[FIC] Don't Look Up [SMA verse.]
Title; Don't Look Up.
Pairing; always-a-girl!bren/mikey
Summary; When Brenna answers the door there’s a man there, hidden somewhere behind a huge bunch of flowers.
Author's Note; It's just still Valentines Day here - a Sing Me Anything verse special.
When Brenna answers the door there’s a man there, hidden somewhere behind a huge bunch of flowers. She almost laughs, thinking it’s some kind of joke, but stops herself just in time. “Mrs Way?” he asks and she shakes her head bemusedly. She can’t believe Gerard’s gone that whole sappy way for Lyn-Z… and she’s maybe a little jealous of that fact. It’s Valentine’s Day and she hasn’t even seen Mikey.
He looks at her in confusion before re-checking his delivery sheet. “Brenna Way?” he repeats, and it hits her. “Yeah, sorry, that’s me,” she says hurriedly, biting her lip to stop herself giggling at the expression on his face - he clearly thinks she’s crazy. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that she goes by her own name - something her husband seems to be trying to cure her of - or that her best friend goes by the same married name. She takes the flowers off of him with a quick ‘thanks’ before almost staggering under their sheer volume.
She struggles back into the front lounge, heading towards the kitchen - flowers go in water, right? she thinks, not entirely sure what to do with what must be half a ton of them - and as she passes through the room falls into silence. “What the hell?” her band mates ask as one, and she ignores them pointedly. She’s about to collapse trying to carry the flowers and they’re just sitting watching like it’s some kind of entertainment show. “Thanks for all your help guys,” she says as she dumps the bouquet unceremoniously on the kitchen table and stands back, just staring at it. Ryan, Jon and Spencer all join her in the kitchen, and all four of them look in wonder at the vast array of flowers before them.
“I didn’t know you could buy that many at once,” Ryan says in a tone almost akin to awe, and the other three look nervously at each other - they all remember the rose vest and the arguments that ensued when it conveniently went missing. “Yeah, they’re… something,” she says rolling her eyes, but she can’t keep a stupid smile off of her face.
“like them? xx” the text comes through, and she laughs before texting him back, “come see for yourself x” Seconds later she hears a knock on the door of the bus and she saunters up the hallway to answer it. “If you’re looking for Mrs Way she’s not here,” she tells him, and watches as he tries to look shame-faced while failing miserably. “But your wife loved her flowers,” she continues, walking outside until she’s standing back against the side of the bus before lacing her arms around his neck and whispering in his ear, “and now she wants to thank you.”
She looks around quickly - not too carefully though, where’s the fun if you’re in no danger? - before kissing him once and letting her hands wander to his belt. “Bren, we… not here,” he says, eyes suddenly wide, and she smirks at that, remembering just how innocent her husband is capable of being sometimes, and how much she loves it. “Why not?” she asks as her fingers deftly undo his jeans. “It’s… what if someone sees?” he stutters out as those clever fingers close around his cock. She looks up at him, all dirty eyes and wicked intent, and she reaches up to bite his bottom lip before she replies, “What if they do?”
With that she sinks to her knees and in one deft move licks up from base to tip, tongue trailing languidly around the head until she feels his hips shift. “Fuck, Bren,” he says, and she’s more than a little smug that he’s pretty much breathless already. She takes him in as far as she can then, her hands teasing what her mouth can’t, and she plays him like just another instrument. She thinks it almost shouldn’t be this easy, but in the same way she likes that it is, likes that Mikey’s so transparent when she’s doing something he likes, and she likes the way his hand rests at the base of her neck rather than in her hair, something he’s done since the beginning and always sends a little shiver through her - only one man before him has ever done that, and she doesn’t let herself think about him, not now, not while she’s with her husband.
“God, please, fuck,” he moans, and it’s practically mindless, she can tell by the edge to his words how close he is - as if she hadn’t known by the way he was moving, the desperation obvious in every inch of his body. She raises her eyes until she’s looking at him, knows exactly how she looks and exactly what it’ll do to him, and she’s proven right seconds later as he comes with a muttered curse.
Ever the gentleman he helps her up and her vision blurs as she stands, the full force of her own arousal suddenly hitting her, and it almost knocks the breath from her. “Mikey,” she says, her voice shaking, and that’s all it takes before he’s pushing her back against the bus and kissing her, hot and dirty, one hand sliding up her skirt, inside her underwear. Her head tips back and he kisses the base of her throat as moans and broken pleas fall from her mouth, only relenting when he feels her fall apart under his touch.
“Happy Valentines Day Mrs Way,” he whispers as he steadies her and she just smiles, tired but contented, and she thinks she’ll let it go. This time.
Pairing; always-a-girl!bren/mikey
Summary; When Brenna answers the door there’s a man there, hidden somewhere behind a huge bunch of flowers.
Author's Note; It's just still Valentines Day here - a Sing Me Anything verse special.
When Brenna answers the door there’s a man there, hidden somewhere behind a huge bunch of flowers. She almost laughs, thinking it’s some kind of joke, but stops herself just in time. “Mrs Way?” he asks and she shakes her head bemusedly. She can’t believe Gerard’s gone that whole sappy way for Lyn-Z… and she’s maybe a little jealous of that fact. It’s Valentine’s Day and she hasn’t even seen Mikey.
He looks at her in confusion before re-checking his delivery sheet. “Brenna Way?” he repeats, and it hits her. “Yeah, sorry, that’s me,” she says hurriedly, biting her lip to stop herself giggling at the expression on his face - he clearly thinks she’s crazy. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that she goes by her own name - something her husband seems to be trying to cure her of - or that her best friend goes by the same married name. She takes the flowers off of him with a quick ‘thanks’ before almost staggering under their sheer volume.
She struggles back into the front lounge, heading towards the kitchen - flowers go in water, right? she thinks, not entirely sure what to do with what must be half a ton of them - and as she passes through the room falls into silence. “What the hell?” her band mates ask as one, and she ignores them pointedly. She’s about to collapse trying to carry the flowers and they’re just sitting watching like it’s some kind of entertainment show. “Thanks for all your help guys,” she says as she dumps the bouquet unceremoniously on the kitchen table and stands back, just staring at it. Ryan, Jon and Spencer all join her in the kitchen, and all four of them look in wonder at the vast array of flowers before them.
“I didn’t know you could buy that many at once,” Ryan says in a tone almost akin to awe, and the other three look nervously at each other - they all remember the rose vest and the arguments that ensued when it conveniently went missing. “Yeah, they’re… something,” she says rolling her eyes, but she can’t keep a stupid smile off of her face.
“like them? xx” the text comes through, and she laughs before texting him back, “come see for yourself x” Seconds later she hears a knock on the door of the bus and she saunters up the hallway to answer it. “If you’re looking for Mrs Way she’s not here,” she tells him, and watches as he tries to look shame-faced while failing miserably. “But your wife loved her flowers,” she continues, walking outside until she’s standing back against the side of the bus before lacing her arms around his neck and whispering in his ear, “and now she wants to thank you.”
She looks around quickly - not too carefully though, where’s the fun if you’re in no danger? - before kissing him once and letting her hands wander to his belt. “Bren, we… not here,” he says, eyes suddenly wide, and she smirks at that, remembering just how innocent her husband is capable of being sometimes, and how much she loves it. “Why not?” she asks as her fingers deftly undo his jeans. “It’s… what if someone sees?” he stutters out as those clever fingers close around his cock. She looks up at him, all dirty eyes and wicked intent, and she reaches up to bite his bottom lip before she replies, “What if they do?”
With that she sinks to her knees and in one deft move licks up from base to tip, tongue trailing languidly around the head until she feels his hips shift. “Fuck, Bren,” he says, and she’s more than a little smug that he’s pretty much breathless already. She takes him in as far as she can then, her hands teasing what her mouth can’t, and she plays him like just another instrument. She thinks it almost shouldn’t be this easy, but in the same way she likes that it is, likes that Mikey’s so transparent when she’s doing something he likes, and she likes the way his hand rests at the base of her neck rather than in her hair, something he’s done since the beginning and always sends a little shiver through her - only one man before him has ever done that, and she doesn’t let herself think about him, not now, not while she’s with her husband.
“God, please, fuck,” he moans, and it’s practically mindless, she can tell by the edge to his words how close he is - as if she hadn’t known by the way he was moving, the desperation obvious in every inch of his body. She raises her eyes until she’s looking at him, knows exactly how she looks and exactly what it’ll do to him, and she’s proven right seconds later as he comes with a muttered curse.
Ever the gentleman he helps her up and her vision blurs as she stands, the full force of her own arousal suddenly hitting her, and it almost knocks the breath from her. “Mikey,” she says, her voice shaking, and that’s all it takes before he’s pushing her back against the bus and kissing her, hot and dirty, one hand sliding up her skirt, inside her underwear. Her head tips back and he kisses the base of her throat as moans and broken pleas fall from her mouth, only relenting when he feels her fall apart under his touch.
“Happy Valentines Day Mrs Way,” he whispers as he steadies her and she just smiles, tired but contented, and she thinks she’ll let it go. This time.