bright white noise (Part Two): gift for akamine_chan

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Back to Part One

~5~
She is Bonny and he is Clyde, but with a lesser body-count. Helena taught him how to shoot, but she never killed a person and he doesn't want to do it again. One time was enough. One time was more than he could take. Lately the calls were close. It seems Pischer is less picky about that than he thought.

“They aren't people,” she says, her voice firm. She has the gun trained at him now, he doesn't think she's going to shoot him on the spot, but still.

He feels like a kid and in her eyes he maybe is, but he isn't. She doesn't know shit about him. She doesn't even know his name for fuck's sake.

“They are people. Working in the City.”

“People from the City aren't people anymore, Pretty,” she answers.

And that stings, because he was from the City, he is from the City, never mind he was raised like a sand-rat but with better coffee. Never mind a fucking founding member of the resistance raised him. He can't change where he was born.

“I'm from the City,” he gives back, crossing his arms and she rolls her eyes.

“You never took the pills, you were never a robot, a cock in the machine. You were always the person you were supposed to be. You fuck like one, you love like one, you kill like one.”

“I never-”

“Yes you did. You killed at least once and now you think you can't do it again, but when the time comes – and it will – you will do it again. And again and again. Just don't take the masks off,” she answers. She is earnest for once. Deathly earnest. She sighs and puts the gun into her holster. What the fuck is he doing here anyway? He is not a part of the resistance. He never wanted to be. He's just a punk and that should be good enough. It was enough for Helena, it would've been enough for Elena, his mom, too. Maybe he would've been a messenger for Helena. He was thinking about it, or for Doctor D.

“Do you even know what you're going to do with your life, Pretty?” she asks. She never seemed interested in his future and it makes him feel uneasy that she is now.

“Are you going to leave?” he asks back.

“Yes.”

He takes a step back. “Soon I mean.”

“Maybe. I am not for safekeeping either.”

He nods. He understands. People meet and then they leave. He isn't different. He left Kid behind. And Kid is his kin. His blood, his flesh, his way home. The chain feels heavy around his neck and he has the urge to rip it off and throw it away to be never found again. “You look like you need a drink and a good fuck.”

“Are you offering?”

“I'm paying for the drink, but you'll have to find your own amusement. I don't think it'll be a problem. You still have the looks.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “You're one to talk.”

“Get in the car.”

He does.

~+~
They end up at a sketchy place somewhere in zone five. Pischer leaves him with a bottle of something or other and goes to attend to business. She's just like that. There's no hope for him to get into her panties tonight. She's just not in the mood. He needs to drain the tension somehow. Fucking or fighting. He really doesn't care. He'll just sit down and wait what happens.

~+~
He has a busted lip and a guy on his knees for him and he's been in this situation before. Many, many times. He tangles his fingers in the dark hair and pulls, the guy complies by sucking harder, taking his dick deeper. He's so close, adrenalin rushing through his veins. He feels ready to come apart at the seams. He bites his lip to keep the moans in.
His head hits the wall behind him hard when he comes. “You had your fun, Pretty. We're off,” Pischer says and he opens his eyes. The guy looks from Poison's dick to her and then to Poison, opens his mouth to say something, but Poison cuts him off.

“You heard the lady. You have to take care of that yourself.” He tucks himself in and steps over the guy to follow Pischer out of the rest-room.

“Saved your ass.”

“I'm being a dick and you know it.”

“You don't seem to care much,” she gives back.

“Well, I got my dick sucked.”

“I've never seen you suck dick,” she muses on the way to the car. It's dark and cold and she is a stark contrast to everything around her. Like a light in the desert, like something you need to follow even knowing it will lead you into an abyss.

“Because I don't get on my knees in sketchy bars for guys.”

“Ah, but for me.”

“Not in sketchy bars,” he answers.

“I bet you'll look good with your lips wrapped around a dick.”

“I look good with my lips around your fingers,” he says. “Business went well?” She is in a good mood, so it's that or, or well, he doesn't want to know if she fucked someone else while he got his dick sucked.

“As usual,” she answers, which could mean anything.

They fuck in the back-seat of the car, hard and fast and messy and she lights two cigarettes afterwards and lets him draw invisible patterns on her back with one finger while they smoke in silence. It's nice, still something at the back of his neck tells him this is not the life he's supposed to lead. He has just no idea what life he is supposed to lead.

~+~
“Sometimes I think you're waiting to hear someone else's voice on the radio,” she observes.
He doesn't take his eyes away from the road. The dust is orange and they are racing the night. No one wants to be at the outskirts of zone three at night. Not in the open, not like this: an easy target.

“Sometimes I do.”

“Don't tell me,” she answers.

“I wouldn't. Private things are private.”

“I taught you well, grasshopper,” she says and it triggers something inside him. The loss of Helena hits him hard again. He stops the car and looks at her. “What the hell? Still at the outskirts of zone three here.”

“I need a fucking moment,” he answers and gets out of the car. He leans against the hood and lights a cigarette. He inhales deeply keeping the smoke in too long. His lungs scream for air and he nearly coughs as he inhales again.

“We don't have time for a fucking moment, Pretty. We're a target for all kinds of scum out here. A not moving target and the sunlight dies slowly on the horizon.”

“I need to think.”

“Get inside the fucking car, Pretty. Right the fuck now or I'm leaving you here.”

He turns to look at her. She looks right back and something in her eyes- Fuck, he thinks. She wouldn't. And she realises it too, at the same moment he does. He takes a drag and flips the butt onto the sand, then he gets into the car.

~+~
She leaves her copy of the Sea-wolf behind for him as she leaves a two days later. He's never read it. He catches a ride with a pretty girl he chats up in one of the ever present sketchy clubs in zone four.

Hitch-hiking back to Chibi's bar takes him a few days. He's hoping she's still working there. It's over a year now, so he doesn't have much hope, but he didn't have much hope to begin with.
Kid's sixteen now, he thinks idly and wonders how his brother has been. Somehow he knows he was waiting for Kid to reach out to him, but maybe Kid waits for Poison to find his way back home.

~+~
Chibi is still working at the bar and it's her bar now, but the car is gone. He really can't blame her. She puts a drink in front of him and tells him he can come home with her. He gulps the drink and nods a thanks.

He ends up in her bed, curled around her form, sharing body heat. The desert is cold at night and the heater is broken. Might be the only reason he's allowed in her bed.

“I sold the car to a punk kid a few weeks ago. Said he liked the spider on the hood. He has a thing about spiders.”

“Did you hear from Doctor D?” he asks in a whispers. Somehow it seems like a good idea to whisper.

“Not a word. Deathly quite.”

Poison nods against her shoulder. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“No problem.”

~+~
When he wakes up he knows he needs to find D and ask him about Kid. He needs to know Kid is alright. The chain burns his skin, weighting him down and he misses the locket painfully. He misses home, he misses Kid's voice and Kid's glare and he wants to know if Kid is ready to forgive him that he killed Helena. Kid is the only one who can forgive him. He's the only one who knows what happened. And Poison, he realises, cant forgive himself for it. It doesn't matter that she was broken beyond repair and that if he would've driven her to the City, to the doctors there, that she wouldn't have been Helena after they fixed her. If he's honest he knows they wouldn't have tried or they would just to torture all the details about the resistance out of her and maybe about their parents and them too. And after that they would have killed her.
He did the right thing, but it still feels wrong.


~6~
“You on your way to find D?” Chibi asks, handing him a mug with what passes for coffee these days. He sighs. Pischer always knew where to get the good stuff.

“Without a car? And besides he sure as hell isn't where I left him.”

Chibi nods. “True enough. He never stays long in one place is the word.”

“That's why reception is always shit when you aren't close to where he is, or at least in the same freaking zone.”

“You're just grumpy because the coffee is that bad.”

“It's the worst. I think I'll just take hot water with sugar.”

“We're out of sugar.”

“Kill me now,” he answers and lets his head drop on her kitchen table. Chibi takes the mug away and sighs.

“You're a drama queen and your hair needs redoing. The roots are showing.”

“Maybe I'll let it grow out.”

“I have a lovely candy pink standing on my bathroom counter. I'm sure I heard it call your name.”

He looks up, brushes his hair out of his eyes and smiles. “You are the best.”

“I know, now get your ass over to the bathroom. I can't look at the mess you've become.”

~+~
He shakes his hair out: droplets flying everywhere and then looks into the cracked mirror. It's darker than he thought it would be.

“Oh god: you need a haircut too!” Chibi says and makes him sit down on the rim of the bathtub.

“Not too short.”

“Shut up, I know what I'm doing. Look at me. Aren't I gorgeous?”

“You are. I would do you.”

“You don't have many standards,” she teases.

“Pretty is at the top of that list. You fit the criteria.”

“I'm so flattered I'm going to swoon,” she answers, grabbing a fistful of his hair and a pair of scissors. Poison closes his eyes. He doesn't want to see the person he's becoming. He's more interested in the person he's going to be. It's easy to just let her do whatever and it tells a lot about their relationship that he even can close his eyes and let her work with sharp objects close to his throat. There aren't many people who can even stroke a finger over the pale skin there. Kid is one of those who can get away with it. Pischer kissed his neck sometimes when he managed to get her off four times in a row.

Chibi doesn't even try.

He hears her putting away the scissors and feels her fingers carding trough his hair. He reaches out and does it too. It feels really fucking short.

“What did you do?”

“It's easier to keep it clean this way,” she shrugs and he opens his eyes and turns to look at himself. A stranger is looking back. A stranger with short candy pink hair. Somehow his eyes look more green than hazel this way.

“Hmm,” she says, fingers curled around his shoulder as she's leaning forward to stare at his refection. “You look different.”

“Yeah.”

“Softer somehow.”

“Oh god! Now everyone will try to fuck with me.”

“I see, you lucked out again,” she grins.

He rolls his eyes. “You made me look pretty.”

“You always looked pretty, Poison,” she says softly and he turns to look at her profile. Her lips are shiny and wet and he knows they'll taste like honey, because she makes this weird lipbalm herself.

“Didn't hear that name in a long time,” he whispers and she turns to him. “Are you going to punch me if I kiss you now?”

“Would it be worth it?” she whispers back.

“Yeah,” he says and closes the space between their lips.

~+~
“You need a job,” she says his third day in.

He looks up from his water with sugar and makes a face. “I need to find my car and buy it back.”

“With what money?” She wants to know. He stares at her tattoos and she snaps her fingers so he'll pay attention again.

“What?”

“With what money?”

“I have some from when I was doing business with Pischer.”

“I don't even want to know what kind of 'business' it was,” she does make the air quotes with her fingers too.

He rolls his eyes and brushes a stray very short strand behind his ear. It promptly falls back. “Fuck.”

“Stop playing around. So you have the money to buy your car back, but none to look for a room?”

“I don't want to look for a room. I want to stay here.”

She sits down and puts her face into her hands. It's framed by her hair and the colourful pictures on her arms. He wants to fuck her on the kitchen table. Right now.

“This is no hotel. I live here. I work downstairs. I could use someone to carry heavy stuff around.”

“And you thought of me?”

“I know, I know, you look like a princess, but I know you, Poison. I know what you can do. And I bet you're capable of some more awful and useful things now that you spent a year on the road with Pischer.”

“You don't like her.”

“She's alright for a crazy person with a vendetta.”

“I approve of crazy. Chaos and anarchy is all what my life is about.”

“And if you want to stay here and get your car back – the punk kid I sold it too hangs out here sometimes – it'll better be about caring around heavy stuff too.”

“Does this deal include sex? Or do we have to debate about that one separately?”

She grins. “We'll see.”

~+~
The punk kid doesn't show up for weeks and when he shows up he tells Poison the car got stolen. Poison had already a bad day, a fucking disaster that started with cold water and no sugar and ended in this, and really didn't need to hear that. His car got stolen. The only thing he and Kid had left that belonged to their dad. The only thing that was home for a year and some. Maybe it wasn't home, maybe it was Kid who was home. His fingers tangle in the silver-chain and he pulls hard. It doesn't break, it hurts like a motherfucker though.

“I'm sorry,” the kid says and Poison grunts something that isn't 'I fucking hate the world and want it to explode'. It totally isn't.

~+~
“Told you,” Chibi says later.

“Do you feel better now that you were right?”

She looks at him sharply. “You're a dick.”

He knows that he's being a dick to her, but he feels restless and no one heard from Doctor D in weeks. It's not unusual, but Poison worries. Fuck, he thinks, he didn't worry when he was on the road and shooting at Dracs, letting Pischer fuck him and slept curled up in the backseat of her car. He misses the smell of the desert. This here isn't the desert. This is domesticated desert. It's not the same as being out there in the zones that could kill you just because you dared to step on the sand.

“I know. Maybe that is who I'm supposed to be.”

“I don't like it,” she answers firmly.

“I need my car back or a car. I need-”

“To leave?”

“To find Kid,” he answers.

She snorts in disbelieve. “You are not searching for someone you're looking for a way out.”

“Out?”

“Yeah, out. Out of here, out of this job, out of this town, the life. Out of your own skin.”

“And can you blame me?”

“I'm not blaming you, Poison,” she says. And after a while of silence. “Card is delivering some shit tomorrow.”

“I don't like him. He talks a lot,” Poison answers.

“He has a car and he's leaving the town. Maybe you can ask about Kid and D at the swaps.”

“Fine. Talk to him for me?”

“Sure.”


~7~
There is something about Black Card that makes Poison's skin itch. He wishes Card would shut up for a few hours so Poison could fucking sleep.

He sighs and lights a cigarette. The radio is one, but there is only static again.

“So, I hear you know D?”

“I've seen the guy once, can't say I know him.”

“But you're looking for him.”

“Isn't everyone looking for him?”

“Yeah, punk kids, City runaways and Dracs.”

“What category are you falling in?” Poison asks, exhaling smoke out of the window. The sand is beige-yellow here.

“Neither,” Card says, something hard in his voice.

“Born and raised in the summer-haze, hmm?”

“As if that would matter,” Card answers.

It doesn't is the thing. Poison nods. Card is maybe Kid's age. Maybe a bit older, but so different from Kid like Kid is maybe from Poison. “You don't like me much, do you?”

“I don't know you.”

“Doesn't seem to stop you from not liking me.”

“You talk a lot,” Poison settles on.

“Can't help it. That's how I am.”

And Poison can understand that, he can even respect Card for being him. Annoying, chatting him.

“Just, I am really fucking tired right now,” Poison says.

“You good to drive later?”

“If I get some sleep now.”

“Sure.”

~+~
Card it seems never sleeps. At least not more than two hours in a run. He is staring out of the window at the night sky, because there is nothing else to look at, except Poison and Poison made it clear how he feels about people staring at him.

“I've heard about you,” Card says out of the blue. He was quiet for thirty-seven minutes. Poison was counting.

“Good things only I hope,” Poison answers. The road is endless and boring as fuck. He misses Pischer, she used to be quiet while driving, but it was different. He didn't have the need to talk with her and her silence never annoyed her.

“I have no idea what good things mean by your standards.”

“I was told I don't have standards.”

“And that's a good thing too.” Card bites at his fingernail and looks at the dashboard. He seems nervous.

“What is it?” Poison asks a bit annoyed.

“Word is Pischer took you on a joyride.”

“Yeah.”

“And you're still alive.”

“She doesn't kill the people she fucks,” Poison answers, rolling his eyes.

“People tend to show up dead after spending time with her.”

“I didn't know anything about her. We met, we fucked, she stole my smokes and I left my freaking car for her. End of story.”

“I doubt it was that simple. You guys were Bonny and Clyde.”

“With a lesser body-count.”

“Maybe. Did anyone ever even do a body-count on Bonny and Clyde?”

“Yeah,” Poison answers and shuts up. Helena did.

Card raises an eyebrow at him. “You're done talking, hmm?”

“You done prying?” Poison asks with a dangerous undertone.

“Seems so.”

“There is a book in the back. You can read in silence while I drive. In silence.”

“Can we turn the radio on?”

“There is only static on.”

“It makes me feel calmer,” Card answers, reaching back for the book. “The Sea-wolf?”

“It's the only book I have. You should have brought your own.”

“I'm not complaining,” Card answers.

“Sounded like it to me.”

“You have some deep issues, P.,” Card says and Poison looks at him sharply. “Not fond of nicknames either, hmm?”

“Not really.”

~+~
Undeniable truth is that Poison likes pretty things. He always did. Maybe that's why he got into drawing and painting in the first place. The things Helena did were always pretty. Even the resistance work she did was beautiful in a way. He can appreciate it more now than back then of course.

Card isn't pretty by any of Poison's non existent standards, but the tattoos on his skin are a freaking work of art. That makes Card a freaking work of art. A living, breathing work of art. Poison's fingers itch to run them down the dark lines on Card's already dark skin. He's smoking his third cigarette in ten minutes just to keep himself in check.

They stopped because Card said he's going crazy in the car and because there is an underground well here. Poison recognizes the old house. It looks worse than the last time he was here, but that was roughly two years ago. He remembers Kid's clean, pink toes on the filthy hardwood floor.
Remembers Kid dripping water onto the dirt. He wonders if he can find the imprints of Kid's feet on the floor or if time washed them away. Probably the latter.

“You look like you've lost something,” Card says. He's dripping water onto the sand in front of the house. His hands stretched over his head. He's soaking up the sun, Poison realises. Stupid motherfucker. It's a thousand degrees out here.

His hair is wet and the droplets running down his shoulders and spine look so delicious Poison wants to lick them away. One by one.

Poison cocks his head and exhales smoke. “Maybe,” he says, “maybe I just found something.”
That makes Card pay attention. He stops doing- everything and just looks right back at Poison. Poison watches him swallow, mull it over in his head, make a decision and then his arms fall to his sides and he makes the first step in Poison's direction. Poison waits counting the steps to the porch, from the porch until Card is standing in front of him.

“You're going to leave me.”

“Yeah.”

“And mess me up. Badly.”

“Yeah,” Poison says and kisses Card hard until they're both breathless. Card's fingers feel cool as they crawl under Poison's shirt. He doesn't even mind being shoved against the wood of the house. It's sun warm and rough against his back. His shirt hits the dirty floor, another deja vu. He throws his head back as Card sinks to his knees. Stares through a hole of the roof at the blue sky as Card opens the fly of his pants and mouths his dick through the soft cotton of his briefs. It feels so freaking good to have someone do this. Poison is tempted to just grab Card by the neck, his hair, anything and push him, but he doesn't. Something about this, something about this place, about them feels fragile in a way he didn't feel in a long time.

He tangles his fingers in Card's hair gently, running them over Card's head, messing him up. He likes seeing evidence of what he's done. Likes to leave marks too. Card pushes into the touch and closer. He shoves the boxers down and licks from the root to the tip in one long stripe. Poison closes his eyes and enjoys it.

Card is no blushing virgin and he is so freaking good at it, it nearly hurts. Poison is ready to beg, well, close. He never begged. At least not with words. His fingers tighten in Card's hair in warning, but Card doesn't pull away.

~+~
Poison licks the tattoos one by one, runs his fingertips over the lines and counts the colours in his head. Card is a squirming mess under him. His face smashed into his arms, his breathing hard.

Poison would bet everything he has that he's biting his lip to keep the noises in. Which is so stupid, it's not like anyone could hear them here. They're alone. They're so alone they could be the only people on the freaking planet. But Poison isn't going to complain. He likes it that way. He licks down every vertebrate, nips it and proceeds down to the hollow over Card's ass. Poison can count on the fingers of one hand how many times he's had his tongue in another person's ass and he has no idea why he wants to do it now, but he does.

He kisses one cheek and then the other. Card's breath hitches.

“Going to make you beg.”

“I know,” Card breathes.

The first moan out of Card's mouth is like a lost melody to Poison. Something deep inside him aches, but he shoves it aside and pushes his tongue in deeper. Just that little bit, so that Card makes that breathy, wordless noise again.

~+~
“I wonder,” Card says looking him over, from toes to head, “what makes you so special?”

“Born that way,” Poison shrugs.

Card shakes his head. “No.”

“And you know that because?”

“I know people.”

“And still you let me fuck you up. Probably beyond repair.”

“That's not about you. That's about me. I'm just messed up that way. I can see the freaking train, but I won't step aside.”

“Hell or glory, hmm?”

“Something like that,” Card answers. He grins and Poison grins back. The sun is burning down on the sand and Poison really doesn't look forward to get into the car again. It'll be hot and stuffy in there. Stale air and sweat in a too small space.

He stretches and watches Card trace the movement of his muscles. He smiles. “You want to fuck me?”

“I-” Card stops and looks into Poison's eyes. “You wouldn't let me.”

“But that wasn't the question.”

“Yeah. I want to fuck you.”

Poison sits up. It's not really cool in the house, but way better than outside. “We have to be somewhere.”

Card grabs for his clothes.”Yeah, we do.”

~+~
They reach the Swap two days later and it's bigger than Poison remembers it from the times Helena took them with her.

“I need new dye,” Poison says and Card nods.

“Need to deliver this to a guy, meeting at the car in, let's say, two hours?”

Poison nods. That should be enough time to find some dye and ask around about the whereabouts of D.

He's watching Card leave as the kid runs into him. “Watch where you're going, fucker,” the kid says annoyed from the ground and Poison looks down. The kid is maybe ten, no way is he older and has such a dirty mouth.

“Language,” he says.

He kid glares and then his eyes go wide. “It's you!”

Poison takes a step back while the kid gets up. “Do I know you?”

“I know you, and I was right, you're a fucker.”

“Listen kid!”

“Pony the fucking fuck, what the fuck are you do-” Kid stops mind-rant and stares.

“I told you I'll find him for you,” Pony says, beaming at Kid.

Poison's mind goes blank. He can't fucking believe his luck. He was looking for Kid everywhere and here he is.

“Aren't you going to hug?” Pony asks. He sounds hopeful.

Kid crosses his arms over his chest. Poison thinks that's a no. “You're back?”

Kid doesn't formulate it like a question, but if Poison has ever heard a question in his life, this is one. A fucking big one.

“I was looking for you.”

“For D.”

“For you, Kid,” Poison answers firmly.

“You lost the car,” Kid says.

“I- it got sold and then stolen.”

“I know,” Kid grins.

“You stole it!” Poison realises.

“He's good at this shit,” Pony throws in.

“Is he, hmm?” Poison asks and smiles at Pony. Pony goes pale and then red. Fucking blushing. Unbelievable. “You're adorable!”

“I'm going to kill you,” Pony grits out between his teeth and Kid laughs. Poison didn't hear Kid laugh in years. He grabs Kid and buries his head against Kid's chest. He can feel the locket hard between them. Body-warm silver and amber. He can smell the leather of Kid's jacket and the scent underneath it, that means home.

“I missed you,” he whispers.

Kid hugs him back. His fingers curl around Poison's neck hard. It'll leave bruises, but Poison really doesn't care.

“I missed you, too.”

~end~

Comments

[akamine_chan]

Oh, love, you wrote me the story I would never have asked for but somehow always needed.

And of course I know who you are. How could I not?

This was most definitely not a how-Gerard-becomes-Poison story, but it was a how-Poison-becomes-Poison story, which is much more fascinating.

I love how you've written his relationship with Kobra Kid, rocky and broken, like brothers who love each other but still have the capacity to argue and fight and hold grudges and hardest of all, to forgive each other for things that maybe don't need forgiveness.

You've written a Poison who can't stop running away from his past, who doesn't realize that he can't run fast enough or far enough to totally escape it. A Poison who is slowly transforming into something more, maturing and growing up and realizing that your past is never, ever through with you.

And Kid, oh. So fucking wise beyond his years, angry, needing Poison to be something he can't be, taking care of Poison when Poison can't take care of himself, letting him go only to welcome him back with a hug. Full circle.

Lovely, lovely story. Thank you so much.

[creepylicious.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad you like it, because it's one of the stories I really enjoyed writing and is stuck in my head and could be a verse one day. I knew of course that people wouldn't give it a try because most readers of fanfiction avoid OC's, but this was the story I needed to write and you saying that you'll read whatever I'll come up with gave me the liberty to experiment with it. So, thanks for that too. :)
My formating gave me away again, didn't it? /o\
Thanks, I think that too and in this verse Gerard can totally exist as well, which win for everyone.
I always knew that the relationship with Kobra would be the most important thing, how could it not? But as this is a verse where everything is hard and broken, the people in it would be marked by it.
That's so true, I think that it's okay to run for a while, but at some point you have to face what you're running from, not sure this Poison is there yet.
It was a pleasure.