(no subject)
I'm not sure this even really counts as fic, but. *shrugs* Here it is anyway. I always come out with the most abstruse stuff when I write late at night.
title: the stars and their circles
fandom: Wentzdom
pairing: Gabe/Mikey/William
summary: AU. Mikey once asked William why, why him, when Gabe and William already have each other and everything that encompasses, because the two of them encompass everything.
warnings: None, except maybe lack of plot.
disclaimer: Not real.
notes: I'm not entirely sure why this fic exists. I think it has something to do with airgiodslv talking about Mikey/Gabe/William, and then me trying to write while very, very sleepy and listening to Anthony Green. Unbetaed, because it's just a small thing, and not much of anything at all.
Mikey wakes up to the sound of a glider landing in his backyard with a gentle whirr and the muted clicking of machinery. By the time he gets out of bed and opens the window, the glider is already crushing its shape into the grass, and William is sitting in the tree behind Mikey's house.
He doesn't beckon, or say anything, or even look at Mikey at all. He just sits, his gaze fixed on the wall, his arms wrapped around his legs. Mikey looks at him for a moment before climbing out the window.
He tests the AG props with his foot for a second - the last time they were checked was two years ago, and he still remembers when Ray broke his leg - and they hold steady, so he puts his other foot down, too, lets the prop field hold his weight. He knows from experience that the prop field goes almost, if not quite, out to the tree, and when he feels the air beneath him start to slope up, he grabs a branch and maneuvers his way over to William.
He doesn't say anything when he gets there, just finds his own spot on a different branch, one where he can watch William. William doesn't say anything, either.
Mikey once asked William why, why him, when Gabe and William already have each other and everything that encompasses, because the two of them encompass everything. Why do they need anyone else? And why, out of all the people in the world, why Mikey?
He asked Gabe, once, when they were both drunk, but all of Gabe's truths are deceptively simple on the surface and incredibly complex underneath. Gabe said, "Because you're you," which for Gabe could mean anything. Gabe said it like it was an undeniable fact of the universe, though, and Mikey wasn't drunk enough to pry further.
"Do I have to pick only one?" William asked, frowning, like the very idea of winnowing his response down to a single answer pained him. Mikey shrugged, and William said, "It's easy to just be, around you."
Mikey doesn't say anything, and William doesn't either - not about the time, or how William must have stolen the keys to the glider, or the pale circle around William's wrist where his phone should be.
There's a brief flash of white and black in Mikey's window. It disappears almost as quickly as it appears; Gerard, probably. His insomnia has been bad recently, but that's not Mikey's problem, not right now. Maybe tomorrow.
It's easy to just be around William, too.
He loses his sense of time, even though he could easily look down at his phone to check. He switches it off instead; it seems almost disloyal to have it on when he looks over and sees William's tan line. If Pete clicks him tonight - well, he doesn't owe Pete anything, doesn't need to be right there for whatever cryptic message, regret-laden and regretting nothing, is so important. That can wait until tomorrow, too.
The moon and Satellite One are a little closer to each other by the time that he hears the crunching footsteps approach. He looks; William doesn't, but they both know who it is, anyway.
"You know," Gabe says, his voice loud without being disruptive, "if you guys were going to have a party you should have just told me." He starts working his way up the tree, concentrating on handholds. It's hard to get a grasp; the trunk is a little too smooth, a little too polished. The newer models are better, Mikey hears, but the biologists hadn't quite gotten a handle on it by the time Mikey's mom bought the house ten years ago. "Instead, I got a click from Gerard telling me you two were sitting in the tree like creepers. He said he almost had a heart attack." Gabe's voice is conversational as he hauls himself up. It doesn't take long; he's tall, and William and Mikey aren't too far up.
"Hey," Mikey says.
"Hey yourself," Gabe says, sitting down and nudging both of them with his feet. "Special occasion?" It's directed at William. Chicago isn't far, maybe twenty or thirty minutes, but William doesn't make it to Jersey as often as any of them would like. There are transportation issues, among others.
Sometimes Gabe and Mikey go to Chicago. Gabe goes more often than Mikey; he has his own glider, even if it's battered and worn and sheds grease and spare parts. Mikey has Gerard, and Bunny, who gets destructive if Mikey goes anywhere for too long. For an accident half-made of scraps - a good accident, Mikey always assures her - she's surprisingly demanding.
He goes, though. He goes sometimes when it doesn't matter, and always when it does.
"I can invent one, if you want," William says, his voice quiet and dry and warm, like just being around them has unwound whatever wires of tension were coiled around his spine.
When William had his first show, Mikey called Gabe and casually asked, "So we're going, right?"
Gabe called back and said, "Look out the window," and Mikey already knew that Gabe was waiting in his glider in front of Mikey's door.
"Nah," Gabe says. "I know you just couldn't stand being away from me and Mikey for one moment longer." He doesn't mention the stolen - borrowed - glider, or the missing phone. Chicago is loud sometimes, loud in the way that Gabe isn't but Jersey sometimes is. It's quiet here, with the three of them, but not the kind of quiet that presses in on Mikey at two in the morning when he's all alone.
Descriptions are overrated, Mikey thinks. He can leave the words to William and Gabe, for now. He has other ways of saying what he needs to.
"Clearly that's it," William says. It's starting to get cold - right on time, like always - and all three of them breathe out formless clouds of smoky ice crystals. "We could move into the glider. If you guys are cold."
Mikey thinks about it for a second. They'd have to squeeze, because the glider's in one-person mode right now, and switching it to three-person would be too loud for the middle of the night, but they've pulled themselves into tighter spaces before.
"I'm okay," he says instead, and Gabe says, "I like the cold. Means I can offer to warm you guys up," with only a hint of suggestiveness in his voice. Heavy innuendo is for the middle of the day.
William doesn't say anything, and they just sit for a moment. In a while, maybe Mikey will climb back into his room to bring out a blanket; in a while, William will have to leave, if he wants to get home before the sun rises.
For now, they sit, because all they have to do right now is be, and the rest can wait for tomorrow. Their feet tangle together and the tree is too smooth behind their backs, and the stars sail quietly through space, or maybe space slips softly between the stars.
title: the stars and their circles
fandom: Wentzdom
pairing: Gabe/Mikey/William
summary: AU. Mikey once asked William why, why him, when Gabe and William already have each other and everything that encompasses, because the two of them encompass everything.
warnings: None, except maybe lack of plot.
disclaimer: Not real.
notes: I'm not entirely sure why this fic exists. I think it has something to do with airgiodslv talking about Mikey/Gabe/William, and then me trying to write while very, very sleepy and listening to Anthony Green. Unbetaed, because it's just a small thing, and not much of anything at all.
Mikey wakes up to the sound of a glider landing in his backyard with a gentle whirr and the muted clicking of machinery. By the time he gets out of bed and opens the window, the glider is already crushing its shape into the grass, and William is sitting in the tree behind Mikey's house.
He doesn't beckon, or say anything, or even look at Mikey at all. He just sits, his gaze fixed on the wall, his arms wrapped around his legs. Mikey looks at him for a moment before climbing out the window.
He tests the AG props with his foot for a second - the last time they were checked was two years ago, and he still remembers when Ray broke his leg - and they hold steady, so he puts his other foot down, too, lets the prop field hold his weight. He knows from experience that the prop field goes almost, if not quite, out to the tree, and when he feels the air beneath him start to slope up, he grabs a branch and maneuvers his way over to William.
He doesn't say anything when he gets there, just finds his own spot on a different branch, one where he can watch William. William doesn't say anything, either.
Mikey once asked William why, why him, when Gabe and William already have each other and everything that encompasses, because the two of them encompass everything. Why do they need anyone else? And why, out of all the people in the world, why Mikey?
He asked Gabe, once, when they were both drunk, but all of Gabe's truths are deceptively simple on the surface and incredibly complex underneath. Gabe said, "Because you're you," which for Gabe could mean anything. Gabe said it like it was an undeniable fact of the universe, though, and Mikey wasn't drunk enough to pry further.
"Do I have to pick only one?" William asked, frowning, like the very idea of winnowing his response down to a single answer pained him. Mikey shrugged, and William said, "It's easy to just be, around you."
Mikey doesn't say anything, and William doesn't either - not about the time, or how William must have stolen the keys to the glider, or the pale circle around William's wrist where his phone should be.
There's a brief flash of white and black in Mikey's window. It disappears almost as quickly as it appears; Gerard, probably. His insomnia has been bad recently, but that's not Mikey's problem, not right now. Maybe tomorrow.
It's easy to just be around William, too.
He loses his sense of time, even though he could easily look down at his phone to check. He switches it off instead; it seems almost disloyal to have it on when he looks over and sees William's tan line. If Pete clicks him tonight - well, he doesn't owe Pete anything, doesn't need to be right there for whatever cryptic message, regret-laden and regretting nothing, is so important. That can wait until tomorrow, too.
The moon and Satellite One are a little closer to each other by the time that he hears the crunching footsteps approach. He looks; William doesn't, but they both know who it is, anyway.
"You know," Gabe says, his voice loud without being disruptive, "if you guys were going to have a party you should have just told me." He starts working his way up the tree, concentrating on handholds. It's hard to get a grasp; the trunk is a little too smooth, a little too polished. The newer models are better, Mikey hears, but the biologists hadn't quite gotten a handle on it by the time Mikey's mom bought the house ten years ago. "Instead, I got a click from Gerard telling me you two were sitting in the tree like creepers. He said he almost had a heart attack." Gabe's voice is conversational as he hauls himself up. It doesn't take long; he's tall, and William and Mikey aren't too far up.
"Hey," Mikey says.
"Hey yourself," Gabe says, sitting down and nudging both of them with his feet. "Special occasion?" It's directed at William. Chicago isn't far, maybe twenty or thirty minutes, but William doesn't make it to Jersey as often as any of them would like. There are transportation issues, among others.
Sometimes Gabe and Mikey go to Chicago. Gabe goes more often than Mikey; he has his own glider, even if it's battered and worn and sheds grease and spare parts. Mikey has Gerard, and Bunny, who gets destructive if Mikey goes anywhere for too long. For an accident half-made of scraps - a good accident, Mikey always assures her - she's surprisingly demanding.
He goes, though. He goes sometimes when it doesn't matter, and always when it does.
"I can invent one, if you want," William says, his voice quiet and dry and warm, like just being around them has unwound whatever wires of tension were coiled around his spine.
When William had his first show, Mikey called Gabe and casually asked, "So we're going, right?"
Gabe called back and said, "Look out the window," and Mikey already knew that Gabe was waiting in his glider in front of Mikey's door.
"Nah," Gabe says. "I know you just couldn't stand being away from me and Mikey for one moment longer." He doesn't mention the stolen - borrowed - glider, or the missing phone. Chicago is loud sometimes, loud in the way that Gabe isn't but Jersey sometimes is. It's quiet here, with the three of them, but not the kind of quiet that presses in on Mikey at two in the morning when he's all alone.
Descriptions are overrated, Mikey thinks. He can leave the words to William and Gabe, for now. He has other ways of saying what he needs to.
"Clearly that's it," William says. It's starting to get cold - right on time, like always - and all three of them breathe out formless clouds of smoky ice crystals. "We could move into the glider. If you guys are cold."
Mikey thinks about it for a second. They'd have to squeeze, because the glider's in one-person mode right now, and switching it to three-person would be too loud for the middle of the night, but they've pulled themselves into tighter spaces before.
"I'm okay," he says instead, and Gabe says, "I like the cold. Means I can offer to warm you guys up," with only a hint of suggestiveness in his voice. Heavy innuendo is for the middle of the day.
William doesn't say anything, and they just sit for a moment. In a while, maybe Mikey will climb back into his room to bring out a blanket; in a while, William will have to leave, if he wants to get home before the sun rises.
For now, they sit, because all they have to do right now is be, and the rest can wait for tomorrow. Their feet tangle together and the tree is too smooth behind their backs, and the stars sail quietly through space, or maybe space slips softly between the stars.