(no subject)
Doop doop doop we interrupt this sudden burst of VAMPIRES AND FEELINGS to bring you MORE KILLJOYS.
the kids don't care
RATED PG
Pairings: Mikey/Gerard(ish?)
Summary: After everything, he settles into a nightly routine. Set after You Are Not My Savior. Written for madcap_shiny because she wants more Mikeyways always, but posted for cypress_smile because I was promised Franks in return. :D
Disclaimer: Hasn't happened, won't happen.
He has a routine. Every night, after whatever vandalizing, demolishing, or Drac-blasting they do during the day, he curls up in his sleeping bag, stares at the stars, and thinks.
First, he’ll remind himself where he is. Which Zone he’s in. Where Tommy will set up shop next (assuming he doesn’t get caught on the way). Which way the City is. Which way Doctor D’s is. He pictures a little “You Are Here” arrow on the map they carry around, and a little black dot where their camp is.
Next, he goes through who’s with him. If Grace is around. Whether Show Pony will be coming to see them soon. If anyone’s gone, why they’re gone, and when they’ll be back. He goes through names: Fun Ghoul, Jet Star, Party Poison.
Then, he reminds himself who he is. The Kobra Kid.
It’s not a name, he knows that. He’s not even sure if he has a name anymore-but it doesn’t matter, because even if he doesn’t know who he is, he knows what he is. He knows what people will call him, what he’ll answer to, how he’ll introduce himself. And that’s all he really needs, right?
Usually, he goes to bed before Poison does, so he’ll be finished with his routine just as another sleeping bag starts sidling up next to his, and he’ll shut his eyes against the stars as he feels a hand reaching into his hair. It’s a familiar feeling now, Poison’s hands on him, so much different from the way it used to make him freeze in terror, the way he could only associate it with-
But now, now Poison’s touch is warm and reassuring, with only the faintest prickle of something he can’t quite place. He tries not to think about it too hard.
“You all right, Kid?” Poison asks, curling up closer, his breath tickling the back of his neck.
“Same as usual,” Kobra answers, eyes still shut, unwilling to focus on more than two senses right now.
Poison hums approvingly. “I think we’ll be heading back to Zone 1, starting tomorrow. They’re building some new security, making it harder for any new escapees to motor out.”
“Ghoul gets to blow some shit up? He’ll like that.”
Poison chuckles, a puff of air Kobra feels more than hears. “Yeah. Should be fun. We’ll get to zap a few Dracs, maybe paint a mural on the city walls. Our last one’s been painted over already.”
Kobra nods. “Mm. Guess we’ll have to fix that.”
Poison keeps talking, planning out their moves for the next few weeks, and Kobra starts to feel his eyes close.
That’s the end of his routine. Falling asleep to the steady tone of Poison’s voice.
the kids don't care
RATED PG
Pairings: Mikey/Gerard(ish?)
Summary: After everything, he settles into a nightly routine. Set after You Are Not My Savior. Written for madcap_shiny because she wants more Mikeyways always, but posted for cypress_smile because I was promised Franks in return. :D
Disclaimer: Hasn't happened, won't happen.
He has a routine. Every night, after whatever vandalizing, demolishing, or Drac-blasting they do during the day, he curls up in his sleeping bag, stares at the stars, and thinks.
First, he’ll remind himself where he is. Which Zone he’s in. Where Tommy will set up shop next (assuming he doesn’t get caught on the way). Which way the City is. Which way Doctor D’s is. He pictures a little “You Are Here” arrow on the map they carry around, and a little black dot where their camp is.
Next, he goes through who’s with him. If Grace is around. Whether Show Pony will be coming to see them soon. If anyone’s gone, why they’re gone, and when they’ll be back. He goes through names: Fun Ghoul, Jet Star, Party Poison.
Then, he reminds himself who he is. The Kobra Kid.
It’s not a name, he knows that. He’s not even sure if he has a name anymore-but it doesn’t matter, because even if he doesn’t know who he is, he knows what he is. He knows what people will call him, what he’ll answer to, how he’ll introduce himself. And that’s all he really needs, right?
Usually, he goes to bed before Poison does, so he’ll be finished with his routine just as another sleeping bag starts sidling up next to his, and he’ll shut his eyes against the stars as he feels a hand reaching into his hair. It’s a familiar feeling now, Poison’s hands on him, so much different from the way it used to make him freeze in terror, the way he could only associate it with-
But now, now Poison’s touch is warm and reassuring, with only the faintest prickle of something he can’t quite place. He tries not to think about it too hard.
“You all right, Kid?” Poison asks, curling up closer, his breath tickling the back of his neck.
“Same as usual,” Kobra answers, eyes still shut, unwilling to focus on more than two senses right now.
Poison hums approvingly. “I think we’ll be heading back to Zone 1, starting tomorrow. They’re building some new security, making it harder for any new escapees to motor out.”
“Ghoul gets to blow some shit up? He’ll like that.”
Poison chuckles, a puff of air Kobra feels more than hears. “Yeah. Should be fun. We’ll get to zap a few Dracs, maybe paint a mural on the city walls. Our last one’s been painted over already.”
Kobra nods. “Mm. Guess we’ll have to fix that.”
Poison keeps talking, planning out their moves for the next few weeks, and Kobra starts to feel his eyes close.
That’s the end of his routine. Falling asleep to the steady tone of Poison’s voice.