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Boxing Day	By : ginseng Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Slipknot Views: 1380 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. It didn't happen. This fiction in no way represents the people mentioned within. I do not know the members of Slipknot. I do not profit from these stories.

Chapter List
- 1-Boxing Day
- 1
Title: Boxing Day
Author: ginseng
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Mick/Corey
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. It didn’t happen. This fiction in no way represents the people mentioned within. I do not know the members of Slipknot. I do not profit from these stories.
Summary: Mick enjoys the peace and quiet. Snow falls out side, he reads and pets his cat. Corey on the other hand is having the worst day of his life. He's lucky that Mick's there to comfort him.

He woke up by a low, hoarse yelping and the squeaking of damp paws against the inside of the bedroom window. He fumbled to reach the lamp on the bedside table. In the faint light he saw Moose on her hind legs staring out the window and scratching the glass. It was snowing, large white, fluffy flakes. He sighed.

“Cut it out Moose. And grow up will you; you behave like you’ve never seen snow before.”

Moose turned her head towards her master and looked him in the eyes. She stretched her back before she jumped on to the bed. She pawed his naked chest and meowed obnoxiously.

“I know it is falling strange fluff from the sky but there’s no use nagging me to let you out because you can’t eat it. Trust me.” Mick said to his cat.

He petted her rather firmly on the head, the way she liked it. The comeback was instant, the cat purred loudly. Soon enough she began to drool. Mick looked compassionately at the black cat. She was getting old, after a lot of thinking and some counting Mick came to the conclusion that she must have been twelve years old. Still she was silly and naïve as a young kitten. At Christmas Eve she courted a stuffed reindeer.

He got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. The floor felt cold under his feet and Moose tried to catch his toes. Mick was used to the game and knew that if he’d only ignore her she would get tired of it quickly. He took off his boxers, kicked them in the direction of the laundry basket and made a small victory dance when he hit it. Moose moseyed around the bathroom while he took a shower. He got out and dried himself off with quick, efficient strokes with the grey towel. He put on an old pajama. He never wore it to bed but often around the house when he was all alone. The cat lay by his feet as he brushed and dried his long, black hair. Eventually she got impatient and began to meow and rub recklessly against his legs.

When he finally walked down to the kitchen Moose ran ahead and placed herself right by her bowl. It was black with white skulls painted on it. He poured the cat food and stepped aside. Moose literally threw herself over the breakfast like she’d never smelled anything so delicious before.

That’s it, the tall man thought, the day I react like that to a bowl of Kitekat Chunks In Jelly I’ll hope someone have the decency to put me to sleep. He made coffee and waffles, which he ate while reading the Des Moines Register. He was in no hurry. They were on hiatus and he had nothing booked until well after New Year’s. He put the plate in the dishwasher and poured another cup of coffee.

He stacked the birch logs in the fireplace, tucked some wrinkled up newspapers in-between them and lit the fire. He got comfortable on the couch and began to read the book that he had gotten from his sister for Christmas. A new CD played quietly in the background. Moose joined him on the couch and fell asleep by his feet. This was the best part of Christmas, he thought happily, peace and quiet.

Around two o’clock he got a bit peckish and made a sandwich out of the turkey leftovers. Without much hesitation he washed the lunch down with a Heineken and two shots of bourbon. He didn’t get dressed until it was getting dark. He sat down at the kitchen table and wrote a list of things he needed from the grocery store. Moose slept heavily due to her chunks in jelly binge.

He lived close to a shopping center and braced himself for the confrontation with the harsh reality. It was unusually crowded and he had to jostle his way to the supermarket. It was quieter inside. He got almost everything on his list except for his favorite pineapple salsa. They were all out.

When he got back on the street the multitude of people stressed him out. They were all over the place exchanging Christmas gifts. Mick put his bags in his car and walked over to Blockbuster. He planned to spend the rest of the evening with some mind-numbing action and a couple of beers. He smiled as he thought about his upcoming evening on his couch. The smile changed to a frown when he slipped on the icy sidewalk.

The winters weren’t what they used to be. It wasn’t cold enough and the streets were covered with slush that made it slippery and not half as pretty as when covered in snow. He longed for the kind of winters they had when he was a child; cold, lots of snow, crisp air, snow fights and roasted chestnuts. He was wondering where he could get some chestnuts when a bright red car drove right by him and splashed icy, grey water all over him. He jumped back and began to curse the reckless driver.

He watched as the car almost hit a man that was walking cross the street. The poor guy dropped his bags and a rather familiar beanie. He spun around, lost his balance and fell into a large pool of mushy water. A long sequence of violent curses echoed through the shopping center and a head of strawberry blond hair appeared behind a trashcan.

Mick walked over there. They looked at each other then at the car that was driving around the corner. The cursing stopped and he began to cry instead. Mick felt like his heart would break and pulled the shorter man up and into a tight embrace.

“I hate being sober this time of the year.” Corey spoke into the chest of his friend. “It’s too fucking hard!”

“Where’s your car?”

“In the shop, I took a cab. My whole day’s been a fucking mess. I need a drink so bad!”

“Come on, I’ll take you to my place. You’re completely soaked. And so am I.”

“Okay,” he sniffled and let go of the large man.

Mick held his arm around Corey’s shoulders and led him into his home. They left a wet and dirty trail after them. Mick kicked off his boots and carried the bags to the kitchen. Corey’s were drenched so he placed them in the sink. A small, grey puddle emerged around the singer’s feet and Moose, who had woken by all the commotion, dipped her paw in it tryingly while meowing nervously.

Mick watched the soaked man. He looked miserable and small.

“Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes? There are plenty of towels in the cupboard right next to the bathroom door. Just grab something dry to wear out of my closet and if you hand me you stuff I’ll wash them for you. Okay?”

Corey disappeared upstairs without a word. Mick took out a bucket and a mop and cleaned the floor. He went to his bedroom, concerned for his companion. He heard him cussing and sobbing in the bathroom. He knocked on the door quietly.

“How are you doing? You want coffee?”

A loud sigh was heard from the other side of the door.

“What I want is vodka and plenty of it but I guess coffee will do.”

Mick smiled, proud of his struggling friend, and went downstairs. He made two espressos. His eyes caught the bourbon sitting on the kitchen counter. He took two shots and put the bottle away. The tapping of naked feet on the hardwood floor made him turn around. Mick swallowed. The football shirt was big on him but on Corey it was huge. He looked small and vulnerable in the oversized shirt. He was adorable with all that red hair in a total mess and those sad, sad eyes.

Usually he didn’t allow people to smoke in his home but decided that this was a time where rules didn’t matter. He knew Corey was dying for a smoke so he gave him a saucer to use as an ashtray and nodded consentingly to his unhappy band mate.

Corey lit his cigarette and took two deep drags before he exhaled.

“I’m sorry for making a mess and disturbing your much wanted peace and quiet,“ Corey smiled weakly.

“Please Corey, don’t…” Mick spoke softly. ”I was the one to drag you all the way over here. Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself when you fell? How are you doing? Talk to me shortcake.”

Long, red hair covered his face when he looked down on his hands.

“I’m okay. Hurt my ass but I’ve been worse. I’m just so fucking tired. Seems like we’ve gotten to a point where it’s easier staying sober on tour that it is at home. Sick, huh?”

He looked up at his taller colleague and blushed. Corey turned to his bags that were sitting in the sink, marking the end of the discussion. The two men examined the contents of the bags; small, colourful pieces of glass.

“What was it?” Mick wondered.

“Twelve fucking outrageously expensive Orrefors wineglasses from Sweden.“ he sighed. “But they didn’t suit my stuck up mother-in-law. Didn’t go well with her dining room wallpaper. So they sent me out to get them in a more fitting colour.”

Corey put out his cigarette, lit another one and hit the counter with his fist in anger.

“I’m fucking glad they broke. I wish I could break that bitch and her wimpy daughter like these glasses.” He shook the bags so the glass rattled. .

Corey looked up at Mick, eyes burned with rage. Mick had seen it before and knew what Corey needed. He reached out his large hand and stroked Corey’s cheek. The soft touch soothed his fury.

“Thank you for being here for me. I’ve missed you.” Corey wrapped his arms around his large partner and leaned his cheek on Mick’s comfortable chest. “You smell like bourbon. Better brush you teeth if you want me to kiss you.”

“No problem. I was thinking about taking a shower. Better get out of these wet and cold clothes. Why don’t you join me and make sure I’ll brush my teeth?”

“Love to.” Corey downed the rest of his coffee quickly.

To save time Mick began to undress while walking upstairs. By the time they reached the bathroom they were both naked. Mick picked up Corey’s clothes from the bathroom floor and stuffed them into the washing machine before he brushed his teeth as he had promised. He turned on the shower and from under the warm spray he watched his friend. Corey was occupied with biting the nail of his index finger. He looked fragile but very, very beautiful. Mick grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him close.

Mick turned the singer around and began to wash his back. Two strong thumbs pressed down on each side of Corey’s massive neck, carefully loosening the knots. He moved upward and washed the long, red strands before finally turning him around so that they could kiss. It was soft and comfortable. Corey turned off the water and led the larger man into the bedroom. Unhurriedly they dried each other. Soft terry cloth against naked skin, followed by kisses and the feather light touch of fingertips, left the men hard.

No longer fed up or angry Corey smiled when his partner entered him. In Mick’s arms he was safe and absolutely free. They moved together, like so many times before. Their intimacy was steadfast and strong. With a rush of pleasure that swept down his spine Mick let go. Feeling Mick come deep inside of him was the connection Corey needed. To Mick the bond was mutual; with Corey everything was so complete.

Back in the living room, Mick lit another fire and they cuddled together on the couch. Corey picked up the book.

“What are you reading?”

“Oh, something I got for Christmas. It’s… weird. It’s about an old man that lives with his grandson. He’s a serial killer that abuses his grandchild. It’s written in an old-fashioned Minnesota dialect. It’s totally sick but funny in a sardonic kind of way. I got it from my sister. I think she’d thought I get a kick out of it because our grandmother speaks that way.”

Corey snuggled closer, rested his head on Mick’s chest, enjoying the warmth.

“Read to me? Please.”

“Okay.”

Mick began to read out loud, he spoke the words slow and carefully the way his grandmother would have pronounced them.

“…life lurks around the corner but the world seems rather foreign. Darkness lasts almost all year around when you’re that close to the tundra, with the cutting wind and a constant slaughter of the soul…”

Each chapter more repulsive and perverted than the previous one but to Corey it was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard.

“… that’s where we came from, and where we were going. You might as well get out of the habit of living…”

Mick’s low and powerful voice, reading steadily, was soothing like the darkness of a game arcade on a hot summer’s day.

“… I followed in stupor, into the shadows and the quiet cold, entering solitude…”

When Corey fell asleep Mick put the book down. He listened to the fire crackling and Corey’s slow breathing. Moose lay on the top of the couch and watched them closely. The peace and quiet was interrupted by Corey’s cell phone. The ring tone told them it was his wife. Corey lifted his head and looked Mick in the eyes.

“Can I stay here? With you?”

***
The end
- 1
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Boxing Day