(no subject)
Title: Drunk and Rowdy (and a little bit fratty)
Pairing: Mikey/Gerard
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 1058
Summary: Bob thinks they're hotter than the average Jerry Springer guest. Gerard would have to agree.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
It’s stupid of him, to be making out at a kegger. Gerard doesn’t know everyone here, but he knows enough, and enough know him well enough to know that Mikey is his brother. But when Mikey drinks he gets horny, and Gerard’s not about to give him an excuse to go find some repressed dudebro to make out with. Not tonight. Gerard doesn’t have the patience for it. So Gerard is making out with him in the middle of the second floor hallway. It’s a safe place, as far as incestual french kissing in a frat house goes. Anyone that’s had enough focus on getting laid that they bring their quarry upstairs won’t waste time trying to place names to faces of the two guys making out.
“I’m not giving you a handjob in the hallway,” Gerard says sometime later. “You want one, pick a room.”
It’s more of a theoretical suggestion than an actual suggestion. All the doors on the second floor are closed because all the rooms are full. Standing where he is, Gerard can hear about half a dozen different grunts. Mikey, horny in the way only tipsy people can be, answers him with tiptoeing exaggeratedly to the door nearest them. He opens the door, despite the obvious moaning that’s coming through. Mikey peers inside before closing the door again. “It’s occupied.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Instead of coming back to Gerard Mikey tiptoes to the next door and twists the doorknob. Gerard hopes his brother isn’t going to do the same for every door on the second floor, but he really wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mikey is a determined little shit.
When Mikey turns to face him a few doors down he’s smiling. “It’s empty.”
And well, that’s that. Gerard made a verbal contract and he’s gotta hold to it, right? He follows Mikey into the room and lets his brother tumble him onto the bed. The sheets smell like Axe. Doing his best to get Mikey’s zipper open one handed, Gerard keeps up the frantic pace of their kissing. Gerard likes the way Mikey tastes. It’s Mikey’s own special drink, no one else Gerard knows has ever tried the combination of Kahlua and grape soda. It doesn’t even have a name in a bartending book. It shouldn’t work, but it does. Or maybe Gerard just has fond memories of the mixed drink because the first time Mikey ever kissed him was after a night of drinking it.
“Oh hey. You’re Mikey Way and Gerard Way, right?”
Gerard bursts away from Mikey like they’re Superman and kryptonite. Only once he’s far enough away for plausible deniability does he turn to see who’s talking. The voice isn’t coming from where he expects it. There’s no one at the door. In fact, it’s still closed. What there is, is a guy sitting in the closet. A drummer guy that Frank knows.
“What are you doing?”
“I was hiding my friend’s keys. He’s even drunker than me, and I brought my own bottle. I guess I forgot to get up.”
Gerard takes pity on the guy. “Do you need help getting up?”
Bob shakes his head. “No. I’m comfortable here. You can go on making out. It’s hot.”
Gerard knows he must be pretty smashed; Bob saying they’re hot is almost enough to make him start again. Mikey’s clearly drunker than he is, because he does start. He just scoots down the bed to the edge where Gerard fled to and starts kissing him like he never stopped.
Gerard knows he should resist. Being someone’s sideshow attraction isn’t usually an interest of his. Mikey is so enthusiastic though, ravishing his mouth like he’s getting paid to do it, and Gerard can’t back down from that. He’s never been able to. Even when Bob lumbers out of the closet like a tranq’ed bear and collapses on the bed Gerard doesn’t stop.
“You guys are really hot. Most siblings that do that are fat and horrible. But maybe that’s just ‘cause Jerry Springer’s got a fat fetish. You think he does? I think he does.”
He snickers into Mikey’s mouth, interrupting the kiss. Sober he’d be all offended and tell Bob not to kink shame, but that drunk Gerard doesn’t have the righteousness for it. Mikey pulls away from Gerard and sits up with a sense of grace that should be impossible. He plucks the rum bottle out of Bob’s hand. It’s close to empty, and Bob doesn’t try to snatch it back. It’s not Kaluha, so Mikey passes it to Gerard, who dutifully drinks it back. It’s a mixed drink, like Bob poured a Coke into the glass bottle at some point.
“I’m straight, you know. Mostly.”
Gerard isn’t at a kegger to hear the sexuality angst of a frat boy. Bob’s hot, but he’s definitely pledging somewhere. He’s got a baseball cap on for fucksakes. Thankfully Mikey is thinking the same, and when he’s drunk he always speaks his mind. “Why don’t you tell me about it after you suck my dick?”
He holds his breath. If Bob says no they’ll just have to rely on getting him drunk enough to black out. It’s not like they’re gonna force anyone to join in. But if Bob wants to have a threesome life will be both easier and more fun. At best he’ll want to stay the straight boy and he’ll never mention it again. At worst it’s brought up as a boast embellished to make him look good. Something like yeah I bagged brothers. Wasn’t weird though, they didn’t touch.
“Don’t wanna. Wanna watch you kiss. Kiss more, now.”
Gerard gives up on any semblance of propriety. He just lets Mikey push him flat on the bed, steadies Mikey as he climb on top of him, enjoys Mikey’s alcohol soaked tongue slide against his. Gerard’s drunk, and horny, and he loves his brother, and all of those things can exist in isolation, but they’re so much better when they’re mixed into one evening.
When they’re done he won’t tell Bob not to tell anyone. Words like that imply secrets, and people remember secrets they were magically privy to. Even smashed people. But considering that if Bob does remember he might just like the memory enough to ask to watch again, Gerard’s not too concerned.
Pairing: Mikey/Gerard
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 1058
Summary: Bob thinks they're hotter than the average Jerry Springer guest. Gerard would have to agree.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
It’s stupid of him, to be making out at a kegger. Gerard doesn’t know everyone here, but he knows enough, and enough know him well enough to know that Mikey is his brother. But when Mikey drinks he gets horny, and Gerard’s not about to give him an excuse to go find some repressed dudebro to make out with. Not tonight. Gerard doesn’t have the patience for it. So Gerard is making out with him in the middle of the second floor hallway. It’s a safe place, as far as incestual french kissing in a frat house goes. Anyone that’s had enough focus on getting laid that they bring their quarry upstairs won’t waste time trying to place names to faces of the two guys making out.
“I’m not giving you a handjob in the hallway,” Gerard says sometime later. “You want one, pick a room.”
It’s more of a theoretical suggestion than an actual suggestion. All the doors on the second floor are closed because all the rooms are full. Standing where he is, Gerard can hear about half a dozen different grunts. Mikey, horny in the way only tipsy people can be, answers him with tiptoeing exaggeratedly to the door nearest them. He opens the door, despite the obvious moaning that’s coming through. Mikey peers inside before closing the door again. “It’s occupied.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Instead of coming back to Gerard Mikey tiptoes to the next door and twists the doorknob. Gerard hopes his brother isn’t going to do the same for every door on the second floor, but he really wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mikey is a determined little shit.
When Mikey turns to face him a few doors down he’s smiling. “It’s empty.”
And well, that’s that. Gerard made a verbal contract and he’s gotta hold to it, right? He follows Mikey into the room and lets his brother tumble him onto the bed. The sheets smell like Axe. Doing his best to get Mikey’s zipper open one handed, Gerard keeps up the frantic pace of their kissing. Gerard likes the way Mikey tastes. It’s Mikey’s own special drink, no one else Gerard knows has ever tried the combination of Kahlua and grape soda. It doesn’t even have a name in a bartending book. It shouldn’t work, but it does. Or maybe Gerard just has fond memories of the mixed drink because the first time Mikey ever kissed him was after a night of drinking it.
“Oh hey. You’re Mikey Way and Gerard Way, right?”
Gerard bursts away from Mikey like they’re Superman and kryptonite. Only once he’s far enough away for plausible deniability does he turn to see who’s talking. The voice isn’t coming from where he expects it. There’s no one at the door. In fact, it’s still closed. What there is, is a guy sitting in the closet. A drummer guy that Frank knows.
“What are you doing?”
“I was hiding my friend’s keys. He’s even drunker than me, and I brought my own bottle. I guess I forgot to get up.”
Gerard takes pity on the guy. “Do you need help getting up?”
Bob shakes his head. “No. I’m comfortable here. You can go on making out. It’s hot.”
Gerard knows he must be pretty smashed; Bob saying they’re hot is almost enough to make him start again. Mikey’s clearly drunker than he is, because he does start. He just scoots down the bed to the edge where Gerard fled to and starts kissing him like he never stopped.
Gerard knows he should resist. Being someone’s sideshow attraction isn’t usually an interest of his. Mikey is so enthusiastic though, ravishing his mouth like he’s getting paid to do it, and Gerard can’t back down from that. He’s never been able to. Even when Bob lumbers out of the closet like a tranq’ed bear and collapses on the bed Gerard doesn’t stop.
“You guys are really hot. Most siblings that do that are fat and horrible. But maybe that’s just ‘cause Jerry Springer’s got a fat fetish. You think he does? I think he does.”
He snickers into Mikey’s mouth, interrupting the kiss. Sober he’d be all offended and tell Bob not to kink shame, but that drunk Gerard doesn’t have the righteousness for it. Mikey pulls away from Gerard and sits up with a sense of grace that should be impossible. He plucks the rum bottle out of Bob’s hand. It’s close to empty, and Bob doesn’t try to snatch it back. It’s not Kaluha, so Mikey passes it to Gerard, who dutifully drinks it back. It’s a mixed drink, like Bob poured a Coke into the glass bottle at some point.
“I’m straight, you know. Mostly.”
Gerard isn’t at a kegger to hear the sexuality angst of a frat boy. Bob’s hot, but he’s definitely pledging somewhere. He’s got a baseball cap on for fucksakes. Thankfully Mikey is thinking the same, and when he’s drunk he always speaks his mind. “Why don’t you tell me about it after you suck my dick?”
He holds his breath. If Bob says no they’ll just have to rely on getting him drunk enough to black out. It’s not like they’re gonna force anyone to join in. But if Bob wants to have a threesome life will be both easier and more fun. At best he’ll want to stay the straight boy and he’ll never mention it again. At worst it’s brought up as a boast embellished to make him look good. Something like yeah I bagged brothers. Wasn’t weird though, they didn’t touch.
“Don’t wanna. Wanna watch you kiss. Kiss more, now.”
Gerard gives up on any semblance of propriety. He just lets Mikey push him flat on the bed, steadies Mikey as he climb on top of him, enjoys Mikey’s alcohol soaked tongue slide against his. Gerard’s drunk, and horny, and he loves his brother, and all of those things can exist in isolation, but they’re so much better when they’re mixed into one evening.
When they’re done he won’t tell Bob not to tell anyone. Words like that imply secrets, and people remember secrets they were magically privy to. Even smashed people. But considering that if Bob does remember he might just like the memory enough to ask to watch again, Gerard’s not too concerned.