Fic: Superpowers
Title: Superpowers
Author: vinvy
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Pairing: none
Word Count: ~ 750
Summary: Showers are kyptonite and Mikeyway is hungry.
Warnings: late-night shenanigans, misleading titles
Disclaimer: As far as I know this never happened and more's the pity.
A/N: For both iron_fist123 and juloreanbecause they take such good care of my plot bunnies and I. I'll stick defect_no9 in here, too, because we haven't talked in FOREVER.
Mikey had expected touring to be surreal from the start but it didn’t stay that way. They all grew accustomed to Gerard’s piles of dirty socks and Frank’s habit of sprawling out on the comfiest parts of the couch, Ray’s relentless desire to perfect riffs old and new and Mikey’s own supernatural ability to sleep anywhere. The feeling of shiny and new never once wore off of gigs and the after-parties didn’t disappoint (except for that one time when Frank had to punch some asshole’s lights out but really, he had it coming so we aren't gonna go there).
Then, suddenly, it was over. Time to go back to life as usual but without the dead-end bookselling job and sniveling customers. That was surreal. After long days of living in the stench of unwashed men and nights full of beautiful, screaming fans anything less was, well, less. Regular showers and mom’s potpourri hadn’t sunk in yet- Mikey felt tingly and numb all over, like when he was seven and he’d stuck a fork in a light socket. It felt like such a dream that he couldn’t sleep for more than a few hours, even after three days. (Apparently regular showers were his kyrptonite as far as supernatural-falling-asleep-abilities went. Maybe there was something about days of grime acting as insulation and padding so that sleep could happen at any given location and time?)
He was a little delirious and definitely adrenaline-high. That’s why the sudden and loud burbling noise from the area of his stomach made him think for all of ten seconds that he was the unfortunate host of a parasitic alien that was about to rip its way through his abdominal wall.
He threw himself off the couch and flailed for a moment. After watching at the DVD player’s clock change from 02:10 to 02:12 Mikey realized that he wasn’t about to be baby alien chow after all- he was just hungry. Very, very hungry. He was pretty confident that it'd gotten to the point where his stomach was trying to eat itself.
He shuffled into the kitchen, bracing his hands on his lower back to crack it. (He wished Ray were around because it always made him cringe when Mikey did that.) Mikey tugged on his hair and idly perused the cupboards. Nothing in the house looked appetizing. He was going to starve or, worse, be forced to go to Wal*Mart and risk being sighted looking like cuckoos were roosting on his scalp. Admittedly, they’d have to be very clean cuckoos since he’d been showering all the time- hot water was a godsend- but he was a mess nonetheless.
Mikey’s stomach growled again, louder this time. Then, like a sign from the patron saint of late-night hunger, his eyes fell on the bread-box and the toaster next to it. He may or may not have uttered a sound of quiet awe and the grin on his face stayed... until he got a closer look.
This wouldn’t do at all. Some kind of grime- a plaster of crumbs and jam?- was smeared along the side. He could just make out the crust of a pop tart trapped at the bottom of one of the slots.
Mikey frowned. He did not approve of a sloppy toaster- it was abuse!- and neither did his stomach, considering the three irritated grumbles it gave at the sight. The toaster needed to be cleaned before he could enjoy his toast, assuage his hunger and go to sleep... but it wasn’t a matter of simply emptying the crumb tray. No, this mission would require warm, soapy water and possibly a fork where the pop tart crust was concerned.
Mikey knew he wasn’t supposed to put toasters in water or put forks in toasters- Gerard would have a heart attack when he found out, just like that time with the space heater in the shower. (And there was no question about Gerard finding out. He had a sixth-sense about Mikey and electricity that was infallible. It was like he could smell it from at least half a mile out- that was Gerard's superpower.)
His stomach cramped, threatening fainting from hunger, and Mikey unplugged the toaster. He emptied the crumb tray and started to fill the sink with warm water. It was amusing to watch the lemon-scented dish soap form a froth of bubbles around the faucet. He figured he’d just dry the toaster really well before making toast. In the meantime he’d pray that Gerard’s sixth sense was worn out and wouldn’t wake him up.
Mikey was busy scrubbing diligently at the reddish-purple mystery substance on the shiny side of the toaster, so he didn’t hear the basement door squeak when it opened or feet slapping on the tiled floor. He totally noticed when Gerard tackled him, though- apparently being home didn't effect his super-sense at all.