And if you think that I'm wrong this never meant nothing to ya
TITLE: And if you think that I'm wrong this never meant nothing to ya.
CHAPTER: 2/?
PAIRING: Mikey/Gerard. Future Waycest.
RATING: Whatever's between pg-13 and R.
SUMMARY: Gerard's downfall. The problem is, that Mikey thinks too much...
DISCLAIMER: Not real. It's really kind of AU, coz y'know, I don't really know my facts that well. Bob's in when he shouldn't be so timelines etc are screwed with
A/N: Implied drug use/drinking/kind of Waycest.
part one
Mikey spent that night like he had most recent nights; curled up in his bunk with his face to the wall doing one of two things, and then the other.
The first was always thinking about his brother and how much worse he steadily seemed to be getting. If the last beer was gone it was stupid to bet on who took it, everyone already knew, and so far trying to get Gerard to cut back hadn't worked. Nobody could use the excuse of him fucking up shows, because he just didn't somehow. His eccentricities were sharpened and it only served for a better performance, for the most part. Being worried about his health only got "you only live once, I can be sober later. I'm fine." in response. He seemed livelier, happy, laughed a lot. Mostly at stupid shit, but, yeah... It still worried Mikey a lot.
And it affected everyone else. Bob was grumpier, Ray drank for the fuck of it like some frat boy-but mostly only to party, Frank drank too-mainly to keep Gerard company. Though not so much to the point of major limb failure and sidewalk puking. Mikey? He kind of withdrew as his confidence whithered away slowly, half wanting to join his brother in the oblivion ('cause let's face it, half the time it looked like a lot of fucking fun), and half wanting to smack some sense into him and just find out what the hell was so wrong that he didn't want to be lucid for it.
The second thing was also thinking about Gerard. But not just thinking... thinking. The kind of thinking that's done with one's hand on one's dick, and the kind of thinking Mikey hated himself for. He knew, absolutely and without doubt that it was sick and wrong and most definitely not brotherly of him but something... something drew him to Gerard in that way and he just couldn't help it. Sometimes he thought it would've been better for him to have been the older one, the one protecting Gerard because he just felt that somehow, one day fate was always going to throw those feelings at him no matter what. And maybe, if he'd been the protector and comforter and fucking mentor for his brother, Gerard might have felt the same for him.
Either way, after shaking his head of all negativity (as much as humanly possible), his hand and thoughts started to wander. His thoughts to how nice Gerard had actually looked that day, even through the tiredness and slight laziness of his eyes. He'd worn no make-up and his skin had a dewy kind of glow to it. His hand slowly slipped down under the waistband of his boxers, taking a firm grip of his cock as he remembered the way Gerard had smiled at him so bright and innocent that morning before his first drink. They way he'd squeezed Mikey's shoulders affectionately as he passed and kissed the top of his head, asking if Mikey had slept well.
He got a slow rhythm going, loose strokes slowly edging him to the hardness he desired. Mikey closed his eyes to visualize Gerard's face better. He tried to keep quiet, but his mind raced through Gerard's performances-his crotch rubbing and-well, he was sure everyone except Frank was in the lounge. And he was kind of sure Frank was-
"Pssst, Mikey."
No. Frank was definitely not sleeping.
Mikey's hand froze mid-stroke, and he turned his head towards his slightly open curtain to see Frank's head appear in the gap.
"Man, I know we're kinda short on privacy and this shit happens and fuck knows we're all used to blocking it out by now... but. Look, we know. We know and it's not the end of the world but hearing it's kinda creepy. Y'know?"
Mikey looked back to the wall and closed his eyes. "Sorry, Frank. Thanks."
His curtain shut and suddenly Mikey's eyes were wide. They knew? Knew what? What he was doing? Or who he was thinking of while doing it? He didn't remember saying Gerard's name but it was possible. Mikey wasn't sure, and not really in the mood anymore. Except he was hard, and really wanted to just will it away. When he heard heavy footsteps and his bunk curtain open again, quickly this time, Mikey freed his hand and pulled his covers up higher as he turned over.
"Incomiiiiiing," Gerard laughed as he climbed in with Mikey, skeleton pajamas and all. He lifted the covers to get his feet in, noticing the tented material of Mikey's boxers. "Aw fuck, sorry. Did I catch you in the middle of something?" Gerard laughed.
"Uh..." Mikey blushed in the barely there light of the bunk, not knowing what to say.
"Whatever, dude." Gerard moved Mikey back over onto his side facing the wall, sliding his arm under Mikey's and around his chest to clutch at his shirt. "Forget I'm here, I just gotta crash," he nuzzled his face into the back of Mikey's neck and Mikey felt Gerard's body relax against him.
Mikey was kind of glad his brother wasn't one of those angry drunks who pushed people around and shouted. Think more like a fifteen year old girl who's had one too many; giggly and happy and stupid and tactile and tripping over her own feet. That was Gerard.
Mikey let his hand rest lightly over Gerard's, forgetting about his dick for the time being and just being happy Gerard was starting to snore lightly and drift into sleep. He couldn't drink in his sleep. Warped tour had been tough, and brought along with it a multitude of drunken/drugged moments. Gerard's pants falling down on stage being just one of many. Mikey was glad it was over and they were on their way home finally, even if not for long. He'd enjoyed Warped, but the other bands and so much exposure to the drinking, drugs and careless living hadn't exactly helped with Gerard's problem. Most importantly, Gerard hadn't helped himself-or had helped himself, but it was only to drugs, not to get clean. Once, only once, and after a long chat with Brian and the others, Gerard admitted to Mikey that he just didn't feel like he could do a good enough job sober. Mikey half wondered if he was just saying it to get him off of his back about it. Kind of 'I'm insecure, I need it. Not a big deal'. Mikey knew Gerard had insecurities... but he was just so good at what he did. Mikey had absolute faith that Gerard would be amazing if he'd just let himself be... himself.
Forcing his eyes shut, Mikey pulled the cover up high over them both and sighed heavily, relaxing into the warm space created by the two of them. He daydreamed about a day when he'd have his brother back the way he should be, and the awesome things they'd be able to do together and as a band. Trying desperately to slip into sleep, Mikey breathed calm and slow and hoped it would help.
After a few minutes of silence, Gerard gently squeezed Mikey's hand.
"I'm sorry, Mikey."
He felt it on the back of his neck. It was whispered, slightly slurred, but unmistakable.
Mikey pretended he was already asleep.
CHAPTER: 2/?
PAIRING: Mikey/Gerard. Future Waycest.
RATING: Whatever's between pg-13 and R.
SUMMARY: Gerard's downfall. The problem is, that Mikey thinks too much...
DISCLAIMER: Not real. It's really kind of AU, coz y'know, I don't really know my facts that well. Bob's in when he shouldn't be so timelines etc are screwed with
A/N: Implied drug use/drinking/kind of Waycest.
part one
Mikey spent that night like he had most recent nights; curled up in his bunk with his face to the wall doing one of two things, and then the other.
The first was always thinking about his brother and how much worse he steadily seemed to be getting. If the last beer was gone it was stupid to bet on who took it, everyone already knew, and so far trying to get Gerard to cut back hadn't worked. Nobody could use the excuse of him fucking up shows, because he just didn't somehow. His eccentricities were sharpened and it only served for a better performance, for the most part. Being worried about his health only got "you only live once, I can be sober later. I'm fine." in response. He seemed livelier, happy, laughed a lot. Mostly at stupid shit, but, yeah... It still worried Mikey a lot.
And it affected everyone else. Bob was grumpier, Ray drank for the fuck of it like some frat boy-but mostly only to party, Frank drank too-mainly to keep Gerard company. Though not so much to the point of major limb failure and sidewalk puking. Mikey? He kind of withdrew as his confidence whithered away slowly, half wanting to join his brother in the oblivion ('cause let's face it, half the time it looked like a lot of fucking fun), and half wanting to smack some sense into him and just find out what the hell was so wrong that he didn't want to be lucid for it.
The second thing was also thinking about Gerard. But not just thinking... thinking. The kind of thinking that's done with one's hand on one's dick, and the kind of thinking Mikey hated himself for. He knew, absolutely and without doubt that it was sick and wrong and most definitely not brotherly of him but something... something drew him to Gerard in that way and he just couldn't help it. Sometimes he thought it would've been better for him to have been the older one, the one protecting Gerard because he just felt that somehow, one day fate was always going to throw those feelings at him no matter what. And maybe, if he'd been the protector and comforter and fucking mentor for his brother, Gerard might have felt the same for him.
Either way, after shaking his head of all negativity (as much as humanly possible), his hand and thoughts started to wander. His thoughts to how nice Gerard had actually looked that day, even through the tiredness and slight laziness of his eyes. He'd worn no make-up and his skin had a dewy kind of glow to it. His hand slowly slipped down under the waistband of his boxers, taking a firm grip of his cock as he remembered the way Gerard had smiled at him so bright and innocent that morning before his first drink. They way he'd squeezed Mikey's shoulders affectionately as he passed and kissed the top of his head, asking if Mikey had slept well.
He got a slow rhythm going, loose strokes slowly edging him to the hardness he desired. Mikey closed his eyes to visualize Gerard's face better. He tried to keep quiet, but his mind raced through Gerard's performances-his crotch rubbing and-well, he was sure everyone except Frank was in the lounge. And he was kind of sure Frank was-
"Pssst, Mikey."
No. Frank was definitely not sleeping.
Mikey's hand froze mid-stroke, and he turned his head towards his slightly open curtain to see Frank's head appear in the gap.
"Man, I know we're kinda short on privacy and this shit happens and fuck knows we're all used to blocking it out by now... but. Look, we know. We know and it's not the end of the world but hearing it's kinda creepy. Y'know?"
Mikey looked back to the wall and closed his eyes. "Sorry, Frank. Thanks."
His curtain shut and suddenly Mikey's eyes were wide. They knew? Knew what? What he was doing? Or who he was thinking of while doing it? He didn't remember saying Gerard's name but it was possible. Mikey wasn't sure, and not really in the mood anymore. Except he was hard, and really wanted to just will it away. When he heard heavy footsteps and his bunk curtain open again, quickly this time, Mikey freed his hand and pulled his covers up higher as he turned over.
"Incomiiiiiing," Gerard laughed as he climbed in with Mikey, skeleton pajamas and all. He lifted the covers to get his feet in, noticing the tented material of Mikey's boxers. "Aw fuck, sorry. Did I catch you in the middle of something?" Gerard laughed.
"Uh..." Mikey blushed in the barely there light of the bunk, not knowing what to say.
"Whatever, dude." Gerard moved Mikey back over onto his side facing the wall, sliding his arm under Mikey's and around his chest to clutch at his shirt. "Forget I'm here, I just gotta crash," he nuzzled his face into the back of Mikey's neck and Mikey felt Gerard's body relax against him.
Mikey was kind of glad his brother wasn't one of those angry drunks who pushed people around and shouted. Think more like a fifteen year old girl who's had one too many; giggly and happy and stupid and tactile and tripping over her own feet. That was Gerard.
Mikey let his hand rest lightly over Gerard's, forgetting about his dick for the time being and just being happy Gerard was starting to snore lightly and drift into sleep. He couldn't drink in his sleep. Warped tour had been tough, and brought along with it a multitude of drunken/drugged moments. Gerard's pants falling down on stage being just one of many. Mikey was glad it was over and they were on their way home finally, even if not for long. He'd enjoyed Warped, but the other bands and so much exposure to the drinking, drugs and careless living hadn't exactly helped with Gerard's problem. Most importantly, Gerard hadn't helped himself-or had helped himself, but it was only to drugs, not to get clean. Once, only once, and after a long chat with Brian and the others, Gerard admitted to Mikey that he just didn't feel like he could do a good enough job sober. Mikey half wondered if he was just saying it to get him off of his back about it. Kind of 'I'm insecure, I need it. Not a big deal'. Mikey knew Gerard had insecurities... but he was just so good at what he did. Mikey had absolute faith that Gerard would be amazing if he'd just let himself be... himself.
Forcing his eyes shut, Mikey pulled the cover up high over them both and sighed heavily, relaxing into the warm space created by the two of them. He daydreamed about a day when he'd have his brother back the way he should be, and the awesome things they'd be able to do together and as a band. Trying desperately to slip into sleep, Mikey breathed calm and slow and hoped it would help.
After a few minutes of silence, Gerard gently squeezed Mikey's hand.
"I'm sorry, Mikey."
He felt it on the back of his neck. It was whispered, slightly slurred, but unmistakable.
Mikey pretended he was already asleep.