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Choices	By : twitchy Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Alice Cooper Views: 885 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Alice Cooper nor the members of his band. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Choices
- 2-No More Lies
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- 2
Chapter Title: No More Lies

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A tendril of warmth skated over his face, trailing slowly from his forehead down his nose to his lips. For almost a minute that warmth intensified, broadening to around his mouth, hovering in wait. He waited, wondering what would happen next. Sadly that heat moved, curving up to his cheekbone, pressing down in a soft gesture, before drawing away completely, leaving a blurry outline of a human head before his sleeping eyes.

“No, don’t go,” he murmured, reaching his hand out for the figure. His hand fell short of the face he knew was in front of him, fingers curling into the air uselessly. The head pulled further backwards, shrinking away. “Stay.”

Michael’s hand thumped against the mattress, empty as it always was, waking him from his dream. His eyes had started to lift, peering to the clock, seeing enough to know it was too early to be awake, but the heat that lingered underneath his arm piqued his interest. The fact that he was pressed to one side of his bed, not sprawled out like he was want to do, was also highly unusual. These curiosities had to be of significance, but he didn’t get to muse on them for long, distracted by the faint creak of the backdoor. The niggling suspicion that had been prodding at the back of his head since he woke up took to jabbing him more viciously, at last coercing him to look down to the side of his bed. At first he saw nothing of importance there, only his discarded clothes, but beside the pile, he saw something he couldn’t explain away, nor did he want to: Dennis’ shirt.

The events of the night returning to him he sprung out of bed; he scooped up the shirt and his own clothes, searching to see what else Dennis had left behind. Considering how Dennis’ pants were absent, he was willing to bet that Dennis had gone outside. Hurriedly dressing in his own pants Michael threw the two shirts onto his rumpled bed, moving as swiftly as his quiet footsteps would let him.

The pitch dark house slowed him down, making his exit a dangerous one. He avoided all objects by luck, a toe skimming objects at the last minute, telling him to veer one way or another. As he got closer to the door the natural illumination from outside crept into the house. Moving more confidently he took longer steps to the door, wincing at the same rusty creak when he opened it. Down the crooked steps he started across the lawn, not knowing where to go. The terrain made the decision for him, a raised root tripping him and nearly bringing him to his knees.

“God damn...” he started to hiss, hunched over with his hands on his knees, only to hear the rustle of heavy branches. Lifting his eyes off the guilty tree to the wooded area bordering their property, he spied a tall figure stepping into the woods, not all the way in, allowing moonlight to cast over pale skin. It made the man look like a ghost, silver flesh offset by long dark hair. His hand on a low-lying branch he pushed it up, slipping into the woods. Afraid that he would lose him if he kept staring, Michael broke out of his immobile state, rushing across the lawn, ignoring the sharp pains of stones and twigs digging into his bare feet.

His sprint did nothing to catch up with Dennis. Losing track of him within the shadows between the trees, Michael slowed his pace, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He was almost certain he had lost him for good, having not seen any sign of him for five minutes. Giving up he started to turn around; he barely took a step to his left, only to find Dennis staring at him, leaning back against a tree, his leg bent and foot pressed to the trunk. “Is there a reason why you followed me?” Dennis asked.

He hoped that Dennis couldn’t see how his cheeks glowed. “I heard someone leave, I didn’t know who it was, and that’s why I came out here.”

Dennis looked away, bowing his face as he twisted his lips. “You don’t lie very well.”

“What?” Expression and tone indignant Michael stepped closer. “I’m not lying.”

Lifting his head long enough to give him a once over, Dennis made a sound of disbelief. “In order to get to your clothes you would have realised half of my clothes weren’t in your room anymore,” he reminded.

His face burned even more at being caught. “Well, you weren’t there – and I did tell you could leave early,” Michael pointed out, hardening his tone as his words from a few hours ago came back to him.

“And you just came outside to get some fresh air?” Dennis asked, looking at him doubtfully.

“I wanted to see who it was who needed so desperately to sneak out during the middle of the night,” Michael retaliated. “And guess what – I found you. Why are you sneaking out at four in the morning?”

“I needed to be alone to think.” All accusations gone Dennis’ face relaxed; settling back against the tree, he tipped his head back, lifting his chin to the treetops overheard, eyes peering up even further. Wondering what he found so fascinating Michael lifted his gaze as well. The smattering of stars looking down at him from between dark green leaves had a similar effect on him, convincing himself it was safe to let his guard down. “It’s quiet enough that the only thing I hear is me.”

Feeling guilty all over again Michael took a step back. Looking around, trying to remember which way he came from, he started in the direction where he could vaguely see footprints in the dry earth. “I ruined both of those for you, so I’ll just apologise and get going.”

“I’m thinking about you.” Michael stopped from where he stood, about to turn onto the bend of the path that would take him away from Dennis and his words. He looked over his shoulder, staring back in disbelief. “Since my thoughts concern you, you should stay.”

Not certain that he was hearing correctly Michael turned around slowly. “But you just said you needed to be alone.”

“And you told me it was better if I didn’t go,” Dennis countered. Stepping away from the tree he walked over to Michael, who seemed to have taken root just like the forest they stood in. “Just how different is ‘you should stay’ from ‘it would be better if you didn’t go?’”

“Not much of a difference.” It seemed like the trees had swallowed up his voice, making it sound tiny. In the dark he could feel the cold air encompassing him but Dennis standing in front of him blocked off some of the chill. Michael had to wonder if Dennis was as cold as he was, or if his hands were as warm as they were earlier. He lowered his eyes, trying not to think of the past, even if it was only a matter of hours since that time. “Do I want to know why you’re thinking about me?”

“You should be asking yourself that, but since you’re asking me, I’d like you to know,” Dennis replied. Swallowing tightly Michael nodded. “When you asked me not to go, and I asked why, did you lie to me? Or were you scared?”

“Why do you presume I’m always lying?” Anger flashing in his eyes, helping to disguise the fear that had struck him with those questions, Michael looked up from his feet, no longer shuffling as he squared off. “I told you that the others would see you leave, and that they’d get suspicious. Why do you doubt me?”

“I doubt you because you never answered my first question,” Dennis stated calmly. “You never told me if you were demonstrating your freewill, or –if there was something else...” The calm edge started to crumble, and he looked back up to the sky, as if the stars had his words. “And I need to know that, because...”

“Because what?” Michael asked, his stance relaxing as Dennis usual quiet strength faded. Unconsciously his fingers drifted to his shoulder, hand reacquainting itself with the red marks he had left behind.

Breathing deeply Dennis returned his gaze to Michael’s, expression yearning in a way that Michael had to wonder if there was something beyond an answer that he needed. “I want to know if it – if this will mean something to you.”

“If what means--” Michael never got to ask his question, Dennis kissing him instead. The viciousness that started the game that night wasn’t in play, substituted by a quiet but truthful longing that made it just as intense, if not better, judging by how he curled his fingers tighter into Dennis’ shoulder, kissing him back with the same desperation. He didn’t want to pull away, but knowing that Dennis deserved a real answer he gently pulled his head back, just enough so his words brushed Dennis’ lips. “If it was anyone other than you I never would have done it. I wanted to choose, but only if it was you. It meant something to me, I just didn’t want you think it had to mean something to you.”

“What if it did mean something to me?” Dennis asked, brushing his fingers over his cheekbone.

Michael smiled as a single fingertip pressed to his cheekbone, precisely where the kiss in his dream lingered. “I’d be tempted to say lucky me, but I think it would be more accurate to say lucky us.”

If it weren’t for the smile on Dennis’ face the shake of his head would have been reproving. “I see you’re still thinking about yourself.”

Michael smirked, pulling Dennis in closer by his shoulder, Dennis own hand obligingly sliding down to curve around his neck. “If you mean I’m thinking about what else I can do to you, yes,” Michael elaborated. There was no need for initiation, both of them willingly moving into another kiss, the heat building up between them with each passing second. Into the second minute, hands creeping lower, the sound of breaking underbrush grabbed their attention. Dennis stopped his descent, jerking back up and taking a step back, just in time for Glen to traverse their path.

“What are you doing out here?” Glen asked, looking at the two of them with surprise.

“Getting some fresh air,” Michael replied, smoothing down the back of his hair.

“Thinking out loud,” Dennis added with a nod of his head.

Glen tried not to stare at the finger-shaped bruises on Dennis’ shoulder, but then his gaze went straight to Michael’s hand, fingers flexing and straightening repeatedly. His surprise ebbed into suspicion, before turning to confirmation as he looked back to Dennis shoulder. Keeping his smile to himself, he lifted his hand up in a short wave. “Well, have fun with the owls. I’m done my walk and am going to bed.”

Quickening his steps Glen followed the path back to the house; he paused as the trees made way to roughly mowed lawn, imagining somewhere in the depths of the woods he had heard a moan. This time he didn’t hold back his grin.
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