Hopeless Haze - Vol. II: Sam's Town (Chapter Four, Part One)
Volume II: Sam's Town
Chapter Four, Part One: Let Me Show You How Much I Care
It was nine o’clock on a Monday and Brandon was still in bed. He and Ronnie would be going to the Palms Casino in a few hours and he knew that he should probably get up but he decided against it. He was only a little nervous about the upcoming session with the band. Okay, he was more than a little nervous but that was mostly Ronnie’s fault. Not in a bad way, though. Brandon was debuting a couple songs that were significant to his boyfriend. He was fooling himself-it was a love song.
Said boyfriend was currently in the shower-Brandon could hear him whistling through the thin walls of his apartment. Ronnie had asked Brandon to join him but the singer declined. He wanted to stay in bed and contemplate his own songwriting ability. While he was at it he decided to also worry about his own bass-playing skills too. He wasn't good. He knew he wasn't good but he could at least go through the song without messing up.
Eventually Brandon heard the water shut off and the whistling stop. This reminded him of the songs he was showing off and he sighed, burying his head into his pillow further. The singer heard the bedroom door creak open after a moment so he glanced back to see his boyfriend: hair damp and shirtless.
“You aren't up yet?” The drummer smirked and went to the dresser on the other side of the room. In the almost three years (Brandon couldn't believe that it had been so long) that Ronnie had been living in the singer’s apartment their clothes had gotten mixed up. After the Hot Fuss Tour they had both stopped caring enough to separate everything. Brandon realized that they needed more room than the small apartment could offer.
“I’m up…” Brandon said as he flipped onto his back. “Just not physically.”
Brandon heard the drummer chuckle at his comment before going through the drawers on the dresser.
“Have you seen my Folsom Prison shirt?” He asked after a moment.
Brandon continued to stare at the ceiling fan’s spinning blades, “the white one? Look in the closet.” The singer finally looked up when he heard Ronnie open the closet doors. “I saw it when I last did laundry so- what the fuck?”
Ronnie cast a glance back to his boyfriend in bed, “what?”
“You're just…” Brandon gestured to the older man but his movements were muted by the blankets on top of him. “All out. Goin’ all out right now.”
“Is this a problem?” Ronnie crossed his arms. “Bran, my dick was in your mouth last night and now you have a problem with modesty?”
“No!” Brandon sat up in bed, “I was just surprised! I wasn't expecting a visit today.”
“Oh, you don't want to see it?” Ronnie turned and fully revealed himself to Brandon.
The singer let his eyes stray from Ronnie’s for a moment, “I’m not sure what to do with this information.” He stated before making eye-contact again.
“You don't have to do anything,” Ronnie leaned against the closet’s door frame. Brandon looked back down and raised a brow.
“We aren't leaving until eleven…” Brandon cast his blankets aside and crawled to the end of the bed. Much to his annoyance, Ronnie turned back around to rifle through the closet.
“Not if we go to Waffle House first.” Brandon, who had been trying (and failing) to reach for Ronnie’s ass, stopped his attempts.
“We are?” Ronnie found his shirt and grabbed a pair of jeans before he headed back to the dresser to get his underwear.
“We talked about it last night,” Ronnie glanced back to Brandon. “Remember?”
“I must have been spacing out again.” The singer swung his legs off the bed but didn't stand.
“You do that a lot lately.”
Brandon shrugged, “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” It was then when Ronnie finally began to put his clothes on.
“Like what?”
The singer stared at his reflection in the mirror, “I don't know.”
The other two guys were already at the studio when the couple got there. Dave immediately looked surprised at Brandon’s presence but the boy assumed it was because they had not talked since Dave called him just to tell him to stop calling. Mark didn't seem in on whatever had been causing the awkward mood. Brandon didn't even know if the bassist knew about what had happened only a few weeks earlier. The younger man kind of didn't want Mark to find out if Dave had not told him out of fear that the bassist would think the incident was his fault. The only reason he might come to that conclusion was what happened at the apartment maybe a week before the fight when he had come over to teach Brandon how to play bass.
Nothing happened then, though. Brandon was overthinking things again.
“Brandon!” Dave exclaimed when he saw the singer. “How are things?”
The singer in question didn't know if he should mention the incident or not. “Things are… fine.”
Dave’s eyes flickered to Ronnie. They had not spoken since a day or two after things had settled. “Not good, then?” Brandon figured that the guitarist’s concern stemmed from the fact that he didn't want the band to almost break up again.
“No, no…” Brandon reached out to hold Ronnie’s hand, “It’s all good. I’m fine.” Dave seemed to get the memo and didn't address it any further.
“So,” Dave said again once everyone was seated. “Who has what?” Brandon became nervous again and held Ronnie’s hand harder.
The drummer cleared his throat, “I’ve been thinking-”
“Oh God-” Dave interrupted.
“We could call it… ‘Make You Feel Dirty.’” The room was silent. Brandon gave him a look. “No?”
“I don't think it… conveys what we’re trying to get across.” Brandon spoke carefully. Dave snorted.
“Yeah, this isn't your’s and Brandon’s sex album.” The room was silent again. Brandon stared at the wall.
“Guess that’s a no, then.” Ronnie let go of Brandon’s hand and put his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders instead. In this act, Brandon was pulled closer to the older man on the couch they shared. Brandon didn't appreciate the gesture.
The singer wanted to get out of the situation he was currently in so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve got some stuff.”
Dave raised a brow, “stuff?”
“Songs. I’ve got three technically. Not finished, though.”
“What do you mean by technically?” Brandon sighed.
“I mean… two of them are kinda the same. I call them Enterlude and Exitlude.” Ronnie’s head turned sharply to face Brandon but he didn't speak. “One to start and one to close but they have almost the same lyrics. I've got that and the chords figured out already. They’re short.”
“I like it.” Mark nodded along to Dave’s statement. “What about the other one?”
“The other one?” Brandon squeaked.
“You said you had three.” Oh. Right.
“Um… that’s more of an idea. I’ve got some lyrics, a synth line, and some chords but that’s all.”
“Idea,” Dave mocked. “Well, let us see it.” Brandon really didn't want anyone to see anything.
Brandon stood and sat back down at a piano bench that was maybe ten feet away. The rest of their band all adjusted their positions to see him better. “Here’s the synth line. It’ll be on a keyboard but-” Brandon looked up to see them staring. “Yeah, you get it.” Brandon played the notes that were by now so familiar to Ronnie. He had heard it without knowing so many times by now. It even predated their relationship.
“I like it,” Dave said after Brandon was finished going through the looping melody a few times. Ronnie found himself smiling as he nodded in agreement.
“Good, good. Do you want the other part-” Brandon looked at Dave this time. “Yeah, of course you do.” He played a chord and began to sing. “I need those eyes to tide me over…. I'll take your picture when I go…. Gives me strength and gives me patience…. But I'll never let you know…. I got nothin’ on you, babe…. But I always said I'll try…. Let me show you… how much I care.” He continued to play as he sang.
“Is that a verse?” Dave asked. Brandon nodded.
“Part of one, yeah. I only have a vague idea about the chorus right now. I’m still working on it.”
“I like it. What about you guys?” He looked back to Mark and Ronnie. Mark made a reply but Ronnie was too busy thinking about the song to listen to it. He didn't want to outright assume who the song was about but… he had an idea.
“I loved it,” he said after another quiet moment. “Good job, baby.”
Brandon smiled bashfully and looked back down at the black and white keys.
Yeah. It was definitely about him.
The album was finished in June under the new name Sam’s Town. The next month they went on their first trip to Mexico to record the video for the album’s lead single, When You Were Young. From then to October they did a promotional tour for the album which came out on the third of that month.
Brandon was tired from his busy schedule but he was thankful for it seeing as it took his mind off of other less desirable things. He liked touring, especially now that he didn't have to hide from his bandmates. He and Ronnie tried to stay modest around Mark but Dave was fair game. Dave had already seen so much. Dave would be fine.
Brandon, however, would not be fine. He was tired of all the planes. He needed to get over that.
They had been in Georgia when Brandon decided that he wasn't going to attempt to get over his fear any time soon. They had just finished their last show when the singer suggested they just drive home. Get a rental car and drive for thirty-three hours instead of flying for five. Ronnie asked him if he was out of anxiety medicine and Brandon supported the claim. He was lying.
Ronnie couldn't say no to a face like Brandon’s though, mustache or not.
So they got a rental car (pine tree air freshener and all) and decided to spend another day or two in Atlanta while the rest of the band retired to Vegas. Ronnie took Brandon to the Coca Cola factory. It was a pretty spiritual experience.
After seeing the sights in Atlanta the couple decided to go to Savannah because they wanted to see the ocean one last time before they went home.
That’s how Brandon found himself in a small car in the American south, bored out of his mind.
He groaned and sighed dramatically, "I'm bored."
"Don't worry," Ronnie said apathetically, "we'll be in Savannah soon."
"Not soon enough," Brandon grumbled and rested his feet on the dashboard.
"It's beautiful out here, Brandon," Ronnie said, "that's not interesting enough for you?"
"We're not outside are we? We're stuck in this stuffy car," Brandon rolled the window down halfway.
"Well, do you wanna stop at the next rest stop and walk around for a bit?" Ronnie suggested.
"Yeah," Brandon muttered and fished his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket, "I need a new pack anyway."
Brandon put a cigarette between his teeth but was interrupted before he could light it, "No you don't."
"Excuse me," Brandon took the cigarette out of his mouth.
"I said," Ronnie grabbed the box of cigarettes Brandon had rested on his thigh and chucked them out the window, "no."
"Ronnie, what the fuck?!" Brandon watched the pack of cigarettes in the side mirror as they were discarded on the highway, left to be mangled by speeding cars, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Ronnie was laughing hard, "What's the matter?"
"You know what the fuck's the matter! Why would you do that?!"
"Hey," Ronnie's tone got more serious, "those things are deadly, B. Really, it's time to start thinking about what they're doing to your voice."
"I sound fine, asshole!" Brandon groaned, "You better fucking pull into the next rest stop we see, I don't care what you say."
Ronnie rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, "Fine."
They were silent for a long time. Brandon had forgotten about the one cigarette he had. He decided to save it for another time in case they didn't pass a rest stop for awhile. But he was bored out of his mind, and craving something. Anything.
"God," Brandon groaned, "how much longer?"
"I have no clue, baby," Ronnie sighed, "We can play road trip games if you want to pass the time so bad."
"Shut up."
"Like the license plate game."
"No."
"Look! There's a Wyoming license plate."
"Stop."
"There's Massachusetts..."
"Ronnie, please."
"Oh! Hawaii!"
Brandon put his head in his hands, "Oh my God!"
"Wow," Ronnie chuckled, "you sure do become a baby without your cancer sticks."
"I'm just bored!" Brandon yelled.
Ronnie faked a pout, "Aw, baby is bored."
"I'm gonna kill you," Brandon grumbled.
"Love youuu," Ronnie crooned slyly.
More silence ensued between them. At some point, Ronnie started whistling to the tune of whatever song was on the radio.
"Can you stop?" Brandon sighed.
"Give me a reason to," Ronnie glanced at Brandon only to find the boy looking back. His eyes quickly scanned down the boy's body before returning to the road. There was more than just silence between them now.
Brandon's mind started to reel with ideas on how to make the ride more fun. The side of his mouth picked up a little.
His hand slid to the middle of Ronnie's thigh. The drummer smirked, "So, you're not mad at me anymore."
"I was never mad," Brandon gently began to rub his thigh, "just annoyed."
"And bored," Ronnie noted.
"Yes," Brandon unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned into Ronnie's ear, "very bored."
"C'mon now," Ronnie chuckled, "you're not practicing proper road safety."
Brandon chuckled against Ronnie's skin as he began leaving open-mouth kisses down his neck. His hand traveled upward and began working on his boyfriend's belt. Once it was unbuckled, Brandon was able to unbutton and unzip the drummer's pants as he continued kissing down his skin.
When Brandon's hand suddenly slid under the waistband of both his jeans and his briefs, Ronnie gasped, "You're perpetrating distracted driving, Mr. Flowers."
"You're not making much of an effort to stop me, Mr. Vannucci," Brandon smiled against his skin as he stroked Ronnie slowly.
Brandon pulled Ronnie out of his jeans completely and picked up the pace of his hand. He positioned himself so that he was kneeling sideways in his own seat and his body was bent over the console. His mouth was now only inches away from Ronnie's dick. Every breath out of his mouth made Ronnie shudder slightly.
"I mean," Ronnie sighed, "if we crashed it would be kinda funny for whoever found our bodies. I can see the headline now-Singer of The Killers found dead with eight inches of drummer's cock down throat."
"Eight inches?" Brandon faked a chuckle, "You're funny."
"Let me dream," Ronnie breathed out.
Brandon finally took Ronnie into his mouth and the drummer grunted. His knuckles went white on the steering wheel as he tightened his grip.
Brandon slowly descended Ronnie's length completely before hollowing his cheeks out and pulling off of him. His tongue stayed flat on the underside of his shaft the entire time, making Ronnie groan.
"Fuck," Ronnie said breathlessly, "just like that." He let one of his hands fall from the steering wheel and placed it on the back of Brandon's head. He gently felt the singer's soft hair over his fingertips. It was hard not to watch Brandon as he worked his mouth over him.
They kept this rhythm for a few minutes. It had been awhile since they were able to do this without restraining themselves to the hushed confines of the bus bedroom.
"Hey," Ronnie managed to chuckle out, "we just passed a rest stop if you still wanna get your cigarettes."
Brandon pulled off and looked up Ronnie from the corner of his eye, "My mouth is wrapped around something a little more important right now."
"How kind of you," Ronnie remarked before Brandon took him back into his mouth.
Ronnie's hips lifted off the seat slightly when Brandon suddenly moaned around him. He briefly glanced over to his boyfriend and saw that the boy had started palming himself through his jeans. Ronnie swore under his breath, "You're so hot, baby."
Brandon pulled off to catch his breath and smiled, his lips red and glistening. His hand continued working Ronnie at the same pace his mouth had been.
Brandon rolled his tongue around Ronnie's tip before taking his whole length into his mouth again. Ronnie groaned loud and struggled to keep his remaining hand on the wheel.
"I have to pull over, baby," Ronnie began turning the wheel to the right, "holy shit."
There was a small dusty side-road that Ronnie rolled into. As soon as he pulled over to the side, he put the car in park, unbuckled himself, and placed both hands on the side of Brandon's head.
"Don't stop, B," Ronnie was panting now, "Please."
Brandon moaned around Ronnie again and applied more pressure to the hand over his bulge. He bobbed his head and moved his hand faster, each sound that escaped Ronnie only motivated him further.
The hands Ronnie placed on Brandon's head were gently holding the boy's head as the drummer lifted his hips in time with Brandon's movements. Their rhythm was perfectly in sync, and Ronnie knew he wasn't going to last much longer.
"Baby," Ronnie whined, "I'm so close."
Brandon brought the hand he was using on himself to Ronnie's thigh and started to soothingly rub him. He moaned around Ronnie once more before hollowing out his cheeks, dragging his lips along his length, and stopping at the tip to roll his tongue across it. Ronnie unraveled.
With a loud moan, Ronnie released into Brandon's mouth. His torso was rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. Brandon hummed around Ronnie as he came down from his high, still gently rubbing his thigh. Pants were still falling out of Ronnie's lips as Brandon popped off of him.
"So," Brandon smiled as he began zipping Ronnie's jeans back up, "I did a good job?"
"Nine out of ten," Ronnie sighed, "your mustache was a little ticklish."
"Shut up," Brandon finished getting Ronnie's pants on properly, then grabbed the drummer by the sides of his face and kissed him hard.
Ronnie bit Brandon's lower lip and pulled it back, making the boy whine into his mouth. When Ronnie released his bite, Brandon spoke against his lips, "Please fuck me."
"I will," Ronnie slid his hand into the Brandon's sweatpants and started stroking him, "but not here."
Brandon whined, both from pleasure and annoyance, "Why not? I want you now."
"Listen," Ronnie put his hand behind Brandon's head and touched their foreheads together, "we'll drive a little while longer. We can talk about all the things we want to do to each other-," Brandon moaned breathily, "-and we can get a motel room for the night. Does that sound good?"
"Yes," Brandon breathed against Ronnie's lips. They reconnected their lips and Ronnie picked up the pace of his hand.
It didn't take long until Brandon's body shook with a sudden jolt, and a breathy string of moans escaped against Ronnie's lips. He released over Ronnie's fist and continued to mewl as the drummer stroked slowly.
Ronnie pulled his hand away and looked at it with his eyebrows furrowed, "Uh.."
Brandon, who was still trying catch his breath, struggled to make his way out of the door. Ronnie heard the trunk open and close a few moments later. His boyfriend returned with wipe. He panted as he handed it to Ronnie, "I knew these would come in handy-no pun intended."
Ronnie chuckled and wiped his hand. He contemplated throwing the wipe out the window, but let his morals stop him. He grimaced as he gently folded the wipe and put in the cupholder, "For the love of God make sure I throw that away as soon as we see a trash can."
Brandon laughed, “we aren't going to the beach anymore, are we Ron?”
“Probably not. Fuck the beach.”
“Fuck me,” Brandon murmured.
“Be patient!”