(no subject)
Title: The Sun Always Shines on TV
Author: cloudlessclimes
Rated: PG 13
Pairing:Brendon Urie/Gerard Way
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one.
Summary: Oh God. Ages ago I started writing Beach Music, the summary of which is: Brendon Urie is and has always been a girl. She meets Gerard Way. Things happen. And, well, I haven't abandoned it, exactly. Life, it gets in the way sometimes, you know? So anyway, enter hc_bingo and so I thought this might be a good way to get back into writing. This is written for the prompt alcoholism and is set not too long after part 8 ends.
Feedback: Is a wonderful thing.
Notes: Recovery is a personal, individual thing. No two people go through it the same way. Alcoholics Anonymous is a wonderful organization that has helped so many people, and I absolutely do not mean to take away from the great good work they and other 12 step programs do for alcoholics, addicts and the people who love them. The only research done for this fic is my own experience and reading a few interviews where Gerard Way talked about his own experiences.
Brendon's voice is a sleepy mumble from the kitchen doorway as she calls, "Gee?" She can see him, silhouetted by the street light, slumped over in a kitchen chair.
He jumps a little, and then says softly, "Oh, hey. What are you doin' up?"
Shuffling into the room, self deprecation evident in her voice and the small shrug of her shoulders, Brendon sighs and says, "Had t'pee. You weren't next t'me. Came lookin'." She stands beside him, fingers stroking through his hair.
"Sorry, didn't mean to worry you." Gerard mumbles, not looking up from his lap. Glancing down, Brendon blinks as the faint light from the small window glints off the glass bottle Gerard is holding between his palms.
Biting her lip, trying to think of what to say, she exhales a soft, “Oh,” and then, gently, “Did you?” as she gestures weakly towards the liquor with one hand.
Gerard turns the bottle of vodka over and over in his hands. “No. Not yet. I thought about it. I've been thinking about it a lot.”
Brendon tilts her head and narrows her eyes, the tease of a smile giving her lips a slight curve. She reaches down and takes the bottle from Gerard; her fingers tracing around the cap to feel the seal still intact. Plunking it onto the table she slips a leg over Gerard’s thigh and wriggles into his lap. Leaning close, her breasts brushing against his chest, Brendon kisses him--spit slick and messy--and then whispers, “I can give you something else to think about,” And shifts her hips in a gentle sway against his.
“Shit Brendon, would you stop?” Gerard’s voice is loud and angry in the stillness of the kitchen. His hands shove roughly against her hips, stilling them and putting space between their bodies. “You can’t fix everything with fucking!”
Shocked, Brendon’s mouth opens and closes, and in a small voice she says, “I just... I don’t know what to do. What else can I do?” She drops her glance and stares at her hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck,” Gerard exhales and runs his hand across Brendon’s back, hugging her to him. “No, honey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I just…I’m…fuck, I dunno what I am.” He squeezes the tensed muscles in Brendon’s neck and brushes a kiss to her down turned lips.
Brendon drops her head, resting her cheek against Gerard’s shoulder as she swings her legs a little, toes skimming the tiled floor. “I wish I could do something to help. Do you need to go to a meeting or something?” She relaxes into him, breath skimming Gerard’s collar bones, arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders.
“Uh, no.” Gerard chuckles--a low, knowing sound that rumbles in his chest. “I went, a couple times, ‘cause Greg, my shrink said it would be a good idea, anonymous and all that, right? So, I went. And I mean it obviously is what a lot of people need, right? But, I had the stale donuts and the shitty coffee, and stood at the back of the room and tried to wrap my brain around all the trippy twelve step voodoo and mostly thought about comics, you know?” He presses his lips to her temple and continues to pet softly along her spine.
Brendon sits up and exclaims, “Oh man I know! I mean, I even believe in God, right? All that higher power stuff sort of scared the shit out of me. I mean, when we were looking at stuff, for Ryan...for his Dad...”
“Yeah,” he huffs out a soft laugh and nuzzles at her hair with his cheek. “So, mostly I guess I just try to muddle through on my own, you know? And if it gets really bad, I mean if I feel like I’m going to monumentally fuck up, I usually talk to Mikey or Brian..."
“But now you can’t. Because of me.” Brendon bites her lip and her lashes twitch shadows on the pale skin beneath her eyes.
“No honey, it’s fine. I’ll be fine, I just...”
“Sit in the dark and stare at a bottle of vodka,” Brendon meets his eyes, but there’s no pity in her expression, just gentle concern and a little sadness.
Gerard sighs and shifts beneath Brendon’s weight and knocks his forehead to hers in a familiar gesture of affection. “I’ve had it for a while. I bought it on the way back from taking you to the airport. When you were going to Vegas to...when I thought you were gonna...fuck, I wanted a drink so damn bad. I still do.” His palm rests flat against Brendon’s abdomen and there's something about his tone that smacks of self loathing.
Cupping Gerard’s cheeks, Brendon angles her face to his and kisses him fiercely. “But I didn’t do it! And I’m not gonna.I just can't. And we’re okay, right? This is gonna be okay. Are you...you said you’re okay with this, right?”
Returning her kiss with a little more desperation than passion, Gerard hooks his finger under one thin strap of Brendon’s cotton nightgown, “Yeah, of course, Bee. Of course. I’m so glad you didn’t...I mean, I’m happy, just really fuckin’ scared, too. Good scared. And who the fuck knew that could even happen off a stage?” He kisses the light dusting of freckles on Brendon’s nose.
Sighing in relief, Brendon again brings her head to rest against Gerard’s shoulder, and she hugs him tight saying, “Yeah, who knew?” She smiles a little wobbly, and adds in a hitching whisper, “I’m scared too." She drops her arms down from their embrace to thread their fingers together across her still flat stomach. “I think it’s okay to want to drink. I think it’s okay to fuck up, maybe. But you have me. And I won’t let you. I won’t!”
Gerard smiles against her hair at the fierceness in her tone. They sit in silence for a long while, listening to the middle of the night sounds of the house around them, until Brendon says, hesitantly. “Did you...did you love him?”
Pausing midbreath, Gerard lifts his head and looks down at Brendon. “Did I love...? Oh! Bert?”
“Yeah.”
He scratches at his nose,trying to find the words for his thoughts, "I think I wanted to. I think I thought so. But man, I was so fucked up, and so was he. I guess he made me feel, like, normal, maybe, if that makes any sense.” Brendon nods, sleepy and warm in Gerard’s arms and he continues. “And when I got sober, he didn’t. And he was everything I didn’t want to be, anymore. I hurt him, I guess...” Gerard shrugs and his voice trails away into the darkness.
Brendon slowly traces her fingers up and down Gerard’s bare forearms. “Do you ever think that maybe if you’d never met him that you’d never...” She stops, trying to figure out what she wants to say, and how to ask it. Gerard’s always been open and honest about his past, but they’ve never talked about this before, and Brendon never knew that she wanted to talk about it; never knew that she wants to hear what Gerard has to say.
“If I’d never met Bert, I’d never have figured out that white lines blow my mind?” Gerard’s laugh is sharp in the darkness.
Brendon kisses the corner of his mouth, brow furrowed in concern, “Don’t joke.”
Gerard replies, sighing, “Honey, I was so fucked up and taking so many fuckin’ prescription meds by then, I’m sure it was just a matter of time before I decided coke and more booze were what I needed to get through the day, no matter who dangled the magic little baggie in front of my face. Shit, I was taking something to sleep, something to wake up, something to pick me up, and something else to bring me down. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, and I never found a drug to make me care that I was hurting everyone else in my life, never mind what I was doing to myself. I thought drinking gave me a personality.” He untangles their limbs and wriggles his fingers, doing a jazz hands wave in front of Brendon’s face.
Catching his hands in hers, Brendon kisses at the tips of Gerard’s fingers and murmurs, “I like your personality just fine the way it is.”
“Me too.” Gerard’s smile is soft and genuine.
Biting her lip, Brendon gives a little nod and then scrambles out of Gerard’s lap. She stands and stretches, and then grabs the bottle of vodka off the table. Her bare feet slap lightly against the tile as she stalks over to the sink. She turns on the tap and then, with a determined grunt, snaps open the bottle’s seal.
“What're you doing?” Gerard’s eyes widen in surprise, watching as Brendon upends the bottle over the sink, holding it high as its contents glug down the drain.
Brendon’s shoulders hitch when she says, “Well, the way I see it, you can either sit here in the dark beating yourself up,” she turns her head, giving Gerard a pointed look over her shoulder, “or, we can just remove temptation, and then we can go to bed. I figure that’s a better choice, for everyone.” She sets the empty bottle on the counter and squirts a dollop of dish soap into the sink, trying to rid the room of the sharp scent of alcohol.
Crossing to her, Gerard wraps his arms around Brendon’s waist and kisses the back of her neck. “You’re a smart lady, Queen Bee.”
“Course I am,” Brendon snickers. “I’ve got it all, man. Looks, smarts, personality!” Her snicker becomes a snort as she swishes water around the sink and then turns off the tap.
Lips still pressed to the bumps of Brendon's spine, Gerard mumbles, “I dunno what I ever did to deserve you.”
Brendon turns to face him, slipping her arms around his neck. She pecks small kisses across his chin and then traces their shapes with the pad of her thumb, “I think we deserve each other.” And she closes her eyes and presses her lips to Gerard's, soft and sleepy. “Let’s go back to bed.”
“Mmm hmm.” Gerard agrees against Brendon’s mouth. He takes her hand and they trail slowly from the kitchen.
Brendon curses under her breath and huffs, “But first, I have to pee. Again,” She rolls her eyes.
Gerard laughs, kissing her in front of the bathroom door before heading down the hallway to their bedroom.
Author: cloudlessclimes
Rated: PG 13
Pairing:Brendon Urie/Gerard Way
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one.
Summary: Oh God. Ages ago I started writing Beach Music, the summary of which is: Brendon Urie is and has always been a girl. She meets Gerard Way. Things happen. And, well, I haven't abandoned it, exactly. Life, it gets in the way sometimes, you know? So anyway, enter hc_bingo and so I thought this might be a good way to get back into writing. This is written for the prompt alcoholism and is set not too long after part 8 ends.
Feedback: Is a wonderful thing.
Notes: Recovery is a personal, individual thing. No two people go through it the same way. Alcoholics Anonymous is a wonderful organization that has helped so many people, and I absolutely do not mean to take away from the great good work they and other 12 step programs do for alcoholics, addicts and the people who love them. The only research done for this fic is my own experience and reading a few interviews where Gerard Way talked about his own experiences.
Brendon's voice is a sleepy mumble from the kitchen doorway as she calls, "Gee?" She can see him, silhouetted by the street light, slumped over in a kitchen chair.
He jumps a little, and then says softly, "Oh, hey. What are you doin' up?"
Shuffling into the room, self deprecation evident in her voice and the small shrug of her shoulders, Brendon sighs and says, "Had t'pee. You weren't next t'me. Came lookin'." She stands beside him, fingers stroking through his hair.
"Sorry, didn't mean to worry you." Gerard mumbles, not looking up from his lap. Glancing down, Brendon blinks as the faint light from the small window glints off the glass bottle Gerard is holding between his palms.
Biting her lip, trying to think of what to say, she exhales a soft, “Oh,” and then, gently, “Did you?” as she gestures weakly towards the liquor with one hand.
Gerard turns the bottle of vodka over and over in his hands. “No. Not yet. I thought about it. I've been thinking about it a lot.”
Brendon tilts her head and narrows her eyes, the tease of a smile giving her lips a slight curve. She reaches down and takes the bottle from Gerard; her fingers tracing around the cap to feel the seal still intact. Plunking it onto the table she slips a leg over Gerard’s thigh and wriggles into his lap. Leaning close, her breasts brushing against his chest, Brendon kisses him--spit slick and messy--and then whispers, “I can give you something else to think about,” And shifts her hips in a gentle sway against his.
“Shit Brendon, would you stop?” Gerard’s voice is loud and angry in the stillness of the kitchen. His hands shove roughly against her hips, stilling them and putting space between their bodies. “You can’t fix everything with fucking!”
Shocked, Brendon’s mouth opens and closes, and in a small voice she says, “I just... I don’t know what to do. What else can I do?” She drops her glance and stares at her hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck,” Gerard exhales and runs his hand across Brendon’s back, hugging her to him. “No, honey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I just…I’m…fuck, I dunno what I am.” He squeezes the tensed muscles in Brendon’s neck and brushes a kiss to her down turned lips.
Brendon drops her head, resting her cheek against Gerard’s shoulder as she swings her legs a little, toes skimming the tiled floor. “I wish I could do something to help. Do you need to go to a meeting or something?” She relaxes into him, breath skimming Gerard’s collar bones, arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders.
“Uh, no.” Gerard chuckles--a low, knowing sound that rumbles in his chest. “I went, a couple times, ‘cause Greg, my shrink said it would be a good idea, anonymous and all that, right? So, I went. And I mean it obviously is what a lot of people need, right? But, I had the stale donuts and the shitty coffee, and stood at the back of the room and tried to wrap my brain around all the trippy twelve step voodoo and mostly thought about comics, you know?” He presses his lips to her temple and continues to pet softly along her spine.
Brendon sits up and exclaims, “Oh man I know! I mean, I even believe in God, right? All that higher power stuff sort of scared the shit out of me. I mean, when we were looking at stuff, for Ryan...for his Dad...”
“Yeah,” he huffs out a soft laugh and nuzzles at her hair with his cheek. “So, mostly I guess I just try to muddle through on my own, you know? And if it gets really bad, I mean if I feel like I’m going to monumentally fuck up, I usually talk to Mikey or Brian..."
“But now you can’t. Because of me.” Brendon bites her lip and her lashes twitch shadows on the pale skin beneath her eyes.
“No honey, it’s fine. I’ll be fine, I just...”
“Sit in the dark and stare at a bottle of vodka,” Brendon meets his eyes, but there’s no pity in her expression, just gentle concern and a little sadness.
Gerard sighs and shifts beneath Brendon’s weight and knocks his forehead to hers in a familiar gesture of affection. “I’ve had it for a while. I bought it on the way back from taking you to the airport. When you were going to Vegas to...when I thought you were gonna...fuck, I wanted a drink so damn bad. I still do.” His palm rests flat against Brendon’s abdomen and there's something about his tone that smacks of self loathing.
Cupping Gerard’s cheeks, Brendon angles her face to his and kisses him fiercely. “But I didn’t do it! And I’m not gonna.I just can't. And we’re okay, right? This is gonna be okay. Are you...you said you’re okay with this, right?”
Returning her kiss with a little more desperation than passion, Gerard hooks his finger under one thin strap of Brendon’s cotton nightgown, “Yeah, of course, Bee. Of course. I’m so glad you didn’t...I mean, I’m happy, just really fuckin’ scared, too. Good scared. And who the fuck knew that could even happen off a stage?” He kisses the light dusting of freckles on Brendon’s nose.
Sighing in relief, Brendon again brings her head to rest against Gerard’s shoulder, and she hugs him tight saying, “Yeah, who knew?” She smiles a little wobbly, and adds in a hitching whisper, “I’m scared too." She drops her arms down from their embrace to thread their fingers together across her still flat stomach. “I think it’s okay to want to drink. I think it’s okay to fuck up, maybe. But you have me. And I won’t let you. I won’t!”
Gerard smiles against her hair at the fierceness in her tone. They sit in silence for a long while, listening to the middle of the night sounds of the house around them, until Brendon says, hesitantly. “Did you...did you love him?”
Pausing midbreath, Gerard lifts his head and looks down at Brendon. “Did I love...? Oh! Bert?”
“Yeah.”
He scratches at his nose,trying to find the words for his thoughts, "I think I wanted to. I think I thought so. But man, I was so fucked up, and so was he. I guess he made me feel, like, normal, maybe, if that makes any sense.” Brendon nods, sleepy and warm in Gerard’s arms and he continues. “And when I got sober, he didn’t. And he was everything I didn’t want to be, anymore. I hurt him, I guess...” Gerard shrugs and his voice trails away into the darkness.
Brendon slowly traces her fingers up and down Gerard’s bare forearms. “Do you ever think that maybe if you’d never met him that you’d never...” She stops, trying to figure out what she wants to say, and how to ask it. Gerard’s always been open and honest about his past, but they’ve never talked about this before, and Brendon never knew that she wanted to talk about it; never knew that she wants to hear what Gerard has to say.
“If I’d never met Bert, I’d never have figured out that white lines blow my mind?” Gerard’s laugh is sharp in the darkness.
Brendon kisses the corner of his mouth, brow furrowed in concern, “Don’t joke.”
Gerard replies, sighing, “Honey, I was so fucked up and taking so many fuckin’ prescription meds by then, I’m sure it was just a matter of time before I decided coke and more booze were what I needed to get through the day, no matter who dangled the magic little baggie in front of my face. Shit, I was taking something to sleep, something to wake up, something to pick me up, and something else to bring me down. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, and I never found a drug to make me care that I was hurting everyone else in my life, never mind what I was doing to myself. I thought drinking gave me a personality.” He untangles their limbs and wriggles his fingers, doing a jazz hands wave in front of Brendon’s face.
Catching his hands in hers, Brendon kisses at the tips of Gerard’s fingers and murmurs, “I like your personality just fine the way it is.”
“Me too.” Gerard’s smile is soft and genuine.
Biting her lip, Brendon gives a little nod and then scrambles out of Gerard’s lap. She stands and stretches, and then grabs the bottle of vodka off the table. Her bare feet slap lightly against the tile as she stalks over to the sink. She turns on the tap and then, with a determined grunt, snaps open the bottle’s seal.
“What're you doing?” Gerard’s eyes widen in surprise, watching as Brendon upends the bottle over the sink, holding it high as its contents glug down the drain.
Brendon’s shoulders hitch when she says, “Well, the way I see it, you can either sit here in the dark beating yourself up,” she turns her head, giving Gerard a pointed look over her shoulder, “or, we can just remove temptation, and then we can go to bed. I figure that’s a better choice, for everyone.” She sets the empty bottle on the counter and squirts a dollop of dish soap into the sink, trying to rid the room of the sharp scent of alcohol.
Crossing to her, Gerard wraps his arms around Brendon’s waist and kisses the back of her neck. “You’re a smart lady, Queen Bee.”
“Course I am,” Brendon snickers. “I’ve got it all, man. Looks, smarts, personality!” Her snicker becomes a snort as she swishes water around the sink and then turns off the tap.
Lips still pressed to the bumps of Brendon's spine, Gerard mumbles, “I dunno what I ever did to deserve you.”
Brendon turns to face him, slipping her arms around his neck. She pecks small kisses across his chin and then traces their shapes with the pad of her thumb, “I think we deserve each other.” And she closes her eyes and presses her lips to Gerard's, soft and sleepy. “Let’s go back to bed.”
“Mmm hmm.” Gerard agrees against Brendon’s mouth. He takes her hand and they trail slowly from the kitchen.
Brendon curses under her breath and huffs, “But first, I have to pee. Again,” She rolls her eyes.
Gerard laughs, kissing her in front of the bathroom door before heading down the hallway to their bedroom.