Collision

I knocked on room 33, which happened to be the one two doors down. I had my suspcions, I was convinced when Jamia answered the door. She only stuck her head around it, and she looked flushed and very happy.

“You...” I began.

Then Frank’s head joined hers around the door and my suspicions were entirely confirmed. He was grinning, like the cat that had got the cream.

“Hello. Is there a problem?” he asked.

“Yes! You swapped our keycards!” I declared, bunching my hands into fists and holding them up so they both could see them. “Little shits!”

“You can thank us later,” Frank said sagely, nodding. “Good night, Cam. Don’t wear my singer out too much.”

He shut the door firmly in my face, and I heard giggling from behind it and then something which sounded suspiciously like a moan which was definitely a lot, lot worse than giggling. I quickly backed away from the door and headed back to the room I was apparently sharing with Gerard tonight.

Gerard had got dressed by time I was back, in a simple faded black t-shirt and sweatpants, but he still looked confused as I told him about the Ieros’ (okay, Jamia wasn’t yet an Iero, but she basically had his personality, so it counted) cunning plan.

As I explained, I took a seat on what I realised was the only bed in the room. Goddammit, those two were good.

“They’re little shits,” I finished finally.

“So… they’re trying to get us to, what? Hook up?”

“I, er…” I blushed slightly – against my will – and narrowed my eyes at him. “I think they’re being little shits,” I repeated.

“I knew that already.” He titled his head slightly to the side, watching me carefully. He had eyeliner smudged around his eyes from his shower, I realised. I wanted to wipe it away, but I refrained.

“You know, you wear too much eyeliner, Way.” My voice was teasing, but there was a warmth to it even I couldn’t fight.

He chuckled gently. “Maybe you don’t wear enough? Ever thought of that?”

“Touche.” I was unable to prevent a grin from coming to my face. He did pull off the look rather well, I thought. In fact, I think I liked the smudged eyeliner more than I liked when he didn’t wear any at all.

“C’mere,” he said, holding out his arms. I hesitated only for a second, then shuffled on the bed so I was curled up against him. He wrapped an arm around my waist tightly, and used his free hand to stroke my hair softly. I tried to ignore how nice it felt to just be held. It had been a long time since I’d felt this comfortable with someone. Even with Will, the last few months behind doors had just been bitter, broken arguments and the occasional passionate fuck.

His wet hair tickled my nose. I scrunched my face up, turning so I pressed my face into his neck. He smelled nice, like coffee and something spicy I assumed was the hotel brand of soap.

“You wanna get room service and be massive pigs?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Uh,” I began, “did you really have to ask that question? Of course.”

We ended up ordering two massive chicken sharing platters for just ourselves, and even nachos with cheese, which was what I was most excited about. At least Frank wasn’t there to give us disapproving looks for devouring meat like we were starving. And we did. It was all gone in ten minutes flat.

I licked my thumb, and realised Gerard was watching me. “What?”

“You’re cute even when you’re licking chicken juice off your fingers,” he observed.

I laughed. “That was always my goal.” I pushed the empty plates to the side, and crawled back over to his side of the bed, settling myself firmly between his legs. We lapsed into companionable silence. He started running his fingers gently through my hair, and I relaxed into the sensation, leaning my back against his chest and my head against his shoulder.

Finally, he broke the silence, but only to say, “Do want to hear a fun fact about Wolverine?”

I turned around and kissed him then, mostly stop him from talking (because he was a fucking dork), but then his hands found my face, and he cradled my jaw, fingers stroking my temples, as the kiss turned from cautious to hungry. I pushed into it, trying not to think about the fact we’d never kissed like this before, that this was something new entirely.

It was something new when his fingers found the buttons on my top, and something new when he broke away to look at me, as if asking for permission, but that was a good something new, I decided. I helped him decide himself by tugging at his faded black t-shirt until he allowed me to pull it off entirely.

Once he’d got the offending fabric of my shirt off over my head as well, he ran his hands up my arms, and across my shoulders, fingers splayed slightly as if he was slightly scared to touch me.

“Wuss,” I stated firmly, as I shed my bra with a well-practised motion. That was enough to goad him into taking control, and he pushed me gently but firmly until I was the one lying back on the bed, looking up at him.

“Don’t call me a wuss.”

I giggled until he started kissing me again.

~*~

Later, I was curled tightly against his side, with him humming a strangely familiar tune as I fought off the inevitable sleepiness which was threateningly to envelop me. It was only after a few minutes that I finally realised what the tune was.

“Gerard.”

“Yeah?” His voice was low and sleepy, but I could see a vague impression of his expression in the pale moonlight coming through a gap in the curtains, and I knew he was smiling.

“Stop humming The Smiths and go the fuck to sleep, you massive goth.”

He laughed softly, barely more than a few sharp intakes of breath.

~*~

The morning came too quickly. I woke up still pressed tightly against Gerard, which was novel, because normally I got sweaty and sticky and rolled away from any offending heat source. I was, of course, normally a massive blanket hog. Instead, this night I’d managed to kick all the blankets off my side of the bed entirely, as if trying to cool down without letting go of him.

I squinted at the overly bright light of morning that was unfortunately spilling through the curtains, casting half of the otherwise dim room in a sharp, lemon glow.

Gerard made unhappy grumbling noises next to me as I began to try and extract myself from him. He had apparently been an octopus in his former life, as he’d managed to hook both a leg and an arm around me, as if trying to prevent me from making a run for it. I finally succeeded in gently lifting the offending limbs, doing it slowly as to not wake him up accidentally, and then I slid out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. I couldn’t wait to have the shower I’d been dreaming about since I’d first found out it was a hotel night.

As I stepped into the strong spray and adjusted the temperature perfectly, I heard a thump and an unhappy groan from the other room which could only mean that Gerard was awake. He appeared in the bathroom doorway a few seconds later.

“This must be a record,” I said as he slipped into the shower with me. “Two showers in less than twenty-four hours?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled good-naturedly, as he pushed me against the shower wall.

~*~

We were late to breakfast. Of course we were. I tried to avoid the knowing look Frank gave us as he took in our – admittedly bedraggled – appearance as we sidled into the dining area halfway through. I had thought about trying to sneak in, perhaps seperately, but really, it wasn’t gonna fool anyone –and I’m not quite sure I wanted to explain to Gerard that I didn’t really want whatever we had going on to be the new gossip of the tour.

“Have fun?” asked Finley, as I took a seat at the table, already clutching a bowl full of my precious cocoa pops. I watched Gerard take a seat at MCR’s table, and I could see Frank was already giving him a hard time, judging from the laughter directed at him.

“Shut up,” I mumbled around the mouthful of cereal I shoved in.

“Charming.”

I glanced around the table, doing a quick head-count, and realised that a certain red and black haired singer was missing. “Where’s Alex, and why does this feel suspiciously like déjà vu?”

“She’s with Vaudeville.” I definitely didn’t miss the hint of coldness in Finley’s voice. I raised my eyebrows slightly in surprise as I followed his gaze over to the other side of the breakfast hall. As he’d said, Alex was indeed sat with the older band, although I only really recognised Rob. I had seen the others in magazines, and I vaguely knew that one was Sawyer and one was Ant, the other I couldn’t remember the name of, but that was a far as my knowledge apparently went.

Alex was laughing, motioning wildly with her hands as she told what I assumed was a very amusing story. I narrowed my eyes slightly. I definitely didn’t really want my sister hanging around with a band who was probably better known their scandals than their actual music.

“Looks like she’s having fun,” I said, turning back to look at Finley, and trying to ignore how much this actually did bother me. “Is she okay?”

“No clue. She didn’t come back to our room last night,” he said. I picked up on the bitterness in his voice, but I decided I didn’t really want to be involved in what appeared to be a lover’s quarrel between two people I wasn’t even sure were lovers.

“Ah.” I paused, glanced back over, and caught Alex’s eye. She smiled at me briefly before turning back to Rob. They seemed to be deep in conversation now, heads close together. “I’m sure she’s okay.” I knew I was trying to reassure myself more than anything and I wished I could believe what I was saying, but I honestly didn’t.

Red looked over at the group. “Rob’s too old for her,” he said finally. I glanced at him, surprised he’d even spoken up, even though I agreed entirely with what he’d said. Honestly, there was no indication that my sister and him were anything but friends, but I knew my sister, and I knew that she was easily swayed by hero worship even though she pretended she wasn't.

“Well,” I replied, remembering something that I’d read in a magazine in passing. “Isn’t Rob like, married with a kid now? To that model chick?”

Finley glowered at me. “Do you think the guy who was found doing coke with two hookers really cares about the sanctity of marriage?”

Well, he had a point. I had no response.

~*~

SoundinSpace’s bus was a write off, or so it appeared. When we got back to the tour ground, I watched it being towed off by a massive recovery vehicle. The band – or who I assumed was the band, as I’d yet to talk to them properly, although I had caught one of their sets – were standing there, surrounded by instruments and suitcases, and looking mildly pissed off, to say the least. At least it appeared – after a mechanical work-up – none of the other hired buses appeared to be in danger of exploding. I was relieved, at least.

“What’s the deal?” I asked Mallory when I came across him filling in paperwork, sat at a picnic table. I had no clue where said picnic table had come from – since we were in the middle of a fucking field – but at this point I was used to the weird shit that happened on tour, so I didn’t question it as I took a seat next to him. “Will there be another hotel night?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Sweet summer child. I’m afraid it’s back on the road for us. We need to make up for lost time and get to Bristol for the shows tomorrow. I think they’re gonna get a new tour bus in as soon as possible – until then, we’re squishing the band in wherever they fit. A storage bin, a cupboard, whatever.”

“Oh joy,” I replied. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna stack us up like dominos.”

He appeared to consider this for a moment. “I suppose we could make you sleep on top of each other,” he said, tilting his head to the side. Then his expression turned into one with a playful glint in his eye. “Although… from what I hear, you’ve already managed that.”

I turned a little bit pink around the ears because I knew exactly what he was referring to. “Shut up, Carlos,” I grumbled as I stood back up. “I don’t have to take this shit from you!”

“I’m your boss,” he said, looking smug.

“And I’m walking away now!”

I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for, but when I saw Frank wearing a piece of cardboard around his neck which had ‘Free highfives’ scrawled on it in marker pen, I knew I had to find out what the fuck that was about. I wandered over to him. He was true to his word, offering highfives to everybody that walked past.

“What are you doing?”

He sighed, turning to me, and regarded me in an entirely exasperated way. “Giving away highfives,” he explained, as if this was obvious.

I mean, it was. But it didn’t explain why he was. I waited for that part to come, but he stayed silent, still holding his hand up for the people walking past. Only a handful were actually taking him up on the offer, but I suppose it was the thought that counted.

Finally, I shrugged, deciding it wasn’t worth getting confused about. “Got any down lows?” I questioned, playing along with the ridiculousness of the situation.

Frank narrowed his eyes at me. “’Fraid not. All sold out.” He paused to grin. “You’re too slow.”

He and I managed to stare entirely seriously at each other exactly five seconds before we both broke into laughter.

“You guys are actually two years old,” Ray offered as an observation from behind me. I hadn’t realised he was there, but I turned and shot him a winning smile anyway. I agreed entirely.

~*~

Later that day, I found Finley sat in the shade of an oak tree, acoustic guitar in his lap, looking closely at his phone. He was humming something to himself as he studied whatever it was he was looking at. I fell into a heap next to him in the most ungraceful way possible, grunting slightly when I hit the floor, but he barely even glanced up at me to smile before returning to what I realised was notes on a song.

I watched him work silently for a few minutes, and realised he was weirdly quiet, brow furrowed and biting his lip slightly.

“Will you sing me a song?” I asked, laying my head against his shoulder and attempting to look at him through my eyelashes.

“What am I, your personal jukebox?” he replied, but he laughed anyway, and began to play a few something I didn’t recognise. “I was working on this one, actually…”

He sang softly, with a note of sadness in his voice which I hardly ever heard, and I listened with rapt attention. He’d always had a voice which you couldn’t help but listen to when he did sing, melodic and sweet, but not as powerful as Alex’s by far.

“I can't imagine all the people that you know and the places that you go when the lights are turned down low… I don't understand all the things you've seen but I'm slipping in between you, you and your big dreams.”

“And I had dreams that I would learn to play guitar, maybe cross the country… become a rockstar. And there was hope in me that I could take you there.”

“This is to a girl who got into my head with all these pretty things she did.”

I waited until he’d finished, but then I turned to look at him properly, sat up. “Fin,” I began.

“Don’t say anything,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, placing my hand on his. It stung. It shouldn’t have stung, but it did, to hear the boy I’d known since he was a tiny scrap of a guitarist singing about something which sounded way to sad and wistful to be coming from him.

He looked down at them and smiled slightly. “It’s okay.” For once, he wasn’t smiling brightly, and his voice was strangely muted. Jesus Christ, what had my sister done to him?

“Let’s go get coffee,” I suggested, knowing the best way to sort this out – at least when it was Finley – was distraction.

~*~

After I’d left Finley, no longer so brooding after two cups of coffee and a few reruns of Friends on my laptop in my bunk, I went to find Alex. I wanted to give her a piece of my mind. Or at least, that’s what I thought I wanted to do, until I did find her.

She was crashed out on SAYF’s bus, stretched across the seats which made up their ‘lounge’. I approached her quietly, unwilling to deal with a grumpy Alex if I woke her up accidentally. It was then I noticed that her brow was sweaty, even though the air conditioning was on, and bloody hell, it was still freezing outside.

I crouched beside and pressed my hand to her forehead. She was hot to touch.

She stirred slightly at my touch, and then her eyes flicked open, gradually focusing on me. She flinched back from the light at first, her hand flying up to shield her eyes, even though the main lights were off and the whole bus was bathed in barely a dim glow.

“Alex,” I began, my tone obviously worried. “Are you okay?”

She looked at me like she wasn’t quite sure what I’d asked for a few moments, but then seemed to recover with a shaky smile. “Yeah, of course,” she said, moving to sit up with what seemed like too much effort for something so simple. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re burning up,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t lie to me, please. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just had a heavy night,” she explained with a shrug. “You know what it can be like.” That last bit wasn’t just a casual comment – she was referring to some of my wilder nights, as if warning me I had no place to tell her off. And she was right, except I’d never looked like this after a night out, wide-eyed and pale and drawn.

“You’re overworking yourself,” I said. “You need a rest.”

“What I need to do,” she said, eyes darkening slightly, “is to perform and fufill my dreams. Step back, Cam. I’m an adult, I can cope on my own.”

I half-sighed, resigned. “Look after yourself please. Not for me. For yourself.”

Her hard look softened slightly, and she reached over and put her hand on top of mine where it was resting on the sofa next to her. “I’ll be fine,” she said quietly. “Promise.”

Her hand was shaking though, and I felt my stomach twist slightly. “Come on,” I said, pulling her to her feet, and taking her hand firmly in my hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked, but she let me lead her to the bunk area, and then didn’t even complain when I gently pushed her into the bunk, and pulled the blankets up around her. Then I clambered in beside her, making myself into the big spoon, exactly how we’d always laid when she was upset or sick when she was younger, even though it had been years since we’d done it.

“You’re such a big sister,” she sighed, eyes closing as she relaxed into the bunk mattress. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I whispered back, pulling her closer in my arms. I could feel the soft thud of her heart, but it was quicker than normal, as if she’d run around before laying down. “Dickhead.”