(no subject)
the academy is; rise of the fall tour series, 2005
the quiet things that no one ever knows (2/10)
mike / william, 2334 words (pg13-ish)
-- reports of lover's tryst were neither clear nor descript, we kept it safe and slow (gave up my body and bed, all for an empty hotel)
Mike wakes up at two in the afternoon and takes advantage of the all day breakfast that their room service will provide. Eggs and toast, naturally, and some bacon because he quite likes bacon. There are also hash browns, which have been more or less smothered in the jam that was supposed to stay on English muffins. There is orange juice and cereal and he has to make sure to start eating now because as soon as a still-asleep-but-very-naked-under-those-sheets William wakes up, his breakfast will go to waste.
When his dangerously naked counterpart does wake up, there will be smiling across the room, there will be kissing and touching in inappropriate places and there will definitely be some early morning (at least, it would seem like early morning since they are only now waking up) activities that could keep them occupied for the next three hours until they have to flee the scene.
He thinks, surveying the dimly lit room and the lump of blanket and body on the somewhat tiny bed, that this is a fine way to start the day. This is a fine way to start every day, but sadly not every day can be started this way. They got here at seven in the morning after William woke him up and forced him to drive the rest of the way, got cheap rooms and inquiring look from some of the guys, a pat on the back from Sisky who claimed that he couldn't share a room with Mike anyway, because he snores, which he doesn't, and promptly settled in.
They are just passing by: this is just another town on the way to a small venue, to a small show, to a great night. They leave at four to get there for five. This is just a detour, but a most welcome one.
There hasn't been a day like this in months.
He takes a moment to consider the room, in all its good-day-bringing glory. It is small, like all the rooms in the hotel, but so is the furniture, which is misleading. The space looks empty, almost, deserted and lonely, but welcoming at the same time. The balcony overlooks palm trees and a short span of beach, heavy traffic and a few houses along the road. They spent a good hour some time during the morning out on the balcony, taking in what was left of the sunrise, listening to the traffic, but Mike is happier to be inside. The air is what he misses about Libertyville, the constant cool breeze, opposed to LA's stagnant humidity. The room is still and silent (for now) but at least it is cool, bordering on chilly, and keeping him comfortable.
Under the jumble of blanket, William stirs and Mike shoves half a piece of toast in his mouth, takes a sip of orange juice to help it down his throat and tries to stay quiet in between spoonfuls of corn flakes and bits of bacon. All together, he has to admit, the combination of foods is pretty disgusting, but they've been on the road all week and this breakfast is the first chance he has to have a normal meal. They've been eating pizza every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner for as long as they've been able to find a pizza place Sisky approves of, which usually isn't difficult for him to do.
"Is that bacon?" says a voice that causes Mike to quickly down some more eggs and finish off his orange juice. "I want eggs," William says, very nakedly from under the covers. He pulls the sheets up over his chest and blushes when he catches Mike's raised eyebrows. A pout, a perfectly timed bitten bottom lip and Mike abandons his breakfast of all breakfasts to join a very naked William in bed, as was expected.
"You are very naked," he says, crawling under the blankets Bill has managed to get himself tangled in, and he smiles a sneaky little Mike Carden smile, wraps his arms around Bill's tiny waist and pulls him closer. "You are very indecently naked, William Beckett, I kind of like it."
William blushes a shade darker and shrugs, mumbles something about his clothes are right over there and then, "Now is the time. Now, not back in the van with everyone half asleep. I think Tom heard us." He shuffles uncomfortably and before Mike can reply, says, "You smell like jam." Leaning over, he pulls Mike down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him rather weakly on the mouth, then falls back into the pillows and closes his eyes. "You taste like hash browns."
"Is this why you like me, because I taste like food? I knew it all along."
Bill's naked knee collides with Mike's rib, feeble in its attempt to harm him. "Shut up and come closer," he smiles. "And why are you wearing clothes."
"Because someone had to answer the door when the maid brought in all this delicious food, and it wasn't going to be you with your unapologetic indecent nudity and your sleepiness," is what Mike tries to says, but through William's mouth which has somehow found it's way to his, his words are muffled, melting together to form a staccato of soft sounding moans.
"All this delicious food, of which I was offered none. Well, I apologize for insulting you with my indecency," William whispers with an air of breathy annoyance, pulling Mike's shirt over his head. It is his favourite shirt-- red, white and blue stripes with a messy collar and too long sleeves that sit awkwardly on his arms. William hates it, makes a point of throwing it into the furthest corner of the room and continues innocently trailing wet kisses all the way to Mike's neck. Later, after they get changed and ready to leave, William will hide the shirt in his own suitcase and Mike won't find it for weeks, though he won't notice its absence until then.
The one thing Mike hates about William, the one true thing because all the other things he hates are things he really loves so much that he simply can't admit to loving them, but the one thing that he hates, is how much William knows him. It is a silly thing to hate, but it means that they can never fight, and simultaneously, they can never get along.
Whatever he is thinking, William will know it, and he'll use it against him. It makes it impossible for them to not want to kill each other, it's a surprise they haven't tried yet.
"How did you know I said that?" he asks, incredulous. "I didn't even know I said that."
William grins, reaches his hands down to Mike's jeans, which have been left unzipped, and sighs. "I have a gift," he announces, then punctuates every word with a kiss. "I. Truly. Truly. Do."
Sometimes Mike will spend hours really thinking about what they're doing, the time they spend in secret, in hotel rooms and behind locked doors of dodgy venues, the random trips they take during the day to be away from everyone. It's not something that just happened one day that they play along with now out of routine. Mike can barely remember a time when they weren't together.
It started with a misplaced kiss after the two of them won a particularly difficult game of pool. Mike had managed an impossible shot and upon realizing that Tony and John were taking out wads of cash to hand over, William had given him a celebratory kiss on the lips and a look of great embarrassment that mingled with a slight smugness.
The thing about William-- and Mike knows this all too well-- is that everyone pursues him. It's hard to locate even one person who has met William Beckett who doesn't deeply care for him, even if it is on a friendly level. There are times where Mike will question the intentions of Tom, who he often finds blindly taking in every single word William says with an look of complete admiration. Or Gabe, who everyone knows would flirt with anyone who stood still for long enough. Even Travis, who on their last tour made it completely clear to all of them that he would entertain the idea of flirting with guys to drive the fans wild, but it was all about the ladies for him.
Mike often had the sneaking suspicion that the only reason they got signed was because Pete had a thing for Bill. It was stupid, and childish of him to be even a little bit jealous, but he couldn't help it. He, too, had fallen prey to the William Beckett charm.
The only difference was that instead of Mike pursuing William, like everyone else did, it was Bill who cornered him one night after they moved into the smaller apartment, after it was just the two of them, and stated his case.
"I have to-- have to actively stop myself, you know, from kissing you," is what he said, nervous and stuttering slightly, tripping over his words as though he had them memorized but promptly forgot them. "Do you even know what it's like, watching you day in and day out, knowing that you're completely oblivious to the way I look at you? I don't want to not kiss you," he said, and Mike distinctly remembers he held his breath. "I don't want to ever not be kissing you."
For months they did this ridiculous dance around each other, silently debating whether or not it was a good idea. They kept it safe, and slow, and eventually there wasn't a day that passed that didn't find them curled up in bed, tired and tense and always touching.
They weren't dating, even now they weren't dating, at least not in the regular sense. They were together, they were always together but at the same time they were still Mike and William: best friends, band mates, completely separate entities. They were their very own best kept secret, not because they were ashamed or scared, but because they didn't want to share what they had with anyone. They were selfish in believing that what they had was unique, but wrong as they might have been, it never stopped them from protecting it.
Even now, holed up in some hotel a million miles from home, they manage to keep their secret a secret. The way Mike sees it, he'd give up anything for moments like these, for entire days spent in bed. He'd drive halfway across the state, nearly get in numerous car accidents because he got distracted at the wheel, hope for an empty hotel and check in under a false name. All for William. All for the two of them.
Mike snaps back to the task at hand and finds Bill grinning stupidly at him, a grin that says Mike's been day dreaming again and William's caught on. "Where did you go?" he asks in a soft whisper, his eyes half shut. Neither one of them has slept since they got here, and William hasn't slept since eight o'clock the night before, unless you count his very short nap, which Mike doesn't.
"I'm here," Mike answers, only now becoming aware that his jeans are laying in a neat pile on the floor beside William's. He settles in between Bill's legs, pushes them apart gently and kisses him on the collarbone, his fingers tracing odd shapes on Bill's thigh.
It's the way they feel, Mike thinks, but he is careful not to be distracted with his thoughts again. He trails lazy fingers over William's hips, his other hand finding its way into long, slightly curled hair, which causes William to close his eyes completely and grin even wider. It's the way they feel after an entire day of continuous fucking, the way their skin is soft only when they touch, otherwise it is rough, their bodies empty if they are not pressed tight against each other. It's the way Mike feels lonely if his toes can't find William's under the covers, if their fingers don't intertwine against the pillows. The way falling asleep isn't the same unless he can hear Bill's breath in his ear. It's the way they feel afterwards; too tired to talk but never too tired to find each other's bodies again and press desperate, hot kisses into sticky skin. It's the way they feel that makes him love William so much, the way they never feel the same thing twice, because it is always slightly different, always just a little bit better.
"Can we go to sleep?" William asks meekly, but Mike doesn't even need to nod to answer him, because his head is already resting comfortably on William's chest, one hand wrapped tightly around jagged hips and the other finding their way to long, thin fingers that are aching to be held.
In an hour they will be woken up by three knocks on the door, and Siska's voice apologizing. They will get changed and head out, sleep in different sections of the van and not talk to each other until sound check, where Mike will politely inform William that the guitar is too low. In an hour they will be pulled back into the world of secrets and silence, but for now William's chest rises and falls gently with each breath, and Mike listens intently to the beating of both their hearts before slowly drifting away.
--
a few stolen lyrics from brand new. also, i am trying to find a proxy that will let me comment, because so far i am unable to do so. i am not ignoring comments, usually i get back to every single one, but livejournal is banned where i live and it's almost impossible to do anything. problem solved! thank you everyone who has left comments on the first chapter, and thank you in advance to anyone who leaves comments on this chapter.
photo from theacademyis.com: august twelvth, two thousand and five