(You Made Me) Realize: gift for gala_apples

[stuffitmod.livejournal.com]

Title: (You Made Me) Realize
Author: annemaris
Pairing(s): Mikey/Gerard
Rating: R
Warnings: incest, pain kink
Word count: 5817
Summary: During their first headlining tour Gerard starts to notice something new about Mikey.


Gerard grumbles and flops onto the couch, nearly spilling his coffee. He clutches the cup closer and takes a long sip, never mind the coffee's close to scalding. This is inhumane.

"This is inhumane," he tells Frank. "Who the fuck thought this was a good idea?" Frank flips him off, then blinks and makes big eyes. "No," Gerard tells him.

"Just a sip," Frank cajoles and shuffles closer till he's leaning against the edge of the couch.

Gerard shakes his head. "Go get your own." He takes another sip of his coffee, reveling in it. "Mine."

Frank flips him off again, scowling. "Asshole."

"It's right there," Gerard says. "On the kitchen counter."

"It's too far," Frank says, and stares longingly at the kitchenette not five feet from him. Gerard feels a little bad, Frank's still recovering from an early fall cold, and getting up at four in the morning sucks anyway. But he's still not sharing.

"It's right there," Gerard says again and watches Frank sigh, push away from the couch, and move toward the kitchen. The bus swerves a little and Gerard curls up around his cup, protecting it. Frank curses but makes it to the counter and pours himself a cup too. He sighs after he's taken a sip and Gerard smiles and leans against the back of the couch.

Gerard zones out for a bit, focused on nothing but the warm cup in his hands, but he comes back to himself when Mikey drops down on the couch next to him and makes a pathetic sound. Gerard hands the coffee over and pulls his legs up. He suddenly wishes he had his sketchbook out, but he can hopefully work on his new character idea on the airport.

Frank makes a wounded noise, and Gerard startles and looks up. Ray and Bob have migrated into the kitchen now, too, but Frank's the one pointing an accusatory finger at Gerard.

Gerard blinks. "What?"

"You—oh, never fucking mind." Frank sighs and sits down on the other couch. "Can't share one sip of coffee with me."

Gerard frowns and turns to Mikey to see if he understands any better what Frank's getting at. Mikey just lifts his eyebrows and keeps drinking, then closes his eyes. He looks tired—they all do, and they all are; it's their first headlining tour, they played a show just last night and only got a couple of hours of sleep, and they have to get on a fucking plane in four hours. But Mikey looks close to falling asleep again right there, coffee in hand.

Gerard reaches out and places his palm under the cup, just in case. "Mikey," he says, and Mikey blinks his eyes open. It takes him a second to focus, but when he does his eyes lock on Gerard, wide and questioning. "You were falling asleep," Gerard says quietly. Mikey straightens up and pulls the cup towards him again. Gerard rests his palm on his thigh.

"We should be there in five," Ray says, and Gerard blinks, a little startled. He looks towards the guys, huddled on the other couch, and nods at Ray. Frank gets up and heads to the bunks, and Gerard thinks he should go grab his own stuff, too.

Mikey shifts next to him. Gerard pauses. "What's that?"

Mikey blinks slowly, clearly still caught between sleep and wakefulness, and asks, "What?"

"That," Gerard points. The sleeves of the old shirt Mikey sleeps in are worn out and stretched, and they're slipping down to Mikey's elbows as Mikey lifts his hands to drink. There are dark bruises on Mikey's wrists. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Mikey follows Gerard's line of vision. Gerard can see him go still when he notices the bruises, still in a way that means something. Then he lowers the cup, the sleeves hiding the bruises, and shrugs. "Yeah, I hit them on something."

Gerard frowns. "Your wrists?"

Mikey glances up at that, blinks, shrugs again. "Yeah."

"But—"

The bus rolls to a stop and Mikey sways forward, his hands still holding the cup. Gerard puts his hand up, and grips Mikey's shoulder to keep him from faceplanting into Gerard's chest.

"Come on, guys, hurry the fuck up," Ray urges, hurrying to get off the bus. Mikey squeezes his eyes shut, and yawns.

"Here," Gerard says and takes the cup from him. "I'll go get our stuff."

"Don't forget my iPod," Mikey says. He presses his hands against his chest, carefully, like they're sore, fingers holding onto his sleeves.

"I won't," Gerard says and gets to his feet. Brian's already yelling something outside, and Gerard needs to get to their stuff before Brian comes in to drag him out. "Frankie, hey, can you get Mikey? He's half asleep." Frank nods, and Gerard heads to the bunks. It's fine, Gerard will ask later.

~

"Your jeans are about to fall apart," Mikey says. Gerard spares him a glance from the corner of his eye before turning back to the mirror. He's not doing the big production with the make-up any more, but it still takes him the most time to get ready. "Seriously," Mikey says. "They'll, like, explode, and everyone will see your dick."

Gerard cocks his hip. "They wish."

Mikey sighs and Gerard glances at him again. He's ready for the show, not a hair out of place—literally, he's straightened his hair and gelled it—and in his usual concert clothes. A band shirt, dark jacket, dark jeans, sweatband on his right wrist. Gerard pauses when he catches sight of it when Mikey leans against the counter.

Gerard had forgotten to bring up the bruises, but Mikey's left wrist is bare now and the bruise seems to have faded. Gerard knows it didn't affect Mikey's playing, at least, and it hopefully hadn't been a big deal. He still feels bad about forgetting to ask, but it feels pointless to bring it up now.

"What?" Mikey says, and Gerard starts, and looks up at him. Mikey's frowning, and Gerard looks away, back at his reflection in the mirror. "Gee?"

"Nothing," Gerard says. "Are the guys ready?"

"I think so," Mikey says. "I saw Ray pacing sidestage half an hour ago."

Gerard finishes smudging his eyeshadow and starts in on the eyeliner. "Okay. I'll be done soon."

"Cool," Mikey says. "I'll go and see if my bass is ready, okay?"

He doesn't move, though. Gerard looks at Mikey's reflection, but Mikey's looking at him, so their eyes don't meet. The expression on Mikey's face is strange, and Gerard's once again reminded of how weird things were this summer during Warped. He tries to remember the last time he and Mikey talked, properly talked about anything, and comes up with a blank. A couple of weeks ago, maybe. Too long.

"Gee," Mikey repeats, and Gerard turns his head and catches Mikey's eyes. "Okay?"

Gerard nods. He didn't know Mikey was waiting for an answer or for, like, permission or something. "Okay."

Mikey nods and pushes away from the counter. "Remember, you have twenty minutes," he says before leaving the room.

Gerard turns back to the mirror and frowns. He exaggerates the expression, pulls at his mouth. Yeah, that looks good. He raises his eye pencil again.

He's almost done with his eyeliner when the door bangs open and Mikey comes in again. He's frowning and pulling irritably at his shirt. "What happened?" Gerard asks.

"Frank fucking spilled his beer on me," Mikey says. "I gotta change. I don't wanna smell that all night."

Gerard watches idly in the mirror as Mikey pulls his shirt off and throws it in the direction of the couch. His jeans are sitting so low that Gerard can see the tops of his hipbones, and the—dark spots covering them. Gerard squints. They're bruises, definitely bruises. His first thought is that Mikey bumped his hip against something, but they're fucking symmetrical, on both sides. Gerard swallows and caps the pencil, turning around, but Mikey's already pulling another shirt over his head, covering up.

"Mikey," Gerard starts, and fuck, why is his voice strangled all of a sudden? Mikey pauses and looks up, hands still on the hem of his shirt.

There's a knock on the door and Mikey jumps and reaches for his jacket. "Guys, we gotta go," comes Ray's voice.

"Coming," Mikey calls and rushes out the door. What the fuck.

Gerard grabs his own jacket and follows. Later. He'll figure it out later.

~

The show goes well, and Gerard's full of creative energy afterward. Frank brings out a movie to watch, some new crappy horror flick. Gerard settles in the corner of the couch, sketchbook in hand, the rest of the guys gathering around too. Their banter is a comforting backdrop, and Gerard finishes a couple of character sketches he'd started the other day, and then starts on some sketches of their band on stage that night.

It takes him a little while to realize the sudden quiet is because the movie ended, and when he blinks and resurfaces, he discovers that Frank, Ray, and Bob have left for the bunks, and only Mikey is left, tapping on his phone. Gerard bites his lip and sets the sketchbook down. He wasn't sure whether to ask, wasn't sure he should, but he can't pass up the chance now. He needs to know. "Mikey."

Mikey glances up for a second, then looks back down at his phone. He's not typing anything, though, and after a moment he sighs and puts it down. Gerard takes it as an invitation to scoot forward, and what the fuck, since when did his brain start thinking of invitations and excuses when it came to Mikey?

Mikey pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around his legs. He looks at Gerard and raises his eyebrows.

"The bruises," Gerard says. Fuck stalling, he just needs to get it out there. "Where did they come from?"

Mikey rolls his eyes. "I think you can guess, Gerard."

Gerard feels his cheeks heat up, because yeah, he can, but. "Fuck you, you said you hit your wrists against something."

Mikey shrugs one shoulder. He's not looking at Gerard anymore. "So I lied."

Gerard frowns. "Mikey. Did someone—did you not like it?"

"No," Mikey says, and Gerard's stomach drops before Mikey continues. "No, I do like it. I just see no point in talking about it." He sounds flat, withdrawn, and Gerard sighs.

"We never fucking talk anymore," Gerard says. "It fucking sucks, Mikes."

Mikey looks at him at that. His mouth is pressed in a line, his eyes guarded. "We do talk."

"Then talk to me about this."

Mikey narrows his eyes. "We talk about things. We talked about Pete, and about how you're doing, about how I'm doing."

"It doesn't feel like we are," Gerard says, aware of just how whiny he sounds. He hates it, he doesn't know what's changed.

Mikey scowls at him, but his eyes are sad. He turns away and Gerard feels like shit for upsetting him.

"Mikey, come on," he says and scoots forward, reaches out touch Mikey's shoulder. "I'm sorry, it's just—can we talk about this?" He moves his hand to the back of Mikey's neck. Mikey turns his head towards Gerard and Gerard lets his hand fall to his own thigh.

"I just like it," Mikey says. "That's all there is."

"You like the bruises?" Gerard asks. "Or the—"

"The pain," Mikey says. He averts his eyes, but he doesn't look ashamed. Just mildly pissed that Gerard's making him talk about it, probably. "And the bruises, but the pain, I'm into it."

"Okay," Gerard says. Because it is, it is okay, as long as— "But you're being safe, right? Like, if anyone's too rough..."

Mikey huffs and looks at Gerard. "I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

"I know," Gerard says. "I know that, but I worry."

Mikey ducks his head and tilts his body towards Gerard's, looking up again. "Yeah, I know. But it's fine, it's not like anything dangerous. I just have dudes, like. Hold me down sometimes or whatever, like if they want to be rough then they can be, you know?"

"And then you hide the marks," Gerard says. It's just that Mikey's been wearing sweatbands on his wrists for ages. Sure, he doesn't wear them all the time, but Gerard still wonders how long this has been going on.

"Not consciously," Mikey says. "Well, a bit, I guess. I just didn't want to freak anyone out. Because it's not a big deal." The way he says it, though, tells Gerard that it is—at least bigger than Mikey thinks it should be. He presses knee against Mikey's thigh and Mikey looks up.

"I'm sorry," Gerard says. "That I freaked out and made you talk about it."

"It's okay," Mikey says. "It's not like you forced me to. And I'm fine talking about it."

"Yeah?" Gerard asks. He can usually tell when Mikey's not okay with something, but this is trickier. He's not sure how to read this.

"Yeah, it's fine," Mikey says. "Promise."

Gerard relaxes against the couch at that. Mikey doesn't promise lightly. "Who are you even hooking up with?" Gerard asks. He hasn't seen Mikey go off with anyone.

Mikey shrugs. "Crew members. Just, people. Who look like they might be into it."

Gerard tilts his head. "What, you can tell?"

Mikey rolls his eyes. "No. Just people who look like they can hold me down if I ask."

Gerard blinks. "Right." He shifts a little and picks at his cuticles. Mikey looks at him, and Gerard blurts out, "When did you—I mean, with Pete, did you—" He can't really imagine Pete trying to hold Mikey down. Then again, he's actively tried not to imagine anything about his brother and Pete Wentz.

"Pete was into biting," Mikey says. He shrugs again. "Like, we didn't do much, but it was—it was fine, you know."

"You miss him," Gerard says, then bites his lip, because fuck, he wasn't supposed to just say it like that.

Mikey shakes his head. "We still talk."

Gerard reaches out again and wraps an arm around Mikey's shoulders. Mikey lets out a breath, stretches out his legs and leans against Gerard, and Gerard grips his shoulder tighter.

"You should have said," Mikey says, and rests his head against Gerard's chest, the edge of his glasses digging in. He smells of sweat and hair product.

"Said what?"

"That you felt like we weren't talking," Mikey says. "I would have told you that you're being ridiculous."

Gerard snorts and buries his face in Mikey's hair. Mikey's right, he is ridiculous pretty often. He just didn't notice this time.

Mikey yawns, and Gerard strokes his arm. "Come on," Gerard says. "We should go get some rest." He's getting tired, too, close to crashing. Thank fuck they have tomorrow off.

"Yeah, okay," Mikey says and moves away from Gerard. Gerard fights the urge to grab on and keep Mikey there with him just for a little bit more. It's ridiculous. He gets up to follow instead.

Mikey stops by the door to scratch at his hair, tilting his head a bit. Gerard's eyes focus on his neck, the tendons stretched out. He wonders if Pete ever bit Mikey's neck, if Mikey likes that, too. His stomach goes tight at the thought. Mikey looks up at him and Gerard has to keep himself from flinching back, from hiding.

"Really need a fucking shower at some point," Mikey says, and steps into the bunk area.

"Don't let Frankie hear you say that," Gerard says. Mikey snorts quietly and climbs into his bunk.

Gerard lets out a breath and gets into his own, pulls the curtain closed.

"Night, Gee," he hears Mikey say.

Gerard swallows. "Good night." He turns to face the wall, squeezes his eyes shut and curls up, and tries to not think.

~

Gerard's in the Walmart toy aisle when someone runs into him. He wobbles as Frank grabs onto him, laughing, and turning them both so Frank's hidden behind Gerard.

"Frank, I swear to god," comes Bob's voice from the aisle over.

"Gee, Gee, you have to hide me," Frank says, clinging to Gerard's waist. Gerard rolls his eyes, but when Bob rounds the corner, he just stares at them from a distance and sighs before leaving.

"Aw, fuck," Frank says. Before Gerard gets a chance to ask him what he did this time, Frank's gone, running after Bob. Gerard turns back to the LEGOs on the shelves.

He's moved on to the music and movies section when Mikey walks up to him. "Have you seen any of the guys?" Mikey asks.

"Frank was hiding from Bob earlier," Gerard says, looking at the $5 DVDs. "We still have time, right?"

"I think so," Mikey says. "When were we supposed to leave?"

Gerard pauses, thinking about it. "Brian will come get us."

"Yeah," Mikey says. "Found anything good? Oh, man, check it out." He reaches out for a Monty Python set. "Do we already have that one?"

Gerard hums. "I don't know, you should ask Frank. I saw some cool action figures."

Mikey shrugs. "I want a new movie to watch with the guys." He crouches down to see what's on the bottom shelf. Gerard stares at the sweatband on Mikey's right forearm.

"Are you hiding a bruise under that?"

Mikey pauses, and raises his head to look at Gerard. "No?"

"Oh," Gerard says. "I mean—fuck, I don't know why I asked that."

Mikey gives him an amused look. He pushes his glasses up and shrugs. "Haven't really had the chance to hook up, you know." Gerard splutters a little and Mikey grins. "Dude, come on, you fucking asked."

Gerard swallows and closes his eyes for a second. The thing is, it's not fucking that. It's how he hasn't been able to stop fucking thinking about stuff since they talked about it. Stuff like how Mikey's arms are so skinny, everything about him so fragile and something that Gerard wants to keep safe, and how it'd be so easy, so fucking easy to just crowd him against a wall and hold him there. It'd be so easy for Gerard to do that, except of course it wouldn't, and he shouldn't, because their days of teenage kissing practice and drunken truth or dare are long over.

But it's something Mikey likes and something Gerard could be able to give, would give if Mikey asked, and he doesn't know what the fuck to do with that.

"Gee?" Mikey says, nudging Gerard's foot.

Gerard inhales sharply. "What?"

"I said Ray just texted me," Mikey says. "Let's go." He grabs one of the movies—Gerard can't see the title—and heads down the aisle. He stops a few feet away, though, when he sees Gerard's not following. "Gerard."

"Right," Gerard says. "I'm—" He shoves the movies back haphazardly and turns to follow. "Shit. Shit, I wanted to get new pencils, I forgot." It's the main reason he was excited about stopping here in the first place.

Mikey looks up at the aisle signs and frowns. "I saw art supplies somewhere. Maybe over on that side?" He looks dubious, but starts heading that way.

Gerard hurries to catch up. "It's fine," he says. "I'll just get them next time, you know Brian will kill us if we're late."

Mikey shakes his head and quickens his pace. "I know I saw them."

Gerard reaches out and grabs Mikey's wrist, the bare one. "Mikey, wait."

Mikey stops and goes still. He looks down at Gerard's hand on his wrist, then raises his gaze to meet Gerard's. Gerard gets the strange urge to let go, but he doesn't, and after a moment Mikey relaxes. "Don't you want them?" Mikey asks.

"I—yeah," Gerard says. "But the others are waiting for us, it's not worth it."

"We'll make it," Mikey says. "You need them."

Gerard blinks. "I don't—"

Mikey rolls his eyes. "It's just...you're enjoying drawing again, and that's important, you know?"

Gerard takes a deep breath. He is enjoying it, and he knows Mikey must have noticed how into it he's gotten, but he just—forgot that that'd make it important to Mikey too. He squeezes Mikey's wrist and lets go.

They do find the pencils. And Brian does yell at them, but Mikey smiles wide when Gerard shows him a sketch of Brian yelling later, so it's worth it.

~

Gerard walks off stage, practically vibrating with energy. The show was fucking great, they were super tight and the kids fucking responded.

Frank bumps into him and grins. Gerard pulls him in for a hug and squeezes him tight. "That was fucking amazing," Frank says.

Gerard nods, breathless, and grins back. Frank pinches his side, and breaks away to catch Toro. They head to the dressing room together. Gerard glances back and catches sight of Mikey, late coming offstage, and goes to join him. Mikey looks up and flashes Gerard a smile, wide and bright. He looks happy, pleased with the show too. His hair's messed up, nothing left of the carefully styled strands. He's sweating, and Gerard wishes it was brighter here, backstage, so he could see the flush on Mikey's face. Mikey looks beautiful.

"Great show," Mikey says, and Gerard laughs. There are people around them, crew members clearing up the stage, but they're not paying any attention to Gerard and Mikey.

Gerard's half-hard like he often is after a show, and Mikey's—he's Mikey. Fuck, Gerard wants him even though he shouldn't, doesn't want to want him. He can't take his eyes off him, and almost bumps into several stagehands before Mikey snags his sleeve and pulls Gerard close to him. Fuck.

They're coming up on the dressing room, and Gerard doesn't want to go in, doesn't want to move away from Mikey. He doesn't even want to see the guys right now.

"Mikey." Gerard's voice is rough from the show, just because of the show. Mikey stops and raises his eyebrow, and pushes his glasses up. The moment extends between them, neither of them saying anything. Gerard's about to open his mouth, say anything to keep them both here, but then the door of the dressing room bangs open. Gerard reacts without thinking, grabbing Mikey's wrist and pulling him through the door across the hall. He slams the door shut and presses Mikey up against it.

"Gee," Mikey breathes out, and Gerard grabs both his wrists tightly. There's a sweatband on Mikey's right wrist and a watch on the other, and Gerard wants them off, wants them out of the way. He pulls on the sweatband and gets it off, then goes to work on the watch. Why the fuck does Mikey even wear a watch onstage?

"Gerard," Mikey says as Gerard takes the watch off and shoves it in his pocket. "What are you—fuck." Gerard grabs Mikey's wrists again and digs his fingers in, hard. He doesn't know what he's fucking doing, but he can't stop. Not unless Mikey asks him to.

Gerard breathes out roughly and presses Mikey's wrists against the door. He scrapes his nails over the skin, he wants to leave marks, wants there to be bruises, wants everyone to see. He takes a deep breath and leans back while still keeping pressure on Mikey's forearms.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks Mikey, and tries to control his breathing. He's so turned on by this, by how close he is to Mikey, how solid yet fragile Mikey's wrists feel and how his breath is hot against Gerard's face. Gerard wishes there was a light here. He needs to see Mikey's face. He lets go of one wrist and Mikey makes a noise. It sounds like protest, but Gerard doesn't know.

He gropes around in the dark, and there, a light switch. He flicks the light on, and fuck. Fuck, Mikey.

Mikey's face is flushed and his eyes are dark, his lips slightly parted. He looks wrecked, and Gerard wants to take it further, wants to get Mikey off—if Mikey will let him. If Mikey wants him to, because Gerard would do anything for Mikey, he would.

"Mikey," he says. "Do you want me to stop?"

Mikey shakes his head and raises his hand. "Please."

Gerard wraps his hand around Mikey's wrist again and pins it against the door. He doesn't want to slam Mikey's wrists, doesn't want to hurt them that badly. Mikey needs them. But he can tighten his grip, can dig in his nails and bruise them. He can do that if Mikey wants it. He presses himself against Mikey, and leans to whisper in his ear. "Do you want me to keep going?"

Mikey's breath stutters, and he throws back his head, baring his throat. "Please, I—Gee."

Gerard closes his eyes, he can't even stand the way Mikey stands right now, the way he says Gerard's name. He nips at Mikey's ear and presses his hard dick against Mikey's hip. "Do you want me to get you off?"

"Yes," Mikey says immediately. "Yes, Gerard, please."

Gerard shifts and pushes his thigh between Mikey's legs, and fuck, he can feel Mikey's hard, can feel his dick through his jeans. Mikey gasps, and Gerard squeezes his wrists again.

"Tell me what you want," Gerard says. "Do you like the way it hurts?"

Mikey nods, and Gerard presses his thigh forward again.

"Do you think you could come just from that?" Gerard asks. "From the pain?" He pulls his head back to watch Mikey's face, watch the sweat running down his temples and the way his glasses are slipping down.

Mikey's eyes are closed, but his eyelashes flutter a little when Gerard presses his thumbs harder into Mikey's wrists. "I think," Mikey says, gasping, "maybe if you bite me."

Gerard has to close his eyes at that for a moment, and take a breath. Fuck, he didn't think—he blinks his eyes open and looks at Mikey, flushed and wanton, and leans in. He noses at Mikey's neck, and Mikey's breath quickens even more and his hands twitch.

"Fuck," Gerard whispers like he's relaying a secret. "I've thought about this, Mikes. Thought about you."

Mikey tilts his head to the side, giving Gerard better access, and says, "Please."

Gerard closes his eyes and sinks his teeth in, pressing his thigh against Mikey at the same time. Mikey gasps and bucks forward, and the skin on his neck is smooth and warm, and Gerard loves him.

Gerard keeps his mouth on Mikey's neck, bites down even harder, and lets go of Mikey's wrists to press a hand to his chest. Mikey jerks his hips and groans and Gerard knows he's coming, has heard the sounds Mikey makes before, in the darkness of their bedroom when they pretended the other was asleep.

Gerard's so close to the edge himself, and he can't help it, he tangles his fingers in the front of Mikey's shirt and pulls back from Mikey's neck to stick his hand in his pants and jerk himself off. He leans forward again and muffles the sound in Mikey's neck, and presses a kiss to the mark he left.

Mikey's breathing is rough in Gerard's ears and so is the pounding of Gerard's heart. He doesn't want to move, he wants to stay here with Mikey wrapped in his arms and his face buried in Mikey's shoulder. He can't. He shifts and pulls back, pulls his his hand out of his jeans. He can't believe he came in his fucking pants. His eyes fall to Mikey's arms, and he feels a sudden rush of warmth in his belly, different than before, when he notices that Mikey still has his hands pressed against the door where Gerard left them. He swallows and takes a step back, and looks up at Mikey.

"Where the fuck are we?" Mikey asks, squinting at the room behind Gerard.

Gerard turns to look. He hadn't even thought of it, he just reacted. He doesn't know what he would have done had the door been locked. "Janitor's closet?" Mikey snorts and Gerard laughs, looking around the dark room that seems to be full of cleaning supplies. "That's such a cliché."

Mikey snorts again, and says, "Yeah, a total cliché." He sounds weird and Gerard turns to look at him. Mikey's looking down, hiding his eyes.

"Mikey?"

Mikey inhales, his breath hitching the tiniest bit. Shit.

"Mikey, hey." Gerard reaches out and tilts Mikey's chin up, running his fingers gently over Mikey's jawline.

Mikey's eyes are wide, his expression open yet somehow hesitant. He licks his lips nervously and Gerard's eyes focus on his mouth. He can feel Mikey freeze, and fuck, Gerard wants to, wants so badly. "Mikey."

Gerard looks up, their eyes meeting, and Mikey nods quickly. Gerard leans in and presses their mouths together, slow and gentle, ready to pull away at any moment.

Mikey lets out a sigh and melts against him, wrapping his arms around Gerard's waist. Gerard presses closer and deepens the kiss. His one hand is awkwardly pressed between their chests, but he runs the other over Mikey's side, soothing. Soon he has Mikey gasping into his mouth, making low whining noises. Gerard pulls back and presses a kiss to Mikey's cheek. "Okay?" he whispers.

Mikey nods, his eyes closed, and hugs Gerard closer. Gerard pushes Mikey's glasses up and presses a kiss to his forehead, to the hair on his temple.

"We should probably go," Gerard says. "The guys will be wondering where we are."

Mikey looks down at the doorknob. "What if they see us? How will we get out?"

There's a sudden knock on the door and Mikey jumps, startled. Gerard presses a hand to Mikey's mouth and buries his face in Mikey's neck, listening.

"Mikey!" It's Frank. He raps at the door again. "Dude, I know you're fucking in there. Say bye-bye to whatstheirname, bus call is in five."

Gerard lets out a breath. They probably think he's already on the bus. Frank knocks again, and Gerard moves his hand away from Mikey's mouth and pinches Mikey's side, making him jump.

"See you there, Frankie," Mikey says and clears his throat. Gerard thinks he hears Frank snort, but then he kicks the door again. "Stop being a dick, Frankie," Mikey says, managing to sound amused. Frank laughs, but Gerard can hear his footsteps retreating. Thank fuck. He lets out a breath and pulls back.

"Come on," Gerard says. "Let's go, before they come looking again."

Mikey turns around, but he pauses before pulling the door open. "Gee?"

Gerard presses his hand to Mikey's lower back. "Yeah?"

Mikey turns his head to look back at Gerard. He bites his lip, and fuck if Gerard doesn't want to lean in and kiss him again. "What happens now?"

Gerard rubs Mikey's back and says, "Whatever you want? I—this is up to you, Mikey, okay?"

"Okay," Mikey says, and quirks his lips up in a small smile. Gerard grins back, and Mikey pulls the door open.

~

Gerard's almost done with a new sketch of the Séance when Mikey and Frank emerge from the bunk area and head for the kitchenette. They're both in search of coffee, barely awake, so Gerard focuses back on the drawing. He's adding the final touches when Frank exclaims, "Dude, Mikey."

Gerard looks up and pauses, gripping his pencil tighter. Mikey's neckline is low enough to show off the fucking giant bruise Gerard left yesterday, and Frank's staring right at it.

It does look really impressive; Gerard wishes he could explore it closer himself. He pulls his legs closer to his body and waits for Mikey's reaction. Mikey's staring at the coffeemaker, apparently paying no mind to Frank, but Gerard can see the tension in his body.

"Come on, Mikey," Frank pushes. "That thing is fucking huge. Was this what you were doing last night?" Frank whistles and grins at Mikey, who gives him barely a glance.

"Just a bruise," Mikey says.

"Dude, that's a fucking bite mark," Frank says. "An actual bite mark. Whoever gave that to you was not messing around."

Gerard has to look down and hide his smile at that. He's so fucking grateful, though, that even though they showed up on the bus together last night, none of them suspected a thing and totally bought Mikey's story that he'd found Gerard wandering around backstage.

"Ray, come check it out," Frank calls, and Ray sticks his head through the curtain separating the bunk area.

"Is this a sex thing?" Ray asks, frowning.

"Dude," Frank says, grinning at Ray. "Check out Mikey's bite mark."

"No," Ray says, pulling back. "No, no, none of my business."

"As long as he doesn't get rabies," Frank says.

"Mikey," Ray says, sticking his head out again. "Did a wolf bite you?"

Mikey sighs and Frank rolls his eyes. "Come on, it was obviously a vampire. It's on his neck."

"Well, then he's not gonna get rabies," Ray says, and pulls the curtain closed again.

Frank shakes his head and turns to Mikey. "Come on, dude, let me see." Frank lifts his hand, reaching out, but Mikey flinches away. Gerard realizes he's clenching his fingers and shakes his hand to relax it. Fuck.

"Just leave it, dude," Mikey says, and pours out his coffee.

"I'm just saying, man," Frank says. "That thing's like a fucking—a marking thing. It's like someone claimed you. Hope it's not someone who's starting a band, dude, because we kind of need you here."

Gerard presses his lips together and watches the way Mikey rolls his eyes. "Yeah, whatever," Mikey says.

"I'm serious," Frank says. "I gotta know who it is so I won't cross them, you know."

Mikey raises his eyebrows. "I think you're good."

Frank sighs. "Fine. Fuck, you're no fun."

"'S 'cause I haven't had coffee yet," Mikey says and takes a sip. "Also, it's none of your business."

Frank huffs, but then his gaze stops on Gerard. "Gee, dude. Aren't you upset some vampire bit your brother?"

Gerard blinks and stretches out his legs. His eyes flicker to Mikey, who's hiding behind his coffee cup. "Nah," Gerard says. "I mean, it'd be kinda cool if he became a vampire."

"I think I'd like werewolf better," Mikey says. Frank snorts, but he starts pouring out his own coffee, so Gerard hopes he's done teasing for now.

Mikey pushes away from the counter and comes to sit down on the couch. Gerard pulls his legs to his chest to make room and Mikey settles next to him. He gives Gerard a little smile and goes back to drinking his coffee. Gerard grins and presses his knee against Mikey's, and turns back to his sketchbook.