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Fic (written under the influence) That Rockstar Shit (Mikey/Ray)
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greedy_dancer and kopperblaze's collective faults. They wheedled me into writing fic while drunk through the evil force that is twitter. Blame them.
Fandom: - Bandom, MCR
Pairing/Rating: Mikey/Ray, pretty much PG (I know, I was shocked too)
Length: 1600 words
Summary: This was supposed to be Mikey porn, it somehow became Mikey/Ray early days post-gig smushy flirtations. In all its unbetaed glory. I don't know. I've had too much cider and red wine. Leave me alone. I hate writing summaries.
A/N: If this were good and porny I would gift it to members of my f-list who've had some shitty ass days lately. Sadly it's not good OR porny so it feels inappropriate to do so. Dagnammit.
ETA - Now available as a brilliant podfic byfire_juggler
That Rockstar Shit
It's not that Mikey's not ever noticed Ray before. It's not like Ray is that easy to miss, after all, with his hair and his hands, and the way his thighs look in the tight jeans he tends to wear. Mikey's noticed. He's spent plenty of time noticing.
No, it's more that Mikey just assumed that - of the two of them - he was the only one looking. He's seen the way Ray's curly head turns when there's an attractive girl in a short skirt. And maybe it's generalizing, but Ray sticks to beer, not spirits, and it's hard to get him to talk about much that's not music or well... music, so Mikey wrote him off months ago as a look-but-don't-touch.
Mikey still looks. Ray's been in at least three different bands in the time Mikey's known him and Mikey's yet to find anyone in the band lineup that can hold his attention on stage the way Ray does. The lead singer could be naked, or exsanguinating himself on stage and Mikey is pretty sure it wouldn't tear his attention away from Ray's hands. Ray's fingers. Ray's wide stance, feet firmly planted on the stage as he headbangs his way through another solo.
Mikey's already forgotten the name of the band Ray's playing in tonight, at the cramped club that smells of stale beer and unwashed teenagers, but Mikey's already captivated by the second solo. He turns his drink in his fingers, sipping until his glass is empty, unable to tear his eyes from the stage. Ray still hasn't conquered his stage fright completely - he doesn't look into the crowd, hides behind his hair at every opportunity - but the noise from his guitar is amazing.
Mikey's fingers flex, ghosting over chords in the air, but there's no way he could keep up if he had an actual guitar in his hands. He forfeits getting a fresh drink in favour of watching the rest of the set.
Post show, he seeks Ray out. No one even blinks when he slides his rake-thin body into the backstage area. Mikey's got enough friends in the venue his face is practically a backstage pass. He ducks between bodies until he can see the curly mop of Ray's hair, takes a breath and weaves through human traffic until he's behind Ray.
"Good show." Mikey's voice sounds too thin in the bustle of backstage. "You sounded great out there."
Ray turns around, his grip on his guitar looking chancey for a moment before he puts it down carefully on the floor. "Mikey." The name comes out abruptly, and Ray's smile looks forced. "I didn't know you were gonna be here tonight."
Mikey leans against the wall, all sharp angles. He lets his gaze skitter down Ray's chest and back up again. Ray's sweated his t-shirt damp and the fabric is clinging to his body, tight enough that Mikey can almost make out what Ray might look like underneath. He tries not to think about it.
"Where else would I be?" He asks, thinking even if it wasn’t one of Ray's gigs there's not much else to do on a Friday in this neighborhood anyway.
Ray shrugs, looking apologetic. He's still got a length of cable on his hands and he coils it and uncoils it, his movements sharp. "More interesting places." Ray shrugs.
Mikey laughs. It comes off sounding a little forced. He tries to think of a rejoinder but gets stuck looking at the tiny dots of sweat on Ray's upper lip. He licks his lips. "You done in here? We should go outside. It's hot." It doesn't feel like enough of a reason for Ray to leave the backstage area, forfeiting his share of the meager rider to the rest of his band, but Ray nods and Mikey smiles, turning to weave his way to the exit doors.
Mikey ends up sitting on the back steps, smoking, watching Ray start to pace the length of the stair, before stopping, and starting again. Mikey shakes his head imperceptibly. Maybe he's not the only one who's nervous.
"Sure you don't want to sit down?" Mikey asks, arching an eyebrow at Ray. It has the intended result. Ray grins a little sheepishly, runs a hand through his curly mop and sits next to Mikey on the stairs. Mikey offers him his cigarette and Ray takes it gratefully, sucking a drag like it's something stronger than nicotine.
"Thanks." Ray smiles again, looking less forced this time and Mikey's pretty sure he's not going to get sick of it anytime soon.
"Sure." Mikey shrugs. "You're pretty wound up."
Ray nods, then aborts the motion and shakes his head. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this."
Mikey nods sagely. "You will. You can do the guitar shit fine, the rest will get easier." Ray offers the cigarette back again and Mikey takes it, waving it around. "You know, the rockstar shit."
"The rockstar shit?"
"Being on stage. Having chicks throw themselves at you." Mikey takes a drag from the cigarette before chancing a look up at Ray. It's dark in the back entrance area, but Ray's face looks a little pinker than it did before.
Ray shakes his head, grinning at the pavement. "Not gonna happen."
"Totally gonna happen." Mikey offers the cigarette back and Ray pauses a moment, his eyes catching on Mikey's face before he takes it. Mikey's far too aware of the brief brush of their fingers as the cigarette changes hands. He swallows before continuing. "It's a turn on, you know? How good you are. The way you look up there." Mikey puts the cigarette to his mouth a little too quickly and takes a drag, feigning a nonchalance he doesn't feel when Ray's gaze settles on him again. "You've got it. That..." He flutters the fingers of the hand not holding the cigarette in a way that should describe what he's trying to say. "Whatever it is."
Ray's eyes flick from Mikey's hand back to his face and Mikey shrugs apologetically, feeling a little like he's trying to express himself through fortune cookie fortunes and failing miserably. Mikey's so busy trying to come up with something new to talk about, a way to steer the conversation away from this weird place it wound up that he nearly misses it. The way Ray stares at Mikey a moment too long, something flickering in his gaze that Mikey recognizes. Something that makes Mikey's mouth twitch at the side. Something Mikey can work with.
He takes the last drag of his cigarette and stubs it out on the sole of his shoe. Then he unfolds his legs, easing a little closer to Ray. Ray's eyes are on Mikey the whole time, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't say anything even when Mikey's slides close enough that their knees are touching, leaning in until he can smell the smoke on Ray's breath.
Ray doesn't lean back, which is invitation enough, so Mikey leans in the rest of the way until his lips brush Ray's - brief and a little dry. Mikey draws back, watching Ray carefully. Ray's watching back, his eyes huge. They're dancing between Mikey's eyes and Mikey's mouth. Ray's got one eyebrow arched like he's waiting for the punch line. Mikey leans in again.
This time when Mikey's mouth finds Ray's it's a real kiss. His lips find Ray's, soft and full, and he presses in, wanting to taste, wanting pressure. Ray lets him, kissing back, and Mikey sucks on Ray's lower lip, drawing it into his mouth and slipping his fingers up into the curls at the back of Ray's head. Holding. Tugging.
Ray's mouth slides further open, a low noise rumbling in his throat as his hands come up, resting lightly on Mikey's shoulders. Too lightly. Like Mikey's something fragile and he has to be careful. Mikey kisses harder, letting his finger curl into Ray's scalp. He breaks the kiss, his breath feathering over Ray's lips.
"Mikey?" Ray whispers, and Mikey hates the note of question in his voice. The unsureness.
"It's okay." Mikey says, sliding his ass on the concrete and settling his legs around Ray. Ray's still watching him like he's waiting for an explanation. Waiting for Mikey to fill him in on the joke. Mikey's mouth pulls to the side unhappily. Does he really have to explain this? "I like you." He shrugs, and despite his best efforts to keep eye contact, his gaze falls to his shoes.
"You do?" Surprise makes Ray's voice sounds squeakier than usual. Mikey looks up, letting Ray see his most withering expression. It puts a crease between Ray's brows and his lips pull downwards. "It's just. You never..." Ray runs out of words.
"You never. Either." Mikey points out. Ray doesn't say anything to that. Just stares at Mikey a little more, his fingers pressing and releasing gently on Mikey's shoulders like he's not aware of it.
"Huh." He says finally.
"Huh." Mikey repeats, still watching Ray. He's watching so hard he sees the moment Ray blinks, the brief smile flitting across his mouth before he leans in, taking Mikey's mouth in a warm and very decisive kiss. Mikey kisses back, his hands tight in Ray's hair as he presses himself closer, feeling Ray's body warm against his in the cool night air.
When Ray's hands tighten on Mikey's shoulders, his fingers threading into Mikey's birdnest hair and bumping his glasses askew, Mikey can't help the sigh of satisfaction that slips from his mouth into Ray's.
It's about time Ray noticed him back.
(end)
Go ahead. Point and laugh. I'm going to pass out now. Bet you wish I'd boobtweeted instead.
greedy_dancer and kopperblaze's collective faults. They wheedled me into writing fic while drunk through the evil force that is twitter. Blame them.Fandom: - Bandom, MCR
Pairing/Rating: Mikey/Ray, pretty much PG (I know, I was shocked too)
Length: 1600 words
Summary: This was supposed to be Mikey porn, it somehow became Mikey/Ray early days post-gig smushy flirtations. In all its unbetaed glory. I don't know. I've had too much cider and red wine. Leave me alone. I hate writing summaries.
A/N: If this were good and porny I would gift it to members of my f-list who've had some shitty ass days lately. Sadly it's not good OR porny so it feels inappropriate to do so. Dagnammit.
ETA - Now available as a brilliant podfic by
fire_juggler That Rockstar Shit
It's not that Mikey's not ever noticed Ray before. It's not like Ray is that easy to miss, after all, with his hair and his hands, and the way his thighs look in the tight jeans he tends to wear. Mikey's noticed. He's spent plenty of time noticing.
No, it's more that Mikey just assumed that - of the two of them - he was the only one looking. He's seen the way Ray's curly head turns when there's an attractive girl in a short skirt. And maybe it's generalizing, but Ray sticks to beer, not spirits, and it's hard to get him to talk about much that's not music or well... music, so Mikey wrote him off months ago as a look-but-don't-touch.
Mikey still looks. Ray's been in at least three different bands in the time Mikey's known him and Mikey's yet to find anyone in the band lineup that can hold his attention on stage the way Ray does. The lead singer could be naked, or exsanguinating himself on stage and Mikey is pretty sure it wouldn't tear his attention away from Ray's hands. Ray's fingers. Ray's wide stance, feet firmly planted on the stage as he headbangs his way through another solo.
Mikey's already forgotten the name of the band Ray's playing in tonight, at the cramped club that smells of stale beer and unwashed teenagers, but Mikey's already captivated by the second solo. He turns his drink in his fingers, sipping until his glass is empty, unable to tear his eyes from the stage. Ray still hasn't conquered his stage fright completely - he doesn't look into the crowd, hides behind his hair at every opportunity - but the noise from his guitar is amazing.
Mikey's fingers flex, ghosting over chords in the air, but there's no way he could keep up if he had an actual guitar in his hands. He forfeits getting a fresh drink in favour of watching the rest of the set.
Post show, he seeks Ray out. No one even blinks when he slides his rake-thin body into the backstage area. Mikey's got enough friends in the venue his face is practically a backstage pass. He ducks between bodies until he can see the curly mop of Ray's hair, takes a breath and weaves through human traffic until he's behind Ray.
"Good show." Mikey's voice sounds too thin in the bustle of backstage. "You sounded great out there."
Ray turns around, his grip on his guitar looking chancey for a moment before he puts it down carefully on the floor. "Mikey." The name comes out abruptly, and Ray's smile looks forced. "I didn't know you were gonna be here tonight."
Mikey leans against the wall, all sharp angles. He lets his gaze skitter down Ray's chest and back up again. Ray's sweated his t-shirt damp and the fabric is clinging to his body, tight enough that Mikey can almost make out what Ray might look like underneath. He tries not to think about it.
"Where else would I be?" He asks, thinking even if it wasn’t one of Ray's gigs there's not much else to do on a Friday in this neighborhood anyway.
Ray shrugs, looking apologetic. He's still got a length of cable on his hands and he coils it and uncoils it, his movements sharp. "More interesting places." Ray shrugs.
Mikey laughs. It comes off sounding a little forced. He tries to think of a rejoinder but gets stuck looking at the tiny dots of sweat on Ray's upper lip. He licks his lips. "You done in here? We should go outside. It's hot." It doesn't feel like enough of a reason for Ray to leave the backstage area, forfeiting his share of the meager rider to the rest of his band, but Ray nods and Mikey smiles, turning to weave his way to the exit doors.
Mikey ends up sitting on the back steps, smoking, watching Ray start to pace the length of the stair, before stopping, and starting again. Mikey shakes his head imperceptibly. Maybe he's not the only one who's nervous.
"Sure you don't want to sit down?" Mikey asks, arching an eyebrow at Ray. It has the intended result. Ray grins a little sheepishly, runs a hand through his curly mop and sits next to Mikey on the stairs. Mikey offers him his cigarette and Ray takes it gratefully, sucking a drag like it's something stronger than nicotine.
"Thanks." Ray smiles again, looking less forced this time and Mikey's pretty sure he's not going to get sick of it anytime soon.
"Sure." Mikey shrugs. "You're pretty wound up."
Ray nods, then aborts the motion and shakes his head. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this."
Mikey nods sagely. "You will. You can do the guitar shit fine, the rest will get easier." Ray offers the cigarette back again and Mikey takes it, waving it around. "You know, the rockstar shit."
"The rockstar shit?"
"Being on stage. Having chicks throw themselves at you." Mikey takes a drag from the cigarette before chancing a look up at Ray. It's dark in the back entrance area, but Ray's face looks a little pinker than it did before.
Ray shakes his head, grinning at the pavement. "Not gonna happen."
"Totally gonna happen." Mikey offers the cigarette back and Ray pauses a moment, his eyes catching on Mikey's face before he takes it. Mikey's far too aware of the brief brush of their fingers as the cigarette changes hands. He swallows before continuing. "It's a turn on, you know? How good you are. The way you look up there." Mikey puts the cigarette to his mouth a little too quickly and takes a drag, feigning a nonchalance he doesn't feel when Ray's gaze settles on him again. "You've got it. That..." He flutters the fingers of the hand not holding the cigarette in a way that should describe what he's trying to say. "Whatever it is."
Ray's eyes flick from Mikey's hand back to his face and Mikey shrugs apologetically, feeling a little like he's trying to express himself through fortune cookie fortunes and failing miserably. Mikey's so busy trying to come up with something new to talk about, a way to steer the conversation away from this weird place it wound up that he nearly misses it. The way Ray stares at Mikey a moment too long, something flickering in his gaze that Mikey recognizes. Something that makes Mikey's mouth twitch at the side. Something Mikey can work with.
He takes the last drag of his cigarette and stubs it out on the sole of his shoe. Then he unfolds his legs, easing a little closer to Ray. Ray's eyes are on Mikey the whole time, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't say anything even when Mikey's slides close enough that their knees are touching, leaning in until he can smell the smoke on Ray's breath.
Ray doesn't lean back, which is invitation enough, so Mikey leans in the rest of the way until his lips brush Ray's - brief and a little dry. Mikey draws back, watching Ray carefully. Ray's watching back, his eyes huge. They're dancing between Mikey's eyes and Mikey's mouth. Ray's got one eyebrow arched like he's waiting for the punch line. Mikey leans in again.
This time when Mikey's mouth finds Ray's it's a real kiss. His lips find Ray's, soft and full, and he presses in, wanting to taste, wanting pressure. Ray lets him, kissing back, and Mikey sucks on Ray's lower lip, drawing it into his mouth and slipping his fingers up into the curls at the back of Ray's head. Holding. Tugging.
Ray's mouth slides further open, a low noise rumbling in his throat as his hands come up, resting lightly on Mikey's shoulders. Too lightly. Like Mikey's something fragile and he has to be careful. Mikey kisses harder, letting his finger curl into Ray's scalp. He breaks the kiss, his breath feathering over Ray's lips.
"Mikey?" Ray whispers, and Mikey hates the note of question in his voice. The unsureness.
"It's okay." Mikey says, sliding his ass on the concrete and settling his legs around Ray. Ray's still watching him like he's waiting for an explanation. Waiting for Mikey to fill him in on the joke. Mikey's mouth pulls to the side unhappily. Does he really have to explain this? "I like you." He shrugs, and despite his best efforts to keep eye contact, his gaze falls to his shoes.
"You do?" Surprise makes Ray's voice sounds squeakier than usual. Mikey looks up, letting Ray see his most withering expression. It puts a crease between Ray's brows and his lips pull downwards. "It's just. You never..." Ray runs out of words.
"You never. Either." Mikey points out. Ray doesn't say anything to that. Just stares at Mikey a little more, his fingers pressing and releasing gently on Mikey's shoulders like he's not aware of it.
"Huh." He says finally.
"Huh." Mikey repeats, still watching Ray. He's watching so hard he sees the moment Ray blinks, the brief smile flitting across his mouth before he leans in, taking Mikey's mouth in a warm and very decisive kiss. Mikey kisses back, his hands tight in Ray's hair as he presses himself closer, feeling Ray's body warm against his in the cool night air.
When Ray's hands tighten on Mikey's shoulders, his fingers threading into Mikey's birdnest hair and bumping his glasses askew, Mikey can't help the sigh of satisfaction that slips from his mouth into Ray's.
It's about time Ray noticed him back.
(end)
Go ahead. Point and laugh. I'm going to pass out now. Bet you wish I'd boobtweeted instead.
no subject
The tail end, when it finally dawns on Ray that this isn't a joke, that Mikey is totally into him...you know, the "Duh!" moment...that was the best of all. Mikey lays it all out, and thank goodness Ray caught on. Go Mikey!
no subject
Heee. I love that you liked the 'duh' moment. I think I wrote the whole fic just for that moment. Ray can be kind of dense sometimes and I totally believe that Mikey would be a stealth-instigator type.