TS: Bob, after Japan
The Traveling Show intro post is located here.
A/N: I've been fussing with this section for far too long. Hopefully setting it free will make room for more? And it's almost been 21 days since I've posted anything in this 'verse, so...
~~~~
The first time Bob sees My Chem after Japan, pure shock is the only that keeps him away from a full freak-out.
Bob catches sight of his hands before he can say anything. The thin layer of white-blond fur across the backs has him shoving his hands in his hoodie's pockets and taking deep breaths, trying to find some calm. But focused breathing doesn't actually help; their scents swirl through the practice space and the differences make his heart race.
Out of all of them, Brian and Ray smell the closest to normal. They smell like spent adrenaline and not enough showers, like exhaustion, stress and a little like defeat, all of which are understandable- but otherwise they still smell like themselves. Bob bumps shoulders with Ray and breathes deep. Ray grins faintly in response and pushes close. The weight in Bob's chest eases a little at the contact.
Mikey looks like someone's honed him down, cutting away the softness, leaving only edges. He is all sharp elbows, knock-knees and silence. That quiet sits around him like a cloud, not quite tangible. There's a lingering tang - kind of like ozone, kind of like the static buzz of a live electric line - that's surging through Mikey's scent in erratic bursts. Bob's smelled that note before, but never this strong. Bob wrinkles his nose - it makes him want to sneeze. Troubled, his eyes slide over Mikey as Frank laughs.
Frank.
He jitters up against Bob's senses. Frank's alternating between clinging like a fucking limpet to Gee's side and bouncing off the walls. When he sees Bob, he flings himself forward to wrap Bob in a full-body hug. Bob staggers - under the assault, but also under the sudden rush of relief and gratitude he sees in Frank's eyes.
"Bob! Bobbobbobbybob..."
Bob sighs, slaps a hand over Frank's mouth. He feels the smile curving Frank's lips curl up... right before Frank licks his palm. Bob scowles, wipes his hand across Frank's forehead as the runty motherfucker laughs. It doesn't take much of an effort to keep the frown on his face. Under the laughter, there's a layer of fear... no, sheer terror that trails Frank like a smoke signal. He sees how wide Frank's eyes are, how the whites are showing, how every nervous tick Bob's ever seen him exhibit flares out and how Frank's found new ones: patting his hand on Gee's neck, how he keeps his back tight against walls and watches his band, eyes flicking between them.
Bob wonders what the fuck happened as he watches Frank bounce around the room again, touching Brian and each of his band mates. When he gets back to Bob, Bob wrestles him into a headlock.
"Settle down, Iero." He mutters.
And Frank does - with a low whimper that Bob's pretty sure only he can hear, Frank just stops. He's suddenly heavy against Bob's arm, warm and loose-limbed. Oh. Right. My Band. MINE. He can feel the grin wanting to spread across his face. Until Frank shifts against his side and sets the acrid bite of fear on his tongue. Bob messes up Frank's hair, earning a scowl, and pushes him towards Gerard. That's where his greatest concern is anyway.
Gerard looks like death.
He smells like it too.
Bob has never run across anything -anyone- who reeks so strongly of death, yet is still obviously living. Bob's gaze keeps straying back to the lift of Gerard's chest, watching each breath, then drifting up to the far more subtle pulse of his jugular. Two other new scents wind around Gee. There's something sharp and bitter that makes Bob want to curl his lip. That scent, however, is fading. The other is familiar - Bob's smelled it before, but can't remember where. It smells dry, like snakeskin and libraries. Though he can't place the scent, it still invokes a long, low trill of fear... because whatever else that scent is?
It's not human.
A/N: I've been fussing with this section for far too long. Hopefully setting it free will make room for more? And it's almost been 21 days since I've posted anything in this 'verse, so...
~~~~
The first time Bob sees My Chem after Japan, pure shock is the only that keeps him away from a full freak-out.
Bob catches sight of his hands before he can say anything. The thin layer of white-blond fur across the backs has him shoving his hands in his hoodie's pockets and taking deep breaths, trying to find some calm. But focused breathing doesn't actually help; their scents swirl through the practice space and the differences make his heart race.
Out of all of them, Brian and Ray smell the closest to normal. They smell like spent adrenaline and not enough showers, like exhaustion, stress and a little like defeat, all of which are understandable- but otherwise they still smell like themselves. Bob bumps shoulders with Ray and breathes deep. Ray grins faintly in response and pushes close. The weight in Bob's chest eases a little at the contact.
Mikey looks like someone's honed him down, cutting away the softness, leaving only edges. He is all sharp elbows, knock-knees and silence. That quiet sits around him like a cloud, not quite tangible. There's a lingering tang - kind of like ozone, kind of like the static buzz of a live electric line - that's surging through Mikey's scent in erratic bursts. Bob's smelled that note before, but never this strong. Bob wrinkles his nose - it makes him want to sneeze. Troubled, his eyes slide over Mikey as Frank laughs.
Frank.
He jitters up against Bob's senses. Frank's alternating between clinging like a fucking limpet to Gee's side and bouncing off the walls. When he sees Bob, he flings himself forward to wrap Bob in a full-body hug. Bob staggers - under the assault, but also under the sudden rush of relief and gratitude he sees in Frank's eyes.
"Bob! Bobbobbobbybob..."
Bob sighs, slaps a hand over Frank's mouth. He feels the smile curving Frank's lips curl up... right before Frank licks his palm. Bob scowles, wipes his hand across Frank's forehead as the runty motherfucker laughs. It doesn't take much of an effort to keep the frown on his face. Under the laughter, there's a layer of fear... no, sheer terror that trails Frank like a smoke signal. He sees how wide Frank's eyes are, how the whites are showing, how every nervous tick Bob's ever seen him exhibit flares out and how Frank's found new ones: patting his hand on Gee's neck, how he keeps his back tight against walls and watches his band, eyes flicking between them.
Bob wonders what the fuck happened as he watches Frank bounce around the room again, touching Brian and each of his band mates. When he gets back to Bob, Bob wrestles him into a headlock.
"Settle down, Iero." He mutters.
And Frank does - with a low whimper that Bob's pretty sure only he can hear, Frank just stops. He's suddenly heavy against Bob's arm, warm and loose-limbed. Oh. Right. My Band. MINE. He can feel the grin wanting to spread across his face. Until Frank shifts against his side and sets the acrid bite of fear on his tongue. Bob messes up Frank's hair, earning a scowl, and pushes him towards Gerard. That's where his greatest concern is anyway.
Gerard looks like death.
He smells like it too.
Bob has never run across anything -anyone- who reeks so strongly of death, yet is still obviously living. Bob's gaze keeps straying back to the lift of Gerard's chest, watching each breath, then drifting up to the far more subtle pulse of his jugular. Two other new scents wind around Gee. There's something sharp and bitter that makes Bob want to curl his lip. That scent, however, is fading. The other is familiar - Bob's smelled it before, but can't remember where. It smells dry, like snakeskin and libraries. Though he can't place the scent, it still invokes a long, low trill of fear... because whatever else that scent is?
It's not human.