Marlon Brando by Plague 1 of 2

THIS IS NOT MY STORY! I DID NOT WRITE THIS! THIS STORY WAS WRITTEN BY PLAGUE UPON WORDS! ON WWW.SLIPKNOTSLASH.COM

Ok Well, here's the story. Basically about a Year and a half ago, There was a site called www.slipknotslash.com. It was an amazing site, but sadly, one day it crashed and was never seem again.

There was one author called 'Plague Upon words' who's stories where so god damn amazing I found myself printing them out and putting them in folders so I could re-read them whenever I felt like.

Me being the fucking blonde I am, was stupid enough to not save them on the computer. -_-  Le sigh

Anywho! Plague Upon Words sadly did not post her stories on any other website, meaning her stories were gone for good *Sobs* D;

FORTUNATLY! I still have a surviving copy of 4 of the stories.

If anyone else has any information about these amazing works, PLEASE! Let me know <3

I sorely miss two of the stories I was unable to rescue in time (The unfinished ones)

And Plague, if your reading this......I hope you're not mad I'm doing this : ( Your work is too amazing to just be forgotten about. <3

So without further or do, I present to you, Plague's 20 page oneshot:


Marlon Brando

The Road of life twists and turns and no two directions are ever the same. Yet our lessons come from the journey, not the destination. – Don Williams Jr.
                
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Joey had his doubts about this journey. He wasn't going to voice them though of course, for fear of being left behind. Not that they could really leave their drummer behind, but sometimes the level of common sense in the band dropped below zero. 'Don't take shit' seemed to be their motto, but often it left them in it.

Everyone seemed to be in a hurry, except for him. He didn't really seem to have anything to do, and if he'd been given a job he'd forgotten it. He wasn't entirely sure what half the guys were doing – Shawn seemed to be the only person doing anything remotely useful. Of course, Sid could be doing something useful in the equipment trailer, but judging from the noise he probably wasn't.

He shifted awkwardly on the spot. He was excited, for sure, who wouldn't be after they'd managed to score a record contract with the biggest label in metal and a gig recording with one of its greatest producers? They'd finally made it, shoved their middle fingers up to the city of Des Moines, and they were on their way to Malibu, of all goddamn places. But there it was. It was a three day journey to California, and he had to spend it shoved in a van with a bunch of band mates whose predilections for liking him seemed to depend on which side of the bed they'd woken up on.

Mick suddenly bumped into him carrying a road case and owing to the significant size differences between the two, Joey found himself shoved too far off balance to recover. He sprawled onto the pavement, carefully coffered hair flying everywhere and his hand crashing into bits of gravel. He sat for a moment, trying to regain his senses. Mick had tottered off with the road case, presumably to the trailer. He wiped his hands slowly, slightly embarrassed at having fallen over in front of everyone. He felt even more stupid than he had before.

"Jo, I'm sorry," came a voice from behind him, and almost at the same time he felt a large pair of hands grip his waist. Mick pulled him to his feet and he swayed for a minute before he found his footing.

"It's ok," Joey said, blushing, and glad Mick couldn't see his face. He looked down just in case anyone else could. Mick probably thought him enough of a dick already. "Uh, thanks," he said, turning his head, but Mick had already gone. Figures.

"Come on!" Jim roared happily, clapping Joey on the shoulder so hard he nearly fell over again. "We're ready. Time to move, bud." He kept going , hopping into the vented van Craig was driving. They'd hired three vans for the occasion, but he wasn't too sure which one he was supposed to be going in. Everyone else seemed to know though, so he decided to wait until they'd divided themselves up.

"Oi! Joey! Hurry up, you're with us!" Shawn yelled at him, waving out the drivers side window. Joey sighed with relief and picked up his bag before making his way over. He wasn't sure who else was in the van with them , and was blissfully unaware until he slid the door closed behind him and looked up. The van was positively overflowing with gear and bags. It was almost insane, the amount of gear they'd ended up needing to take.

The first two rows of seats were filled up to the roof. That left only the back row, which Mick – Mick! – was already occupying. Joey thought about taking the front seat next to Shawn, but a quick look told him the percussionist has already piled all his stuff on it. Joey hefted his bag up over his shoulder and stepped carefully over a hastily stowed roadcase before dropping himself in the seat next to Mick.

He wondered if they were going to be sharing the same van all the way, It wasn't as though he didn't like Mick – far from it. His crush had meant he'd had difficulties even talking to Mick lately, and being in such close quarters to him would only mean more awkwardness. The man in question didn't even look at him as he sat, just continued to stare out the window. And they hadn't even started the engine yet. Awesome.

Joey sighed and laid his head against the back of the seat. He wondered what the hold up was. Somebody had probably forgotten something, as per fucking usual. As he normally did in times of boredom, he stared at his nails. He'd painted them again last night, black of course, but the polish on the index finger on his right hand had chipped. Probably from falling over. He'd have to touch it up again when they reached their motel.

His hair was still a bit mussed, and he tried to smooth it down. His hairbrush was in his suitcase, which was in a van... somewhere... so his fingers had to do. He was paranoid about his hair, and hated for it to be even a little out of place. He wasn't aware Mick had turned his head to stare at him until he happened to look over, just after he'd fixed his hair to his satisfaction.

He paused, slightly shocked that Mick had been watching him and he hadn't realised. It made him feel almost silly, being so fussy over his hair. That was probably why Mick was staring so intently. He almost withered under the glare, his voice frozen in his throat so he couldn't speak. When the engine started up and startled Mick out of his reverie he felt relief.

It had almost been a calculating stare. As if Mick was trying to decide something...but what? Maybe he knew. The thought made Joey slide down in his seat, embarrassed. He hoped he hadn't been too obvious. He did a lot of gawking, he knew that. But he couldn't help it. If he had a crush, he had a crush. Big deal. Right?

He sighed and thumped his head against the seat. He was the only guy in the band into.... other guys. Not that any of them cared. In fact they seemed to accept it so well he sometimes thought they had some sort of an ulterior motive. It was an uncomfortable thought, and he decided to think about something else.

The van was moving through the quiet streets of Des Moines now, and Joey took one last look at the city he called home. While they weren't going away for long, it was a journey so exceptional and crazy he knew he wouldn't be the same person on their return. He wondered if any of the other felt the same was as him. He doubted it.

*

They had been driving for nearly 3 hours now, and still Mick hadn't said a word. Joey was more convinced than ever that Mick harboured some sort of dislike for him, and it was extremely disconcerting to know that he was going to be spending the next few days stuck in the same vehicle as him, trying to avoid eye contact and having to learn how to be silent. Especially when all he wanted was to know Mick better, and perhaps somewhat satisfy the crush that had been tormenting him for months.

They pulled into a nearly deserted truck stop, one that looked exactly the same as several others they'd passed on their drive, right down to the faded swinging sign hanging out the front. It was time to gas up and grab some food, and Joey took the chance to stretch his legs. The others were all laughing and chattering as they gathered on the forecourt and Joey was well aware of the silence that he and Mick held as they approached.

But to his interest, Mick didn't perk up as they reached them. He stood at the back, that same blank look on his face that he'd been wearing since they left Des Moines. It intrigued Joey, and he had to consider that perhaps there'd been some sort of event in Mick's life in the past few days that had caused it. Not that he'd ever get the opportunity to ask.

He loaded himself up with drinks and snacks and lumbered with his purchases back to the van. Mick hadn't arrived back yet, but Joey took his seat and sorted out his shit. He knew he ought to be ashamed about all the junk food, and as if to convince himself he hadn't really bought it he shoved it in his bag, out of sight. He'd eat all of it later.

People would tease him about how skinny and frail he looked, but it wasn't due to a lack of food. He just had a high metabolism. That, and he played drums. That would make any person skinny. It might not have been a healthy one, but he sure has an appetite.

He watched Mick make his way back to the van. The look on his face had changed a little, as if he was slightly sad about something. Joey was curious, but his sense of propriety refused to allow him to ask. He would just wonder, and make up all sorts of crazy scenarios in his head instead.

Joey had to move to allow Mick to return to his seat, and he didn't realise it until Mick was standing in front of him. The guitarist just stared, through black sunglasses, but he stared nonetheless. Joey stood up, apologetic, but found himself with nowhere to go. He needed Mick to move backwards so he could slip into the row of seats in front, but Mick wasn't going anywhere. Joey supposed this was punishment for not waiting for Mick before he sat down.

In the end he settled for climbing back onto his seat, legs and all, and squashing himself as small as he could get so Mick could shuffle past him. It wasn't enough that he was the smallest person in the band, he had to be made continuously aware of it. Silently, he rearranged himself back into a sitting position and pulled a chocolate bar out of his bag. He needed to make himself feel better.

*

He drifted off to sleep somewhere near the Kansas border. In his dreams he didn't feel his head banging against the window with every turn and corner the van made, and he didn't see the man across from him watch him sleep.

*

The loud slamming of doors and raised voices woke Joey from his slumber. He stretched, his back stiff and sore from sleeping in a bad position. He groaned with pain, screwing his face up.

"I would have thought your head would have hurt more," He heard someone say.

His head snapped over to where Mick was sitting, watching his with a wry smile. He spoke again. "It spent most of the time slamming against the window."

Subconsciously, Joey rubbed his head. Now that Mick mentioned it... it did feel a bit sore. He was still to sleepy to talk, and relaxed back against the seat, his hand still on his head and his eyes starting to droop.

"Come on sleepy head. At least let me out before you go back to sleep. We're at the motel anyway." Mick was picking up his bags, and it seemed he wanted out. Joey found his bag and stuffed his things back in it before making his way out of the van.

Just like at Shawn's place before they were getting ready to leave, it was disorganised chaos. Cash flow problems meant they could only rent 3 rooms, and considering each room had only a double and a single, there was some serious debating going on. Sid was threatening to sleep in the van, but considering it was the beginning of winter Joey seriously doubted he was going to follow through on that one.

He didn't really care where he ended up sleeping. Hell, he'd sleep in the bathtub if he had too. Ever since he was a kid, he'd had a prodigious ability to sleep when, and wherever, he wanted. It was a habit that tended to annoy the others, especially when they were unable to do the same. But he should have guessed that because of his size, he'd be made to share the double with someone.

Shawn came up to him. "We're sleeping in the same groups we're travelling in. Me and you got the double. Mick" – he pointed to him – "has the single. Get your suitcase. We're in room 34."

Joey duly did as he was told. He found his suitcase and heaved it with him to room 34. It was small, dingy and dark. He shuddered at the thought of the cockroaches that surely had to be roaming around and vowed to sleep in his clothes. He dumped his bag and suitcase on the carpet, avoiding something that looked suspiciously like a blood stain. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, and thought about joining Sid in the van.

"Cheer up little one. We're only here for the night," Mick said cheerfully, throwing his bag onto the single. It was alright for him – he didn't have to share a bed with Shawn. The guitarist headed for the bathroom, stopping to muss up the hair that Joey had worked so hard to tame after his sleep.

"Your fuss too much over your hair," Mick threw over his shoulder as he slammed the bathroom door. Joey just stood there, hair sticking in all directions, wondering how the hell he'd managed to get a crush on a guy that seemed to enjoy taking the piss out of him. He hadn't been able to avoid hearing the condescending tone in Mick's voice, and felt his heart shrink in his chest.

*

Joey didn't feel like joining the others at the bar across the street. Perhaps he was tired, perhaps it was because of Mick's attitude to him. But he just didn't want to spend the night in the company of someone he adored but treated him like shit. Shawn came in to pick up a jacket, and spotting his drummer laying morosely on the bed, stopped to talk to him.

"What's up Joey?" he asked quietly, sensing something was wrong.
Joey shook his head. It was difficult considering he'd tried to bury himself in the bed. "Nothing," he said, his voice muffled in the bed sheets.

Shawn refused to take that for an answer. "Bullshit." He sat down on the bed. "Tell me what's wrong."

Joey sighed. Shawn could be a persistent bastard when he wanted to, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to wriggle out of this one. He raised his head to look at Shawn.

"Why does Mick hate me?"

The look of surprise on Shawn's face surprised Joey. "What do you mean? He doesn't hate you."

"It sure seems like it sometimes," Joey muttered.

Shawn shook his head in confusion. "I don't get it. If he hates you so much, why did he ask for you to come with us in the van? Paul was supposed to, but Mick asked him to move."

Joey stared at Shawn in shock. Mick has asked for him to go with them in the van? It didn't make sense. Why ask for that and then treat him like a 5 year old? Was it a deliberate plan by Mick to have him close so he could be humiliated?

Shawn seemed to sense his thoughts. "Joey, he's not going to travel in a van for three freaking days with someone he doesn't like. Even if he had a master plan to spend his time teasing you. To be quite frankly honest, I think the reason he teases you is because he does like you, and just doesn't want you to realise. You might want to think about that."

Joey could only watch as Shawn left. The word burned into his head, and he heard them again and again. He refused to consider Shawn might be right, but the possibility was enough to make his heart race. He covered his face with his hands, not sure what he was thinking about. It was all a bit much. He fell asleep on the bed, his boots on his feet and lights still shining bright.

*

"Joey.  Joey!"

Someone was calling out to him, disturbing his sleep. He was so tired, and he didn't want to wake up. He tried to go back to sleep, but still someone was calling his name. He opened his eyes reluctantly, blinking as he tried to keep them open.

"Whaaattt..." He mumbled, angry at having been woken.

"You're on my bed."

Joey snapped his eyes wide open. He raised his head and found the light a little too bright for him, and ducked his head down again. Mick sat down at the end of the bed, leaning against the wall, just waiting.

"I don't see why you had to crash on my bed when you have an even bigger one over there."

Joey didn't know either. He wasn't too sure why he'd decided to lie down on Mick's bed, and could only surmise that he'd gotten confused.

"Sorry." Joey mumbled. He rolled off the bed, boots landing heavily on the floor. He stood for a moment, regaining his balance before staggering off to his own bed and promptly falling on that. After a moment he found the energy to make sure he was on his side of the bed, and then figured that since he'd already decided to sleep in his clothes he might as well go back to sleep.

His head was foggy, and sleep was close when he felt someone sit down on the bed.

"Shawn?" he muttered, annoyed at a second disturbance.

"No. It's me." It was Mick, and Joey couldn't think why he hadn't just gone to bed.

"What do you want?" Joey asked languidly. He already knew what he wanted, sleep.

"Nothing," Mick said after a pause.

"The why are you here? Is it revenge for me sleeping on your bed? I'm sorry, alright. Let me sleep."

Mick didn't reply. Joey felt him rise from the bed after a moment, and thought that perhaps he's gone back to bed. Then he felt gentle hands on his ankles, and realised Mick was taking off his boots. He didn't protest, just let him pull them off. He appreciated the gesture, though he was just too sleepy to say anything. He heard Mick put the boots on the floor, and waited for the sound that told him he was walking away.

There was nothing, but then there was a sudden pressure on the bed. Then there were lips kissing his cheek, a voice that whispered, "Good night," and then boots on the floorboards.

*

Joey wasn't sure what time it was when a zapping noise woke him from his sleep. It was still dark, and judging from the silence it must have been early morning. Another zapping noise startled him, and the sudden blue flash that accompanied the sound made him look out the uncurtained windows. It was one of those insect destroying machines, and he let his body relax. There was no murderer waiting in the shadows to butcher them all.

He could hear Shawn beside him on the bed, snoring quietly. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light provided by the neon sign outside, he saw Mick's bulk in the bed opposite. He remembered the kiss Mick had uncharacteristically given him as he said goodnight, and he felt his cheek tingle in response. Perhaps Shawn had been right. Perhaps there was something there that Mick didn't want to say. He only wished he would.

He needed to go to the bathroom, and rolled as quietly as he could out of bed. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Shawn, because there would be hell to pay. He found the door to the bathroom in the dark, and then cursed when the light refused to come on. He had to pee in the dark, which he never liked.

He'd just washed his hands when he turned to leave and nearly died of fright. Someone was standing in the doorway, framed from the light coming from outside, and his heart froze in his chest.

"Fucking Hell!" he gasped when he realised it was only Mick.

"Sorry," Mick said apologetically. "I didn't realise you were in here. Why isn't the light on?"

"Because it doesn't work," Joey replied. Mick still had to try anyway, and he flicked the switch several times before coming to the conclusion that Joey was indeed right. For once, Joey wished he could take him for his word. He didn't like lying.

"Told you." He muttered, before trying to push past Mick. He was grumpy and he wanted to sleep. To his annoyance, Mick grabbed him.

"What's up?" Mick asked, sounding somewhat concerned.

"Nothing," Joey said, wishing he would let him go so he could collapse back onto his bed.

"Doesn't sound like 'nothing'," Mick pointed out, his voice calm.

Joey gave in. "It's you, that's what. Satisfied?" Now let me go, I want to go back to bed."

But Mick wasn't going to do anything of the sort. Instead, he shut the door to block Joey's exit and pushed him further into the bathroom. Despite the space, he didn't let go of Joey.

"What do you mean, it's me? Did I do something?" he sounded almost worried, and Joey began to feel bad.

"I'm sorry, Mick. It's more me than you, ok? I don't want to talk about it." Joey relaxed against Mick's hold, not wanting to fight anymore. To his annoyance his head found Mick's chest and rested against it, despite him not wanting it to. His own body was fighting against him.

Mick pulled him into a hug. "Tell me, for god's sake."

Joey rocked his head against Mick's chest. He was torn between telling him and keeping it locked inside, where it was probably safer.

"I don't want to say," he mumbled eventually, finding Mick far too comfortable and warm to be hugging.

"I'm not going to let you go until you tell me," Mick said gently.

Joey had the sudden thought that it wouldn't be so bad if he never told him. Feeling so vulnerable as he was, without even thinking he voiced his thoughts.

"That's a tempting offer," he said, laughing hollowly.

He felt Mick hold his breath for a moment, and then he knew he had to take the plunge.

"I like you, ok! And everyday, you do things that make me feel like crap. I don't know what to think or say around you any more. And I feel stupid, because you don't like guys, and I do, and I shouldn't even be thinking those things about you." He took a deep breath to stop from crying. He felt Mick's arms tighten around him.

They didn't speak for a while, just stood in the bathroom, arms wrapped around each other. Joey wondered if he'd said the wrong thing, if he should have shut his mouth and gone back to the room.

Then he heard Mick sigh, and begin to speak. "Joey... I am so fucking sorry. I know, I know what you mean... but I never meant it, any of it. I never wanted to hurt you, I swear."

Joey nodded, unable to say anything. The apology meant more to him than Mick would ever know. His arms tightened around Mick as if to say, "I understand." And he did.

"Come on," Mick whispered. "Go back to bed."

Still quite sleepy, Joey obeyed, but missed the warmth of Mick's arms immediately. He left him in the bathroom, and tiptoed back into the room, sliding back onto the bed. Shawn rolled over and for a minute Joey thought he was awake, and was going to say something. But the silence ticked on, and he flopped his head back onto his pillow.

He was asleep before Mick crept silently back into the room.

*

Shawn wriggling around on the bed woke Joey up the next morning. He felt a lot better for the sleep, though the thought of spending another day cooped up in the van didn't appeal. He glanced over to Mick's bed, remembering their conversation in the bathroom the night before, but the rumpled sheets were devoid of human life.

Shawn was rubbing sleep out of his eyes, looking unnaturally groggy. Joey just shook his head and pulled on some fresh clothes from his suitcase.

"What time is it, Jo?" Shawn mumbled barley awake.

Joey checked his watch. "Nearly half past eight."

"Eight thirty.... eight thirty...." Shawn muttered, his hands covering his head. Joey just stared, and as he watched Shawn bolted upright, suddenly very awake. "Eight thirty. We're supposed to leave at eight thirty!"

Joey didn't really care. He shrugged, and then casually remarked, "Well, you might wanna get out of bed. I'm going to see if I can rustle up some breakfast." He shoved his feet into his converse shoes, bending over to do up the laces. He could hear Shawn getting up out of bed, and he was glad he couldn't see him.

"What the fuck were you and Mick doing in the bathroom last night?" Shawn asked, his voice a little faded as he faced away from Joey. "Or, on the other hand, do I not want to know?"

Joey rolled his eyes and finished tying his laces. "Nothing. We just talked, that's all."

"Oh. About what we were talking about yesterday?" Shawn had quit joking.

"Yeah." Joey sat still on the edge of the bed, not doing or thinking anything.

"Well?" Shawn came to sit down beside him, thankfully dressed. He was peeing at Joey, curious. "Any Revelations?"

Joey shook his head. "He asked what was wrong, I told him I liked him and that I thought he was a jerk, and the he apologised." Joey realised too late what he had just said. He sat up straight in horror, terrified about what Shawn was going to say. He looked at him cautiously.

To his relief, Shawn just smiled. "Joey, I kinda guessed. You don't need to be worried about anything. I'm not going to tell." He clapped a hand on Joey's shoulder. "Come. Grab your stuff, let's go see if the others are up."

*

As it were, Craig, Paul and Jim were still fast asleep, and it took several minutes of knocking and several yelled threats from Sid to wake them up. Joey just found a seat and sat after he realised there were no stores in sight. His stomach would just have to wait. Mick was nowhere to be seen and Joey missed his company.

His feet didn't quite reach the ground and he swung them idly, bored. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, not intending to sleep but finding the position comfortable. The others were chattering amongst each other and eventually all the voices droned into one, and the buzz faded into the background. The seat was hard but he didn't care.

Shawn was bemoaning the time it was taking to get away when Joey felt someone sit down beside him. He blinked open one eye and peered over, and then sat up, alert, as he realised it was Mick.

"Hey sleeping beauty," Mick said cheerfully, passing over a bacon and egg baguette to Joey. He took it gratefully, his stomach rumbling with the smell.

"Oh shit thanks man. Where'd you find these?" Joey tore off the wrapping and bit into it. It was just as good as it smelt.

"There's a cafe about 2 miles down the road. I went for a walk," Mick said.

Joey stopped chewing. "You walked 4 miles to get breakfast?" he asked, his mouth full of food.

"Yeah well I was hungry... besides, I woke up early and felt like a walk."

"You could have taken a van," Joey pointed out, resuming his eating.

Mick shrugged. "Like I said, I felt like a walk. Besides, if I'd taken van you'd all have thought it'd been stolen. Or I'd absconded. Anyway, I'm back now. How is it?

"Fucking good," Joey mumbled, not bothering to swallow. "I was starving. Thanks dude."

Mick chuckled. "No problem."

Joey chewed on his baguette, watching the others as they lingered around the courtyard of the motel. It was then that he realised that Mick hadn't brought breakfast for them all. Only him. The thought made his stomach tingle, and he had to swallow quickly before he choked.

"You ok?" Mick asked, his tone concerned.

Joey nodded. "Uh, yeah. Just eating too fast, that's all."

Mick laughed and hit him on the back a few times. "Best not to choke here. No-one will be able to save you. I doubt any of these idiots could put a bandaid on without killing themselves in the process."

The comment didn't help. Joey was halfway through swallowing another mouthful and as he tried not to laugh the food went down the wrong way. He coughed and spluttered as he tried to sort out what had just happened. Mick just thumped him on the back harder.

"Thanks a lot," Joey managed to squeak out as he recovered. "You just made me choke!"

"And proved me right. No-one moved a muscle." He winked at Joey, who rolled his eyes.

Just then Jim, Craig and Paul stumbled out of their room with their bags and suddenly the band was on the move. Joey tossed his wrapper in the trash and slung his bag over his shoulder, picking up his suitcase. They loaded everything in the vans, Shawn promised to let the vans stop for breakfast for those who hadn't eaten, and then they all piled in for what promised to be another stellar day of driving

*

More comfortable around Mick now after their conversation the night before, Joey sprawled out on his seat, legs extended in front of him. He smiled when Mick chuckled at him, and resisted the urge to poke out his tongue. He was being paranoid though of course, quite certain that Mick was sitting closer to him than he had yesterday.

True to his word, Shawn pulled up into a block of shops about thirty minutes into their drive. Joey replenished his supplies, stocking up on water and junk food. He had to watch his money, because it was running low, but once they got to Malibu the record company would be paying for everything anyway. Mick cast a disapproving eye over his purchases, but considering he'd bought a box of pop tarts he couldn't really say anything.

"Brown sugar cinnamon!" Joey said when he saw the box Mick was holding at the checkout. "I like! Wait for me!" And then he went off in search of Brown Sugar cinnamon pop tarts. Mick rolled his eyes.

This time, he was firmly ensconced in his seat when Joey trundled back. Joey didn't notice the sudden cessation of conversation between Shawn and Mick as he climbed in, too engrosses in trying to avoid death by amplifier.

"Got enough food?" Mick asked dryly, indicating the bags Joey held.

"Well, yeah... I think," Joey said sheepishly. He shoved the bags out of sight and sat down, tearing open a chocolate bar. He saw Mick staring and held it out. "Want some?" he asked.

Mick declined, shaking his head. "No thanks. I was just marvelling at your ability to eat junk food so soon after breakfast." His voice hadn't lost its dry tone.

Joey grinned at him through a mouthful of Baby Ruth.

*

Several hours later, the occupants of the van had descended into a languid tired state. It wasn't quite 1pm, and yet they felt the desire to sleep. Joey tried to stop himself nodding off, but it was becoming harder and harder. He'd been left with a bump on his head from banging the window in his sleep and he didn't care to repeat the experience.

"Joey."

It took a few moments to realise Mick was calling him. "Yeah?" he asked, turning his head to face him.

"You wanna lie down? You look really tired."

It was the best idea Joey had heard all day. "Yes," he admitted honestly.

Mick smiled and turned his body to face him. "Come here," he said quietly, indicating that Joey should lie with his head in his lap. The drummer had no qualms about that, and settled himself down on the backseat. Mick was comfortable, and Joey tried not to think about the connotations and suggestions and undertones and all that, because of course all he wanted to do was sleep.

He was starting to drift off into sleep when he felt Mick stroking his hair slowly. It was nice, and he had to resist the urge to make it known he wasn't asleep just in case Mick felt he had to stop. The soothing touch was relaxing, and without even realising it helped him ease into sleep.

*


Mick rested his head against the window, and despite appearances was paying no attention to the scenery flashing past outside. His hand still lay on Joey's hair, and he hadn't ceased the gentle stroking that had sent Joey to sleep. It was comforting him too in a way, though he would never admit it.

Like he'd told himself he wouldn't admit that his feeling for Joey had changed dramatically in the past year. He just hadn't counted on Joey feeling the same way about him, He was even more confused now than he had been when he'd first realised that he enjoyed Joey's company a little too much. He wasn't gay, and he'd never so much as hugged another guy without it being nothing more than a friendly arm around the shoulder. So why did he suddenly have the urge to try and get Joey into bed?

He remembered the first day he hadn't been able to think of anything else. Joey, being Joey, had shown up to practice in a black and white dress, black stockings and black Mary Janes. He looked hotter in that outfit than most women he knew. Joey had spent a lot of time touching up his makeup in the bathroom, and every time he'd come out Mick's heart had thunked a little louder in his chest.

He remembered too, with a flash of anger, the way one of Shawn's friends had reacted to Joey's outfit. Unlike Mick, he has no qualms about letting his feelings be know, and had openly flirted with Joey at practice. When he saw Joey start to flirt back, he burned with jealousy he'd never experienced before. And when Shawn had casually mentioned to him a few days later that Joey had slept with his friend, he'd barely managed to contain himself.

He had tried to forget about Joey – which was impossible when he saw him every day. He's tried dating other people – women, of course – but to no avail. He'd find himself thinking of Joey all night, and would never be able to bring himself to do anything other than give his hapless date a kiss on the cheek.

Then, to his shame, he'd turned to trying to reject Joey instead. Teasing him, putting him down... all because he'd been afraid someone would see through him and realise that he feelings for Joey. It was stupid and childish, and he'd felt awful listening to Joey in the bathroom the night before. He was shocked to hear that Joey liked him, but he was too gutless to admit the same. Shawn had seen through him though. Knew what was going on in his head. He'd even asked him if he'd acted on it yet that morning in the van. Thankfully, Joey had turned up before Mick could say anything. But it was only a matter of time before Shawn badgered him again.

And really, why shouldn't he? If Joey liked him he had nothing to lose having a go. He just had to swallow his pride and man up first. Which was easier said than done.

He sighed. He really didn't know what to do. The confidence that he had when picking up chicks had completely vanished. Perhaps it was because Joey was more than just a random potential date in a bar. He was his bandmate, and as such, he had no right using and abusing him with a pick up line. He was the master of one night stands, but figured he wouldn't be able to get away with it in this case. And besides, he didn't want to.

"You alright, Mick?" Shawn asked, curious, from up the front.

"Yeah," Mick replied, sounding somewhat morose at his situation.

"You thinking about Joey?" Shawn asked sympathetically.

"Yeah," Mick said again, even sadder this time.

"He really likes you, Mick. Why don't you just go for it?"

"Because I don't want to mess up," Mick said, surprised at the words coming from his mouth. But it was true. He didn't want it to end up with Joey hating him.

Shawn was silent for a moment. "I get your point. But it's worth it, isn't it?"

"God yes," Mick said. "I just don't want it to go wrong."

He could see Shawn's head nodding. "Fair enough. Maybe just take it as it comes?" he suggested, looking at Mick in the rear view mirror.

"Yeah. I think that's the way to go."

They fell into silence again, and Mick resumed stroking Joey's hair. He liked having him so close, liked being able to.... take care of him. Though Joey was certainly capable of taking care of himself, just the fact that he was one of the youngest and most definitely the smallest member of the band meant that he had always been treated differently, by everybody. And Joey had never protested, so they never stopped.

*