He's Not Holy

Hey, everyone! Sorry for the wait, I promise I'll try and get these things out faster from now on, haha! Well, I have to thank the people who reviewed-- I was actually kind of nervous to start a fanfic again. It's been so long! But thank you to the people who praised me. ^_^b

Well, on to chapter two of He's Not Holy! Enjoy!

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The constant ringing in his left ear was beginning to drill through his skull and rattle his brain. Mikey twisted his pinky inside the hot hole (no pun intended, but upon thinking of it a few moments later, he couldn't help but smile to himself), but it didn't really help. He wiped his finger on his jeans, just in case. How long had it been since he had a real decent shower? How long had they been touring? Fuck, the new bus was nice, but it didn't have a shower. Just a cramped little room with a toilet. They used the "kitchen" sink to wash their hands, when they remembered.

Maybe it would go away after a while. The ringing, that is. He could barely even remember what had caused it. Maybe it was when he tuned his bass the night before? He had kneeled right in front of the amp when Frank had punched a riff on his guitar. Bang. Boom. The screeching could have sent his eardrum into shock. But whatever. He didn't want to worry about medical issues at the moment- it was one of the very few days he could relax. The show was cancelled that night. Bob caught the flu, and passed it along to Ray and Frank. Luckily, they were now in confinement (AKA, in the bedroom- Gerard and Mikey slept on the couch) and Mikey didn't have to worry about catching an illness. It was the last thing he needed.

Actually, that was a lie. The last thing he needed was NOT to get sick. Because then he wouldn't be left alone with his brother. Isn't that sad? Shouldn't brothers be close?

Yes. But not that close. And maybe if Mikey got sick, his girlfriend would come by and take care of him.

Oh, yeah, right. He was hours away from her. Alicia wouldn't drive for hours on end for a flu. Get a grip. But maybe then he would be able to hack out his lungs and vomit up his intestines with his friends, instead of sharing nights of awkward silence with Gerard.

Gerard.

Just thinking of his name made his skin crawl. He shifted where he sat and stared away from the magazine he was reading, somewhere off to the left, before up at the round light in the tourbus ceiling.

While being absolutely uncomfortable with the thought, he often envied Gerard on his looks. His soft, pale skin and devious eyes that could fool anybody into thinking he was a saint. Mikey had always been awkward, lanky, some parts of his body never seemed to be able to fall into line with the rest of him- he'd always be off somehow. He supposed that since he got his hair styled, and left his glasses behind, he looked somewhat better. The new look did him good. Gerard approved of it.

Alicia. He meant Alicia did. That's what he cared about. His brother could think what he wanted.

Why was it the first name to pop in mind?

Mikey's face fell just slightly, wallowing in his own pseudo-shame. How could he? How could he?

"Hey, Mikey Mouse!"

A flutter filled the air as the magazine dropped from Mikey's jumpy hands and hit the ground after bouncing off his lap. He looked up to see twin hazel-green. Shit. Oh shit. Oh fucking shit.

"Hey, Gee." Mikey raised a hand as he bent to scoop the magazine back up. He figured he wouldn't bee needing it anymore since he was now no longer alone.

"'Hey, Gee'? That's all I get? Where's my fucking welcoming committee? After I braved the terrible outdoors to get us all coffee, too!" Gerard mock-pouted those lips. Those fucking lips. Mikey looked away, and shrugged a shoulder. He hadn't even noticed that the bus had stopped momentarily to let Gerard back on. Were they just circling the parking lot this whole time?

"I'm not going to stand and cheer whenever you walk into a room, Gee." Mikey scowled slightly, and added a few choice words under his breath.

He flinched when he felt the air around him suffocate just slightly. He looked back toward his brother to see that he was but a mere few inches from his face. His eyes were serious, wide, holding some sort of interest or disgust that Mikey couldn't place. His lips were also serious, calm in a near terrifying way. He parted them for just a moment.

"You should." His voice was harboring something, maybe malice? Maybe something else? But he was standing straight and strutting down the hallway before he could place it exactly. He called their friends' names. Everything was back together.

Om.

Mikey leaned over to watch him move away toward the door that seperated his sick friends from the rest of the world. He watched his hips move just slightly, one hand balance the box-esque thing holding five cups of coffee. It only had four holes. But he managed to squeeze the fifth cup in the center of the square that the other cups made.

Damn. Gerard was attractive. There was nothing wrong with saying that your brother was attractive. Not at all. It was common. Mikey leaned back against the sofa and let his lungs whistle out a long sigh.

The skin that the soft pink touched still tingled. Trailing his fingertips up along the invisible line on his chest that Gerard had marked with his tongue, Mikey found himself licking his lips. Just wetting them. They were dry. That's all. They were just dry.

He remembered looking down at a mess of black before seeing those two marbles of brilliant color, followed by that pink. Ever since Gerard dyed his hair back to black and lost some weight, he was stunning. To say the least. Just the right size, not too big, not too small. He was feminine to the touch, which fit his flamboyant and theatrical attitude.

But even though he was gorgeous, Gerard needed to remember to keep his hands to himself. It seemed to be an ongoing problem with him. He just couldn't keep to himself. Even around his own brother.

He was a slut.

His little tainted angel.

Mikey ran his fingers through his hair and tugged just slightly out of frustration. The bus began to lurch to a stop. How long had they been travelling? He stopped counting after a few hours. Their shows were nearly city to city. Which was good, because staying too long in a bus filled with men was exhausting.

And rather foul smelling, at times.

The thought of the upcoming show made his stomach churn. He didn't want to go through it again. He didn't want Gerard's hands on him. It felt like a never-ending session of molestation. Most of all, he needed to find something to calm his nerves before the inevitable show the next day. Trying to quit smoking, he couldn't seem to think of anything else that could help. It was painfully obvious how tense he had recently gotten. No one but him could place why. And he didn't dare tell any of them. They all tried to help somehow, though. Ray would sometimes squeeze his shoulders in a mediocre backrub. Frank constantly tried to get him to laugh before they went onstage. Bob would sometimes even jokingly make him "meditate", which only served to make him feel more ridiculous.

Om.

Such good friends. Hah.

"Hey Mikey, I think I know what'll help."

God damn, how could he get in his head like that? His eyes turned up to Gerard, who was sipping his cup of coffee and holding one out for him. He took it cautiously, almost nervously.

"Help what?"

"You're spacing. Your jitters, of course."

Mikey parted his lips for a moment, then closed them. Then opened them again. "How did you know that's what I was thinking of?"

Gerard let out a laugh. It was a bit too knowing. It made Mikey uncomfortable. "I'm your older brother, man. I've known you since you shat in your diapers. But I think I can help."

It was interesting. Worth a shot. Mikey nodded just slightly, kept his mouth shut. A corner of Gerard's lips raised just slightly in an almost-smirk.

"Want to play a game, Mikers?"

A game? How cliche was that? Mikey rolled his eyes. It had to be one of the most-used lines ever. He didn't dare sip his coffee. Knowing Gerard, he could have slipped something in it on his way back to the bus. "A game," he scoffed, "sounds completely ridiculous. I'll get over it. Don't worry about me."

Gerard made a face. The look sort of reminded Mikey of how Hayley would look at Jeff in Hard Candy. It made his spine lock in place. He nodded his head.

"Mikey, I know you. The more you say 'don't worry', the more you want someone to dote over you. You did the same thing when you were seven and scraped you knee, or when you were four and sprained your ankle." Gerard took another sip as he watched Mikey shift. He was called out. Brought into the open with no more shields.

"So what. What's you're suggestion?"

"Do you remember what we used to play?"

Mikey shook his head. He honestly didn't.

And Gerard narrowed his eyes. "When we stayed the night at Jacob's house. I was thirteen. We played Truth or Dare. But it was more like Dare or Dare. We were stupid, shy little kids. But the more the other kids did, the more we were willing to do, and the more we came out of our shells. Remember?"

Well, shit. Would you look at that. "So what?" he said again. "What does that have to do with anything? We're grown men, Gerard."

"You feel ridiculous."

"I'll feel fine."

"You're lying."

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Grown men, hm?"

Feeling his face burn, Mikey crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back against the couch. Gerard leaned closer. Mikey stared him straight in the eyes.

"Anyway," his brother sighed, "I'm trying to help you. Because that's what brothers do. And if I feel ridiculous as well, then you might feel more comfortable."

"So what, it's like a sacrifice? How noble of you, you ass."

Gerard glared at him, but smiled none-the-less.

"Only for my baby brother."

In that moment, Mikey felt the nigh irresistable urge to take Gerard by the throat and snuff the life out of him. But he refrained. He forgot his earlier thought about his coffee and took a long drink. The caffiene was needed, suddenly.

"So tell me what you want, my Mikey Mouse. Tell me what you think would make you feel better."

The thought reminded the younger Way of a sleazy whore with running eyeliner who told her clients to pull her hair and spit on her. Tell him what he wanted? It felt so taboo. There was no way.

But.

Who was he to deny himself a little danger? He was never one to avoid the fire. He loved the burn.

"...How about..."

Pale, knowing lips smiled and revealed two rows of small teeth.