch the member of the band doing things stupid enough to make it into media. Well, it hasn't blown out of proportion yet as far as stupid things go (their agents, for one, would have burned their ears with their phonecalls for indication).
And, Rick and Mikey, have been known to be close. All those fanfictions... there is no flame without smoke. Ugh.
"Tonight," Mikey shouts to the crowd. "We'd like to play a new song. I wrote the song just last night and my buddies add their parts into it ASAP so we could play it tonight. I'd really want to dedicate this song for someone."
That last statement perks Rick's ear. He doesn't remember Mikey saying anything about writing song for someone.
"Some of you may have seen the newspaper this morning?" Mikey continues.
Dread creeps along Rick's spine. He always has this intuition when Mikey is seconds away from doing stupid things, like that one time Mikey tried to do coke for example.
"Well," Mikey says. "If you haven't you should read it."
Rick nearly cringes when Mikey turns to face him. Mikey gives him a dopey smile and walks over to him. He doesn't give Rick any chance to deflect.
The crowd screams as Mikey lands a soft kiss on his lips.
"It's for you Rick," Mikey whispers, just for him.
Rick hears Lana's guffaw somewhere on his right.