FicWad

Chapter 9 – I’m For You

When Joey woke up at 40 minutes past 12, he found himself not on the couch on the bus he'd fallen asleep in, but a large, comfortable hotel bed. He surmised Mick had carried him in again, and wondered if it was becoming a trend. He could feel Mick beside him, one of his arms wrapped around his body. The other was around his head, his hand still resting on Joey's hair.

Joey wriggled around slightly until he was facing Mick. He didn't feel sleepy anymore, and was quite content to watch the guitarist sleep. His stomach was doing flip-flops, but at least he didn't feel like throwing up again. Just yet, anyway.

He slipped a hand under Mick's shirt and ran his palm up his stomach to his chest. Joey enjoyed being connected to him like this, and he rubbed his hand gently. Mick's skin was soft but his muscles were hard, and the juxtaposition was tantalising. Joey tucked himself into Mick and let his head rest against his collarbone, breathing in the scent that rolled off Mick's skin.

Joey lay there for a long time, just touching, and he thought he might have drifted off at one point. He was pleased that Mick was finally getting the chance to get some rest, after spending most of his energy looking after him. He edged a hand up to brush the hair away from Mick's face, and smiled as he saw brown eyes blink open slowly. Mick sighed deeply and woke up. He wrapped his arms around Joey and kissed him on the top of his head.

“How you doing?” he asked, looking at Joey anxiously.

“I feel ok. My stomach is a bit wobbly.”

Mick laughed at Joey's description. He leaned down for a kiss, pleased that Joey was feeling even just a bit better. His skin was still pale and drawn, and he looked exhausted, despite the long sleep he'd had.

“Still sleepy?” he asked softly.

“I don't feel sleepy. Just tired,” Joey grinned, knowing that all sounded quite confusing.
Mick understood. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Yeah. Dunno what though. Beer?”

Mick tickled him. Pushing Joey onto his back he straddled him and attacked his waist. Joey squealed and laughed, before Mick stopped suddenly. Not the best thing to do when you weren't feeling well. Mick started to feel guilty again.

Joey noticed the look on his face. “I'm not going to break, you know,” he said softly.

Mick leaned down and kissed him, feeling Joey's arms snake around his neck.

“I'm just so worried about you,” Mick whispered, only inches away from Joey's face. He could see the redness in his eyes, the heavy bags under them, and the white tinge on his cheeks.

Joey looked up at him, and saw the concern in his face. Mick looked sad, almost... Joey couldn't help it. He'd never had anyone look after him the way Mick had. He could tell every second of the day how much Mick cared. He tried to blink away the tears before Mick saw them, but it didn't work.

Something pulled at Mick as he saw the glistening tears in Joey's eyes. He could tell the drummer was trying to get rid of them, but Mick didn't care. He leaned down and tenderly kissed away the tears rolling down his face, feeling Joey's hands grip his neck. A small sob racked Joey's body as he felt Mick's lips on his skin, and he fought the urge to start bawling. Emotion welled up inside him as Mick held him close, and he cursed himself for feeling so fragile.

Joey clung to Mick as the bigger man soothed and caressed him. Eyes tightly shut, he shivered as Mick concentrated on kissing a spot just under his ear. He cried out as the sublime sensation rippled and flowed through him, his toes curling and back arching. Fingernails dug into Mick's shoulders and he gasped for air, feeling Mick's tongue lick a path along his
collarbone.

“Mmmiccckkk......” he moaned, hands now clutching Mick's hair, as the guitarist worked his way back up to Joey's lips. He hushed him with a kiss, sliding his lips over Joey's and sucking the corner of his mouth.

Stroking Joey's hair, Mick breathed deeply.

“I love you so much,” he whispered into Joey's ear.

It was enough to send Joey into tears again. “I love you too.”

Mick gently wiped the tears away. He smiled, blinking back tears of his own. Goddamn, he hadn't cried since he was a kid and scraped his knee falling down. He had always thought real men didn't cry, but right now, he could have cared less. Joey was the only thing he cared about.

He pressed his lips to Joey again, this time a slow, gentle, drawn-out kiss that elicited a moan from the smaller man. Mick let the kiss linger, brushing his lips to Joey's again and again. One last kiss, and Mick lay next to Joey again, pulling him up to his chest. Joey pressed his head to Mick and felt the bigger man slide his hand under his shirt. Mick's warm hand rubbed his skin, and Joey heard him gasp lowly as he felt the ribs that stuck through Joey's skin.

Joey reached down to grasp Mick's arm, and felt the big man sit up. Gentle hands lifted his t-shirt up, and brushed over his skin. He looked up at Mick, who was studying his stomach, concern written all over his face. He tightened his grip around Mick's arm, and the guitarist turned his attention to him.

“I'm ok, Mick,” he whispered.

But they both knew he wasn't. Mick's fingers traced the troughs between Joey's ribs, and felt the depression that was his stomach.

“Baby..... “ Mick sighed. He felt tears lining his eyes again, and cursed them to hell.

Joey pulled his shirt down, and tried to sit up. Mick grabbed him and held him steady, sliding his arms around Joey. “Shhhhhh.....” Mick murmered in his ear. Joey was shivering in his arms, and Mick grabbed a blanket off the bed, wrapping it around him. He rocked gently, holding Joey to him and stroking his hair.

They sat for a while, Mick comforting Joey on his lap. His shaking subsided and he started to relax, a hand clinging to Mick's shirt.

“Do you want a bath?” Mick whispered in his ear.

Joey nodded, his hand tightening it's grasp on Mick.

Standing up slowly, holding Joey, Mick made his way to the bathroom. He sat Joey down carefully on the floor, making sure he was covered in the blanket, and not cold. He ran the water, checking the temperature. Sitting back down next to Joey as they waited for the bath to fill,
Mick slid his arm around the smaller man's back and felt his head lay against his shoulder.

"I'm taking you home tomorrow," he said, kissing the top of Joey's head.

"What about the tour?" Joey asked, confused.

"It's off until you get better. We decided last night. You're more important than this band."

"But the fans?"

"We'll reschedule."

"Management and the record company?"

"I told them this morning. They're a bit pissed, but they understand. All of us are going home."

Joey wasn't sure what to feel. Relieved that he was going home at last, or angry and disappointed with himself that they'd had to cancel several dates of the tour because of him. He swallowed hard, and felt Mick pull him closer.

"It's ok, babe. You need to be at home. These things happen. The most important thing right now is that you get better."

Mick squeezed Joey's shoulder, and saw the smaller man nod slowly. He knew he would be upset about cancelling the gigs, and Mick just hoped Joey wasn't entertaining thoughts of being a failure. He couldn't help being sick. Being on the road would just make it worse.

The water in the bath threatened to overflow, and Mick slowly left his place on the floor. He tested the water after closing the faucets, and deeming it satisfactory, turned his attentions back to his boyfriend. Crouching down in front of him, Mick slid his hands slowly up the smaller man's arms. Stroking his shoulders, Mick smiled at him.

"You ok?" he asked softly.

Joey still looked very ill to his eyes. He seemed to be a living corpse, and in a way, Mick dreaded stripping him of his clothes. He knew he would see what a walking skeleton Joey had become, and it hurt him so much so see how Joey was suffering. But he didn't want Joey to see his reservations, and so he reached down to slide the t-shirt off Joey's tiny frame.

Mick forced his gasp to die in his throat and refused to let his face reveal his thoughts. Joey looked awful, and it was heartbreaking. His once well-defined arms were stick-thin and his shoulder blades stuck through his skin. Lifting Joey up carefully to tug his pants down, Mick took in the prominent hip bones and his shrunken waist line. He made a vow to get some more food into him today, even if he had to tape his mouth shut afterwards. God, he couldn't wait to get Joey home and to a hospital.

Lifting Joey was like lifting fragile china. Mick hoped he wouldn't crack and break, leaving dust and bits scattered around the bathroom. The water level in the bath barely rose as he settled Joey, making sure he wasn't going to sink. Figuring that the bath was big enough for two, Mick quickly shed his own clothes and stepped into the bath behind the smaller man. Joey lay his head against Mick's chest once he'd lay down, and closed his eyes. Mick's arms automatically took their usual position around Joey, who gripped Mick's hands with his own.

Pressing his head to Joey's, Mick sighed. "What am I gonna do with you, sweet?" he said, half joking and half serious. Joey giggled. Mick smiled at the sound; it had been a while since he had heard it. Realising he'd better get Joey bathed and back into bed before he got cold, Mick grabbed the cloth and body wash. Squirting a decent amount on the fabric, he rubbed it in and carefully started to glide the cloth over Joey's skin. Tenderly, he washed the sweat and pain of the last day from Joey, wishing the fever and nausea could be sucked down the drain with the bubbles.

Down his arms, over his chest, across his stomach, Mick ran the washcloth. Joey lay nearly sleeping, his eyes closed and body relaxed. Mick was loathe to disturb him as he finished bathing him, but he really needed Joey to sit up if he wanted his hair washed. Knowing how much Joey hated having greasy hair, Mick decided to bite the bullet and see if he could sit up. Which he did, reluctantly stirring, but happy to have Mick continue his affection. This time, Mick was saved the annoyance of hunting for Joey's shampoo in his messy suitcase by the presence of Pantene on the shelf; apparently, this hotel was a bit more upmarket, and Joey was satisfied.

Lathering the shampoo, Mick made sure Joey kept his eyes shut. He loved Joey's hair; it was the smaller man's pride and joy and he took care of it. Even if it meant draining the bus' water supply and spending more time in the bathroom than all of the other guys combined. Mick slowly combed his fingers through the black hair, careful not to pull or jerk any strands. Confident all the knots were out, he rinsed Joey's hair with the shower head and squeezed out the excess water.

Joey promptly lay back against him and dozed off, and Mick spent the next few minutes awkwardly trying to wash himself. He couldn't reach a few parts, but figured sitting in foamy bath water for so long had to count for something, and pulled the plug. He sat with Joey while the water swirled and eddied around them, finding its way down the pipes. The slurping, sucking noises of the drain didn't rouse Joey, and even after the water had all but disappeared and only a few stubborn patches of foam remained, Mick sat still with him.

He reached out for a towel on the rail, and pulled it over Joey. Mick dried the both of them off as carefully as he could while they were still in the tub, and then leaving the towel draped over Joey, picked him up as best as he could in the confined space and stepped out. Ignoring the water dripping down his legs and the puddles forming around his feet from the patches he missed, Mick carried on into the bedroom. Joey woke up as he was laid on the bed, and watched as Mick dried him off completely.

Mick rubbed the towel under Joey's left leg, and smiled at the smaller man as he squirmed slightly on the bed. "Hey you... keep still," he murmered, running a hand up Joey's other leg to his hip. His thumb stroked the soft skin and Joey stopped moving, his hair asunder on the pillow.

"You feel alright, babe?" Mick asked quietly, continuing to towel his skin. Joey nodded, one of his hands at his mouth.

His legs dry, Mick crawled up beside Joey, and slid a hand under his hip. Easing him over slightly, Mick dried his back and ass, and flicked his black hair over his shoulder. With a small press on his chest, Mick lay Joey back down. His hand went to Joey's neck, and as he caressed his skin, the drummer closed his eyes and pursed his lips, swallowing hard. Mick discarded the towel and straddled Joey, leaning down to kiss his jaw. He felt Joey's mouth open in a gasp, and captured it with his own.

Feeling his breath shorten, and his pulse quicken, Mick fought the urge to do what his body
wanted, remembering what happened last time. Instead, he pulled away, leaving Joey confused. "I can't, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you," Mick whispered, brushing Joey's hair over his ears. The smaller man nodded, but Mick could see the disappointment in his eyes.
He leaned down for another kiss, but knew it wasn't enough, for either of them.


"I want to get you something to eat," Mick said, his hand on Joey's stomach. "You up for food?"

"Yea. I suppose." Joey's eyes were beginning to droop now, and Mick was glad he had stopped when he did. He brought the covers up around Joey, making sure he was warm and comfortable, and reached for the phone.