(no subject)
Title: The Nightclub Sets The Stage
Pairing: Gerard/OMC, Gerard/Ray
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1125
Summary: Gerard goes outside into the alley for a hookup after playing the Bronze. This isn't the best idea he's ever had.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Author's Notes: for Turlough, who wanted the boys in Buffy's world.
It’s a good show. Mikey’s his normal statue self on one side of the stage the whole time. Frank’s whirling and spitting, and Gerard aims for a strut, not very confident he’s pulling it off. The alcohol helps him feel better about how he may or may not look. It’s not the best show they’ve ever played, but at least people are on their feet. People that don’t look like the kind of people that would like Bullets.
Gerard heard Otter talking to the owner earlier. He hadn’t been eavesdropping. Not that he’s against the idea, he does like to know shit. It’s just, he wasn’t in that case. He’d had no choice, really, he’d been too tipsy to leave the room. Apparently The Bronze plays every genre in a ‘mishmash of who’s still kickin’’, and the regulars show up regardless. That was the way she phrased it.
After the show, a guy offers to buy Gerard a drink. It’s an age old seduction; getting the person you desire all fucked up so they think they desire you back. Gerard doesn’t have a problem with that. God knows the coming attractions are more fun when you’re fucked up. As long as you don’t get whiskey-dick, that is. He just watches to make sure nothing gets slipped into the glass between purchase and landing on Gerard’s side of the small circular table. There’s a line between fucked up and passed out he’s only willing to cross around his band. But there’s no slowly dissolving roofie, so Gerard downs the drink, ice smacking against his teeth.
He’s expecting the guy to chat him up, at least a little. Some amount of basic neutral footing pleasantries. Instead he turns and goes straight back to the bar. Gerard shrugs and waits for him to come back, scanning the room idly. The guys are scattered throughout the bar, except for Otter. Fuck only knows where he went.
Gerard drinks the second drink when it’s placed beside him, and the several after it. He’s drinking on someone else’s dime, it’s not like he’s not going to accept free booze. And he’s hardly a cheap whore being bought for liquor. He’d have sex with the guy even if he was sober.
Eventually he follows the guy to the alley. It’s the alley or the bathroom, and Gerard would rather hear dogs bark than a person taking a piss.
It all gets out of hand very quickly. The guy ducks his head in for a hickey but then he bites. Like really bites. Gerard raises a hand to punch him in the temple. He’s fine with people having kinks, but they didn’t negotiate anything. Never mind the fluid transfer of a stranger’s spit in his blood. Even drunk Gerard knows to use a condom. The guy barely flinches, and he’s definitely sucking on his bite mark.
Just when Gerard’s thinking he’s pretty fucked, and wondering if screaming rape will attract any attention, a woman pulls the man off him. They brawl for a minute. She’s pretty clearly kicking the guy’s ass. Gerard sort of wants to applaud and shout something like ‘you go girl’, but he doesn’t. Even in his head it sounds kind of condescending, and that’s the last thing he wants. Well second last. Last-last would be for the guy to suddenly overpower her and go back to chewing on his neck.
That option is rendered impossible when she stabs him in the chest and he explodes. It’s kind of insane. He stands drunk and dumb looking at the pile of dust until the blonde woman draws his attention. “Huh, you didn’t run away. Gives me time you give you advice then.”
“Uh, okay?”
“Don’t go into alleys with strangers.”
Considering what’s just happened, it seems like fairly good advice. He thanks her and stumbles back inside so he can cockblock Mikey and Frank and Ray as best as he can. Otter’s still not anywhere. Gerard hopes that no one ate him.
The next day it’s still on his mind. Gerard doesn’t like to think of the word ‘vampire’, it makes it all way too B-horror. If he uses it, he’ll suddenly have to believe in killer tomatoes, and giant women, and mutated spiders. He’s not quite ready to cross that line. But there’s no question the guy drank his blood, had a deformed face and sharp teeth, and disintegrated into ash when the kickass woman shoved a stake of wood into his heart. There’s really only one word for it. And even if he doesn’t want to say it he’ll have to get used to hearing it. Mikey somehow thinks it’s awesome the town they just left -Sunny something, if Gerard really cared he could ask Ray, Ray remembers that kind of thing- has vampires. He’s been bringing it up in conversation a few times an hour with whoever will listen. Gerard is more focused on other things.
“I guess I’m never having sex again. If I can’t hook up with strangers because they might eat me or turn me without permission, what else is there?”
The output from his band is weird. Mikey rolls his eyes, Frank scowls, and Otter says “oh fer chrissakes!” Ray’s the only sane one, he just keeps tuning his guitar.
“Really? You’re not gonna take that?” Otter turns to Gerard. “You have Ray, jackass.”
As Gerard’s trying to figure out what the fuck that means, Ray throws his empty Slush Puppy container at Otter. “Thanks for outing me, you fuckin’ prick.”
“Wait. Outing you? What?” He doesn’t know why he’s asking. There’s exactly one possible interpretation of those words.
“Yeah. Uh...”
“You mean I could have been fucking you the whole time?”
Frank snorts. “Ray doesn’t bottom.”
The next best thing Ray has to throw is a pick. “You don’t know my sex life, Iero.”
“I’ve seen you naked. Cocks that big don’t let other cocks fuck them.”
“I’ll bottom,” Gerard offers. Mikey and Otter shudder and groan and bitch, but screw them. The only reaction he cares about is Ray’s.
“Frank is full of shit, Gerard. I don’t care about that stuff. But I’m not having sex with you just because you want to and I want to.”
“That’s stupid!” Really, he can’t think of a better reason for them to have sex.
“Can you guys talk about this later? You know, so when Gee kisses you to convince you it’s a good idea we’re not around to see the inevitable frottage?”
Ray doesn’t have to throw anything at Mikey, he’s within kicking distance. The conversation is dropped, but Gerard’s sure they’ll get their moment later. If he can believe in fucking vampires, he can believe in Ray Toro.
Pairing: Gerard/OMC, Gerard/Ray
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1125
Summary: Gerard goes outside into the alley for a hookup after playing the Bronze. This isn't the best idea he's ever had.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Author's Notes: for Turlough, who wanted the boys in Buffy's world.
It’s a good show. Mikey’s his normal statue self on one side of the stage the whole time. Frank’s whirling and spitting, and Gerard aims for a strut, not very confident he’s pulling it off. The alcohol helps him feel better about how he may or may not look. It’s not the best show they’ve ever played, but at least people are on their feet. People that don’t look like the kind of people that would like Bullets.
Gerard heard Otter talking to the owner earlier. He hadn’t been eavesdropping. Not that he’s against the idea, he does like to know shit. It’s just, he wasn’t in that case. He’d had no choice, really, he’d been too tipsy to leave the room. Apparently The Bronze plays every genre in a ‘mishmash of who’s still kickin’’, and the regulars show up regardless. That was the way she phrased it.
After the show, a guy offers to buy Gerard a drink. It’s an age old seduction; getting the person you desire all fucked up so they think they desire you back. Gerard doesn’t have a problem with that. God knows the coming attractions are more fun when you’re fucked up. As long as you don’t get whiskey-dick, that is. He just watches to make sure nothing gets slipped into the glass between purchase and landing on Gerard’s side of the small circular table. There’s a line between fucked up and passed out he’s only willing to cross around his band. But there’s no slowly dissolving roofie, so Gerard downs the drink, ice smacking against his teeth.
He’s expecting the guy to chat him up, at least a little. Some amount of basic neutral footing pleasantries. Instead he turns and goes straight back to the bar. Gerard shrugs and waits for him to come back, scanning the room idly. The guys are scattered throughout the bar, except for Otter. Fuck only knows where he went.
Gerard drinks the second drink when it’s placed beside him, and the several after it. He’s drinking on someone else’s dime, it’s not like he’s not going to accept free booze. And he’s hardly a cheap whore being bought for liquor. He’d have sex with the guy even if he was sober.
Eventually he follows the guy to the alley. It’s the alley or the bathroom, and Gerard would rather hear dogs bark than a person taking a piss.
It all gets out of hand very quickly. The guy ducks his head in for a hickey but then he bites. Like really bites. Gerard raises a hand to punch him in the temple. He’s fine with people having kinks, but they didn’t negotiate anything. Never mind the fluid transfer of a stranger’s spit in his blood. Even drunk Gerard knows to use a condom. The guy barely flinches, and he’s definitely sucking on his bite mark.
Just when Gerard’s thinking he’s pretty fucked, and wondering if screaming rape will attract any attention, a woman pulls the man off him. They brawl for a minute. She’s pretty clearly kicking the guy’s ass. Gerard sort of wants to applaud and shout something like ‘you go girl’, but he doesn’t. Even in his head it sounds kind of condescending, and that’s the last thing he wants. Well second last. Last-last would be for the guy to suddenly overpower her and go back to chewing on his neck.
That option is rendered impossible when she stabs him in the chest and he explodes. It’s kind of insane. He stands drunk and dumb looking at the pile of dust until the blonde woman draws his attention. “Huh, you didn’t run away. Gives me time you give you advice then.”
“Uh, okay?”
“Don’t go into alleys with strangers.”
Considering what’s just happened, it seems like fairly good advice. He thanks her and stumbles back inside so he can cockblock Mikey and Frank and Ray as best as he can. Otter’s still not anywhere. Gerard hopes that no one ate him.
The next day it’s still on his mind. Gerard doesn’t like to think of the word ‘vampire’, it makes it all way too B-horror. If he uses it, he’ll suddenly have to believe in killer tomatoes, and giant women, and mutated spiders. He’s not quite ready to cross that line. But there’s no question the guy drank his blood, had a deformed face and sharp teeth, and disintegrated into ash when the kickass woman shoved a stake of wood into his heart. There’s really only one word for it. And even if he doesn’t want to say it he’ll have to get used to hearing it. Mikey somehow thinks it’s awesome the town they just left -Sunny something, if Gerard really cared he could ask Ray, Ray remembers that kind of thing- has vampires. He’s been bringing it up in conversation a few times an hour with whoever will listen. Gerard is more focused on other things.
“I guess I’m never having sex again. If I can’t hook up with strangers because they might eat me or turn me without permission, what else is there?”
The output from his band is weird. Mikey rolls his eyes, Frank scowls, and Otter says “oh fer chrissakes!” Ray’s the only sane one, he just keeps tuning his guitar.
“Really? You’re not gonna take that?” Otter turns to Gerard. “You have Ray, jackass.”
As Gerard’s trying to figure out what the fuck that means, Ray throws his empty Slush Puppy container at Otter. “Thanks for outing me, you fuckin’ prick.”
“Wait. Outing you? What?” He doesn’t know why he’s asking. There’s exactly one possible interpretation of those words.
“Yeah. Uh...”
“You mean I could have been fucking you the whole time?”
Frank snorts. “Ray doesn’t bottom.”
The next best thing Ray has to throw is a pick. “You don’t know my sex life, Iero.”
“I’ve seen you naked. Cocks that big don’t let other cocks fuck them.”
“I’ll bottom,” Gerard offers. Mikey and Otter shudder and groan and bitch, but screw them. The only reaction he cares about is Ray’s.
“Frank is full of shit, Gerard. I don’t care about that stuff. But I’m not having sex with you just because you want to and I want to.”
“That’s stupid!” Really, he can’t think of a better reason for them to have sex.
“Can you guys talk about this later? You know, so when Gee kisses you to convince you it’s a good idea we’re not around to see the inevitable frottage?”
Ray doesn’t have to throw anything at Mikey, he’s within kicking distance. The conversation is dropped, but Gerard’s sure they’ll get their moment later. If he can believe in fucking vampires, he can believe in Ray Toro.