jae_w
in
popoffacork
Maybe again (William/Travis)
Title: Maybe again
Recipient: frausorge
Author: just-katarin
Pairing: William/Travis
Rating: R
Word Count: ~1,400
It's been six months since Travis last saw William, four months since Pete saved him from a fire of his own making and talked him into rehab and three months since Travis emerged from that hopsital bed, feeling reborn and new. Today is Carden's birthday though and since Gym Class is in town, they're having a party. In the living room, Siska's dancing with Butcher and Disashi and Eric are chatting with Chiz about guitars but here in the kitchen, it's just him and William.
"We're out of ice," he says and William nods, looking up from the soda he's pulling out of the fridge.
"Good," he says, shoulders hunching. "Nothing worse than warm booze."
"Didn't know we were out of mixers," Travis adds, nodding to soda in William's hand.
"We're not." William bites his lip, like he's trying to think of what to say, then his forehead wrinkles like it only does after he knows what he wants to say but can't decide if he should. "I just... I'm trying not to drink so much." He shrugs when he says it and Travis recognizes that too. That's the way William shrugs when he doesn't want to draw attention to himself, when he's frantically trying to keep people from seeing too much.
William's never been afraid of showing him anything. How times have changed.
"You look good," he tells him and for the first time since he walked into the room, William looks him in the eye.
"So do you," he says. "I wanted you to know how happy I am for you, because I am. I really am. Pete told me that you were going to and I've never been more proud."
Six months ago he woke up in a strange hotel with William pressed up against his side. He didn't remember how he got there but he'd woken William up and then fucked him into the sheets before bothering to find out. He'd had to go slow because William's head had hurt and he'd felt a little ill but he'd held on to Travis, hands gripping tight to Travis' hair and ass gripping even tighter around Travis' cock. They'd both laughed when they found out they were in Columbus, Ohio and remembered they both had places to be. Travis had kissed him for nearly ten minutes before they left that hotel room, pressed William up against the door, parted his lips and went to town. William had kissed back, hands on Travis' shoulders and face tilted up; it had been perfect.
Two months later, he'd mixed two kinds of pain medication with Pete's merlot and sprite and when Pete woke him up, the place had been full of smoke and there's been a giant burn mark on the carpet. Pete had set fire to something with two much glue on it and it burned more than he'd intended. The whole place could have gone up and Travis never would have woken up. Pete had told him all about it with this terrible look in his eyes, like he wanted to cry and throw things all at once. He couldn't stop spinning his wedding ring and Travis had nodded when he talked about him getting help, when Pete had all but begged him to do something.
Three months ago Travis called Pete from the lobby of the hospital and asked for a ride home. At the time, he'd pretended like he didn't know why he wouldn't call William but that's bullshit and he thinks they both know that.
"I'm sorry for not... I should have called you, we should have talked," Travis says and William's entire body goes tight before shrugging.
"You've been busy," he says. "New album, new godson, new you."
"It's not like-" Travis begins but William interrupts him.
"It's not like I don't feel the same way, Travis," William says, fist clenched tight around the neck of his soda bottle. "I see you and I want it to be like it was except the way it almost always involved both of us completely out of our minds. I get that my cock is like a gateway drug into a pill bottle I just... why are you laughing?"
Travis had tried not to, this is a really serious conversation they're having. It's a seriously important conversation but... "Your cock is a drug?" he asks.
William closes his eyes tight, mouth getting pinched like it only ever does when William's furious. "I was speaking metaphorically and you know it!"
"I know!" Travis assures him, trying to quit grinning so widely but it's hard when all he can imagine is William as some sort of drug dealer, making deals with junkies for a hit of his cock, which makes him giggle and then think about blowjobs. "I'm sorry, I know this is important."
William smiles a little, softly and with that little shake of his head that says he knows he's being made fun of but he's choosing to be a part of the joke. "I guess it was a pretty silly metaphor," he says and Travis smiles back.
"I'm just imagining you trying to do business, man," Travis explains. "And it's a hilarious image."
"Me standing on a street corner selling my dick?" William asks. "Because if I remember you liked playing that game." William looks up at him shyly through his eyelashes when he says it and Travis nods because he did. He'd been really, really high and William could barely stand up straight but it was a game neither of them had minded.
"Yeah," he says and William swallows. "I'm still sorry though, William. Maybe I'm scared because so much of you and me is wrapped up in both of us trying to self-destruct, but you still deserved better than having Pete tell you I got clean."
Every memory of the two of them, every fuck, every touch, that summer on Warped Tour, all of it is covered in this grimy haze of pill bottles and booze, scrips and 'Drank. He didn't think William would forcefeed him pills or anything, but he worried he might fall into old habits, that being with William would make him want all of that back and he can't do that, not again.
"I could have called," William tells him, leaning back against the counter. "I could have and I didn't because I'm trying to do it over too. We're writing an album and I'm actually useful. Carden isn't having to browbeat everyone because I'm a second away from falling apart and the music is right there for all of us and the words are with it. I... you're not the only one going through this." William looks up at him again, a little pissed off, a lot defiant and Travis doesn't know how he didn't see it before. William's eyes are bright and clear, he isn't standing up straight because he never does except onstage but it's not because he can't, it's just because he's William.
He's such a self-involved asshole sometimes and the only thing that saves him from complete embarrassment is knowing that William is too, just as often as he is. "I meant it, about you looking good. Your eyes... they're, umm-"
William laughs. "No, c'mon, go on, tell me all about my eyes, Travie. Write me some poetry, spit a verse."
"Fine you're an asshole and I hate your eyes, happy?" he asks and William leans in.
"We're talking, so yeah, I am," he says and he smells so good.
"What the fuck, Travis!" Matt shouts from the other room. "Where'd you go for that ice, fucking Hoth?"
Travis looks at the door and then back at William and it's like a spell being broken. "We should-"
"Yeah," William says. "We should."
They both turn for the door but Travis puts his hand in front of it, blocking William's way. "Can I call you?" he asks and William smiles, that huge, wide grin of his. He leans up, presses his mouth to Travis' for a quick kiss, brief but still familiar. It's the way William used to kiss him when he had to be onstage soon, the way he kissed when he knew there'd be more later.
"You'd better, Travis," he tells him and Travis thinks he can deal with this, he can live with a William that looks at him like that so long as he still kisses him the same way and goes back to the party.
Recipient: frausorge
Author: just-katarin
Pairing: William/Travis
Rating: R
Word Count: ~1,400
It's been six months since Travis last saw William, four months since Pete saved him from a fire of his own making and talked him into rehab and three months since Travis emerged from that hopsital bed, feeling reborn and new. Today is Carden's birthday though and since Gym Class is in town, they're having a party. In the living room, Siska's dancing with Butcher and Disashi and Eric are chatting with Chiz about guitars but here in the kitchen, it's just him and William.
"We're out of ice," he says and William nods, looking up from the soda he's pulling out of the fridge.
"Good," he says, shoulders hunching. "Nothing worse than warm booze."
"Didn't know we were out of mixers," Travis adds, nodding to soda in William's hand.
"We're not." William bites his lip, like he's trying to think of what to say, then his forehead wrinkles like it only does after he knows what he wants to say but can't decide if he should. "I just... I'm trying not to drink so much." He shrugs when he says it and Travis recognizes that too. That's the way William shrugs when he doesn't want to draw attention to himself, when he's frantically trying to keep people from seeing too much.
William's never been afraid of showing him anything. How times have changed.
"You look good," he tells him and for the first time since he walked into the room, William looks him in the eye.
"So do you," he says. "I wanted you to know how happy I am for you, because I am. I really am. Pete told me that you were going to and I've never been more proud."
Six months ago he woke up in a strange hotel with William pressed up against his side. He didn't remember how he got there but he'd woken William up and then fucked him into the sheets before bothering to find out. He'd had to go slow because William's head had hurt and he'd felt a little ill but he'd held on to Travis, hands gripping tight to Travis' hair and ass gripping even tighter around Travis' cock. They'd both laughed when they found out they were in Columbus, Ohio and remembered they both had places to be. Travis had kissed him for nearly ten minutes before they left that hotel room, pressed William up against the door, parted his lips and went to town. William had kissed back, hands on Travis' shoulders and face tilted up; it had been perfect.
Two months later, he'd mixed two kinds of pain medication with Pete's merlot and sprite and when Pete woke him up, the place had been full of smoke and there's been a giant burn mark on the carpet. Pete had set fire to something with two much glue on it and it burned more than he'd intended. The whole place could have gone up and Travis never would have woken up. Pete had told him all about it with this terrible look in his eyes, like he wanted to cry and throw things all at once. He couldn't stop spinning his wedding ring and Travis had nodded when he talked about him getting help, when Pete had all but begged him to do something.
Three months ago Travis called Pete from the lobby of the hospital and asked for a ride home. At the time, he'd pretended like he didn't know why he wouldn't call William but that's bullshit and he thinks they both know that.
"I'm sorry for not... I should have called you, we should have talked," Travis says and William's entire body goes tight before shrugging.
"You've been busy," he says. "New album, new godson, new you."
"It's not like-" Travis begins but William interrupts him.
"It's not like I don't feel the same way, Travis," William says, fist clenched tight around the neck of his soda bottle. "I see you and I want it to be like it was except the way it almost always involved both of us completely out of our minds. I get that my cock is like a gateway drug into a pill bottle I just... why are you laughing?"
Travis had tried not to, this is a really serious conversation they're having. It's a seriously important conversation but... "Your cock is a drug?" he asks.
William closes his eyes tight, mouth getting pinched like it only ever does when William's furious. "I was speaking metaphorically and you know it!"
"I know!" Travis assures him, trying to quit grinning so widely but it's hard when all he can imagine is William as some sort of drug dealer, making deals with junkies for a hit of his cock, which makes him giggle and then think about blowjobs. "I'm sorry, I know this is important."
William smiles a little, softly and with that little shake of his head that says he knows he's being made fun of but he's choosing to be a part of the joke. "I guess it was a pretty silly metaphor," he says and Travis smiles back.
"I'm just imagining you trying to do business, man," Travis explains. "And it's a hilarious image."
"Me standing on a street corner selling my dick?" William asks. "Because if I remember you liked playing that game." William looks up at him shyly through his eyelashes when he says it and Travis nods because he did. He'd been really, really high and William could barely stand up straight but it was a game neither of them had minded.
"Yeah," he says and William swallows. "I'm still sorry though, William. Maybe I'm scared because so much of you and me is wrapped up in both of us trying to self-destruct, but you still deserved better than having Pete tell you I got clean."
Every memory of the two of them, every fuck, every touch, that summer on Warped Tour, all of it is covered in this grimy haze of pill bottles and booze, scrips and 'Drank. He didn't think William would forcefeed him pills or anything, but he worried he might fall into old habits, that being with William would make him want all of that back and he can't do that, not again.
"I could have called," William tells him, leaning back against the counter. "I could have and I didn't because I'm trying to do it over too. We're writing an album and I'm actually useful. Carden isn't having to browbeat everyone because I'm a second away from falling apart and the music is right there for all of us and the words are with it. I... you're not the only one going through this." William looks up at him again, a little pissed off, a lot defiant and Travis doesn't know how he didn't see it before. William's eyes are bright and clear, he isn't standing up straight because he never does except onstage but it's not because he can't, it's just because he's William.
He's such a self-involved asshole sometimes and the only thing that saves him from complete embarrassment is knowing that William is too, just as often as he is. "I meant it, about you looking good. Your eyes... they're, umm-"
William laughs. "No, c'mon, go on, tell me all about my eyes, Travie. Write me some poetry, spit a verse."
"Fine you're an asshole and I hate your eyes, happy?" he asks and William leans in.
"We're talking, so yeah, I am," he says and he smells so good.
"What the fuck, Travis!" Matt shouts from the other room. "Where'd you go for that ice, fucking Hoth?"
Travis looks at the door and then back at William and it's like a spell being broken. "We should-"
"Yeah," William says. "We should."
They both turn for the door but Travis puts his hand in front of it, blocking William's way. "Can I call you?" he asks and William smiles, that huge, wide grin of his. He leans up, presses his mouth to Travis' for a quick kiss, brief but still familiar. It's the way William used to kiss him when he had to be onstage soon, the way he kissed when he knew there'd be more later.
"You'd better, Travis," he tells him and Travis thinks he can deal with this, he can live with a William that looks at him like that so long as he still kisses him the same way and goes back to the party.