Fic: I Don't Like It, Chris/Mike
Title: I don’t like it
Prompt: “Tonight I’m weak” from I Wanna by the All-American Rejects. Prompt once more submitted by ur_attention.
Pairing: Shock! Chris/Mike implied
Disclaimer: This is just my perverted psyche expressing itself.
Rating: PG
Dedicated to ur_attention, my bb
They were pretty much in the middle of nowhere….
Actually, it wasn’t true, they were somewhere in Europe, but he couldn’t remember where. He only knew that the tour bus was bringing them to their next gig, that they would arrive in a few hours, and that in the mean time, he was bored. When they would be there, he would remember where they were but for now, they had been on the road for too long, and he had trouble keeping track of the locations they were playing at. Thank God he wasn’t the front man of the band, or there would videos of him on youtube saying ”ready to be rocked Budapest?” when they were actually in Bucharest or Sofia, or maybe Nicosia, yelling something embarrassing anyway. Let Tyson worry about that kind of details. Then Tyson was known to solve this problem by just saying stuff like “Are you ready to be rocked motherfuckers?”, less polite but more effective. For now, Chris would just do what he did best, play the drums.
He pushed in the DVD he had bought a few months earlier, thinking that when insomnia hit you, you could either stay awake in your bunk, watching the hours pass excruciatingly slowly or you could catch up on the movies you had missed. He chose the latter option. He pulled on the earplugs to avoid waking up the others and started the movie.
Half an hour later, when things kept on being boring on screen (who in Hell had told him to buy this DVD? It was utter crap, he was so bored he wanted to poke his eyes out…), he heard movement and saw a barely dressed Mike make his way to the back of the bus. The man’s eyes were hazy, and he was obviously sweating a little too much.
“What’s wrong buddy?” Chris asked, pulling his earplugs out.
Mike seemed to notice he was there and exhaled loudly in a pitiful voice.
“I’m sick.”
“I know. I thought you were feeling a little better?” Chris asked with a concerned expression.
“I don’t,” Mike whined, pouting.
Chris had to block the smile that wanted to appear on his face: when Mike was sick, he reverted to being six and wanting his mommy, or so it felt. He would whine, be touchy, and sulky, as if it could drive his cold away.
“Oh Mikey,” Chris crooned, patting the spot next to him on the couch.
Still pouting, his bottom lip sticking out, the man crawled next to him and laid his head on Chris’ shoulder.
“You’re all sticky and sweaty,” Chris said, running a hand on his burning forehead.
“Fuck off, it’s the fever,” Mike countered looking outraged.
Okay, so when he was sick, Mike reverted to being a 6 year old with a sailor’s dirty mouth. It was a little funny.
“I don’t like being sick,” he moaned.
“I know,” Chris said in a soothing tone.
“It’s been four days, when am I going to get better?” Mike went on.
“Sh, it’s going to be okay. You just need to sleep it off,” Chris said rubbing the guy’s cheek trying to appease his unease.
“I don’t like it.”
The bottom lip was sticking out again and Chris had to cough to hide his laugh.
“Can I stay with you a little? The guys are making fun of me, because I make noise when I breathe,” Mike said with a hurt expression.
“That’s because they’re assholes. You can stay with me here if you want,” Chris said.
“Thankies,” the man answered, closing his eyes and humming a little.
He moved his head a little against Chris’ shoulder, trying to get in a more comfortable position then started breathing deeply, falling asleep like a light.
The blond put his earplugs back on and started the movie again. He could feel Mike cuddling more and more with him, nestling against his side. Chris put his arm around his shoulder, bringing the guy closer, thinking that when he was sick, Mike reverted to being a 6 years old with awful vocabulary and a tendency to act like a kitten. It was cute, he decided, pressing a tender kiss on the guy’s forehead.
When he heard Mike start to make whizzy noise with his nose in his sleep even over the movie’s soundtrack, Chris cuddled him up closer and said:
“We so need to find you a good doctor or an E.R tomorrow.”
Mike just curled up against him tighter, still like a kitten, though a noisy one, and Chris couldn’t help but think that a sick Mike was really awfully and disgustingly cute.
Prompt: “Tonight I’m weak” from I Wanna by the All-American Rejects. Prompt once more submitted by ur_attention.
Pairing: Shock! Chris/Mike implied
Disclaimer: This is just my perverted psyche expressing itself.
Rating: PG
Dedicated to ur_attention, my bb
They were pretty much in the middle of nowhere….
Actually, it wasn’t true, they were somewhere in Europe, but he couldn’t remember where. He only knew that the tour bus was bringing them to their next gig, that they would arrive in a few hours, and that in the mean time, he was bored. When they would be there, he would remember where they were but for now, they had been on the road for too long, and he had trouble keeping track of the locations they were playing at. Thank God he wasn’t the front man of the band, or there would videos of him on youtube saying ”ready to be rocked Budapest?” when they were actually in Bucharest or Sofia, or maybe Nicosia, yelling something embarrassing anyway. Let Tyson worry about that kind of details. Then Tyson was known to solve this problem by just saying stuff like “Are you ready to be rocked motherfuckers?”, less polite but more effective. For now, Chris would just do what he did best, play the drums.
He pushed in the DVD he had bought a few months earlier, thinking that when insomnia hit you, you could either stay awake in your bunk, watching the hours pass excruciatingly slowly or you could catch up on the movies you had missed. He chose the latter option. He pulled on the earplugs to avoid waking up the others and started the movie.
Half an hour later, when things kept on being boring on screen (who in Hell had told him to buy this DVD? It was utter crap, he was so bored he wanted to poke his eyes out…), he heard movement and saw a barely dressed Mike make his way to the back of the bus. The man’s eyes were hazy, and he was obviously sweating a little too much.
“What’s wrong buddy?” Chris asked, pulling his earplugs out.
Mike seemed to notice he was there and exhaled loudly in a pitiful voice.
“I’m sick.”
“I know. I thought you were feeling a little better?” Chris asked with a concerned expression.
“I don’t,” Mike whined, pouting.
Chris had to block the smile that wanted to appear on his face: when Mike was sick, he reverted to being six and wanting his mommy, or so it felt. He would whine, be touchy, and sulky, as if it could drive his cold away.
“Oh Mikey,” Chris crooned, patting the spot next to him on the couch.
Still pouting, his bottom lip sticking out, the man crawled next to him and laid his head on Chris’ shoulder.
“You’re all sticky and sweaty,” Chris said, running a hand on his burning forehead.
“Fuck off, it’s the fever,” Mike countered looking outraged.
Okay, so when he was sick, Mike reverted to being a 6 year old with a sailor’s dirty mouth. It was a little funny.
“I don’t like being sick,” he moaned.
“I know,” Chris said in a soothing tone.
“It’s been four days, when am I going to get better?” Mike went on.
“Sh, it’s going to be okay. You just need to sleep it off,” Chris said rubbing the guy’s cheek trying to appease his unease.
“I don’t like it.”
The bottom lip was sticking out again and Chris had to cough to hide his laugh.
“Can I stay with you a little? The guys are making fun of me, because I make noise when I breathe,” Mike said with a hurt expression.
“That’s because they’re assholes. You can stay with me here if you want,” Chris said.
“Thankies,” the man answered, closing his eyes and humming a little.
He moved his head a little against Chris’ shoulder, trying to get in a more comfortable position then started breathing deeply, falling asleep like a light.
The blond put his earplugs back on and started the movie again. He could feel Mike cuddling more and more with him, nestling against his side. Chris put his arm around his shoulder, bringing the guy closer, thinking that when he was sick, Mike reverted to being a 6 years old with awful vocabulary and a tendency to act like a kitten. It was cute, he decided, pressing a tender kiss on the guy’s forehead.
When he heard Mike start to make whizzy noise with his nose in his sleep even over the movie’s soundtrack, Chris cuddled him up closer and said:
“We so need to find you a good doctor or an E.R tomorrow.”
Mike just curled up against him tighter, still like a kitten, though a noisy one, and Chris couldn’t help but think that a sick Mike was really awfully and disgustingly cute.