I wrote fic! Go read!
Apr. 10th, 2004 12:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lierdumoaTitle: Shit Happens
Fandom: QaF
Pairing: Michael/Hunter
Rating: hard R for language, sexual content, and general perviness
Summary: 10 drabbles; 1000 words. Mikey and Hunter bond during their great escape following 3.14. Lines are crossed. Drama. Angst.
Warnings: Attack of the mutant plot bunny. Large squick potential. Might be considered a one way ticket to the special hell. Also, unbeta'd.
A/N: I tried to do something daring here. I wrote a non-humorous Mikey/Hunter fic. I think I'll go ahead and dedicate this to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gradiva, since Mikey/Hunter is her new OTP. Now let us never speak of this again.
The road trip starts off with eighteen minutes of Michael demonstrating his tourettes to Hunter. The cursing is replaced with tense silence as the street lights become few and far between and the road grows longer ahead of them.
Hunter breaks the quiet. "This is a really nice car."
"Yeah, well of course," Michael snaps. "It’s Brian’s car."
"Sheesh, I just made a simple observation," Hunter snaps back, defensively. He turns towards his window and wraps his arms around himself. He pretends not to notice when Michael starts shooting him furtive glances.
"Are you cold?" Michael asks, finally. Hunter smiles.
~*~*~
They stop at roadside diners for their meals. Sometimes gas stations. The food is always greasy. The man and boy inhale their food as if both were hungry teenagers.
The first night, Michael barely picked at his food. Hunter finished half of his burger before looking up at his companion and asking, "What, did you sign up for some beauty pageant?"
Michael frowned, confused.
"Cause you’re not gonna win, I can tell. But hey -- if you need to watch your figure, I’ll finish off your fries."
Michael threw one of his fries at Hunter. And ate the rest of them.
~*~*~
The motels are worse than the diners. There’s always an infestation and the windows are tiny. At least the beds vibrate if you drop in a nickel.
Hunter turns on the tv, mostly to complain about how much the local channels suck. They really do suck, Michael thinks, then goes to brush his teeth.
Michael returns from the bathroom to find Hunter sprawled across his futon wearing nothing but briefs, with the sheets pulled up only to his waist. He goes to turn the tv off, but a glance at Hunter changes his mind. He falls asleep to white noise.
~*~*~
After a few weeks, the separation from Ben starts to take its toll. Michael gets antsy from not getting any. Hunter is surprised to realize he misses miso soup. "How’d you guys meet up?" he asks Michael outside of a gas station one day.
"We met at the comic book store actually," Michael says, smiling.
"Comic books are so," Hunter begins, but when Michael’s face starts to fall he decides not to finish the sentence.
"He good in bed?" Hunter asks, to change the subject.
"Oh, God yeah. He’s so responsive, and..." Michael realizes he really shouldn’t be telling Hunter this.
~*~*~
Eventually the duo runs short on money. Hunter slips out around ten and manages to hustle some cash from a nearby rest stop. Michael yells at him for two and a half hours straight, then tells Hunter to get the hell out of his face.
Hunter storms off to whatever passes for a lobby in their motel. He returns to the room half an hour later to find the door open, and Michael looking at him apologetically.
He tosses Michael a pack of throat lozenges he purchased from the motel vending machine with his recent earnings. Michael shakes his head.
~*~*~
The next morning there are bruises on Hunters hips and back. Seeing Michael’s worry, he says, "I knew what I was doing. I kinda wanted it rough."
Michael doesn’t bother responding to that, and instead asks Hunter if it hurts. Hunter shrugs. Michael heads down to Brian’s car and finds some Icy-Hot in the trunk. He tosses it to Hunter, who immediately drops his pants and starts rubbing the stuff on his bruises.
No one talks for a while. Then Hunter says quietly, "I can’t reach my lower back."
Michael takes over wordlessly, and hopes his hands aren't too rough.
~*~*~
Then one day, everything goes wrong. Lunch makes them both sick, and Michael has to drive three extra hours for a pay phone. Ben isn’t home to answer the call. And it rains.
The pair stumbles into a motel well after dark. Michael sits down on his bed and stares blindly at the wall. Hunter tries patting him awkwardly on the back. When that gets no reaction, he instead places his hand on Michael’s crotch. Michael tries halfheartedly to push Hunter away. "Pretend it’s him," Hunter whispers. "Pretend it isn’t me."
Michael finds himself closing his eyes. Letting it happen.
~*~*~
For three days afterwards Hunter finds himself continually turning around only to find Michael staring at him with an expression of abject horror. "Get over it, already!" he screams out at last. "You’re acting like you molested your own kid, for Christ’s sake!"
"Well, I kinda did," Michael yells back.
"I’m not your son, I’m over the age of consent, and I did all the molesting. I was trying to do you a favor. I thought it would make you stop being depressed for fifteen minutes."
"Well it wasn’t fucking worth it," Michael shrieks, and locks himself in the bathroom.
~*~*~
"I have to tell Ben," Michael says over breakfast the next morning.
Hunter jumps in his seat."What the fuck for?"
"Because I can’t lie to him about this."
Hunter pauses to think. Michael looks at him wonderingly. He’s never seen Hunter look so concerned about, well, anything. "He’s not gonna leave you, you know."
"Yes he is."
"No he isn’t. You think you’ve become this horrible person. You haven’t. You’re exactly the same."
Michael shakes his head. "Hunter --"
"Look, just trust me on this. He won’t leave. I’ll explain it to him."
Michael feels far too tired to argue.
~*~*~
Hunter will be in state custody until the trial is over. "Wait till I’m there to tell him," he says on the drive back. "Or after the trial. Wait till after the trial."
Michael smiles wryly. "No point putting it off. I already screwed everything up." The smile fades. "We were supposed to be a family. And I just screwed it all up."
"Not really."
"Yeah, really."
"It’s not that bad."
"Are you crazy?" Michael laughs. "Not that bad?"
"It’s not like we fucked up on purpose."
There is a long pause. Michael grins. "How insightful of you, Hunter."
"Shut up."
NOW FEED THE MUTANT PLOT BUNNY!
Fandom: QaF
Pairing: Michael/Hunter
Rating: hard R for language, sexual content, and general perviness
Summary: 10 drabbles; 1000 words. Mikey and Hunter bond during their great escape following 3.14. Lines are crossed. Drama. Angst.
Warnings: Attack of the mutant plot bunny. Large squick potential. Might be considered a one way ticket to the special hell. Also, unbeta'd.
A/N: I tried to do something daring here. I wrote a non-humorous Mikey/Hunter fic. I think I'll go ahead and dedicate this to
gradiva, since Mikey/Hunter is her new OTP. Now let us never speak of this again.The road trip starts off with eighteen minutes of Michael demonstrating his tourettes to Hunter. The cursing is replaced with tense silence as the street lights become few and far between and the road grows longer ahead of them.
Hunter breaks the quiet. "This is a really nice car."
"Yeah, well of course," Michael snaps. "It’s Brian’s car."
"Sheesh, I just made a simple observation," Hunter snaps back, defensively. He turns towards his window and wraps his arms around himself. He pretends not to notice when Michael starts shooting him furtive glances.
"Are you cold?" Michael asks, finally. Hunter smiles.
They stop at roadside diners for their meals. Sometimes gas stations. The food is always greasy. The man and boy inhale their food as if both were hungry teenagers.
The first night, Michael barely picked at his food. Hunter finished half of his burger before looking up at his companion and asking, "What, did you sign up for some beauty pageant?"
Michael frowned, confused.
"Cause you’re not gonna win, I can tell. But hey -- if you need to watch your figure, I’ll finish off your fries."
Michael threw one of his fries at Hunter. And ate the rest of them.
The motels are worse than the diners. There’s always an infestation and the windows are tiny. At least the beds vibrate if you drop in a nickel.
Hunter turns on the tv, mostly to complain about how much the local channels suck. They really do suck, Michael thinks, then goes to brush his teeth.
Michael returns from the bathroom to find Hunter sprawled across his futon wearing nothing but briefs, with the sheets pulled up only to his waist. He goes to turn the tv off, but a glance at Hunter changes his mind. He falls asleep to white noise.
After a few weeks, the separation from Ben starts to take its toll. Michael gets antsy from not getting any. Hunter is surprised to realize he misses miso soup. "How’d you guys meet up?" he asks Michael outside of a gas station one day.
"We met at the comic book store actually," Michael says, smiling.
"Comic books are so," Hunter begins, but when Michael’s face starts to fall he decides not to finish the sentence.
"He good in bed?" Hunter asks, to change the subject.
"Oh, God yeah. He’s so responsive, and..." Michael realizes he really shouldn’t be telling Hunter this.
Eventually the duo runs short on money. Hunter slips out around ten and manages to hustle some cash from a nearby rest stop. Michael yells at him for two and a half hours straight, then tells Hunter to get the hell out of his face.
Hunter storms off to whatever passes for a lobby in their motel. He returns to the room half an hour later to find the door open, and Michael looking at him apologetically.
He tosses Michael a pack of throat lozenges he purchased from the motel vending machine with his recent earnings. Michael shakes his head.
The next morning there are bruises on Hunters hips and back. Seeing Michael’s worry, he says, "I knew what I was doing. I kinda wanted it rough."
Michael doesn’t bother responding to that, and instead asks Hunter if it hurts. Hunter shrugs. Michael heads down to Brian’s car and finds some Icy-Hot in the trunk. He tosses it to Hunter, who immediately drops his pants and starts rubbing the stuff on his bruises.
No one talks for a while. Then Hunter says quietly, "I can’t reach my lower back."
Michael takes over wordlessly, and hopes his hands aren't too rough.
Then one day, everything goes wrong. Lunch makes them both sick, and Michael has to drive three extra hours for a pay phone. Ben isn’t home to answer the call. And it rains.
The pair stumbles into a motel well after dark. Michael sits down on his bed and stares blindly at the wall. Hunter tries patting him awkwardly on the back. When that gets no reaction, he instead places his hand on Michael’s crotch. Michael tries halfheartedly to push Hunter away. "Pretend it’s him," Hunter whispers. "Pretend it isn’t me."
Michael finds himself closing his eyes. Letting it happen.
For three days afterwards Hunter finds himself continually turning around only to find Michael staring at him with an expression of abject horror. "Get over it, already!" he screams out at last. "You’re acting like you molested your own kid, for Christ’s sake!"
"Well, I kinda did," Michael yells back.
"I’m not your son, I’m over the age of consent, and I did all the molesting. I was trying to do you a favor. I thought it would make you stop being depressed for fifteen minutes."
"Well it wasn’t fucking worth it," Michael shrieks, and locks himself in the bathroom.
"I have to tell Ben," Michael says over breakfast the next morning.
Hunter jumps in his seat."What the fuck for?"
"Because I can’t lie to him about this."
Hunter pauses to think. Michael looks at him wonderingly. He’s never seen Hunter look so concerned about, well, anything. "He’s not gonna leave you, you know."
"Yes he is."
"No he isn’t. You think you’ve become this horrible person. You haven’t. You’re exactly the same."
Michael shakes his head. "Hunter --"
"Look, just trust me on this. He won’t leave. I’ll explain it to him."
Michael feels far too tired to argue.
Hunter will be in state custody until the trial is over. "Wait till I’m there to tell him," he says on the drive back. "Or after the trial. Wait till after the trial."
Michael smiles wryly. "No point putting it off. I already screwed everything up." The smile fades. "We were supposed to be a family. And I just screwed it all up."
"Not really."
"Yeah, really."
"It’s not that bad."
"Are you crazy?" Michael laughs. "Not that bad?"
"It’s not like we fucked up on purpose."
There is a long pause. Michael grins. "How insightful of you, Hunter."
"Shut up."
NOW FEED THE MUTANT PLOT BUNNY!
