'Pale Pink Lips, Fingertips' [Gerard Way/Mikey Way]
Title: 'Pale Pink Lips, Fingertips'
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Incest, profanity
Pairing: Gerard Way/Mikey Way
Word Count: ~1,200
Summary: It’s not like he didn’t try to stop it. Really, he wants to say to anyone who will listen (except nobody knows because he hasn’t told anyone and nor has Mikey - neither of them ever will so the only one who knows is God, but that’s already one person too many). Really, he fought it for a long time, he did, but nobody can be 100% perfect and nobody can always, always resist. Not everyone can be… well, God.
Author's Notes: Wrote this like two years ago (I am really, really bad at cross-posting). And for the record, I do not own either Way, obviously. No way. Ahh-haa... /lame.
---<---<---@
It’s not like he didn’t try to stop it.
Really, he wants to say to anyone who will listen (except nobody knows because he hasn’t told anyone and nor has Mikey - neither of them ever will so the only one who knows is God, but that’s already one person too many). Really, he fought it for a long time, he did, but nobody can be 100% perfect and nobody can always, always resist. Not everyone can be… well, God.
When the sun was blocked out by a shadow that summer afternoon in the garden, Gerard didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. He was tucked into himself, leaning against a tree in the part of the back yard that their parents never frequented, that he wasn’t even sure they knew about because you sort of had to crawl under bushes to get there, and it probably wasn’t technically a part of their land but it was an annex that no one knew existed so it might as well have been theirs and really, there was no truer form of ownership than the deep groove in the dirt underneath the tangled foliage from all the times he and Mikey had got down on their stomachs and shimmied underneath.
“Hey, Gee,” Mikey breathed softly and then, only then did Gerard look up. A little sunlight had found its way around each side of his brother’s skinny silhouette and in the second before he squinted and had to close his eyes, he fancied that Mikey looked like an angel.
Gerard swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, forced his eyelids to pry themselves apart then shifted over so Mikey could lean against the tree trunk too. As he moved, the sun slipped behind a tall… fir? He wanted to say it was a fir. It was tall and sort of pencil-shaped, but the branches were kind of puffed out because of all the little needles that stuck out from them. Like the hairs on puppies or something, when the puppies are really tiny but they have all this fluff so they look big.
This, he thought, was why he drew rather than wrote - he couldn’t explain what something looked like for shit, but give him a pencil and some paper and he’d capture its essence perfectly.
Mikey leaned up against him, sort of cuddling into his arm, and to Gerard it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Truthfully he didn’t even notice the sparks anymore (not really) because he caught them the first time they happened and once he got over the initial shock he sat himself down on his bed and looked in the mirror, telling himself firmly “Gerard, no” like he was the puppy, the puppy with the hair that looked like the fir tree.
Sometimes, Gerard thought he was quite mad. Then Mikey would thumb his jaw line, trace it with his fingertips, and tell him that people who saw the world differently made life more interesting, and Gerard would wonder whether Mikey was really younger than him, really really, because he seemed so much more together than Gerard thought he himself could ever be.
“You’ve been here awhile,” Mikey said, voice quiet and non-accusatory. They’d both been staring ahead at the fir tree, but now Gerard turned his head towards his brother and Mikey did the same, as if in tandem. Gerard didn’t know whether it was because Mikey had felt his muscles move or simply chosen to engage the telepathy they’d shared always but had evolved to turn on and off at will. The stripe of sunlight that slashed across Mikey’s face from between the shadows of the fir and the bushes made his eyes look lighter, but they were still big and brown and oh, Gerard needed to stop this line of thinking, nip it in the bud as it were, before it got him into trouble. (Did firs have buds? Gerard slept through most of his Biology classes.)
“Yeah,” Gerard responded simply, “it’s been a few hours.” He thought about adding that he didn’t really feel like doing much else except sitting and just thinking, thinking about things that weren’t emotionally charged or in any way important, but Mikey already knew all that. He just did. He was Mikey.
So when Mikey bit a pale pink lip and said, “Gee” a little more desperately than he had the first time, Gerard didn’t think anything of it because, well, it was Mikey, but then Mikey leaned forward and whispered, “Listen,” and something in his face told Gerard this was different, this was something new, and he thought he knew everything about Mikey so it kind of scared him.
Still, “Okay,” he whispered back because yeah, it was Mikey, and how could he not?
Mikey looked nervous. He licked his lips. “You,” he paused and licked his lips again, and Gerard wished he would stop doing that, “you don’t have to do this back, but either way, it can stay here and nobody else needs to know about it. It can be our perfect secret, like the garden, okay?”
Gerard nodded, tearing his gaze from Mikey’s lips just long enough to see the look of earnest in his eyes.
“Fuck,” Mikey said, expelling all the air from his lungs with one word like a sigh. “Close your eyes.”
And now Gerard really, really didn’t know what was going on, but he trusted Mikey and so did as he asked. When he felt Mikey’s gentle breath against the side of his face he figured his brother was leaning in close to whisper a secret just like he'd done all those times when they were young - but when he drew forward to hear better and met Mikey’s lips instead, well, that was new.
“Shit!” he gasped, drawing back like he’d been scalded, grazing his elbow on the side of the tree trunk. “Oh, God, Mikey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry -”
“Gerard,” Mikey said coolly, and why the hell was he being so calm? “What would you say,” and his voice cracked on the last syllable so maybe he wasn’t so calm after all, “if I asked you to do that again?”
Gerard blinked at him. “Ah…?” he said carefully, making sure to punctuate the utterance with a question mark.
Mikey laughed and it made Gerard melt a little bit inside. “You’re so dense. Kiss me again?”
And Gerard stared because, wait, what? A flash of doubt and fear and - no, something stronger, something more akin to terror - crossed Mikey’s dark eyes and then Gerard understood, really understood, and his stomach felt like ice because as much as he wanted it he knew it was wrong.
“We can’t, Mikey, we can’t, we’re -” (he wanted to say “brothers” but he couldn’t) “related, Mikey, it’s wrong…”
“But you want to,” Mikey said, quiet and earnest and hopeful.
“No,” Gerard’s mind told him, just as it had that day when he'd sat in front of the mirror and promised himself that this would go no further ever, it couldn’t. But it was a “Yeah” that fell from his lips, and then it was Mikey who kissed them.
---<---<---@
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Incest, profanity
Pairing: Gerard Way/Mikey Way
Word Count: ~1,200
Summary: It’s not like he didn’t try to stop it. Really, he wants to say to anyone who will listen (except nobody knows because he hasn’t told anyone and nor has Mikey - neither of them ever will so the only one who knows is God, but that’s already one person too many). Really, he fought it for a long time, he did, but nobody can be 100% perfect and nobody can always, always resist. Not everyone can be… well, God.
Author's Notes: Wrote this like two years ago (I am really, really bad at cross-posting). And for the record, I do not own either Way, obviously. No way. Ahh-haa... /lame.
---<---<---@
It’s not like he didn’t try to stop it.
Really, he wants to say to anyone who will listen (except nobody knows because he hasn’t told anyone and nor has Mikey - neither of them ever will so the only one who knows is God, but that’s already one person too many). Really, he fought it for a long time, he did, but nobody can be 100% perfect and nobody can always, always resist. Not everyone can be… well, God.
When the sun was blocked out by a shadow that summer afternoon in the garden, Gerard didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. He was tucked into himself, leaning against a tree in the part of the back yard that their parents never frequented, that he wasn’t even sure they knew about because you sort of had to crawl under bushes to get there, and it probably wasn’t technically a part of their land but it was an annex that no one knew existed so it might as well have been theirs and really, there was no truer form of ownership than the deep groove in the dirt underneath the tangled foliage from all the times he and Mikey had got down on their stomachs and shimmied underneath.
“Hey, Gee,” Mikey breathed softly and then, only then did Gerard look up. A little sunlight had found its way around each side of his brother’s skinny silhouette and in the second before he squinted and had to close his eyes, he fancied that Mikey looked like an angel.
Gerard swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, forced his eyelids to pry themselves apart then shifted over so Mikey could lean against the tree trunk too. As he moved, the sun slipped behind a tall… fir? He wanted to say it was a fir. It was tall and sort of pencil-shaped, but the branches were kind of puffed out because of all the little needles that stuck out from them. Like the hairs on puppies or something, when the puppies are really tiny but they have all this fluff so they look big.
This, he thought, was why he drew rather than wrote - he couldn’t explain what something looked like for shit, but give him a pencil and some paper and he’d capture its essence perfectly.
Mikey leaned up against him, sort of cuddling into his arm, and to Gerard it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Truthfully he didn’t even notice the sparks anymore (not really) because he caught them the first time they happened and once he got over the initial shock he sat himself down on his bed and looked in the mirror, telling himself firmly “Gerard, no” like he was the puppy, the puppy with the hair that looked like the fir tree.
Sometimes, Gerard thought he was quite mad. Then Mikey would thumb his jaw line, trace it with his fingertips, and tell him that people who saw the world differently made life more interesting, and Gerard would wonder whether Mikey was really younger than him, really really, because he seemed so much more together than Gerard thought he himself could ever be.
“You’ve been here awhile,” Mikey said, voice quiet and non-accusatory. They’d both been staring ahead at the fir tree, but now Gerard turned his head towards his brother and Mikey did the same, as if in tandem. Gerard didn’t know whether it was because Mikey had felt his muscles move or simply chosen to engage the telepathy they’d shared always but had evolved to turn on and off at will. The stripe of sunlight that slashed across Mikey’s face from between the shadows of the fir and the bushes made his eyes look lighter, but they were still big and brown and oh, Gerard needed to stop this line of thinking, nip it in the bud as it were, before it got him into trouble. (Did firs have buds? Gerard slept through most of his Biology classes.)
“Yeah,” Gerard responded simply, “it’s been a few hours.” He thought about adding that he didn’t really feel like doing much else except sitting and just thinking, thinking about things that weren’t emotionally charged or in any way important, but Mikey already knew all that. He just did. He was Mikey.
So when Mikey bit a pale pink lip and said, “Gee” a little more desperately than he had the first time, Gerard didn’t think anything of it because, well, it was Mikey, but then Mikey leaned forward and whispered, “Listen,” and something in his face told Gerard this was different, this was something new, and he thought he knew everything about Mikey so it kind of scared him.
Still, “Okay,” he whispered back because yeah, it was Mikey, and how could he not?
Mikey looked nervous. He licked his lips. “You,” he paused and licked his lips again, and Gerard wished he would stop doing that, “you don’t have to do this back, but either way, it can stay here and nobody else needs to know about it. It can be our perfect secret, like the garden, okay?”
Gerard nodded, tearing his gaze from Mikey’s lips just long enough to see the look of earnest in his eyes.
“Fuck,” Mikey said, expelling all the air from his lungs with one word like a sigh. “Close your eyes.”
And now Gerard really, really didn’t know what was going on, but he trusted Mikey and so did as he asked. When he felt Mikey’s gentle breath against the side of his face he figured his brother was leaning in close to whisper a secret just like he'd done all those times when they were young - but when he drew forward to hear better and met Mikey’s lips instead, well, that was new.
“Shit!” he gasped, drawing back like he’d been scalded, grazing his elbow on the side of the tree trunk. “Oh, God, Mikey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry -”
“Gerard,” Mikey said coolly, and why the hell was he being so calm? “What would you say,” and his voice cracked on the last syllable so maybe he wasn’t so calm after all, “if I asked you to do that again?”
Gerard blinked at him. “Ah…?” he said carefully, making sure to punctuate the utterance with a question mark.
Mikey laughed and it made Gerard melt a little bit inside. “You’re so dense. Kiss me again?”
And Gerard stared because, wait, what? A flash of doubt and fear and - no, something stronger, something more akin to terror - crossed Mikey’s dark eyes and then Gerard understood, really understood, and his stomach felt like ice because as much as he wanted it he knew it was wrong.
“We can’t, Mikey, we can’t, we’re -” (he wanted to say “brothers” but he couldn’t) “related, Mikey, it’s wrong…”
“But you want to,” Mikey said, quiet and earnest and hopeful.
“No,” Gerard’s mind told him, just as it had that day when he'd sat in front of the mirror and promised himself that this would go no further ever, it couldn’t. But it was a “Yeah” that fell from his lips, and then it was Mikey who kissed them.
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