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schmericaI promised ficlets in my journal the other day. Here are the first four.
i. gerard&mikey gen for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fallingfortruth
It's a three hour drive to Gerard's place, three hours on highways and main roads and back roads and finally a gravel path, almost but not quite to his door. Mikey always calls when he stops for coffee for the last time, a half hour or forty-five minutes away. By the time he gets there, Gerard's always sitting on the ugly lawn chair on his front porch, curled up in a black sweater three sizes too big, a hat and giant sunglasses covering his entire face.
Gerard's been living here for two years now, and it's still weird for Mikey to see him like this, surrounded by nature, trees and woodland creatures and simplicity. When he's done living in the woods, he thinks Gerard might go the exact opposite direction, move somewhere ridiculous. Tokyo, maybe. (But he hopes not: Tokyo's a lot farther than three hours.)
As soon as Mikey's car comes into the clearing, Gerard's standing up and calling his name. He meets Mikey outside the driver's door with a bear hug and a kiss on each cheek. "Oh, man, Mikey," Gerard says, dragging him towards the cabin, his hand tight around one of Mikey's wrists. "Wait until you check out what I've been doing, it's so cool--" It's the same tone of voice Gerard's always used for his art around Mikey, all the way back to Mikey at five and Gerard at eight when he discovered how to draw bad-ass Batman on everything.
Mikey follows, of course, with a smile.
ii. frank/gerard forblondiusmaximus
Gerard's favorite time of day is this one part of the morning, when the sun's already come up but all the blinds are still closed, so the room is still dark but bright at the same time. It's like living inside a whole different world, warmer and more comfortable and more special than the way it normally is. It's not like Gerard is hardly ever actually awake during that part of the day -- he's not exactly an early bird.
Sometimes he catches it from the other direction, though. Him and Frank up all night in this lousy hotel room, too much caffeine and too much adrenaline and too much everything. They watched movies on cable and played truth or dare and Frank fucked him against the headboard, sloppy and fast and eager, so hard Gerard's gonna be feeling it for days and days, and afterwards they made out for what seemed like hours, until Frank finally passed out in the bed.
But Gerard's still awake, and the sun's up, too. The golden glow's filling the entire room, making everything special and ordinary at the same time. Gerard looks at his own fingers holding his cigarette and marvels at it. He almost doesn't even recognize himself sometimes. Not even a little.
Frankie, though. In the bed Frank's sprawled out on his stomach, covered pulled up over him. All Gerard can see is the top of his rumpled hair and a one tattooed arm where it's laying across the bed.
Even when he doesn't recognize himself he can recognize Frank.
iii. pete/joe fornorthernsky_
When Pete stops talking, it takes a while for anybody to notice. Which is weird, because if anything, Joe would have thought it would have been obvious immediately. Pete talks all the time. The silence should be eerie, freaky, should have its own weight and presence.
But no. It takes a day. Another day after that before anyone realizes it's not just a joke.
It's not a medical thing, or at least the doctors can't find any reason for it. He can still hear, still read, still write, still communicate. He just doesn't talk. Pete doesn't have any explanation for it. When you ask him why not, he just shrugs. That's all.
Joe hangs out with him the most, the first couple of weeks. He's surprised how quickly he gets used to it. But it's still Pete, after all, still the same exact guy, the one Joe's known forever.
Joe's not sure what they're going to do when they go on tour again, or even the next time they have an interview. They need Pete for that stuff. Joe asks Pete about that, too, even though all he expects is the same shrug. But Pete gets out a pad of paper and writes it down:
just let them pour their poison right into my ear
Joe doesn't know what the hell that's supposed to mean. Patrick will probably make it into a song. It just makes Joe think of all the other people, the stupid ones, the ones who talk for Pete, all the shit and rumors and ridiculous crap they can come up with.
Pete doesn't talk when they have sex, either. But Joe can make up for that himself, devote himself between kisses to saying right out loud everything that's completely awesome about Pete Wentz.
iv. gerard/brian forlordessrenegade
When Gerard wakes up in his bunk, he can't remember anything about the night before. But he smells like vomit, his cellphone is wedged uncomfortably under his rib, and his underweat is sticky with what has to be dried come.
So it's a night like every other night on this tour, basically. He got wasted. He called Brian.
The phone makes a weird noise when he picks it up, and it makes him wince. After a moment he realizes it means there's a message. He turns the volume down before he brings it up to his ear.
Brian's voice is soft and comforting on the end of the line. Gerard's nodding along to it until he reaches the end of the message and realizes he didn't listen to a word of it. But it's not like Gerard doesn't already know what it says. Brian's been saying the same thing for weeks, or it might even be months. Gerard needs to stop and take a look at what he's doing. He needs to get help. He needs to change.
Gerard needs a lot of things, that much is true. He just doesn't know how to explain that the booze and pills are those things.
He replays the message anyway. He's still not listening to the words, just the tone and contours of Brian's voice rising and falling. He shuts his eyes, turns his head back into the sour-tasting pillow, and slips a hand under his waistband.
i. gerard&mikey gen for
fallingfortruthIt's a three hour drive to Gerard's place, three hours on highways and main roads and back roads and finally a gravel path, almost but not quite to his door. Mikey always calls when he stops for coffee for the last time, a half hour or forty-five minutes away. By the time he gets there, Gerard's always sitting on the ugly lawn chair on his front porch, curled up in a black sweater three sizes too big, a hat and giant sunglasses covering his entire face.
Gerard's been living here for two years now, and it's still weird for Mikey to see him like this, surrounded by nature, trees and woodland creatures and simplicity. When he's done living in the woods, he thinks Gerard might go the exact opposite direction, move somewhere ridiculous. Tokyo, maybe. (But he hopes not: Tokyo's a lot farther than three hours.)
As soon as Mikey's car comes into the clearing, Gerard's standing up and calling his name. He meets Mikey outside the driver's door with a bear hug and a kiss on each cheek. "Oh, man, Mikey," Gerard says, dragging him towards the cabin, his hand tight around one of Mikey's wrists. "Wait until you check out what I've been doing, it's so cool--" It's the same tone of voice Gerard's always used for his art around Mikey, all the way back to Mikey at five and Gerard at eight when he discovered how to draw bad-ass Batman on everything.
Mikey follows, of course, with a smile.
ii. frank/gerard for
blondiusmaximusGerard's favorite time of day is this one part of the morning, when the sun's already come up but all the blinds are still closed, so the room is still dark but bright at the same time. It's like living inside a whole different world, warmer and more comfortable and more special than the way it normally is. It's not like Gerard is hardly ever actually awake during that part of the day -- he's not exactly an early bird.
Sometimes he catches it from the other direction, though. Him and Frank up all night in this lousy hotel room, too much caffeine and too much adrenaline and too much everything. They watched movies on cable and played truth or dare and Frank fucked him against the headboard, sloppy and fast and eager, so hard Gerard's gonna be feeling it for days and days, and afterwards they made out for what seemed like hours, until Frank finally passed out in the bed.
But Gerard's still awake, and the sun's up, too. The golden glow's filling the entire room, making everything special and ordinary at the same time. Gerard looks at his own fingers holding his cigarette and marvels at it. He almost doesn't even recognize himself sometimes. Not even a little.
Frankie, though. In the bed Frank's sprawled out on his stomach, covered pulled up over him. All Gerard can see is the top of his rumpled hair and a one tattooed arm where it's laying across the bed.
Even when he doesn't recognize himself he can recognize Frank.
iii. pete/joe for
northernsky_When Pete stops talking, it takes a while for anybody to notice. Which is weird, because if anything, Joe would have thought it would have been obvious immediately. Pete talks all the time. The silence should be eerie, freaky, should have its own weight and presence.
But no. It takes a day. Another day after that before anyone realizes it's not just a joke.
It's not a medical thing, or at least the doctors can't find any reason for it. He can still hear, still read, still write, still communicate. He just doesn't talk. Pete doesn't have any explanation for it. When you ask him why not, he just shrugs. That's all.
Joe hangs out with him the most, the first couple of weeks. He's surprised how quickly he gets used to it. But it's still Pete, after all, still the same exact guy, the one Joe's known forever.
Joe's not sure what they're going to do when they go on tour again, or even the next time they have an interview. They need Pete for that stuff. Joe asks Pete about that, too, even though all he expects is the same shrug. But Pete gets out a pad of paper and writes it down:
just let them pour their poison right into my ear
Joe doesn't know what the hell that's supposed to mean. Patrick will probably make it into a song. It just makes Joe think of all the other people, the stupid ones, the ones who talk for Pete, all the shit and rumors and ridiculous crap they can come up with.
Pete doesn't talk when they have sex, either. But Joe can make up for that himself, devote himself between kisses to saying right out loud everything that's completely awesome about Pete Wentz.
iv. gerard/brian for
lordessrenegadeWhen Gerard wakes up in his bunk, he can't remember anything about the night before. But he smells like vomit, his cellphone is wedged uncomfortably under his rib, and his underweat is sticky with what has to be dried come.
So it's a night like every other night on this tour, basically. He got wasted. He called Brian.
The phone makes a weird noise when he picks it up, and it makes him wince. After a moment he realizes it means there's a message. He turns the volume down before he brings it up to his ear.
Brian's voice is soft and comforting on the end of the line. Gerard's nodding along to it until he reaches the end of the message and realizes he didn't listen to a word of it. But it's not like Gerard doesn't already know what it says. Brian's been saying the same thing for weeks, or it might even be months. Gerard needs to stop and take a look at what he's doing. He needs to get help. He needs to change.
Gerard needs a lot of things, that much is true. He just doesn't know how to explain that the booze and pills are those things.
He replays the message anyway. He's still not listening to the words, just the tone and contours of Brian's voice rising and falling. He shuts his eyes, turns his head back into the sour-tasting pillow, and slips a hand under his waistband.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
5/1/08 02:29 (UTC)Oh, God, these are awesome!
(no subject)
5/1/08 21:23 (UTC)(no subject)
5/1/08 02:40 (UTC)I keep trying to find good Way brother fics but have no idea where to even start. Thank you!
(no subject)
5/1/08 21:23 (UTC)(no subject)
5/1/08 02:46 (UTC)(I have no words, only flailing and high pitched noises.)
(no subject)
5/1/08 21:24 (UTC)(no subject)
5/1/08 02:48 (UTC)[Even when he doesn't recognize himself he can recognize Frank.]
That one was emotionally evocative. Easy to believe, too, since Frank is such a distinctive person, visually as well as in behavior.
And Joe, oh baby. It's hard not to feel fond of Joe, and the way he always supports Pete in interviews etc. Nicely evoked.
The last one is kind of wrenching; poor Gerard. I love the idea that what saves you can also be what drains you.
But the first is probably my favorite.
(no subject)
5/1/08 21:25 (UTC)(no subject)
5/1/08 02:52 (UTC)Gerard.
(no subject)
5/1/08 21:25 (UTC)(no subject)
5/1/08 03:14 (UTC)(no subject)
5/1/08 21:25 (UTC)(no subject)
5/1/08 03:59 (UTC)These are nice little curls of maybe.
(no subject)
5/1/08 21:26 (UTC)(no subject)
6/1/08 04:06 (UTC)They're fascinating.
(no subject)
5/1/08 04:27 (UTC)There needs to be more Gerard&Mikey gen in the world. Because their brotherness is so epic and perfect just as it is! *sigh*
Gah. Yes. I love all of these.
(no subject)
5/1/08 21:26 (UTC)I'm glad you liked these!
(no subject)
5/1/08 05:41 (UTC)(no subject)
5/1/08 21:26 (UTC)(no subject)
5/1/08 06:53 (UTC)(no subject)
5/1/08 21:27 (UTC)