![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Jul. 5th, 2015 08:49 pmIt was like Christmas when Mike got out of the shower. Christmas in the form of a text message, shirt and sweet:
'This day has been a nightmare from start to end. I just need someone to strap me down and do me right. Cause at least then getting fucked and my hands being tied would have a more pleasant connotation.'
It was an invitation. Finally. It's something they've never really talked about, but Billy's good at reading people. Mikes not suspended Billy's caught on to his own looks. Even if mike has only ever dated girls, only ever flirted and charmed women himself.
Mike is getting big, out there. He's a frontman, he's got it all--and billy isn't his agent but he's a damn good tour manager. One that hasn't once fucked him over in terms or pay. One that has alarmingly blue eyes and a way of making mike entranced with the way he moves his hands.
He's waited long enough. Mike takes a shower, grabs himself a stiff shit to gather up courage. His hair is still wet and he doesn't even bother to dress. Just his boxers as he knocks loudly on the door.
"Billy. It's mike. "
'This day has been a nightmare from start to end. I just need someone to strap me down and do me right. Cause at least then getting fucked and my hands being tied would have a more pleasant connotation.'
It was an invitation. Finally. It's something they've never really talked about, but Billy's good at reading people. Mikes not suspended Billy's caught on to his own looks. Even if mike has only ever dated girls, only ever flirted and charmed women himself.
Mike is getting big, out there. He's a frontman, he's got it all--and billy isn't his agent but he's a damn good tour manager. One that hasn't once fucked him over in terms or pay. One that has alarmingly blue eyes and a way of making mike entranced with the way he moves his hands.
He's waited long enough. Mike takes a shower, grabs himself a stiff shit to gather up courage. His hair is still wet and he doesn't even bother to dress. Just his boxers as he knocks loudly on the door.
"Billy. It's mike. "
Mike's not sure he can trust him. In all honesty, he's a little blindsided: Johnny, it seems, has been making friends. Friends he's stupid enough to bring home, and--
No. That's an exaggeration. It isn't Johnny's fault, it's how disorganized the house is. Chuck and Briggs, him and Paige to an extent, Jakes and...Well. Jakes and everyone.
Maybe he should give him the benefit of the doubt: Mike has seen the guy at the Drop, normally chatting up people, and he's pretty sure the other's watched him and Briggs play pool for a while. The problem is that everyone wants Briggs, and it's not a commodity issue. People tailoring their personalities to get in with Briggs? Mike's seen it before. He's not surprised when he finds out that the reason the guy is here is Johnny, either.
Mike enters the beautiful beach house, sweat drenching his shirt, music still playing from his phone. It's roughly 7 AM, the house up and ready for breakfast. What he sees is the group, Johnny making pancakes, and someone completely knew.
"What the hell is this?" He cuts straight through the bullshit, and Chuck, moodily sipping her coffee, looks up.
"Yeah," she agrees. "What the hell is this, JT?" Not happy in the least. Johnny, in the middle of flipping his pancakes, stops and puts his hands up.
"Yo, yo, yo, you've already grilled me, alright?"
Mike's gaze never lifts from the stranger in the house. Sharp blue eyes, rather feminine eyelashes. Probably the same age, but looks a lot older. Mike takes in his stance, the way he sits in the kitchen. "I haven't," He states, and that's when Briggs swoops in and saves Johnny from Mike's anger.
"Mikey, I need you to take him on the deal you have today."
"It's my day off, sir." Which, translated, means: 'I don't have anything today and I think you're fucking crazy because there is a stranger in the house that has most of the higher ups in this entire operation.'
"Day off plans just changed."
"I am not taking someone I know with me."
"You don't technically have to. He's going to be your wheel man. Says he can do heat runs like the best of them." Briggs claps him on the back, and Mike, annoyed, scoffs in his direction. This was not his idea of fun. This was not his idea of safe. He looks at the new one, Briggs, and throws his hands up, scoffing.
Fuck. This.
Chuck, sipping her coffee, seemed to agree, but said nothing.
"Yo, he's fine, alright? He's clear. Sources check out and everything, man. billy's a good guy."
"And you're willing to bet my life on it," Mike snaps. Still, one look at Briggs and, frustrated, he shoves the headphones from his ears. "Get him out of the house. You? Meet me at West and La Concha in two hours. Go."
No. That's an exaggeration. It isn't Johnny's fault, it's how disorganized the house is. Chuck and Briggs, him and Paige to an extent, Jakes and...Well. Jakes and everyone.
Maybe he should give him the benefit of the doubt: Mike has seen the guy at the Drop, normally chatting up people, and he's pretty sure the other's watched him and Briggs play pool for a while. The problem is that everyone wants Briggs, and it's not a commodity issue. People tailoring their personalities to get in with Briggs? Mike's seen it before. He's not surprised when he finds out that the reason the guy is here is Johnny, either.
Mike enters the beautiful beach house, sweat drenching his shirt, music still playing from his phone. It's roughly 7 AM, the house up and ready for breakfast. What he sees is the group, Johnny making pancakes, and someone completely knew.
"What the hell is this?" He cuts straight through the bullshit, and Chuck, moodily sipping her coffee, looks up.
"Yeah," she agrees. "What the hell is this, JT?" Not happy in the least. Johnny, in the middle of flipping his pancakes, stops and puts his hands up.
"Yo, yo, yo, you've already grilled me, alright?"
Mike's gaze never lifts from the stranger in the house. Sharp blue eyes, rather feminine eyelashes. Probably the same age, but looks a lot older. Mike takes in his stance, the way he sits in the kitchen. "I haven't," He states, and that's when Briggs swoops in and saves Johnny from Mike's anger.
"Mikey, I need you to take him on the deal you have today."
"It's my day off, sir." Which, translated, means: 'I don't have anything today and I think you're fucking crazy because there is a stranger in the house that has most of the higher ups in this entire operation.'
"Day off plans just changed."
"I am not taking someone I know with me."
"You don't technically have to. He's going to be your wheel man. Says he can do heat runs like the best of them." Briggs claps him on the back, and Mike, annoyed, scoffs in his direction. This was not his idea of fun. This was not his idea of safe. He looks at the new one, Briggs, and throws his hands up, scoffing.
Fuck. This.
Chuck, sipping her coffee, seemed to agree, but said nothing.
"Yo, he's fine, alright? He's clear. Sources check out and everything, man. billy's a good guy."
"And you're willing to bet my life on it," Mike snaps. Still, one look at Briggs and, frustrated, he shoves the headphones from his ears. "Get him out of the house. You? Meet me at West and La Concha in two hours. Go."
