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Jul. 26th, 2010 09:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsI was stuck on my ways+1 earlier and came across ladyfoxxx's post asking for comment fic from some of her bunnies. Which is how I ended up with 1.5k of I Never MCR fic.
Unbeta'ed so excuse any mistakes.
The problem is, Frank thinks, being on tour is fucking boring. Not always, the shows are fantastic and meeting the fans is amazing. Hell, even rehearsals and rollouts can be fun. It’s the traveling that’s the problem. There’s only so many DVDs you can watch or books you can read before you’re about to go fucking insane.
It’s not helped that they’re dry. Before, alcohol soothed hours spent on the road. Countless hours, fucking, tedious, boring-as-all-fuck hours. Even talking to Jamia doesn’t help after a while. Frank’s about to go out of his head.
He lies in his bunk and kicks at the ceiling, turns on his side and peers out of the tiny window, pulls shut the curtain and tries not to scream.
“Fuck this!” Giving in, Frank rolls out of his bunk and onto his feet. Passing the tiny kitchen he snatches up a bottle of juice and slams it on the table, announces at the top of his lungs, “We’re playing I Never, motherfuckers.”
The others show they aren’t keen, in the way that not one of the fucker’s bother to reply, but Frank’s made of stern stuff -- also desperate -- and he snaps his fingers in front of Gerard’s face and points to the floor, says, “Sit.”
Snapped out of a daydream, Gerard blinks and looks where Frank’s pointing. “You want me to sit on the floor? Do you know what’s on there?”
Frank does know, and Gerard put half of it there. He kicks at a crumpled soda can and brushes away a pile of crushed chips. “There, sit your ass down, princess.”
Frank stares until Gerard moves, then turns his attention to Ray. He’s holed up in the back, working on some new melody and really Frank should have gone there first, because the fact is, Ray’s easy. Opening the door Frank thinks about Old Yellow, Marley at the end of the movie, his dogs that he hasn’t seen for months. Sure he looks suitably miserable Frank leans against the doorframe, says, “Ray.”
Ray stops playing, looking concerned. “Is there something wrong?”
Frank sniffs a little, says, “Just missing home.”
“Yeah,” Ray says with a sigh, he puts down his guitar. “Want to help? It’ll be a distraction.”
Frank digs his fingernails in his palm so he doesn’t start grinning. “We’re playing a game, that’s a distraction.”
Ray starts to stand. “Sounds good to me, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Thanks,” Frank says, and when he turns he can’t help pumping his fist in the air, sure Ray can’t see. Which leaves Mikey and Bob, both difficult in their own ways. Frank considers, and then grabs hold of the curtain of Mikey’s bunk, pulling it back with a jerk.
“The hell?” Mikey says, and doesn’t both taking his hand out of his pants.
“Sexual deviant,” Frank says, and plucks Mikey’s phone out of his hand. Quickly checking it for jizz, he holds it up to his ear. “Pete, Mikey’s coming to play with me now, he’ll phone back later.”
Mikey makes a grab for the phone, says, “No I’m not.”
Which is why Frank’s a plan making genius. He puts his hand over the phone. “If you don’t I’ll put that video on You Tube.”
Mikey shrugs. “I don’t care, if people don’t like I do dick they can suck it.”
Which is exactly what Frank knew Mikey would say. He leans into the bunk, trying not to breathe the stink of sex and sweat. “Not that one. The one with the Speedos, you know, last time you got drunk.”
Mikey glares and snatches the phone from Frank’s hand, says to Pete. “I have to go, call you later.”
Frank smiles, three down and one to go. He moves over to Bob.
He’s sitting in the dining area, legs stretched out along the short bench. When Frank approaches Bob holds up his hand. “If you try to blackmail me I’ll break your neck, and I can’t be manipulated or ordered around.”
Which is all true. It’s why Frank flops down on Bob’s legs and leans in close, says, “You can make them admit embarrassing things.”
For a moment Bob considers and then says, “I’m in.”
It takes a while but eventually everyone’s sitting in a rough circle, the bottle of juice in the middle and full shot glasses held in their hands.
Frank grins and says, “I’m starting.” He’s been thinking of questions since he sat down, but decides to start off easy, ease them into the game. “I’ve never blown a guy.”
They all drink, just as Frank knew that they would. He glances at Bob and raises an eyebrow, Bob grins back in return and then says, “I’ve never been in a threesome.”
Only Mikey drinks, and at Gerard’s pointed look says, “What?”
“Fucking Pete,” Gerard says, and asks his own question. “I’ve never been in an orgy.”
A beat and then Ray drinks, followed by Mikey.
“Go Toro!” Bob says, and holds up his hand for a high-five with Ray.
“An orgy? Jesus.” Gerard’s looking slightly ill, and Frank’s chest is hurting from holding in his hysterical laughter. He gives in when Mikey rolls his eyes at Gerard.
“I’ve never sang My Heart Will Go On outside a girl’s house.”
“Oh my god,” Gearard manages, the last ending in a squeak. He takes a drink of his juice and Frank’s gone, his own juice spilling as he folds forward and giggles.
“I was drunk!” Gerard says, like that makes it any better, and Frank’s laughing so much he’s barely able to form the words to ask his own question.
“I’ve never had sex in my brother’s bed.”
Again, Mikey drinks, and Gerard’s mouth is open as he gasps, as if the ability to form words have left him. Eventually, he blurts out. “You’ve had sex in my bed?”
Mikey doesn’t reply, and, eyes gleaming, Bob looks from him to Gerard before saying, deadpan. “I’ve never had sex with two of Fall Out Boy and used my brother’s hoodie to wipe off.”
Everyone stills, looking at Mikey. He glares at Bob and takes a drink, drags his hand over his mouth and says levelly, "Secret telling bastard."
“Two... and you....how...” Gerard trails off, his face an interesting mix of pasty white and red.
“I think he’s asking how do you know,” Ray says, helpful as always, then adds. “And who Mikey was with. Maybe?”
“No!” Gerard shakes his head and points at Mikey. “I don’t want to know. Pete’s bad enough.”
Which, screw that, this is the most fun Frank’s had for days, he’s not about to let Gerard’s big brother delicate sensibilities derail the game. Cutting Gerard off before he protests again, Frank announces, “Ray, it’s your turn.”
For a moment it looks like Ray’s reluctant to play on, then he glances over at Bob, and his mouth curls into a smile as he says, “I haven’t had intimate relations with Patrick Stump.”
Frank can’t help laughing again. “Intimate relations, the fuck? You’re a maiden aunt now, Toro?”
“Just covering all the bases.” Ray grins, his smile fading a little at Gerard’s strangled gasp as Mikey finishes filling his shot glass and takes a drink. The only person that does. “Damn, I was sure you’d done it with Patrick.”
“Never happened,” Bob says with a shrug.
Bob hooking up with Patrick is something Frank’s always believed too. He narrows his eyes and stares at Bob. “You lived with him.”
“And you lived with Mikey, doesn’t mean you fucked him,” Bob says in reply.
Frank can feel his cheeks heat and he’s never been more thankful for his slight tan and layer of tour dirt. Except, Mikey looks up from where he’s been texting something in his phone and says, “Does that mean I have to drink?”
“You’ve slept with Mikey.” Gerard sounds shocked, and he fists his hands in his hair. “Of course you’ve slept with Mikey. Everyone’s slept with Mikey.”
“At least I haven’t slept with a doll,” Mikey says, his fingers flying as he finishes his text. “A doll that got a fucking puncture.”
Gerard pulls his dignity around him and says, “That wasn’t my fault.”
Mikey gives him a look. “It deflated around your dick. You had nightmares about dick eating dolls for months.”
Frank’s ribs hurt and tears spill over his cheeks. Wiping them away he tries to speak, but ends up flapping his hand instead, trying to convey mocking through sign language and hysterical laughter alone.
Which doesn’t really work, and eventually Gerard squares his shoulders, glares at Mikey a last time and says, “I haven’t had sex with Andy Hurley.”
Mikey starts to bring his glass to his mouth, then hesitates. “Define had sex.”
Which would be disturbing enough, except Bob is drinking. Head back and swallowing all the juice in one go.
Ray looks surprised. “You did Hurley? I thought he was vegan.”
“We had sex, he didn’t eat me,” Bob’s you moron strongly implied. He looks around the circles and then adds smugly. “It’s a drummer thing. You all won’t get it.”
ladyfoxxx's post asking for comment fic from some of her bunnies. Which is how I ended up with 1.5k of I Never MCR fic.Unbeta'ed so excuse any mistakes.
The problem is, Frank thinks, being on tour is fucking boring. Not always, the shows are fantastic and meeting the fans is amazing. Hell, even rehearsals and rollouts can be fun. It’s the traveling that’s the problem. There’s only so many DVDs you can watch or books you can read before you’re about to go fucking insane.
It’s not helped that they’re dry. Before, alcohol soothed hours spent on the road. Countless hours, fucking, tedious, boring-as-all-fuck hours. Even talking to Jamia doesn’t help after a while. Frank’s about to go out of his head.
He lies in his bunk and kicks at the ceiling, turns on his side and peers out of the tiny window, pulls shut the curtain and tries not to scream.
“Fuck this!” Giving in, Frank rolls out of his bunk and onto his feet. Passing the tiny kitchen he snatches up a bottle of juice and slams it on the table, announces at the top of his lungs, “We’re playing I Never, motherfuckers.”
The others show they aren’t keen, in the way that not one of the fucker’s bother to reply, but Frank’s made of stern stuff -- also desperate -- and he snaps his fingers in front of Gerard’s face and points to the floor, says, “Sit.”
Snapped out of a daydream, Gerard blinks and looks where Frank’s pointing. “You want me to sit on the floor? Do you know what’s on there?”
Frank does know, and Gerard put half of it there. He kicks at a crumpled soda can and brushes away a pile of crushed chips. “There, sit your ass down, princess.”
Frank stares until Gerard moves, then turns his attention to Ray. He’s holed up in the back, working on some new melody and really Frank should have gone there first, because the fact is, Ray’s easy. Opening the door Frank thinks about Old Yellow, Marley at the end of the movie, his dogs that he hasn’t seen for months. Sure he looks suitably miserable Frank leans against the doorframe, says, “Ray.”
Ray stops playing, looking concerned. “Is there something wrong?”
Frank sniffs a little, says, “Just missing home.”
“Yeah,” Ray says with a sigh, he puts down his guitar. “Want to help? It’ll be a distraction.”
Frank digs his fingernails in his palm so he doesn’t start grinning. “We’re playing a game, that’s a distraction.”
Ray starts to stand. “Sounds good to me, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Thanks,” Frank says, and when he turns he can’t help pumping his fist in the air, sure Ray can’t see. Which leaves Mikey and Bob, both difficult in their own ways. Frank considers, and then grabs hold of the curtain of Mikey’s bunk, pulling it back with a jerk.
“The hell?” Mikey says, and doesn’t both taking his hand out of his pants.
“Sexual deviant,” Frank says, and plucks Mikey’s phone out of his hand. Quickly checking it for jizz, he holds it up to his ear. “Pete, Mikey’s coming to play with me now, he’ll phone back later.”
Mikey makes a grab for the phone, says, “No I’m not.”
Which is why Frank’s a plan making genius. He puts his hand over the phone. “If you don’t I’ll put that video on You Tube.”
Mikey shrugs. “I don’t care, if people don’t like I do dick they can suck it.”
Which is exactly what Frank knew Mikey would say. He leans into the bunk, trying not to breathe the stink of sex and sweat. “Not that one. The one with the Speedos, you know, last time you got drunk.”
Mikey glares and snatches the phone from Frank’s hand, says to Pete. “I have to go, call you later.”
Frank smiles, three down and one to go. He moves over to Bob.
He’s sitting in the dining area, legs stretched out along the short bench. When Frank approaches Bob holds up his hand. “If you try to blackmail me I’ll break your neck, and I can’t be manipulated or ordered around.”
Which is all true. It’s why Frank flops down on Bob’s legs and leans in close, says, “You can make them admit embarrassing things.”
For a moment Bob considers and then says, “I’m in.”
It takes a while but eventually everyone’s sitting in a rough circle, the bottle of juice in the middle and full shot glasses held in their hands.
Frank grins and says, “I’m starting.” He’s been thinking of questions since he sat down, but decides to start off easy, ease them into the game. “I’ve never blown a guy.”
They all drink, just as Frank knew that they would. He glances at Bob and raises an eyebrow, Bob grins back in return and then says, “I’ve never been in a threesome.”
Only Mikey drinks, and at Gerard’s pointed look says, “What?”
“Fucking Pete,” Gerard says, and asks his own question. “I’ve never been in an orgy.”
A beat and then Ray drinks, followed by Mikey.
“Go Toro!” Bob says, and holds up his hand for a high-five with Ray.
“An orgy? Jesus.” Gerard’s looking slightly ill, and Frank’s chest is hurting from holding in his hysterical laughter. He gives in when Mikey rolls his eyes at Gerard.
“I’ve never sang My Heart Will Go On outside a girl’s house.”
“Oh my god,” Gearard manages, the last ending in a squeak. He takes a drink of his juice and Frank’s gone, his own juice spilling as he folds forward and giggles.
“I was drunk!” Gerard says, like that makes it any better, and Frank’s laughing so much he’s barely able to form the words to ask his own question.
“I’ve never had sex in my brother’s bed.”
Again, Mikey drinks, and Gerard’s mouth is open as he gasps, as if the ability to form words have left him. Eventually, he blurts out. “You’ve had sex in my bed?”
Mikey doesn’t reply, and, eyes gleaming, Bob looks from him to Gerard before saying, deadpan. “I’ve never had sex with two of Fall Out Boy and used my brother’s hoodie to wipe off.”
Everyone stills, looking at Mikey. He glares at Bob and takes a drink, drags his hand over his mouth and says levelly, "Secret telling bastard."
“Two... and you....how...” Gerard trails off, his face an interesting mix of pasty white and red.
“I think he’s asking how do you know,” Ray says, helpful as always, then adds. “And who Mikey was with. Maybe?”
“No!” Gerard shakes his head and points at Mikey. “I don’t want to know. Pete’s bad enough.”
Which, screw that, this is the most fun Frank’s had for days, he’s not about to let Gerard’s big brother delicate sensibilities derail the game. Cutting Gerard off before he protests again, Frank announces, “Ray, it’s your turn.”
For a moment it looks like Ray’s reluctant to play on, then he glances over at Bob, and his mouth curls into a smile as he says, “I haven’t had intimate relations with Patrick Stump.”
Frank can’t help laughing again. “Intimate relations, the fuck? You’re a maiden aunt now, Toro?”
“Just covering all the bases.” Ray grins, his smile fading a little at Gerard’s strangled gasp as Mikey finishes filling his shot glass and takes a drink. The only person that does. “Damn, I was sure you’d done it with Patrick.”
“Never happened,” Bob says with a shrug.
Bob hooking up with Patrick is something Frank’s always believed too. He narrows his eyes and stares at Bob. “You lived with him.”
“And you lived with Mikey, doesn’t mean you fucked him,” Bob says in reply.
Frank can feel his cheeks heat and he’s never been more thankful for his slight tan and layer of tour dirt. Except, Mikey looks up from where he’s been texting something in his phone and says, “Does that mean I have to drink?”
“You’ve slept with Mikey.” Gerard sounds shocked, and he fists his hands in his hair. “Of course you’ve slept with Mikey. Everyone’s slept with Mikey.”
“At least I haven’t slept with a doll,” Mikey says, his fingers flying as he finishes his text. “A doll that got a fucking puncture.”
Gerard pulls his dignity around him and says, “That wasn’t my fault.”
Mikey gives him a look. “It deflated around your dick. You had nightmares about dick eating dolls for months.”
Frank’s ribs hurt and tears spill over his cheeks. Wiping them away he tries to speak, but ends up flapping his hand instead, trying to convey mocking through sign language and hysterical laughter alone.
Which doesn’t really work, and eventually Gerard squares his shoulders, glares at Mikey a last time and says, “I haven’t had sex with Andy Hurley.”
Mikey starts to bring his glass to his mouth, then hesitates. “Define had sex.”
Which would be disturbing enough, except Bob is drinking. Head back and swallowing all the juice in one go.
Ray looks surprised. “You did Hurley? I thought he was vegan.”
“We had sex, he didn’t eat me,” Bob’s you moron strongly implied. He looks around the circles and then adds smugly. “It’s a drummer thing. You all won’t get it.”
