I Know. [Gerard/Mikey, R-ish.]
Title: I Know.
Author: fictionallies
Pairing: Gerard/Mikey.
Rating: R.
Summary: It's the comfort of being home.
Author's Note: Obviously I've been listening to too much Placebo, but Placebo is my angsty Waycest soundtrack, and obviously in this Gerard has also been listening to too much Placebo. I wrote this in a good half hour at asshole oclock. Um.
The bedsheets are sticky, the air's still heavy and thick in the room. For a long time, it's just the two of them side by side, quiet except for deep breaths and the occasional swallow. Just the two of them, not quite separate but not quite joined, flat on their backs underneath familiar sheets.
Gerard kind of wants to light a cigarette, only kind of. Weighing the options, he can't be bothered to drag himself out of the bed and search through the pockets of his jeans and jacket, both in a pile near the bedroom door. Maybe it's also because he doesn't really want to cheapen the moment, just maybe. But he definitely doesn't want to move anywhere significant right now.
“It's been too long, Gee, y'know that?”
Gerard smiles a little, his breathing slowly returning to normal.
“Yeah, I know, Mikes.”
There are more moments, drawn out, silent little moments with no words. It's not awkward, no. Their silences have never been awkward, not at times like this. It's just... comfortable. It's just how it's always been.
Mikey's the first to roll over onto his side, still silent. He just lies there with his head on the pillow, just watching Gerard. It's just another thing that's never been awkward.
Gerard rolls over too, sighing quietly. Honestly? This is the one thing he hates intensely about touring. He hates the unfamiliarity of every hotel bed, how every single one is different and just feels... strange. He hates that there's always someone who could come running in, who could find them in a tangled mess, naked on the bed or in the dressing room or one of the bunks on the bus. Sure, maybe he does have that slight exhibitionist streak in him. But that slight streak only comes out on the stage, with the bright lights boring down on him, when everyone can go home and laugh about it later, when they can believe that it is just the stage. Sometimes, it is. When it's with Frank, it is. And on the rare occasions he'll run up and wrap himself around Mikey, or pry open the jacket he's wearing that particular night, or slap him on the ass as he walks by... they can all go home, everyone in the room, and laugh about it later on. It's pretend. If they were to be caught in a tangled, naked mess, then the world would know and it wouldn't be pretend to them anymore.
The last thing Gerard wants is for the world to know, because if the world finds out, they're both dead.
The two of them just lie there for a while, wordless. Just committing everything about each other to memory all over again, to put in a file with a vague date and time and store away where only they can ever see them.
Mikey reaches out, presses his slightly roughened fingers to Gerard's face, his thumb running ever-so-lightly under his eye.
“I miss you, you know,” he murmurs softly, curling his hand around and through Gerard's hair.
“Yeah, I know,” Gerard replies, moving to wrap his fingers around Mikey's wrist. He's always envied his brother's wrists, so tiny and thin-skinned, the ridges where the veins were somewhat visible. Flawless, too. Not like his.
“I really do, Gee. So much,” Mikey murmurs. “I don't like missing you, y'know?”
“It hurts,” Gerard finishes for him. “I know, Mikes, it hurts so bad sometimes.”
Mikey scoots himself over on the bed, closer, close enough so their foreheads are touching and there's nowhere to look but each others eyes. It's times like this when the world falls away, when there's nothing else and no one else, no hiding or sneaking around, no secrets. Just Gerard and Mikey and that's where the world ends. Their world. Their own little world where only they exist.
Gerard's the one who kisses Mikey first, just soft, his lips brushing and capturing Mikey's gently. Mikey's the one who kisses back and makes it more than chaste, something almost lazy and slow but there's so much more in it, in them, between them. They realized a long long time ago that not everything in the world needs to be fast and hot and heavy. Sometimes, maybe it does. But there are times where things can, and should, just be the opposite - and that doesn't make them any less significant, any less important.
“I love you, Mikey. I told you that lately?”
Mikey smiles. “Maybe, but it's really, really good to hear you say it again.”
Mikey dips down a little, pressing his face into the little crook of Gerard's neck, burying his head in the corner created by his brother and the pillow, and wraps his arms around Gerard's waist. He can hear Gerard's breathing, sometimes his heartbeat if he listens close enough and the room's quiet enough.
Gerard wraps his arms around his brother, settles his chin on top of Mikey's soft brown hair, and closes his eyes.
“Hey, Gee?”
“Yeah?” Gerard replies, opening his eyes.
“Could you sing to me? I just wanna hear you sing.”
Gerard laughs a little, and Mikey smiles again. “What do you want me to sing, hm?”
Mikey just wraps his arms tighter around Gerard and buries his head closer. “Anything. Sing me whatever's been stuck in your head today.”
Gerard smiles, shutting his eyes again, breathing in the smell of the herbal shampoo Mikey last used, herbal shampoo and sweat and sex and whatever else it is that just makes up that smell that is Mikey.
“I know, you love the song, but not the singer. I know, you've got me wrapped around your finger. I know, you want the sin without the sinner. I know. I know.”
Author: fictionallies
Pairing: Gerard/Mikey.
Rating: R.
Summary: It's the comfort of being home.
Author's Note: Obviously I've been listening to too much Placebo, but Placebo is my angsty Waycest soundtrack, and obviously in this Gerard has also been listening to too much Placebo. I wrote this in a good half hour at asshole oclock. Um.
The bedsheets are sticky, the air's still heavy and thick in the room. For a long time, it's just the two of them side by side, quiet except for deep breaths and the occasional swallow. Just the two of them, not quite separate but not quite joined, flat on their backs underneath familiar sheets.
Gerard kind of wants to light a cigarette, only kind of. Weighing the options, he can't be bothered to drag himself out of the bed and search through the pockets of his jeans and jacket, both in a pile near the bedroom door. Maybe it's also because he doesn't really want to cheapen the moment, just maybe. But he definitely doesn't want to move anywhere significant right now.
“It's been too long, Gee, y'know that?”
Gerard smiles a little, his breathing slowly returning to normal.
“Yeah, I know, Mikes.”
There are more moments, drawn out, silent little moments with no words. It's not awkward, no. Their silences have never been awkward, not at times like this. It's just... comfortable. It's just how it's always been.
Mikey's the first to roll over onto his side, still silent. He just lies there with his head on the pillow, just watching Gerard. It's just another thing that's never been awkward.
Gerard rolls over too, sighing quietly. Honestly? This is the one thing he hates intensely about touring. He hates the unfamiliarity of every hotel bed, how every single one is different and just feels... strange. He hates that there's always someone who could come running in, who could find them in a tangled mess, naked on the bed or in the dressing room or one of the bunks on the bus. Sure, maybe he does have that slight exhibitionist streak in him. But that slight streak only comes out on the stage, with the bright lights boring down on him, when everyone can go home and laugh about it later, when they can believe that it is just the stage. Sometimes, it is. When it's with Frank, it is. And on the rare occasions he'll run up and wrap himself around Mikey, or pry open the jacket he's wearing that particular night, or slap him on the ass as he walks by... they can all go home, everyone in the room, and laugh about it later on. It's pretend. If they were to be caught in a tangled, naked mess, then the world would know and it wouldn't be pretend to them anymore.
The last thing Gerard wants is for the world to know, because if the world finds out, they're both dead.
The two of them just lie there for a while, wordless. Just committing everything about each other to memory all over again, to put in a file with a vague date and time and store away where only they can ever see them.
Mikey reaches out, presses his slightly roughened fingers to Gerard's face, his thumb running ever-so-lightly under his eye.
“I miss you, you know,” he murmurs softly, curling his hand around and through Gerard's hair.
“Yeah, I know,” Gerard replies, moving to wrap his fingers around Mikey's wrist. He's always envied his brother's wrists, so tiny and thin-skinned, the ridges where the veins were somewhat visible. Flawless, too. Not like his.
“I really do, Gee. So much,” Mikey murmurs. “I don't like missing you, y'know?”
“It hurts,” Gerard finishes for him. “I know, Mikes, it hurts so bad sometimes.”
Mikey scoots himself over on the bed, closer, close enough so their foreheads are touching and there's nowhere to look but each others eyes. It's times like this when the world falls away, when there's nothing else and no one else, no hiding or sneaking around, no secrets. Just Gerard and Mikey and that's where the world ends. Their world. Their own little world where only they exist.
Gerard's the one who kisses Mikey first, just soft, his lips brushing and capturing Mikey's gently. Mikey's the one who kisses back and makes it more than chaste, something almost lazy and slow but there's so much more in it, in them, between them. They realized a long long time ago that not everything in the world needs to be fast and hot and heavy. Sometimes, maybe it does. But there are times where things can, and should, just be the opposite - and that doesn't make them any less significant, any less important.
“I love you, Mikey. I told you that lately?”
Mikey smiles. “Maybe, but it's really, really good to hear you say it again.”
Mikey dips down a little, pressing his face into the little crook of Gerard's neck, burying his head in the corner created by his brother and the pillow, and wraps his arms around Gerard's waist. He can hear Gerard's breathing, sometimes his heartbeat if he listens close enough and the room's quiet enough.
Gerard wraps his arms around his brother, settles his chin on top of Mikey's soft brown hair, and closes his eyes.
“Hey, Gee?”
“Yeah?” Gerard replies, opening his eyes.
“Could you sing to me? I just wanna hear you sing.”
Gerard laughs a little, and Mikey smiles again. “What do you want me to sing, hm?”
Mikey just wraps his arms tighter around Gerard and buries his head closer. “Anything. Sing me whatever's been stuck in your head today.”
Gerard smiles, shutting his eyes again, breathing in the smell of the herbal shampoo Mikey last used, herbal shampoo and sweat and sex and whatever else it is that just makes up that smell that is Mikey.
“I know, you love the song, but not the singer. I know, you've got me wrapped around your finger. I know, you want the sin without the sinner. I know. I know.”