So they've stayed in some pretty damn shitty places on the road over the years and Ray thought he'd seen everything. He has to reassess that after watching the toilet in the crappy Motel 6 erupt, spraying water right across the bathroom, streaming across the carpet into the hotel room like a shit-scented tide.
Frank grumbles when he shakes him awake but when he sees the water advancing across the carpet his eyes widen in panic and they both scramble to rescue their gear.
The motel is so shitty there isn't even anyone on the desk to complain to, and they can't even go sleep in the van because it, and Brian and Otter are mysteriously missing. That's how Frank and Ray wind up with their bags clutched to their chests, standing outside the door to Mikey and Gerard's room.
"Should we knock?" Ray asks, and fuck he is so fucking tired if they can't get into this room he's gonna sleep in the hall. They had to walk up a few stairs, surely the shit-tide won't get them here.
"Dude, try the fucking door," Frank whispers, and Ray's not exactly sure why they're whispering, except that Gerard's been having a lot of nightmares lately so if he's asleep it's probably best he stays that way.
The door isn't locked. Ray glances back over his shoulder and shrugs at Frank, who shrugs back and inclines his head like yeah, it's open, can we go in now, asshole? Ray eases the door open a slice and slides in, thinking he'll see if there's a couch they could pull some cushions off, or maybe he'll just curl up on the floor and use his bag as a pillow. It's gotten to that stage of fatigue.
It isn't until they're both inside, the door quietly closed behind them, that it becomes somewhat apparent that Gerard isn't asleep. And neither is Mikey.
It's the sound more than the sight that gives that away, because it's pretty fucking dark in the room and Ray's eyes haven't adjusted yet, but his ears are just fine and it's pretty easy to make out Mikey groaning, "Gee, Gee, Gee," in increasing pitch, along with the sound of rustling sheets and some wet noises.
Ray goes completely still and he can sense Frank doing the same right behind him. There's a voice in his brain telling him to turn around, leave, leave now before suspicion can become knowledge, but his feet won't move. He blinks in the darkness and his eyes focus on the slowly shifting shapes under the street-lit window. He can make out the angular bend of an arm, the mussed mess of a head of hair - Mikey's - his slender torso curved upwards. Ray's eyes track downward to a dark lump which has got to be Gerard, his hand curved around Mikey's hip, his head buried between Mikey's legs and he must be - he has to be-
A loud sucking noise completely confirms it. Gerard is blowing Mikey in the shitty bed in this crappy hotel. Ray knows Frank puts it together at exactly the same time he does. Apparently neither of them know how to react because they both just stand there in the dark like fucking creepers as Gerard's head moves more vigorously and Mikey's breathing gets faster and more broken.
Ray can't look away. His breathing is shallow and he's hot all over. He doesn't realise immediately that the pressure he can feel on his arm is Frank's hand, until Frank's fingers tighten into a near-painful grip. Ray spares a glance down, but Frank's eyes are glued to Mikey and Gerard, like he doesn't even realise what his hand is doing. Mikey makes a ragged noise and Ray can't help but look back over, studying the shifting shapes like he can find more detail, see what he suddenly desperately wants to see. Mikey's voice paints the picture for him, his sharp breaths, his hiccuping moans, the slide of the fabric as he ruts up against Gerard's face.
no subject
So they've stayed in some pretty damn shitty places on the road over the years and Ray thought he'd seen everything. He has to reassess that after watching the toilet in the crappy Motel 6 erupt, spraying water right across the bathroom, streaming across the carpet into the hotel room like a shit-scented tide.
Frank grumbles when he shakes him awake but when he sees the water advancing across the carpet his eyes widen in panic and they both scramble to rescue their gear.
The motel is so shitty there isn't even anyone on the desk to complain to, and they can't even go sleep in the van because it, and Brian and Otter are mysteriously missing. That's how Frank and Ray wind up with their bags clutched to their chests, standing outside the door to Mikey and Gerard's room.
"Should we knock?" Ray asks, and fuck he is so fucking tired if they can't get into this room he's gonna sleep in the hall. They had to walk up a few stairs, surely the shit-tide won't get them here.
"Dude, try the fucking door," Frank whispers, and Ray's not exactly sure why they're whispering, except that Gerard's been having a lot of nightmares lately so if he's asleep it's probably best he stays that way.
The door isn't locked. Ray glances back over his shoulder and shrugs at Frank, who shrugs back and inclines his head like yeah, it's open, can we go in now, asshole? Ray eases the door open a slice and slides in, thinking he'll see if there's a couch they could pull some cushions off, or maybe he'll just curl up on the floor and use his bag as a pillow. It's gotten to that stage of fatigue.
It isn't until they're both inside, the door quietly closed behind them, that it becomes somewhat apparent that Gerard isn't asleep. And neither is Mikey.
It's the sound more than the sight that gives that away, because it's pretty fucking dark in the room and Ray's eyes haven't adjusted yet, but his ears are just fine and it's pretty easy to make out Mikey groaning, "Gee, Gee, Gee," in increasing pitch, along with the sound of rustling sheets and some wet noises.
Ray goes completely still and he can sense Frank doing the same right behind him. There's a voice in his brain telling him to turn around, leave, leave now before suspicion can become knowledge, but his feet won't move. He blinks in the darkness and his eyes focus on the slowly shifting shapes under the street-lit window. He can make out the angular bend of an arm, the mussed mess of a head of hair - Mikey's - his slender torso curved upwards. Ray's eyes track downward to a dark lump which has got to be Gerard, his hand curved around Mikey's hip, his head buried between Mikey's legs and he must be - he has to be-
A loud sucking noise completely confirms it. Gerard is blowing Mikey in the shitty bed in this crappy hotel. Ray knows Frank puts it together at exactly the same time he does. Apparently neither of them know how to react because they both just stand there in the dark like fucking creepers as Gerard's head moves more vigorously and Mikey's breathing gets faster and more broken.
Ray can't look away. His breathing is shallow and he's hot all over. He doesn't realise immediately that the pressure he can feel on his arm is Frank's hand, until Frank's fingers tighten into a near-painful grip. Ray spares a glance down, but Frank's eyes are glued to Mikey and Gerard, like he doesn't even realise what his hand is doing. Mikey makes a ragged noise and Ray can't help but look back over, studying the shifting shapes like he can find more detail, see what he suddenly desperately wants to see. Mikey's voice paints the picture for him, his sharp breaths, his hiccuping moans, the slide of the fabric as he ruts up against Gerard's face.
(cont)