NEW FIC - Give me your reason to believe 1/?
TITLE : Give me your Reason to Believe
AUTHOR: ladyeigh (caliburn.kira)
RATING: R (NC-17 at the end)
PAIRING: VAM (Ville Valo/Bam Margera), Waycest (Mikey/Gerard)
POV: Third person
SUMMARY: Couple time, with moments for all...
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, didn’t happen and didn’t see anything… promise
NOTES: To Mytornromance Happy Birthday!!
This is the sequel to the long fic that I wrote for hergerbabe 'Taking Back the Life you Stole', not neccessary to have read it, but it might help!
The Fic that came first...
Or else you can read it on the community from here
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
The usually raucous house was atypically quiet and still. There were no roaring four wheelers, no grinding skateboards, no screaming guitars, only peace and relaxation as an oasis for the men who rested on the comfortable leather couches. There had been a magazine launch party the evening before and the chaos and insanity of New York had been cheerfully exchanged for the calm of West Chester. Not all the stars from the shoot had shown up, fortunately, due to a mixture of tours, indifference, family duties and rehab. Ville had attended; they were still building their American fan base and needed the exposure. Bam however, had not attended, Warner were aware of their relationship but wanted HIM to have publicity outside of their connection to a pro-boarder and director (well, Jackass and MTV personality). The Finnish front-man had gone to the event with alternate back up. Attached to Deron and Jess of CKY and standing with the legendary Green Day and up and coming My Chemical Romance he had spent a sober few hours mingling before fleeing to a hotel room and his lovers arms. He had played his part to perfection, Scandinavian front-man with a devil-may-care attitude and a glint in his eye. The bosses were pleased with his demeanour and manner; he was pleased with his performance. He had shed the layers he still favoured, stripping to a comfortable Misfits shirt and cotton sleep pants before curling up with Bam and watching lousy television until they fell asleep, a world away from his ‘star’ persona but closer to his soul.
The next morning they had dressed, checked out and collected their guests before driving back to the Compound and settling in for a relaxing visit. The Crew had all found other places to be; Sweetheart was with his wife, Ape and Phil were at their house and Novak had gone to stay with other friends - after solemnly promising to avoid all his issues on pain of another babysitter and rehab. Nudie had just hugged his ‘life-partner’ and kissed him gently on the cheek, wishing Bam a good time with his lover and passing on his love to ‘Lazarus’, a nickname that had begun to feel all the more appropriate as time had gone on, as he had pulled himself from the brink of the grave back to his life, a changed life certainly - but richer in some ways he could not explain.
The skaters were absent as well. Immediately after the shoot Ville had gone to Ape and Phil’s before meeting up again with Bam as he and some of the Team flew in from their tour. Vallely, Getz and O’Connor had come to the Castle, carefully hugging the honorary member of the squad and re-iterating their offers of vengeance to the thin pale man. The skaters had vacated the premises with the CKY crew in tow, leaving the lovers to reconnect in peace. Ville had then cheerfully spent the next day watching the slightly insane and overly jet-lagged pro’s shred the driveway and pipe’s that littered Bam’s yard and land.
That had been a little while before though, before flowerpots and knuckledusters, before jackass injuries and faked inebriation, before the Finland Superstars tour that had separated them by an ocean’s width and the snatched moments that had had to suffice. Loveline and Radio Bam, re-shooting videos and the 69 Eyes, any and all excuses used to spend 12 uncomfortable hours in a seat to spend as little as 24 hours in a loving embrace. They had known how it would be, how little time they would be able to actually spend together but placed their faith in love, in the depth of their friendship and the truth of their devotion. What they hadn’t banked on were the low times, not arguments, not fights - all passionate couples had those. They had had a couple of screaming matches even before they were an official partnership and both Migé and Lily had taken Bam to one side to warn him about Ville’s temper and intermittent diva moments. Then again, the Prince of Chaos was no picnic himself. His obsessional behaviours together with never treated ADHD meant he could be completely unpredictable if not downright self destructive - without even realising what he was doing; his ongoing propensity for drinking whiskey being a prime example. Ville had spent many a night holding him down, or holding him together in their less than sober times. For such a slender man he was strong, strong enough to control the smaller but more obviously muscled skater. Then again, Bam freely admitted that he fought other people harder when they tried to control him, his love for Ville meaning that he both listened to him more and allowed him to grip his wrists without trying to take a swing.
Both had walked away from commitments a few times, flying or driving - fleeing to each other before and after their final confessions and first kisses. Bam had left his brother’s bachelor party to get to his devastated lovers side. Ville had gotten on a plane when Bam’s carefully arranged threads had started to unravel around him. Crash landings and bad gigs, celebratory loops and triumphant stage returns. Snow angels and sand castles, spring flowers and autumnal walks, the calendar changed, the clock turned and their love simply grew richer and deeper; a resonant whole that swallowed their souls and filled their hearts.
Ville snuggled deeper into Bam’s arms, gaze drawn to the large Egyptian flame that Seth had chromed and hung on the rich burgundy wall. The quietude was calm, peaceful - unusual. Comfortable in soft flannel pants that had been washed until they felt more like 300 thread cotton or finest silk, an Adio shirt of his lovers cosy for scent rather than cloth. The skater’s arms held him lovingly tight. Close enough for adoration yet lose enough for his security. Ville played meditatively with his lovers repaired bracelets and rings. The circles and chains that had been hacked off his wrists in a Police Station just outside LAX. The silver ‘flair’ that he had gathered over several years and the majority of the continents on Earth. Some just because they were pretty, a few as mementoes of events - other than those he had immortalised in ink on his skin, and a few - a very few - as gifts, love tokens that meant more than any words could say. Bam had called his lover in tears; knowing he had been an idiot, horrified that he had been arrested and therefore had destroyed his immaculate record, furious that a record company gift had led him to be charged with a ‘fucking felony’, devastated that a bracelet that his partner had had engraved and then clasped to his wrist had been sliced off with absolutely no regard. He had cut his drinking back to such an extent that the four beers he had consumed had left him an argumentative wreck - the handcuffs had sobered him up fast. At least Knoxville had managed to get his call and get him out - before the tabloid press had been at the gates for their pictures. Mind you, discussing the whole affair with Jimmy Kimmel hadn’t exactly been a part of the plan! Meeting up with Jussi and Jyrki and the boys had been a double edged sword; overjoyed to see and hear them but their Finnish voices simply made him miss his lover even more. They had ridiculous telephone bills, Ville even agreeing to Bam’s gift of a blackberry and sidekick to allow him to fulfil his preference for writing love letters without a computer whilst avoiding the need for his dyslexic lover to interpret his handwriting.
Ville’s musing was halted by a soft creak of leather from the other couch. He rose up slightly and looked across to their guests, also lying wrapped in each other’s arms. Mikey and Gerard looked comfortable, peaceful and collected as they lay together. No ‘brotherly’ lounging or band mate joking, here they were free to simply be. To lie in each others arms, to reach up or down to snatch kisses, to run hands through neatly styled hair leaving a mess that meant someone cared. Soft washed jeans not bullet-proof vests or priestly collars, bare feet like their hosts - floors of the Castle had been sanded to satin and varnished slick due to the owner’s propensity to discard the shoes he was paid so well to wear. Gerard was reclined against the corner of the sofa, cushions piled up to support the combined weight of singer and bassist coiled together in a sinuous whole. Mikey’s longer frame resting on his older brother, head against his heart and feet propped up on the farthest arm. Gee played with the pendant his brother wore in much the same absent minded but loving manner Ville had with Bam’s bracelets, an unconsciously calming habit. Free of any cosmetic enhancement and with sharper cheekbones than they had seen before the singers broad if lop-sided grin was infectious and his clear eyed gaze was a pleasure to behold. Ville and Bam had watched the DVD the younger band had released - both of them calling their friends unable to accept or believe their eyes. Gerard had always been open about the depths to which he had plunged but they had really only known the Jersey duo in their sober days - the Toxic Twins were a story, not a part of their reality.
Ville had had his moments, Bam too - but their collective failing had been legal (as long as they were off the Absinthe - especially after the night Bam was certain he really had seen the Absinthe Fairy). The jukebox whirred and the CD changed, the chosen accompaniment for the afternoon filling the air. From the elegance of Beethoven as the final tones of Fur Elise died away, the simple complexity of Bach took over as the Air on a G String spiralled into the haven they had created. An MTV audience would have changed the channel in disgust - those that knew only the character he had created, the Jackass was fun, but didn’t have a series of multi-million dollar contracts. The death metal fanatic who adored Scandinavian and other European Metal and Rock, but who always had classical artists in his I-Pod, the chill-out factor something he relied upon to counter his own adrenaline binges, to calm his racing heart and soothe his lonely nights.
The Way boys had smiled at the selection, enjoying the tranquil choices the skater had made, the enormous jukebox having music for every occasion. From Compton Ass Terry’s favoured Hip-Hop to Ape’s Def Leppard via Phil’s Elvis obsession - Bam was a considerate musical host. Ville’s beloved Black Sabbath and Type O Negative also played a large part in the disc collection, as well as Lily’s Iggy Pop and the perennial favourite Misfits albums.
Mikey had begun to conduct the music, silently waving his right hand as though in front of the Philharmonic. Gerard smoothed his sibling’s fringe back and leant to drop a kiss on the silky brow, nudging his glasses slightly and causing his lover to open his eyes. Mikey smiled up and stretched for a proper kiss, never losing his rhythm as he beat out the timings. The kiss deepened from soft peck to open mouthed adoration and Mikey stopped conducting and instead slid his hand under Gerard’s T-shirt to rest against pale satin smooth skin over newly developed muscles, surprisingly warm against his bass calloused palm. Gerard gasped at the contact, cool hand against hotter flesh, his moan swallowed by the mouth ravaging his. The rough / smooth dichotomy of his beloved’s hands never failed to excite his blood, raise his temperature and bring him joy. Knowing that the younger man had sacrificed soft skin for hard patches, aching joints and ringing ears to be with him, for an excuse, for a reason… for their survival.
They separated only when a lack of breath meant their only other option was suffocation. They parted reluctantly, Gerard scattering kisses across Mikey’s forehead and then crown as the younger man settled back into his comfortable position. He left one hand under his big brother’s shirt, thumb moving in soft strokes to the rhythm of the Bach that filled the air, keeping the beat in flesh and not in space. On the other couch Bam had been gently tapping a forefinger against his partner’s abdominals where they lay under his hands. Their legs were tangled together and Ville was running his bare foot over the area of calf left exposed beneath the skaters sawn off trousers, the comfortable attire he favoured to lounge with his lover. They had finished the coffee that had been brewed, eaten the cookies that Bam had found in the cupboard (silently blessing April for her foresight). Now they lay, no need to talk, just to kiss and listen, content in each others presence and in each others arms. No fame, no adulation, not rock stars, emo gods, skaters, artists or personalities. Just men, just being.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
AUTHOR: ladyeigh (caliburn.kira)
RATING: R (NC-17 at the end)
PAIRING: VAM (Ville Valo/Bam Margera), Waycest (Mikey/Gerard)
POV: Third person
SUMMARY: Couple time, with moments for all...
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, didn’t happen and didn’t see anything… promise
NOTES: To Mytornromance Happy Birthday!!
This is the sequel to the long fic that I wrote for hergerbabe 'Taking Back the Life you Stole', not neccessary to have read it, but it might help!
The Fic that came first...
Or else you can read it on the community from here
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@
The usually raucous house was atypically quiet and still. There were no roaring four wheelers, no grinding skateboards, no screaming guitars, only peace and relaxation as an oasis for the men who rested on the comfortable leather couches. There had been a magazine launch party the evening before and the chaos and insanity of New York had been cheerfully exchanged for the calm of West Chester. Not all the stars from the shoot had shown up, fortunately, due to a mixture of tours, indifference, family duties and rehab. Ville had attended; they were still building their American fan base and needed the exposure. Bam however, had not attended, Warner were aware of their relationship but wanted HIM to have publicity outside of their connection to a pro-boarder and director (well, Jackass and MTV personality). The Finnish front-man had gone to the event with alternate back up. Attached to Deron and Jess of CKY and standing with the legendary Green Day and up and coming My Chemical Romance he had spent a sober few hours mingling before fleeing to a hotel room and his lovers arms. He had played his part to perfection, Scandinavian front-man with a devil-may-care attitude and a glint in his eye. The bosses were pleased with his demeanour and manner; he was pleased with his performance. He had shed the layers he still favoured, stripping to a comfortable Misfits shirt and cotton sleep pants before curling up with Bam and watching lousy television until they fell asleep, a world away from his ‘star’ persona but closer to his soul.
The next morning they had dressed, checked out and collected their guests before driving back to the Compound and settling in for a relaxing visit. The Crew had all found other places to be; Sweetheart was with his wife, Ape and Phil were at their house and Novak had gone to stay with other friends - after solemnly promising to avoid all his issues on pain of another babysitter and rehab. Nudie had just hugged his ‘life-partner’ and kissed him gently on the cheek, wishing Bam a good time with his lover and passing on his love to ‘Lazarus’, a nickname that had begun to feel all the more appropriate as time had gone on, as he had pulled himself from the brink of the grave back to his life, a changed life certainly - but richer in some ways he could not explain.
The skaters were absent as well. Immediately after the shoot Ville had gone to Ape and Phil’s before meeting up again with Bam as he and some of the Team flew in from their tour. Vallely, Getz and O’Connor had come to the Castle, carefully hugging the honorary member of the squad and re-iterating their offers of vengeance to the thin pale man. The skaters had vacated the premises with the CKY crew in tow, leaving the lovers to reconnect in peace. Ville had then cheerfully spent the next day watching the slightly insane and overly jet-lagged pro’s shred the driveway and pipe’s that littered Bam’s yard and land.
That had been a little while before though, before flowerpots and knuckledusters, before jackass injuries and faked inebriation, before the Finland Superstars tour that had separated them by an ocean’s width and the snatched moments that had had to suffice. Loveline and Radio Bam, re-shooting videos and the 69 Eyes, any and all excuses used to spend 12 uncomfortable hours in a seat to spend as little as 24 hours in a loving embrace. They had known how it would be, how little time they would be able to actually spend together but placed their faith in love, in the depth of their friendship and the truth of their devotion. What they hadn’t banked on were the low times, not arguments, not fights - all passionate couples had those. They had had a couple of screaming matches even before they were an official partnership and both Migé and Lily had taken Bam to one side to warn him about Ville’s temper and intermittent diva moments. Then again, the Prince of Chaos was no picnic himself. His obsessional behaviours together with never treated ADHD meant he could be completely unpredictable if not downright self destructive - without even realising what he was doing; his ongoing propensity for drinking whiskey being a prime example. Ville had spent many a night holding him down, or holding him together in their less than sober times. For such a slender man he was strong, strong enough to control the smaller but more obviously muscled skater. Then again, Bam freely admitted that he fought other people harder when they tried to control him, his love for Ville meaning that he both listened to him more and allowed him to grip his wrists without trying to take a swing.
Both had walked away from commitments a few times, flying or driving - fleeing to each other before and after their final confessions and first kisses. Bam had left his brother’s bachelor party to get to his devastated lovers side. Ville had gotten on a plane when Bam’s carefully arranged threads had started to unravel around him. Crash landings and bad gigs, celebratory loops and triumphant stage returns. Snow angels and sand castles, spring flowers and autumnal walks, the calendar changed, the clock turned and their love simply grew richer and deeper; a resonant whole that swallowed their souls and filled their hearts.
Ville snuggled deeper into Bam’s arms, gaze drawn to the large Egyptian flame that Seth had chromed and hung on the rich burgundy wall. The quietude was calm, peaceful - unusual. Comfortable in soft flannel pants that had been washed until they felt more like 300 thread cotton or finest silk, an Adio shirt of his lovers cosy for scent rather than cloth. The skater’s arms held him lovingly tight. Close enough for adoration yet lose enough for his security. Ville played meditatively with his lovers repaired bracelets and rings. The circles and chains that had been hacked off his wrists in a Police Station just outside LAX. The silver ‘flair’ that he had gathered over several years and the majority of the continents on Earth. Some just because they were pretty, a few as mementoes of events - other than those he had immortalised in ink on his skin, and a few - a very few - as gifts, love tokens that meant more than any words could say. Bam had called his lover in tears; knowing he had been an idiot, horrified that he had been arrested and therefore had destroyed his immaculate record, furious that a record company gift had led him to be charged with a ‘fucking felony’, devastated that a bracelet that his partner had had engraved and then clasped to his wrist had been sliced off with absolutely no regard. He had cut his drinking back to such an extent that the four beers he had consumed had left him an argumentative wreck - the handcuffs had sobered him up fast. At least Knoxville had managed to get his call and get him out - before the tabloid press had been at the gates for their pictures. Mind you, discussing the whole affair with Jimmy Kimmel hadn’t exactly been a part of the plan! Meeting up with Jussi and Jyrki and the boys had been a double edged sword; overjoyed to see and hear them but their Finnish voices simply made him miss his lover even more. They had ridiculous telephone bills, Ville even agreeing to Bam’s gift of a blackberry and sidekick to allow him to fulfil his preference for writing love letters without a computer whilst avoiding the need for his dyslexic lover to interpret his handwriting.
Ville’s musing was halted by a soft creak of leather from the other couch. He rose up slightly and looked across to their guests, also lying wrapped in each other’s arms. Mikey and Gerard looked comfortable, peaceful and collected as they lay together. No ‘brotherly’ lounging or band mate joking, here they were free to simply be. To lie in each others arms, to reach up or down to snatch kisses, to run hands through neatly styled hair leaving a mess that meant someone cared. Soft washed jeans not bullet-proof vests or priestly collars, bare feet like their hosts - floors of the Castle had been sanded to satin and varnished slick due to the owner’s propensity to discard the shoes he was paid so well to wear. Gerard was reclined against the corner of the sofa, cushions piled up to support the combined weight of singer and bassist coiled together in a sinuous whole. Mikey’s longer frame resting on his older brother, head against his heart and feet propped up on the farthest arm. Gee played with the pendant his brother wore in much the same absent minded but loving manner Ville had with Bam’s bracelets, an unconsciously calming habit. Free of any cosmetic enhancement and with sharper cheekbones than they had seen before the singers broad if lop-sided grin was infectious and his clear eyed gaze was a pleasure to behold. Ville and Bam had watched the DVD the younger band had released - both of them calling their friends unable to accept or believe their eyes. Gerard had always been open about the depths to which he had plunged but they had really only known the Jersey duo in their sober days - the Toxic Twins were a story, not a part of their reality.
Ville had had his moments, Bam too - but their collective failing had been legal (as long as they were off the Absinthe - especially after the night Bam was certain he really had seen the Absinthe Fairy). The jukebox whirred and the CD changed, the chosen accompaniment for the afternoon filling the air. From the elegance of Beethoven as the final tones of Fur Elise died away, the simple complexity of Bach took over as the Air on a G String spiralled into the haven they had created. An MTV audience would have changed the channel in disgust - those that knew only the character he had created, the Jackass was fun, but didn’t have a series of multi-million dollar contracts. The death metal fanatic who adored Scandinavian and other European Metal and Rock, but who always had classical artists in his I-Pod, the chill-out factor something he relied upon to counter his own adrenaline binges, to calm his racing heart and soothe his lonely nights.
The Way boys had smiled at the selection, enjoying the tranquil choices the skater had made, the enormous jukebox having music for every occasion. From Compton Ass Terry’s favoured Hip-Hop to Ape’s Def Leppard via Phil’s Elvis obsession - Bam was a considerate musical host. Ville’s beloved Black Sabbath and Type O Negative also played a large part in the disc collection, as well as Lily’s Iggy Pop and the perennial favourite Misfits albums.
Mikey had begun to conduct the music, silently waving his right hand as though in front of the Philharmonic. Gerard smoothed his sibling’s fringe back and leant to drop a kiss on the silky brow, nudging his glasses slightly and causing his lover to open his eyes. Mikey smiled up and stretched for a proper kiss, never losing his rhythm as he beat out the timings. The kiss deepened from soft peck to open mouthed adoration and Mikey stopped conducting and instead slid his hand under Gerard’s T-shirt to rest against pale satin smooth skin over newly developed muscles, surprisingly warm against his bass calloused palm. Gerard gasped at the contact, cool hand against hotter flesh, his moan swallowed by the mouth ravaging his. The rough / smooth dichotomy of his beloved’s hands never failed to excite his blood, raise his temperature and bring him joy. Knowing that the younger man had sacrificed soft skin for hard patches, aching joints and ringing ears to be with him, for an excuse, for a reason… for their survival.
They separated only when a lack of breath meant their only other option was suffocation. They parted reluctantly, Gerard scattering kisses across Mikey’s forehead and then crown as the younger man settled back into his comfortable position. He left one hand under his big brother’s shirt, thumb moving in soft strokes to the rhythm of the Bach that filled the air, keeping the beat in flesh and not in space. On the other couch Bam had been gently tapping a forefinger against his partner’s abdominals where they lay under his hands. Their legs were tangled together and Ville was running his bare foot over the area of calf left exposed beneath the skaters sawn off trousers, the comfortable attire he favoured to lounge with his lover. They had finished the coffee that had been brewed, eaten the cookies that Bam had found in the cupboard (silently blessing April for her foresight). Now they lay, no need to talk, just to kiss and listen, content in each others presence and in each others arms. No fame, no adulation, not rock stars, emo gods, skaters, artists or personalities. Just men, just being.
@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@