Fly On The Windscreen 13/?
Title: Fly On The Windscreen Author: maddonna001
Genre: My Bloody Valentine/Friday the 13th crossover
Pairing: Tom Hanniger/Clay Miller, implied Clay/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Takes up right as MBV ends. Tom escapes and meets Clay on the road. This story is about how two broken men meet and pick up the pieces together
Beta: The wonderful Sotia, aka. ssddgr
Warning: violence, mental illness
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, they belong to their owners, I’m doing this for just fun. OMC’s are 100% made up by me, I only took the face and name of some handsome Brazilian models, I don't own them either and I mean no harm.
Storyart: made by the extremely talented Jade aka. takacshedi Title taken from Depeche Mode’s identically titled song, written by Martin L. Gore.
Word count in this chapter: 1773
*Getting in a car, get on the road and start chasing the dream of your new life is easier than you expect it. When you just pick a destination and drive, sleep in cheap motels, it all looks so simple. But as you get closer to your destination, you cannot stop the flow of questions in your head, and there is absolutely no way to avoid freaking out.* These thoughts were the ones swirling in Clay’s head every time he and Tom stopped talking, when he was tossing and turning in his bed, sleepless at night, and not knowing what the future held for them.
The first two days of their road-trip were just like in the movies. Two guys in a hot black car, driving the back roads of the US, listening to music, talking, getting to know each other, eating at small diners and-after watching TV, and making out with each other on their beds-going to sleep separately, and therefore becoming more and more frustrated.
The first incident that made Clay have a major freak-out was when he and Tom were sitting in a diner, and he noticed the young waitress glancing into their direction more than five times in fifteen minutes. There still weren’t any news about the massacre at Camp Crystal Lake, or Harmony, but there was something in the way that girl looked at them that made him uncomfortable in his skin. He didn’t know if that was because they looked like a couple-you can never know when you run into a bunch of homophobic assholes in the middle of the State, so they tried to avoid any intimacy in their touches.
Tom had finally started to loosen up, he wasn’t in so much pain anymore and he really seemed to enjoy driving around cross country, so life was fun.
On that day, coming back from a short visit to the diner’s bathroom, Clay caught fragments of their waitress’ conversation with someone.
“I’m telling you, Kate, it’s them! The black muscle car, the diner food, the way they dress-it must be them!” the waitress said.
“Jesus, Julie, get a grip. Those guys cannot be here; that’s impossible. God knows who these two are, but I definitely wouldn’t mind finding out. Do you think they are gay, just like the ones on TV?” the girl named Kate answered.
Hearing the two girls discuss seeing his and Tom’s face on the television, Clay felt his heart suddenly start beating like a drum machine. Getting nervous and afraid of being recognized, he decided it was time to flee. He stepped up to the waitress and handed her a twenty dollar bill. “Everything was perfect, thank you. Keep the change, have a nice day” he said, and hurried back to Tom, grabbing his arm. “Time to go. Now,” was all the explanation he gave.
Just one look at Clay’s face was enough for Tom to realize there was something wrong, so he nodded and left the diner with his boyfriend, not looking back at the people inside.
Clay quickly sat himself behind the wheel and drove out of the diner’s parking lot. “Man, that was close!” he said, his anxiety obvious in his voice.
“Dude, what was that all about?” Tom asked.
“I dunno-the waitress, she… she kept staring at us, and then, when I came back from the bathroom, I heard her talking to her friend. Said she thought she saw us on TV. Fuck, what if we missed the news, what if there is a warrant out on us? I didn’t do anything Tom, I didn’t kill anybody. I don’t wanna go in jail!” Clay sounded more and more desperate.
“Listen to me, we are not going to get into jail. There was nothing reported on the news, we listened to the radio, checked the news online… just don’t worry. Dude, you seriously need to loosen up a bit.” Tom shook his head, his grip steady on the steering wheel. “Come on, let’s drive until it gets dark, then we stop at the first town and get a room for ourselves. We could go to some bar, play a little pool, do anything you want. You just need to relax. Everything will be fine. I promise you.” He patted Clay’s knee.
Putting his hand on top of Tom’s, Clay squeezed it a bit, sighed, and said, “Yeah, I know man, you are probably right. Maybe these girls were talking about some dudes in a TV show. I don’t know, I just freaked out, you know? I mean, they didn’t look like they were watching the news, they were just teenagers. Maybe we reminded them of some emo teen vampire crap they watch and they thought we were like Angel and Spike.” He smiled a little at the thought.
“Dude, if we’re Angel and Spike, I’m Spike because I’m hotter and you’re the one brooding all the time.” Tom laughed. “Relax! I mean it.” Turning the radio on, he leaned back in the seat of the car, focusing on the road, and enjoying the drive, while letting Clay sink a bit back into his own thoughts. He hoped that the man would stop being so paranoid. He chuckled inside a little at the irony; it was him who was supposed to have issues, not the other man.
After driving for five hours straight, both of them felt like it was time to stretch their legs for the day, so they stopped at the nearest hotel. Tom parked the car and went inside to get them a room. He found a young guy sitting at the check-in desk, chewing on his bubble gum.
“Good evening. I’d like to get a room for two. Two queens, please,” Tom said.
Peeking out the entrance, front-desk guy caught sight of Clay who was leaning against the hood of their car. Seeing how tall Clay was, he thought it was his chance to try to sell them two rooms, instead of one with two beds. “I am sorry sir, we only have two rooms, both with king size beds.”
“That’s okay. We’ll take one king size, then. Thank you” Tom answered, winking at the man.
Finally over his initial shock, the guy let Tom fill the check-in form, took the money for the room and gave him the key. Tom thanked him again and started walking back to Clay. Before he stepped out, he turned back to the guy and said, “Listen, is there any place in this town that serves a decent stake and some strong beer? Me and my boy here are dying for some real food.”
Having gotten the directions to the local steakhouse, he strolled quickly outside to get back to Clay.
“Two queens, my ass. They are the two queens.” Check-in guy huffed, shaking his head at the sight of the two men.
Once Tom and Clay had settled in their room, they decided it was time for dinner. The place they were recommended by the motel was decent, the food was good, the music surprisingly not only Country, and nobody seemed to be bothered by two handsome men having dinner together. After a few beers, they were just about ready to go back to their motel room. Pleasantly buzzed, Clay automatically put his arm around Tom’s waist as he was guiding him out of the steakhouse, when he heard someone saying, “cocksucking fags.”
After the initial shock, Clay stopped, turned back and looked around. “Excuse me, what did you just call me?” he asked nobody in particular. No answer came. “Nice, really nice. You must be a piece of art if you only dare to call me a fag when I turn my back at you. Whoever you were, why don’t you just stand up, and tell it to my face, you pathetic piece of shit?”
“Clay, dude, leave it. Let’s go.” Tom tried to get him away, grabbing his arm and pulling on it a little.
“No, Tom, we are not in the fifties anymore; I don’t want to hide who I am. If they don’t like what I am, they can turn their head and not look, but they sure cannot judge me,” he answered.
Hearing their conversation, two men stood up and stepped out of a booth, wearing cowboy bots and Stetson hats. “Listen, fags, you are not welcome here. If you don’t want any trouble, just leave.”
Finally able to look in the eye of the man who’d called him a fag, Clay stepped close to his potential opponent. “So, let me get this straight. My money is welcome-I am welcome-as long as I act like a fucking redneck, but as soon as I just put my hand around the man I am with-who, by the way, could take all of you out in the blink of an eye-I’m a fag and you want me to get out? Believe me, you don’t want to piss me and my friend off. For your own safety. Right, Harry?” he said. Clay knew he was entering dangerous territory, pissing the locals off and triggering Harry to come out, but he saw no other way out of the situation. The proud gay man he’d become during his NY years didn’t allow him to leave the place without speaking up for himself, but he also knew that, in case the situation turned serious, he needed Harry to be there.
“Oh, damn right, I could” his friend answered, his voice hoarse, the way Harry usually spoke. Stepping in front of the two men, Tom said, “You wanna come out and try me, buddy?” The glint in his eye must have been convincing, because their verbal attackers backed out, hands up in the air, and quietly sat back in their booths.
In the parking lot of the steakhouse, Clay found himself pinned against their car, feeling Tom’s jean-clad erection pressing against his ass and Tom’s left hand closing around his throat.
“You’re playing with fire; you know that, don’t you? You wanted me to come out and play? Did you really think you could do that without being punished? You have a lot to learn about me, boy. Now get in and drive back to the motel, and don’t do anything stupid.”
After a silent and short drive, the men arrived back to the motel. Having realized that maybe dragging Harry out to the surface wasn’t his brightest idea, Clay was starting to freak out, not knowing what to expect. *What could Harry have meant by punishment?*
He was soon going to find out.
TBC...
Genre: My Bloody Valentine/Friday the 13th crossover
Pairing: Tom Hanniger/Clay Miller, implied Clay/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Takes up right as MBV ends. Tom escapes and meets Clay on the road. This story is about how two broken men meet and pick up the pieces together
Beta: The wonderful Sotia, aka. ssddgr
Warning: violence, mental illness
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, they belong to their owners, I’m doing this for just fun. OMC’s are 100% made up by me, I only took the face and name of some handsome Brazilian models, I don't own them either and I mean no harm.
Storyart: made by the extremely talented Jade aka. takacshedi Title taken from Depeche Mode’s identically titled song, written by Martin L. Gore.
Word count in this chapter: 1773
*Getting in a car, get on the road and start chasing the dream of your new life is easier than you expect it. When you just pick a destination and drive, sleep in cheap motels, it all looks so simple. But as you get closer to your destination, you cannot stop the flow of questions in your head, and there is absolutely no way to avoid freaking out.* These thoughts were the ones swirling in Clay’s head every time he and Tom stopped talking, when he was tossing and turning in his bed, sleepless at night, and not knowing what the future held for them.
The first two days of their road-trip were just like in the movies. Two guys in a hot black car, driving the back roads of the US, listening to music, talking, getting to know each other, eating at small diners and-after watching TV, and making out with each other on their beds-going to sleep separately, and therefore becoming more and more frustrated.
The first incident that made Clay have a major freak-out was when he and Tom were sitting in a diner, and he noticed the young waitress glancing into their direction more than five times in fifteen minutes. There still weren’t any news about the massacre at Camp Crystal Lake, or Harmony, but there was something in the way that girl looked at them that made him uncomfortable in his skin. He didn’t know if that was because they looked like a couple-you can never know when you run into a bunch of homophobic assholes in the middle of the State, so they tried to avoid any intimacy in their touches.
Tom had finally started to loosen up, he wasn’t in so much pain anymore and he really seemed to enjoy driving around cross country, so life was fun.
On that day, coming back from a short visit to the diner’s bathroom, Clay caught fragments of their waitress’ conversation with someone.
“I’m telling you, Kate, it’s them! The black muscle car, the diner food, the way they dress-it must be them!” the waitress said.
“Jesus, Julie, get a grip. Those guys cannot be here; that’s impossible. God knows who these two are, but I definitely wouldn’t mind finding out. Do you think they are gay, just like the ones on TV?” the girl named Kate answered.
Hearing the two girls discuss seeing his and Tom’s face on the television, Clay felt his heart suddenly start beating like a drum machine. Getting nervous and afraid of being recognized, he decided it was time to flee. He stepped up to the waitress and handed her a twenty dollar bill. “Everything was perfect, thank you. Keep the change, have a nice day” he said, and hurried back to Tom, grabbing his arm. “Time to go. Now,” was all the explanation he gave.
Just one look at Clay’s face was enough for Tom to realize there was something wrong, so he nodded and left the diner with his boyfriend, not looking back at the people inside.
Clay quickly sat himself behind the wheel and drove out of the diner’s parking lot. “Man, that was close!” he said, his anxiety obvious in his voice.
“Dude, what was that all about?” Tom asked.
“I dunno-the waitress, she… she kept staring at us, and then, when I came back from the bathroom, I heard her talking to her friend. Said she thought she saw us on TV. Fuck, what if we missed the news, what if there is a warrant out on us? I didn’t do anything Tom, I didn’t kill anybody. I don’t wanna go in jail!” Clay sounded more and more desperate.
“Listen to me, we are not going to get into jail. There was nothing reported on the news, we listened to the radio, checked the news online… just don’t worry. Dude, you seriously need to loosen up a bit.” Tom shook his head, his grip steady on the steering wheel. “Come on, let’s drive until it gets dark, then we stop at the first town and get a room for ourselves. We could go to some bar, play a little pool, do anything you want. You just need to relax. Everything will be fine. I promise you.” He patted Clay’s knee.
Putting his hand on top of Tom’s, Clay squeezed it a bit, sighed, and said, “Yeah, I know man, you are probably right. Maybe these girls were talking about some dudes in a TV show. I don’t know, I just freaked out, you know? I mean, they didn’t look like they were watching the news, they were just teenagers. Maybe we reminded them of some emo teen vampire crap they watch and they thought we were like Angel and Spike.” He smiled a little at the thought.
“Dude, if we’re Angel and Spike, I’m Spike because I’m hotter and you’re the one brooding all the time.” Tom laughed. “Relax! I mean it.” Turning the radio on, he leaned back in the seat of the car, focusing on the road, and enjoying the drive, while letting Clay sink a bit back into his own thoughts. He hoped that the man would stop being so paranoid. He chuckled inside a little at the irony; it was him who was supposed to have issues, not the other man.
After driving for five hours straight, both of them felt like it was time to stretch their legs for the day, so they stopped at the nearest hotel. Tom parked the car and went inside to get them a room. He found a young guy sitting at the check-in desk, chewing on his bubble gum.
“Good evening. I’d like to get a room for two. Two queens, please,” Tom said.
Peeking out the entrance, front-desk guy caught sight of Clay who was leaning against the hood of their car. Seeing how tall Clay was, he thought it was his chance to try to sell them two rooms, instead of one with two beds. “I am sorry sir, we only have two rooms, both with king size beds.”
“That’s okay. We’ll take one king size, then. Thank you” Tom answered, winking at the man.
Finally over his initial shock, the guy let Tom fill the check-in form, took the money for the room and gave him the key. Tom thanked him again and started walking back to Clay. Before he stepped out, he turned back to the guy and said, “Listen, is there any place in this town that serves a decent stake and some strong beer? Me and my boy here are dying for some real food.”
Having gotten the directions to the local steakhouse, he strolled quickly outside to get back to Clay.
“Two queens, my ass. They are the two queens.” Check-in guy huffed, shaking his head at the sight of the two men.
Once Tom and Clay had settled in their room, they decided it was time for dinner. The place they were recommended by the motel was decent, the food was good, the music surprisingly not only Country, and nobody seemed to be bothered by two handsome men having dinner together. After a few beers, they were just about ready to go back to their motel room. Pleasantly buzzed, Clay automatically put his arm around Tom’s waist as he was guiding him out of the steakhouse, when he heard someone saying, “cocksucking fags.”
After the initial shock, Clay stopped, turned back and looked around. “Excuse me, what did you just call me?” he asked nobody in particular. No answer came. “Nice, really nice. You must be a piece of art if you only dare to call me a fag when I turn my back at you. Whoever you were, why don’t you just stand up, and tell it to my face, you pathetic piece of shit?”
“Clay, dude, leave it. Let’s go.” Tom tried to get him away, grabbing his arm and pulling on it a little.
“No, Tom, we are not in the fifties anymore; I don’t want to hide who I am. If they don’t like what I am, they can turn their head and not look, but they sure cannot judge me,” he answered.
Hearing their conversation, two men stood up and stepped out of a booth, wearing cowboy bots and Stetson hats. “Listen, fags, you are not welcome here. If you don’t want any trouble, just leave.”
Finally able to look in the eye of the man who’d called him a fag, Clay stepped close to his potential opponent. “So, let me get this straight. My money is welcome-I am welcome-as long as I act like a fucking redneck, but as soon as I just put my hand around the man I am with-who, by the way, could take all of you out in the blink of an eye-I’m a fag and you want me to get out? Believe me, you don’t want to piss me and my friend off. For your own safety. Right, Harry?” he said. Clay knew he was entering dangerous territory, pissing the locals off and triggering Harry to come out, but he saw no other way out of the situation. The proud gay man he’d become during his NY years didn’t allow him to leave the place without speaking up for himself, but he also knew that, in case the situation turned serious, he needed Harry to be there.
“Oh, damn right, I could” his friend answered, his voice hoarse, the way Harry usually spoke. Stepping in front of the two men, Tom said, “You wanna come out and try me, buddy?” The glint in his eye must have been convincing, because their verbal attackers backed out, hands up in the air, and quietly sat back in their booths.
In the parking lot of the steakhouse, Clay found himself pinned against their car, feeling Tom’s jean-clad erection pressing against his ass and Tom’s left hand closing around his throat.
“You’re playing with fire; you know that, don’t you? You wanted me to come out and play? Did you really think you could do that without being punished? You have a lot to learn about me, boy. Now get in and drive back to the motel, and don’t do anything stupid.”
After a silent and short drive, the men arrived back to the motel. Having realized that maybe dragging Harry out to the surface wasn’t his brightest idea, Clay was starting to freak out, not knowing what to expect. *What could Harry have meant by punishment?*
He was soon going to find out.
TBC...