Fic: 'Ships That Crash In the Night' (RPS, Gabe/William) R
Hey, I wrote fic! That doesn't happen very often anymore. :)
Title: Ships That Crash In the Night
Author: Nicola
Fandom: RPF: Cobra Starship, The Academy Is...
Pairing: Gabe/William
Rating: R
Word count: 2,364
Summary: The highs of the world tour-and the come-down.
Note: Written for ficklish as a pinch-hit for the 3rd damnyouwentz fic exchange. Thank you to callsigns for the beta.
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Ships That Crash In the Night
Part 1
Gabe has learned that there's no way to remember everything. Days merge together. Sometimes whole months just fade from his memory. October 1993, for example. He has no clear memories from that month; it might as well not exist.
("That's kind of a metaphysical statement," William said knowledgably, before Gabe shut him up with a lick of his tongue.)
He's never kept a journal for any extended period. His photographs usually turn out blurred or overexposed. He drinks too much, too often and blacks out. While he likes the idea of leaving behind a memoir when he dies, but he can't fathom creating a linear narrative out of any of his memories. Mostly what he has are snapshots. The rest fades to a dull gray, apart from those few bright spots.
*
Tokyo was like another world. Repeat visits did not entirely dull the wonder, and somehow seeing it with Bill beside him made the experience burn brighter. When they first hit downtown Tokyo together, they couldn't seem to finish a sentence, either of them.
"Did you see the-"
"And those-"
"It's so-"
"With the-"
Both of them let out deep, awe-filled breaths.
"…yeah."
Gabe's eyes flicked in William's direction automatically. He reached out and stroked a single finger across William's cheek. It was an impulse, not tied to any particular desire. He just wanted to feel the excited blood, the way it pulsed hot beneath Bill's skin. William gave him a funny little half-smile. The moment felt full and wonderful. And then they were off again, starting sentences that didn't need endings.
"I can't believe-"
"It's just-"
"And I-"
*
In Brussels, the culture shock was less, but still enough that Gabe felt it like a physical sensation, humming through his veins. In a different place, he decided he should to be someone different, too.
William screwed up his face. "But why would you want to be someone different?"
"Sometimes I'm sick of being me. You never feel like that?"
William shrugged. "I guess," he said in a tone of voice that implied the opposite. He picked up a fedora and put it on Gabe's head.
They were all supposed to be killing time shopping, but most of their compadres had grown bored and wandered off to start eating (or, more probably, start drinking). William, however, had become strangely obstinate about sticking with the task of shopping. He'd already picked out a hideous green shirt and now they were hunting for accessories in a musty vintage store.
Gabe straightened the fedora and checked himself out in the mirror. It wasn't a bad look, actually. He could imagine himself as a spy during World War Two.
William fumbled with a tie. It was mustard-yellow. "Think I should start wearing ties?" he asked critically.
"Well, it worked for Avril Lavigne." Gabe let out a low, mocking laugh and reached over to fix William's tie.
William allowed Gabe's help. He began eyeing his appearance in the mirror as Gabe redid his tie.
"You can pull it tighter," William said suddenly, and Gabe realized that his focus had shifted. "If you want," he added. William's eyes flashed. Had anyone ever said no to that look-that mouth-that perfect mixture of guileless and suggestive?
Gabe's fingers itched at the knot. He twisted his thumb so that it brushed against William's throat. William swallowed and Gabe felt the jump of his Adam's apple. Slowly, Gabe pulled the tie tighter. William pushed his hips forward, pressing closer to Gabe. William swallowed again..
"There's no one around…" William said, and Gabe chose that moment to pull a little harder. William let out a slight gasp and then swallowed again. His breath came in short bursts; ragged, excited
Gabe glanced around the store. Their position was partly obscured by the rack of ties. The store was currently empty except for a disinterested clerk, but a steady procession of foot traffic passed by outside. Sensing an interruption of logic from Gabe, William rephrased, "Okay, so there are plenty of people around." He grinned. "That gonna stop you?"
"Never." With one swift movement, Gabe wrapped the tie around his hand, forming a fist, which he held tight at William's throat. With his free hand, he opened up William's pants with practiced ease. William panted in his ear as Gabe's fingers curled around his cock.
"Fuck it," Gabe muttered, "start wearing ties. Avril might've been onto something."
*
In Köln, Gabe started smoking cigarettes again, even though he'd decided to quit. Instead of changing, he now felt like he might be devolving. Smoking was so pervasive in Germany that it made him nostalgic. That curiously heavy smell hung in the air, while smoke curled through the air, like breath made visible. People smoked as if was art; the smoke covered their faces artistically, as if they are part of a stylized installation. He felt his own fingers itching to be a part of such a small, but perfectly-contained ritual.
He and William lay in bed naked, stinking up the hotel room with cigarettes and sex.
"You still wanna be someone different?" William asked as he rolled over.
"…you remember me saying that?" Gabe realized how often he underestimated William, expected a callous cruelty from him (the same cruelty he expected from everyone, maybe).
"Yeeah." William fidgeted, shook his hair out of his eyes and then threw an arm across Gabe's chest. "Do you?"
"Nahh. Being me's good," he said. He was almost sure that he meant it.
William smiled. "Good."
*
In Paris, they drank until the abuse of the French waiters seemed funny, rather than bewildering. They drank fruity European beers and cheap champagne and, when they were so drunk that they forgot where they were, tequila and Jack Daniels.
When they were finally barred, Gabe and William stumbled around in circles on confusing, cobbled streets. William fell down and, as Gabe hoisted him back up again, he pressed a sloppy, satisfied kiss against Gabe's lips. As he pulled back, he said with hoarse excitement, "hey, is that the Eiffel Tower?"
Gabe blinked and craned his neck to look at the huge, lit-up tower that loomed above them, stark and beautiful against the night sky. If they'd been sober, it would have been a cheesy or unremarkable moment, but as they squinted up at the Eiffel Tower (and resisted the urge to throw up), it felt almost magical.
*
In London, it rained solidly. Everything was gray and wet. The streets were noisy and crowded. The mood was restless discontent, akin to the end of summer camp.
The light in the alley behind the venue was murky; the day made it feel almost subterranean. William's hair collected in wet clumps across his forehead, curling slightly at the ends. A droplet of rain caught on his lips and he lapped in up a moment before Gabe leaned in to kiss him. Gabe felt an agitated desire to drink him in before he was gone. Inside was too crowded, filled up with small talk. Gabe wanted silence and William pressed against a wall for his pleasure.
When they separated later, William squeezing his hand quickly as he moved to walk away, Gabe was aware of the irrefutable fact that things were changing. This was an end to William-on-tap and he was feeling more than he ought to.
"England is fucking depressing," he muttered in Ryland's general direction.
*
Part 2
Gabe had been home in New York for two days when William called. It was the middle of the night and the jet lag was still fucking with his head. The canny mix of drugs and alcohol he'd used to try and combat it hadn't, as it turned out, been so canny. He felt like someone had jammed toothpicks into his eye sockets, prying open his eyes. Every so often he would drift into near-sleep and then he'd feel the prick of restless insomnia needling at his eyes. His phone buzzed against his chest, interrupting what had been ten straight minutes of staring at his switched-off TV set.
"Hello," he said hoarsely.
"Hello."
"Hello."
"…hello?"
"Yeah?"
"Who is it?" William sounded plaintive.
"What? You called me! Fucker, I know it's you."
"Gabe… what?" A pause. "Did I? Did I call you? I don't remember dialling…"
"Unless you're calling from 1985, I'm guessing you didn't dial. You just said my name and your phone… you know… did whatever… automatically."
"Called you."
"Yeah."
"Automatically."
"Stop repeating everything I say," Gabe said grouchily, but he couldn't keep from smiling.
"What? Oh, sorry." William's voice was vague. Gabe heard a slight scuffle, followed by protracted yawning noises. He imagined William burrowing under a blanket, head lolling on the arm of the couch. "I'm so tired… but I can't sleep."
"Jet lag?" Gabe asked, rubbing at his eyes. The room wouldn't stop tilting.
"Yeah, I guess," William said. "Tour burnout. Whatever." There was another scuffle and Gabe heard what sounded like applause.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Uhh… watching Wheel Of Fortune and shelling peas."
Gabe couldn't help but grin at the absolute sincerity in William's voice. "Seriously."
William seemed mildly affronted. "I am. I'm shelling and I'm… I think I'm winning. Hey, Ships That… Something In the Night? What do you think?"
"Ships That Pass In the Night?"
"Oh… yeah. I was thinking… Crash. Don't know why."
"Too many letters."
"…yeah," William said hazily.
"Why are you shelling peas?" Gabe asked, as he attempted to retrace the thread of their conversation.
"They were all I could get at the store."
"That's all your store sold?"
"Nooo"-William yawned again-"but I was really tired and I couldn't think what I needed."
"So you got peas."
William sounded petulant again. "Not just peas."
"What else?"
"Peanut butter."
"You got peas and peanut butter?" Gabe started to laugh, but it sounded more like a wheeze. Even laughing was tiring.
"At the time… it really seemed like what I needed," William said. "The peanut butter's pretty good, actually."
Gabe heard the pop of a jar lid being pulled loose. Then he was treated to what sounded like bad phone sex as William (apparently) licked peanut butter off his fingers. He suckled hard and then removed his fingers with a wet, satisfied, "mmph."
"You sound like a fucking whore," Gabe said.
"I'm eating peanut butter!"
"Right."
"What, am I turning you on?" William affected a breathy come-on-sailor voice. "You like that, baby? …you want more? Yeah?"
"You know," Gabe said, "it would be sexier if you didn't yawn right in the middle of your dirty talk." He let out another laugh/wheeze.
"Baby, if you wanna go, let's go," William said, before his affectation collapsed into a coughing fit.
Gabe grinned. "Yeah, that's hot."
William's coughing subsided and he mumbled, "Peanut butter and peas are not good together. Just eff-why-eye." He paused. "Oh." He sounded upset. "Wheel Of Fortune finished. Fuck. I wasn't paying attention, I missed the end."
"It's not like 24," Gabe pointed out, "I don't think anyone got blown up or beheaded."
William ignored him. "There's some old movie on now. Aw, I don't wanna watch this!"
"So change the channel."
"I don't remember where"-yawn-"I put the remote." He perked up slightly. "Hey, you can entertain me instead."
"Oh yeah? What am I, a clown for hire? A book on tape? A… dolphin that can do tricks." Gabe blinked rapidly. His thoughts were unravelling. He wondered what time it was. It seemed to have been dark for a really long time. "Anyway…" He strained to recapture his focus. "Anyway, I thought you were shelling peas."
"I spilled them." William sounded chagrined. "All over the floor. When I was trying to open the peanut butter." He paused. "Let's do that thing for real. That's how you can entertain me. The phone sex thing."
Gabe wasn't generally one to turn down sex of any kind, but the toothpicks in his brain felt like they'd migrated and were jabbing at his brain. He sighed and said, "I'm tired, man."
William echoed his sigh. "Yeah, me too. I wish I could sleep." He was quiet for a moment and then he said, "I wish I was there… with you. So we could… not sleep, but… together."
"Not sleep together," Gabe repeated. He smiled. "Ha."
"Love you," William murmured.
Gabe knew that he only meant it in an I'll-be-there-for-you-when-the-rain-starts-to-fall kind of way. Their friendship might have benefits (and "benefits"), but they were never destined to be the Chandler-and-Monica kind of friends. Gabe rubbed a hand across his face. He really must be tired if he was trying to compare his life to a sitcom. They were… they were Gabe-and-William. Anything more than sex and friendship between them was laughable. But in the darkness that wouldn't end, Gabe couldn't help imagining William's head lolling against his shoulder. If he concentrated, in his jetlag-stunned state, he could feel William's hand (complete with peanut-butter-sticky fingers) heavy against his chest; he could imagine warm breath against his throat and the slight tickle of hair as William twisted his neck to kiss him.
Gabe felt the words on his tongue, the I love you, too, but he couldn't bring himself to say them. He felt another jab of insomnia and the moment passed.
From far away, William said, "I'm gonna hang up, okay? But you're gonna come and see me-see us on tour, right? You'll stop in."
"Yeah." Gabe cleared his throat and reigned in his thoughts. He strove for levity as he said, "Yeah, you keep practicing your moves on that jar of peanut butter. I'll see what you got."
William laughed and then hung up. He didn't bother to say goodbye, so his laughter was the last thing Gabe heard before the phone clicked into silence. As Gabe glanced out the window, he realized that the sun was finally beginning to rise. He rubbed at his eyes. He wondered if he might at last be able to sleep.
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Title: Ships That Crash In the Night
Author: Nicola
Fandom: RPF: Cobra Starship, The Academy Is...
Pairing: Gabe/William
Rating: R
Word count: 2,364
Summary: The highs of the world tour-and the come-down.
Note: Written for ficklish as a pinch-hit for the 3rd damnyouwentz fic exchange. Thank you to callsigns for the beta.
-----
Ships That Crash In the Night
Part 1
Gabe has learned that there's no way to remember everything. Days merge together. Sometimes whole months just fade from his memory. October 1993, for example. He has no clear memories from that month; it might as well not exist.
("That's kind of a metaphysical statement," William said knowledgably, before Gabe shut him up with a lick of his tongue.)
He's never kept a journal for any extended period. His photographs usually turn out blurred or overexposed. He drinks too much, too often and blacks out. While he likes the idea of leaving behind a memoir when he dies, but he can't fathom creating a linear narrative out of any of his memories. Mostly what he has are snapshots. The rest fades to a dull gray, apart from those few bright spots.
*
Tokyo was like another world. Repeat visits did not entirely dull the wonder, and somehow seeing it with Bill beside him made the experience burn brighter. When they first hit downtown Tokyo together, they couldn't seem to finish a sentence, either of them.
"Did you see the-"
"And those-"
"It's so-"
"With the-"
Both of them let out deep, awe-filled breaths.
"…yeah."
Gabe's eyes flicked in William's direction automatically. He reached out and stroked a single finger across William's cheek. It was an impulse, not tied to any particular desire. He just wanted to feel the excited blood, the way it pulsed hot beneath Bill's skin. William gave him a funny little half-smile. The moment felt full and wonderful. And then they were off again, starting sentences that didn't need endings.
"I can't believe-"
"It's just-"
"And I-"
*
In Brussels, the culture shock was less, but still enough that Gabe felt it like a physical sensation, humming through his veins. In a different place, he decided he should to be someone different, too.
William screwed up his face. "But why would you want to be someone different?"
"Sometimes I'm sick of being me. You never feel like that?"
William shrugged. "I guess," he said in a tone of voice that implied the opposite. He picked up a fedora and put it on Gabe's head.
They were all supposed to be killing time shopping, but most of their compadres had grown bored and wandered off to start eating (or, more probably, start drinking). William, however, had become strangely obstinate about sticking with the task of shopping. He'd already picked out a hideous green shirt and now they were hunting for accessories in a musty vintage store.
Gabe straightened the fedora and checked himself out in the mirror. It wasn't a bad look, actually. He could imagine himself as a spy during World War Two.
William fumbled with a tie. It was mustard-yellow. "Think I should start wearing ties?" he asked critically.
"Well, it worked for Avril Lavigne." Gabe let out a low, mocking laugh and reached over to fix William's tie.
William allowed Gabe's help. He began eyeing his appearance in the mirror as Gabe redid his tie.
"You can pull it tighter," William said suddenly, and Gabe realized that his focus had shifted. "If you want," he added. William's eyes flashed. Had anyone ever said no to that look-that mouth-that perfect mixture of guileless and suggestive?
Gabe's fingers itched at the knot. He twisted his thumb so that it brushed against William's throat. William swallowed and Gabe felt the jump of his Adam's apple. Slowly, Gabe pulled the tie tighter. William pushed his hips forward, pressing closer to Gabe. William swallowed again..
"There's no one around…" William said, and Gabe chose that moment to pull a little harder. William let out a slight gasp and then swallowed again. His breath came in short bursts; ragged, excited
Gabe glanced around the store. Their position was partly obscured by the rack of ties. The store was currently empty except for a disinterested clerk, but a steady procession of foot traffic passed by outside. Sensing an interruption of logic from Gabe, William rephrased, "Okay, so there are plenty of people around." He grinned. "That gonna stop you?"
"Never." With one swift movement, Gabe wrapped the tie around his hand, forming a fist, which he held tight at William's throat. With his free hand, he opened up William's pants with practiced ease. William panted in his ear as Gabe's fingers curled around his cock.
"Fuck it," Gabe muttered, "start wearing ties. Avril might've been onto something."
*
In Köln, Gabe started smoking cigarettes again, even though he'd decided to quit. Instead of changing, he now felt like he might be devolving. Smoking was so pervasive in Germany that it made him nostalgic. That curiously heavy smell hung in the air, while smoke curled through the air, like breath made visible. People smoked as if was art; the smoke covered their faces artistically, as if they are part of a stylized installation. He felt his own fingers itching to be a part of such a small, but perfectly-contained ritual.
He and William lay in bed naked, stinking up the hotel room with cigarettes and sex.
"You still wanna be someone different?" William asked as he rolled over.
"…you remember me saying that?" Gabe realized how often he underestimated William, expected a callous cruelty from him (the same cruelty he expected from everyone, maybe).
"Yeeah." William fidgeted, shook his hair out of his eyes and then threw an arm across Gabe's chest. "Do you?"
"Nahh. Being me's good," he said. He was almost sure that he meant it.
William smiled. "Good."
*
In Paris, they drank until the abuse of the French waiters seemed funny, rather than bewildering. They drank fruity European beers and cheap champagne and, when they were so drunk that they forgot where they were, tequila and Jack Daniels.
When they were finally barred, Gabe and William stumbled around in circles on confusing, cobbled streets. William fell down and, as Gabe hoisted him back up again, he pressed a sloppy, satisfied kiss against Gabe's lips. As he pulled back, he said with hoarse excitement, "hey, is that the Eiffel Tower?"
Gabe blinked and craned his neck to look at the huge, lit-up tower that loomed above them, stark and beautiful against the night sky. If they'd been sober, it would have been a cheesy or unremarkable moment, but as they squinted up at the Eiffel Tower (and resisted the urge to throw up), it felt almost magical.
*
In London, it rained solidly. Everything was gray and wet. The streets were noisy and crowded. The mood was restless discontent, akin to the end of summer camp.
The light in the alley behind the venue was murky; the day made it feel almost subterranean. William's hair collected in wet clumps across his forehead, curling slightly at the ends. A droplet of rain caught on his lips and he lapped in up a moment before Gabe leaned in to kiss him. Gabe felt an agitated desire to drink him in before he was gone. Inside was too crowded, filled up with small talk. Gabe wanted silence and William pressed against a wall for his pleasure.
When they separated later, William squeezing his hand quickly as he moved to walk away, Gabe was aware of the irrefutable fact that things were changing. This was an end to William-on-tap and he was feeling more than he ought to.
"England is fucking depressing," he muttered in Ryland's general direction.
*
Part 2
Gabe had been home in New York for two days when William called. It was the middle of the night and the jet lag was still fucking with his head. The canny mix of drugs and alcohol he'd used to try and combat it hadn't, as it turned out, been so canny. He felt like someone had jammed toothpicks into his eye sockets, prying open his eyes. Every so often he would drift into near-sleep and then he'd feel the prick of restless insomnia needling at his eyes. His phone buzzed against his chest, interrupting what had been ten straight minutes of staring at his switched-off TV set.
"Hello," he said hoarsely.
"Hello."
"Hello."
"…hello?"
"Yeah?"
"Who is it?" William sounded plaintive.
"What? You called me! Fucker, I know it's you."
"Gabe… what?" A pause. "Did I? Did I call you? I don't remember dialling…"
"Unless you're calling from 1985, I'm guessing you didn't dial. You just said my name and your phone… you know… did whatever… automatically."
"Called you."
"Yeah."
"Automatically."
"Stop repeating everything I say," Gabe said grouchily, but he couldn't keep from smiling.
"What? Oh, sorry." William's voice was vague. Gabe heard a slight scuffle, followed by protracted yawning noises. He imagined William burrowing under a blanket, head lolling on the arm of the couch. "I'm so tired… but I can't sleep."
"Jet lag?" Gabe asked, rubbing at his eyes. The room wouldn't stop tilting.
"Yeah, I guess," William said. "Tour burnout. Whatever." There was another scuffle and Gabe heard what sounded like applause.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Uhh… watching Wheel Of Fortune and shelling peas."
Gabe couldn't help but grin at the absolute sincerity in William's voice. "Seriously."
William seemed mildly affronted. "I am. I'm shelling and I'm… I think I'm winning. Hey, Ships That… Something In the Night? What do you think?"
"Ships That Pass In the Night?"
"Oh… yeah. I was thinking… Crash. Don't know why."
"Too many letters."
"…yeah," William said hazily.
"Why are you shelling peas?" Gabe asked, as he attempted to retrace the thread of their conversation.
"They were all I could get at the store."
"That's all your store sold?"
"Nooo"-William yawned again-"but I was really tired and I couldn't think what I needed."
"So you got peas."
William sounded petulant again. "Not just peas."
"What else?"
"Peanut butter."
"You got peas and peanut butter?" Gabe started to laugh, but it sounded more like a wheeze. Even laughing was tiring.
"At the time… it really seemed like what I needed," William said. "The peanut butter's pretty good, actually."
Gabe heard the pop of a jar lid being pulled loose. Then he was treated to what sounded like bad phone sex as William (apparently) licked peanut butter off his fingers. He suckled hard and then removed his fingers with a wet, satisfied, "mmph."
"You sound like a fucking whore," Gabe said.
"I'm eating peanut butter!"
"Right."
"What, am I turning you on?" William affected a breathy come-on-sailor voice. "You like that, baby? …you want more? Yeah?"
"You know," Gabe said, "it would be sexier if you didn't yawn right in the middle of your dirty talk." He let out another laugh/wheeze.
"Baby, if you wanna go, let's go," William said, before his affectation collapsed into a coughing fit.
Gabe grinned. "Yeah, that's hot."
William's coughing subsided and he mumbled, "Peanut butter and peas are not good together. Just eff-why-eye." He paused. "Oh." He sounded upset. "Wheel Of Fortune finished. Fuck. I wasn't paying attention, I missed the end."
"It's not like 24," Gabe pointed out, "I don't think anyone got blown up or beheaded."
William ignored him. "There's some old movie on now. Aw, I don't wanna watch this!"
"So change the channel."
"I don't remember where"-yawn-"I put the remote." He perked up slightly. "Hey, you can entertain me instead."
"Oh yeah? What am I, a clown for hire? A book on tape? A… dolphin that can do tricks." Gabe blinked rapidly. His thoughts were unravelling. He wondered what time it was. It seemed to have been dark for a really long time. "Anyway…" He strained to recapture his focus. "Anyway, I thought you were shelling peas."
"I spilled them." William sounded chagrined. "All over the floor. When I was trying to open the peanut butter." He paused. "Let's do that thing for real. That's how you can entertain me. The phone sex thing."
Gabe wasn't generally one to turn down sex of any kind, but the toothpicks in his brain felt like they'd migrated and were jabbing at his brain. He sighed and said, "I'm tired, man."
William echoed his sigh. "Yeah, me too. I wish I could sleep." He was quiet for a moment and then he said, "I wish I was there… with you. So we could… not sleep, but… together."
"Not sleep together," Gabe repeated. He smiled. "Ha."
"Love you," William murmured.
Gabe knew that he only meant it in an I'll-be-there-for-you-when-the-rain-starts-to-fall kind of way. Their friendship might have benefits (and "benefits"), but they were never destined to be the Chandler-and-Monica kind of friends. Gabe rubbed a hand across his face. He really must be tired if he was trying to compare his life to a sitcom. They were… they were Gabe-and-William. Anything more than sex and friendship between them was laughable. But in the darkness that wouldn't end, Gabe couldn't help imagining William's head lolling against his shoulder. If he concentrated, in his jetlag-stunned state, he could feel William's hand (complete with peanut-butter-sticky fingers) heavy against his chest; he could imagine warm breath against his throat and the slight tickle of hair as William twisted his neck to kiss him.
Gabe felt the words on his tongue, the I love you, too, but he couldn't bring himself to say them. He felt another jab of insomnia and the moment passed.
From far away, William said, "I'm gonna hang up, okay? But you're gonna come and see me-see us on tour, right? You'll stop in."
"Yeah." Gabe cleared his throat and reigned in his thoughts. He strove for levity as he said, "Yeah, you keep practicing your moves on that jar of peanut butter. I'll see what you got."
William laughed and then hung up. He didn't bother to say goodbye, so his laughter was the last thing Gabe heard before the phone clicked into silence. As Gabe glanced out the window, he realized that the sun was finally beginning to rise. He rubbed at his eyes. He wondered if he might at last be able to sleep.
-----