User: jenish (posted by fizzyblogic) Date: 2007-08-16 15:39 Subject: (no subject) Security: Public Tags: fandom:bands:aar, mike/chris, nick/tyson, series:puppyverse

Learn To Wear Each Other Well
{Nick/Tyson, Mike/Chris // NC-17 // PUPPYVERSE = CRACK // 100% untrue & disclaimed // Beta by Laura, extra help & flailing noises from Jamie}

The first part of the morning, that wasn’t the weird part. Nick woke up with Tyson’s nose pressed against his collar bone, breath ghosting over his throat. Tyson was wheezing in his sleep, morning erection digging into Nick’s thigh, legs slung over him. Parts of Nick he’d forgotten he even had had gone numb. He tried to shift his weight a little, get some feeling back into at least one butt cheek, but Tyson snuffled and nudged closer and started wheezing again, this time right into Nick’s ear, so Nick decided to hell with it and ran his hands up and down Tyson’s spine until the wheezing turned to deep, even breaths. They were a little damp, but they weren’t annoying, so it was an improvement.

He stared up at the ceiling of the bunk for a minute. He didn’t have to pee or anything, but he was restless all the same. He shifted again, and his own morning erection nudged a little along Tyson’s.

That felt good. That felt really fucking good. So Nick lazily and softly wrapped his palm around as much of their cocks as he could fit, moving his hips so they were flush, and started jerking them both off with long, slow strokes. He bit his lip and arched his neck back, palms and fingertips and – and more fingers than he just had on his one hand, so he opened his eyes to see Tyson, gazing down at him sleepily.

“You tryin’t’wake m’up?” Tyson asked, words running together somewhere in his throat. Nick smiled at him and dragged his palm up the shafts of their cocks, pressed his closer. Tyson leaned down and kissed him, a sleepy press of lips.

“Maybe,” Nick murmured, smiling at the way Tyson’s eyes were still half closed. He tilted his hips, push and press, stroking with his hand, and Tyson groaned.

“I like that,” he muttered, lips going to Nick’s neck, “like that. Like … like that.” He rolled his hips, pushing his cock against Nick’s, and Nick moaned, throwing his head further back. “You make nice noises,” Tyson told him, voice low and a little satisfied and definitely still sleepy.

The friction felt good, felt even better with both of them tilting and rolling their hips, crashing slowly together, waves and undulation. Nick breathed out, slow and steady until it hitched and Tyson closed their mouths together, lips and tongues. Nick groaned into his mouth, bucking up and coming, a languid pool of heavy pleasure at the base of his spine. Tyson came two beats later, their noses pressed together and their eyes closed.

“Mmmmm,” Tyson said, relaxing every muscle, until he felt like a warm puddle of person on top of Nick. He gently turned them over so Tyson was on his back, cleaned them both up with a discarded shirt, and kissed his forehead.

“Sleep, okay?” he murmured. Tyson nodded, weakly and endearingly, and Nick slithered out of the bunk, grabbing a pair of sweatpants on his way.

He pulled them on and padded past the other bunks, to the fridge. Chris had his yoga mat out in the front lounge, sitting in the lotus position. “Morning,” he said, a smirk in his voice.

“I guess you heard that, then?” Nick asked, sheepish. He selected a carton of juice from the fridge and took a swig from it.

Chris stretched out one arm and hooked his elbows together. “Couldn’t hear much over Mike,” he grinned, “but I got the idea.” Nick snorted. “You wanna work out?”

“Sure.” Nick swallowed another mouthful of juice, put the carton back in the fridge, and fished his mat out from behind the couch. He lay it next to Chris’s, and matched his position.

It was just as they were nearing the end of their usual workout that Nick felt something start to go wrong. At first, it just felt like he was twisted oddly somehow, so he moved to try and get comfortable again; but as he moved his arms, they started to ache, like they were bigger and differently-jointed than they should be. He tried moving his head to look at them, but it was seriously starting to pound; and then most of his body simultaneously began to hurt and he spent a couple of seconds wondering if he’d trapped every nerve he owned before it all stopped as suddenly as it had started.

He turned to Chris and said, “Fuck, I don’t know what I just did, but it hurt like a bitch.”

Except, what it actually sounded like was “Aorrrw arwo aoorrrrw.”

He stopped. Had his mouth muscles atrophied, or something? He tried flexing his jaw, bringing a hand up to massage it. That was when he noticed his hand.

And that it was furry.

He looked up at Chris, who was staring at him like he was a science experiment. “What the…?” he heard from the doorway, and looked further up to see Mike, also staring at him strangely. “What the fuck just happened?”

“Um.” Chris looked at Mike, and back to Nick. “I didn’t take anything and just don’t remember it, did I? Did I imagine that? Did you see Nick turn into a dog, Mike?”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, moving forwards. Nick tried walking over to him, and yes, he was definitely on all fours and definitely at ankle height – and, he discovered when he looked down, definitely a very small dog. He sat down at Mike’s feet and looked up at him. “He’s … dude, he’s a cute little puppy.”

Nick found that he had a tail when it thumped a couple of times. It was an interesting sensation, so he tried it again, and it felt kinda nice, so he kept on doing it. “Well, at least one of us is happy,” Chris muttered.

“I’d, uh, I’d better wake Ty,” Mike said, turning back towards the bunks. Nick thought he kind of felt like jumping on Tyson’s stomach, because that would wake him up just right, so he went with Mike to help.

When they got to the bunk, Mike just stared at it. Nick stood on his hind paws, front ones planted as far up as he could reach, trying to see. It was no good, so he whined, “Lift me up there, Mikey,” and Mike did.

“He probably went to the bathroom or something,” Mike said, but Nick could definitely smell Tyson. He snuffled around on the bed – shit, was that what they smelled like when they fucked? – and almost tripped over a tiny clump in the blanket.

He leaned down and sniffed at it, then nudged it with his paw until it rolled over. “Ty?” he whimpered.

A tiny, grey, stripy, blue-eyed kitten blinked at him from the blankets. “Nick?” it mewed, and even though Nick heard the mew, he also heard Tyson’s voice. He sat down heavily.

“Something fucking weird is going on,” he told Tyson, turning back to Mike. “Found him,” he barked.

Mike stared at them. “Uh, Chris?” he called. “Chris, you need to see this.”

Nick turned back to Tyson, who was struggling out of the blanket and stretching. “What happened, man?” he asked, yawning hugely and with fangs.

“Your breath stinks.” Nick wrinkled his nose, just as Chris’s head appeared next to Mike’s. The two of them stared at Nick and Tyson. “And I think we just turned into animals, Ty.”

Tyson looked at him, and then down at his own paws. “Oh,” he said. He paused, looking back at Mike and Chris. “Are we cute?” he asked them.

“I don’t think they can understand us,” Nick said, watching Mike and Chris exchange a look. “And you’re an adorable little kitten, Ty, of course you’re cute.”

Tyson rolled onto his back and stretched, grinning at Nick. “They’ll have to do whatever we say,” he pointed out. “I’m a kitten, and you’re a puppy. Give Mike the big eyes, go on.”

Nick rolled them, but before he could say anything, Chris snorted. “That’s not going to work, Ty,” he said.

“You can hear us?” Nick asked, staring at them.

“Yeah, I mean – we can hear barking and shit, but you’re talking too. It’s weird.” Mike reached into the bunk to stroke Tyson’s head. “Hey, your fur’s all soft, it’s nice.”

Tyson had started purring the second Mike touched him. He rubbed his head against Mike’s hand happily. “Well, at least he hasn’t changed at all,” Nick laughed, crawling back towards the edge of the bunk. “You guys want to take this to the back lounge or something?”

“I gotta pee first,” Tyson said, the low rumble of purring cutting off.

There was a pause, and Chris said, “Uh, how?”

“Oh.” Tyson looked at Nick. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“If you pee in the sink I will never forgive you,” was all Nick said.

“I could maybe, I don’t know, just stand on the seat and try not to fall in?” Tyson hazarded.

Chris heaved a sigh. “I’ll hold you up, if you want,” he said. Tyson crawled up to nuzzle him.

“You don’t have to,” he meowed, and he sounded so pathetic that Nick nuzzled their ears together for a moment.

“Dude, come on, it’s not like you haven’t done the same for me. Okay, I wasn’t a cat at the time, just really wasted, but hey. ’S what friends are for, right?”

“Oh my god, you are a true friend,” Tyson sighed in relief. “Now quick, carry me in before I wet the bunk.”

Nick watched Chris carry Tyson away and said to Mike, “You do realise he won’t let up with the cute thing, right?”

“Since when does he ever?” Mike replied, affection running through every syllable. “What about you, you okay for peeing and stuff?”

“Yeah, I’m good for now. When do we get there?”

Mike checked his watch. “Coupla hours.”

“I’ll be fine until then, after that I can like, pee up walls or whatever dogs do.” He stopped, and then turned to stare, horrified, at Mike. “Shit, man, we’ve got a show tonight.”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, dejected, “I was thinking about that too. And you’ll need to eat some time.”

Nick sat back, staring at his paws. “It’s so weird,” he sighed.

“Nick,” Mike said, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingertips, “I’m talking to a puppy. Yeah, it’s fucking weird.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who is the puppy,” Nick pointed out, rubbing one paw over his nose. “Everything smells funny. And when you look at Chris, you suddenly smell different to when you’re not looking at him.”

Mike blushed, just a little. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s bizarre.” He would have smiled, if his mouth could move that way. “And adorable,” he added, leaning closer to bump his shoulder against Mike’s arm.

“Shut up,” Mike grinned, ruffling his fur. “Come on, let’s go to the back lounge.”

Nick jumped down from the bunk and followed at Mike’s heels as they passed the shower and got to the back lounge. Tyson was curled up on Chris’s lap, Chris kneading his fingertips into Tyson’s fur. Tyson was purring loudly enough that Nick could hear it from across the room. “You whore,” he called over, bounding up and putting his paws on Chris’s knees.

“Hey, watch who you’re calling a whore,” Tyson opened one eye. “Besides, this feels luxurious.” He wriggled against Chris’s hand, and Chris just scritched him fondly.

“So I was thinking,” he said to Mike, who settled next to him – they both definitely smelled a bit different, the nearer they were to each other, Nick noted as he jumped into Mike’s lap, “when we get to the place, I’m gonna do some asking around, see if I can find out what the fuck just happened.”

“Why, do you think it might have happened on anyone else’s bus?” Mike asked, petting Nick. Tyson was right, it felt pretty awesome to be scritched behind the ears. Nick thumped his tail against Mike’s knee.

“I kinda hope not. But maybe someone knows something.”

“You’re thinking of Dirty, right?” Nick asked, trying not to tilt his head to get Mike to stroke it. Mike ran his palm over it anyway, and Nick nuzzled him.

“Yeah,” Chris grinned. “And I should find Shabba, I think he was staying in the Fall Out Boy bus last night. Probably with Dirty, actually.”

“Dude, it’d be really fucking funny if like, three of October Fall had turned into mice,” Mike laughed suddenly.

“What, like Three Blind Mice? We gonna need a farmer’s wife?” Chris asked, matching his laughter.

“Would Pete count?” Tyson asked, a small kitteny chuckle emitting from the ball of fur he had become, nestled deeply in Chris’s lap.

“Wouldn’t that make Patrick a farmer?” Nick asked, reaching over to swat Tyson’s ear with his paw. Tyson flicked his tail at him.

“Patrick could be a farmer,” he countered. “But I was thinking Joe, more like.”

“No way, Joe is Pete’s wife,” Nick pointed out, flopping down across Mike’s thigh, paws hanging over the edge and watching Chris pet Tyson.

“Joe could work an apron and a carving knife,” Mike laughed.

“He should have a frilly bonnet to match his apron,” Tyson crowed, wriggling his paws.

Nick dropped his head onto his legs and felt his eyes close. “I might nap,” he said, pausing for a huge yawn. “Don’t know why I’m so tired,” he added, leaning his head to one side as Mike stroked it. He gave a half-hearted thump of his tail.

“You’re only little,” Mike said, soft. “Don’t puppies need a lot of sleep?”

“Not as much as kittens,” Tyson said, “and I’m awake.”

“Yeah, but you’ve had your eyes closed for like, ten minutes,” Chris pointed out. “You could go to sleep, it’s okay.”

“Alright,” and Tyson sounded so meek that Nick opened his eyes to look over.

“Hey Ty,” he said, “we gonna sleep any nearer?”

“I ain’t moving,” was his answer. So Nick crawled forwards, inch by inch, until he was in Chris’s lap too. He curled around the warm fuzzy bundle of Tyson and buried his nose in their tails.

The next thing he knew, there was a jerk and he was falling.

“Wh-whut?” he snorted, blinking up from where he was sprawled on the floor. Chris was leaning down to look at him, and a tiny grey kitten was looking down from Chris’s la-- then he remembered. “Are we there?” he asked, shaking himself and sitting up.

“Yeah. Ty, dude, I gotta go pee, okay?” Chris scooped Tyson up and carefully put him back down on the couch. Nick jumped back onto it as Chris left the lounge; Mike was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, so,” said Tyson, sitting next to him.

“Do you feel like your paws are too big, or is that just me?” Nick asked him, holding one up and inspecting it.

“Honey, that’s all you,” and he would have been grinning if he could. “I got dainty little fuckers right here.” He licked one of them, as if to prove his point.

“Alright, there’s no need to gloat, just because you’re a cat. Everyone loves dogs better anyway.”

Tyson pounced on him, and it was kind of ridiculous, really, because normally Ty was a good inch or two taller, as well as wiry and fast, though Nick had flexibility on his side, but right now he was at least twice as big as Tyson and easily rolled him over and pinned him down. Tyson tried to grin up at him, but it didn’t quite work. “You know, this would be kinda hot if we weren’t furry.”

Nick buried his face in Tyson’s neck and gave a playful nip. “Always thinking of the aesthetics, Ty,” he rumbled.

“Watch the teeth, Wheeler, they’re sharper than they were,” Tyson pointed out.

“Sorry.” Nick still didn’t move.

“’S alright.” Tyson wriggled. “You gonna let me up?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m thinking.”

“You ass, what’s there to think about?”

Nick just laughed, and it sounded so weird in his dog voice. “That I might get you to stop moving for five minutes.”

“Hah,” Tyson said, a high meow. “I’m a kitten, Nickolas. Not gonna happen.” To illustrate, he wriggled and bucked and moved until he was free of Nick’s paws, and then sprang out from under him and launched himself on top of him, sprawled out.

Of course, it was just as Nick was laughing that Mike walked in. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, guys,” he groaned, covering his eyes. “Could you not hold off, just while you have fur and shit? Jesus.”

“Relax, Kennerty, I was just jumping on his back, is all,” Tyson mewed. “He insinuated he could get me to be quiet.”

“Yeah, stupid me.” Nick rolled over quickly and tried to pin Tyson again, but all he got was a faceful of tail. “See? Okay, yeah, I admit it, Ty. You can’t be stopped.”

“Damn right.” Tyson strutted along the couch, tail held high in the air in the shape of a question mark, whiskers twitching. “I am the unstoppable Tyson Ritter.”

Nick looked at Mike. “Make him quit it,” he said, futile.

Mike shook his head. “Not a power in the ’verse.”

“Hey, I’m hungry,” Tyson said, sitting down suddenly. “Where’s Gaylor?”

“He went to find Shabba and Dirty. According to Pete, they were making out last night.”

There was a pause, and then the meowing and barking of both Nick and Tyson laughing filled the room. “Fucking finally,” Nick wailed, collapsing against the cushions. He was still leaning against Ty and letting the last yaps of the laughter dissipate when he heard footsteps and the door to the lounge crashed open.

“Holy shit, no way,” Pete boomed, practically running over to the couch. “You’re not – come on, you guys are shitting me.”

Nick sat up. “Hi, Pete,” he said, and watched as Joe’s head appeared over Pete’s shoulder.

“Woah,” Joe concluded. Tyson jumped down and wound between their ankles.

“Any idea what the fuck happened here?” Nick asked Pete, not with any real sense of hope, but you never know.

“No, but there’s this ferret on our bus that knows how to sing like a motherfucker,” Pete answered. Tyson stopped rubbing against their ankles for attention and craned his neck up at them.

“It happened to Patrick too?” he meowed.

“Yeah, and he won’t come out of his bunk now,” Shabba said from behind Joe. “Chris said something about mice and disappeared, I have no idea where he’s gone.”

Mike and Nick looked at each other. “October Fall,” they chorused, and Tyson laughed, taking a running jump up onto the couch again to sit as close as kittenly possible to Nick without their fur clumping together.

“Okay, you two are fucking cute,” Joe said, moving around all the bodies in the room as best he could, and sitting down near them.

“I really gotta get a dog one of these days,” Pete sighed, watching as Joe leaned over to pet Nick. “Right, you guys, I’m calling Ryan.”

“Why? Does he have expert knowledge of this kind of freaky shit?” Tyson paused. “Wait, it’s Ryan, he has the monopoly on freaky shit.”

“Not the monopoly,” Pete smiled, “but I’m still going to call him.” He ducked out of the room, pulling his sidekick out of his pocket as he went.

Joe was still petting Nick. “Is it weird, having fur and stuff? Patrick won’t let any of us near him, I tried stroking him but he just said it was weird. Which, I mean, I guess, but his fur was really soft.”

“Yeah, it’s. I mean, it’s kinda nice, I guess. I’m kinda small, though. Not used to being ankle level,” Nick shrugged.

Mike and Shabba had, by this point, moved off somewhere else in the bus, so when Pete came in again Nick and Tyson were either side of Joe, being petted by one hand each. “Dude, we should keep them around,” he said. Pete laughed.

“Okay guys, what did you do this morning, before the fur? Did you wake up like this, do you remember it happening?”

“I was asleep,” Tyson piped up, purring subsiding as he spoke. “Nick woke me up before, we had sex, I went back to sleep, then I woke up all kittenified.”

“I was awake. Doing yoga with Chris, I felt weird. Hurt like fuck, then suddenly I have a tail.”

“Okay, well I don’t think the sex is a factor. It wasn’t for Patrick, anyway,” Pete mused, tapping the corner of his sidekick against his chin.

“Did Ryan have any ideas?” Nick asked, trying to still his tail but having difficulty, seeing as Joe was still scritching him behind the ears and it felt pretty nice.

“Not unless you count ‘wait it out, but it’ll take a while’. Okay, so, let’s – so far we have: a puppy, a kitten, a ferret, and,” he paused, counting off on his fingers, then finished, “no fucking clue.” He slumped down next to Tyson, who leaned over to nudge his hand. Pete automatically started petting him.

“And a show tonight,” Nick reminded them.

“Yeah,” Joe nodded.

“Fuck,” Pete agreed.

“Hey, why the long faces?” Chris called from the doorway. Nick’s tail picked up its wag. Chris held a plastic bag up. “I got treats!”

Nick jumped down and scurried over. “Treats?” he asked, when he’d reached Chris’s feet, looking up hopefully at him.

“You are so fucking cute,” Chris laughed, reaching down to pick him up with one arm. Nick clung on. “I got you guys some food, and I got something else.” He put Nick back down on the couch, next to Tyson, and reached into the bag. Tyson sat up expectantly. Chris pulled out, with a flourish, a cat toy shaped like a mouse.

“You got me a toy?” Tyson sounded like he didn’t know if he was offended or delighted, or possibly both. Chris shook his head.

“Dude, I got you catnip.”

Tyson paused for a second, sucking in his breath. Then he walked over to Chris, looked up at him, and jumped up. He landed on his shoulders, and wound around his neck, purring loudly. “You are the best friend in the whole world,” he purred, nuzzling Chris’s ears.

“Hey, dude, anything for you, right?” Chris grinned, trying to reach to pet him but failing.

Suddenly, Nick sneezed.

“Shit, that was weird,” he said, looking around at them all in surprise. “That –” and he sneezed again.

Tyson gazed at him from Chris’s shoulder. “That was fucking cute,” he said.

Nick sneezed again. “I think I’m – frrrwrr – allergic to something.”

Chris looked down at the mouse in his hands. “Maybe catnip? How about if I take this and Ty to the front lounge, see if you feel better?”

Nick managed to nod in between two more sneezes, so Chris picked up the bag and left, walking oddly, Tyson still clinging to his shoulders. “I love you, Nick,” he called, a soft mew as they left.

“Love you too. Go get high,” Nick barked after them. He sneezed once more, and then … silence, for a minute. “Okay,” he said, rubbing his nose with his paw, “yeah, I think it must have been the catnip.”

“So, uh,” Pete cleared his throat, “what are we going to do?”

“Where’s Andy?” Nick asked, looking around. Mike had sidled back in, sitting on the other end of the couch. Nick walked over and stretched out on his lap, looking up pathetically at him until Mike started fondling his ears again.

“He stayed with Patrick,” Pete replied, standing. “I think we’d better go back, Joe, talk to him. See if we can’t come up with something. You’ve got sound check soon,” he said to Mike, who nodded miserably. “Well. Uh. We’ll try and think of something.”

“Yeah, okay. So will we,” Nick sighed, as Joe and Pete left. He looked up at Mike. “You okay, man?”

Mike looked down at him, and he wasn’t even smiling. “We have sound check soon,” is all he said.

Nick nuzzled his belly. “It’ll be okay, Mikey.”

“Yeah,” Mike exhaled, working both hands in Nick’s fur.

“Come on, Mike, you’re our sunshine,” Nick whimpered. Mike cracked a smile and picked him up, wrapping both arms around his entire body. Nick found a comfortable space in Mike’s arms and rubbed against him as comfortingly as he could.

Chris’s head appeared in the doorway. “Hey guys, Ty is like, wasted on that shit,” he giggled. “He keeps trying to climb up the curtains.”

“But … we don’t have any curtains,” Mike pointed out, “except on the bunks.”

“Exactly. He’s climbing the blinds.” Chris’s eyes were squinched into slits, his smile broad and just short of laughter in motion. “And he keeps walking on this narrow invisible line and then falling over. It’s fucking hilarious.”

Nick slithered back down into Mike’s lap as his arms loosened. “You should video that,” he started to say, but only got two and a quarter words in before he started feeling really fucking weird again; like his limbs were too short and they were trying to burst out of his body to grow bigger. It really fucking hurt for a few seconds – and then he was sprawled, spilling out of Mike’s lap and suddenly kind of cold. Also, naked.

Also, not a dog.

Mike grabbed him, sudden, pulling him up by the shoulders until he was sitting upright; and kissed him, hard and fierce. Nick kissed back for a moment, and then they broke apart.

There was a thump and a yell from the front lounge, and Chris darted back there, closely followed by Mike and Nick, who saw his sweatpants lying in a heap on the floor on his way in. He yanked them on.

Tyson was lying on the floor, looking startled. “What the shit?” he asked, and there was no doubt about it; he was stone cold sober.

“You were fucking high a second ago,” Chris said, offering a hand and helping him up.

“I was also really, really small,” Tyson pointed out. “And I don’t think catnip works on humans.” He moved over, from his hips outwards, sidling up to Nick. “Hey baby,” he said. “Room in those pants for one more?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Maybe when you were a kitten, but I think you’re too big now,” he said, but anything else he wanted to say was lost when Tyson fastened their mouths together. Nick made a soft sound in his throat and shifted closer, skin adhering. Tyson really was very naked.

He was dressed in time for sound check, and he and Nick gratefully ate the burgers Cap’n John ran out for while Chris was checking the sound on his drums. The venue itself was kind of nice, room enough backstage for all the crew, and there was even a shower attached to the dressing room. Nick saw Patrick walking around, guitar in hand, and jogged over to him.

“Good to see you’re not furry,” he said, clapping him on the back.

Patrick sighed. “I’m just going to pretend that part of today didn’t happen. Actually, I’m discounting the whole morning.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I – kinda. Yeah.” He glanced around. “I’d better make sure Pete isn’t doing anything to the wall this time,” he said, and hurried away. Nick looked at his retreating back for a few seconds before making his way back to the stage and strapping his guitar on for a system check.

Mike insisted on watching the opening bands that night, and Nick kept him company in the wings. “Does Faller ever play to the audience?” he asked, half way through the Hush Sound’s set.

“Always to Darren,” Mike shook his head.

When From First To Last played the opening notes of their last song, Nick made his way back to the dressing room to collect the others. “Guys, we’re on soon.”

“Nicky!” Tyson exclaimed, pulling him closer by the waist. “Where did you and Mike sneak off to, hmm?”

Nick laughed. “We were just watching the bands, dude. Hush Sound rocked tonight.”

“Yeah, those kids are pretty badass.” Tyson nuzzled him happily. Nick was strongly reminded of the kitten version of him.

“Come on,” Nick dropped a kiss onto his forehead. “Show time.”

“You know I love you, Nick?” Tyson began.

“Of course you do,” Nick smiled.

“I am going to show you extra love tonight.” Tyson stood, and stretched. “The stage awaits, my boys,” he announced to the room. Chris laughed. “Let us answer its siren call, and play.” The last word, he delivered in his best booming God voice.

“Doofus,” Nick grinned, picking up his guitar. “Dave, got everything?”

Dave checked. “Yep.”

“Great. Let’s roll.”

Chris went out on the stage first. He settled behind his drum kit, to the cheers of the crowd, and held up his drum sticks for silence. It didn’t exactly fall, but the noise level dropped enough that his sticks tapping together in rhythm could be heard.

Tap tap tap-tap-tap. Tap tap tap-tap-tap.

Nick bounded out and played the first notes, closely followed by Mike, then Tyson appeared to a roar that almost drowned out him singing, “I know you so better than the city in the rear view.”

Nick soaked in the noise of the room, the familiar feel of his guitar. He played the first bridge to Chris, who kept his eyes on him around flailing sticks, and after the chorus, Nick caught Mike’s eye and shot him a wink. He turned back to the crowd; he recognised a few faces in the front rows, beaming grins at every one of them. He played the rest of the song at the crowd, and sometimes Tyson, who was barely taking his eyes off him, singing every line to Nick’s side of the stage. He sounded the last note in the song, and then Tyson did his usual “So how’s everybody doing?” speech. Nick made his way over while Tyson was speaking, switching guitars as he went. He settled up against Tyson’s shoulder to play the opening notes of the next song.

“Please just don’t play with me,” Tyson sang, one hand finding its way to Nick’s waist. Nick felt fingertips ghosting over his skin, just under the hem of his shirt. “My paper heart will bleed.” Nick played, tilting his head back as Tyson edged his hand inside Nick’s shirt, splaying the palm against his back. “This wait for destiny won’t do, be with me please I beseech you.” Nick kept playing, kept as straight a face as possible, but Tyson’s fingertips stroked his back where they were spread and it felt so fucking good. “Simple things that make you run away,” and Tyson was almost smirking, the fucker. “Catch you if I can.” He moved his hand away and leaned quickly in, kissing Nick, catching him on the jaw. Nick’s head was still tilted back, and moving away felt a little like sleepwalking for a second, but then the music kicked in and he got back to doing his job. He played, singing along with a few of the words of the verses, walking over to Mike and leaning their backs together, playing, turning around and nuzzling their foreheads together, and then their noses for a second.

Three songs later, Tyson came over and dropped to his knees during the solo, playing the almighty fuck out of his bass, and Nick angled towards him, already hard, already fucking gone from the atmosphere and watching Ty. He was practically on his back, and Nick stepped even closer, leaning over him, playing the solo a little like he was fucking the guitar, and Tyson threw his head back. He got up again, holding his bass in front of his crotch as he moved. Nick smirked over at him as he started singing again, “Paint yourself a picture.” Tyson looked back, silently communicating showers, the fucking second we’re off this stage with the shape of his eyebrows and the tilting path of his eyes. Nick grinned down at his guitar, shifting so his jeans were a little less uncomfortably tight, and Tyson sang, “And you win, and you win, and you win.”

Nick sauntered over to Mike during the closing song, arm movements rhythmic, and played to him from inches away. Mike grinned at him, and Nick sank to his knees, still playing, leaning back on his heels and arching his neck back. Mike leaned over him, winked, and then Nick got up again in one fluid motion. He bounded over to Tyson, who was watching out of the corner of his eye, singing, “When all you’ve got to keep is strong.” Nick beamed at him and waited until the end of the chorus before going back to Mike, singing into the other side of his microphone.

Tyson finished the song, drawing out the last syllable. The crowd roared them off the stage, and Tyson grabbed Nick by the waist as soon as they were clear of the equipment. “You fucking tease,” he murmured, steering them both towards the dressing room.

“You fucking love it,” Nick countered, moving as fast as he could without tripping over. Chris burst into the dressing room in front of them.

“Clear a path,” he called, “they need the shower.”

Nick flipped him off as they passed, claiming the shower and locking the door behind them. Tyson was already pulling his shirt off, chest glistening with sweat, and Nick pulled his own off and dropped it to the ground. Their jeans followed suit, falling to their ankles, and Nick swallowed.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he commented, stepping out of his jeans and shoes.

“Neither are you,” Tyson noted, moving fast towards him. They met in the space between where their bodies had been, and Tyson’s momentum slammed Nick’s back against the wall. “Fuck,” Tyson groaned, licking a line up Nick’s neck to his earlobe. He sank to his knees, steadied himself, and nosed at Nick’s cock before taking it in, sliding his mouth down onto it as far as it would go.

Nick moaned. Tyson wrapped one hand around the base of Nick’s cock, and Nick reached for his other hand, moving it to his hip. Their fingers interlocked on his skin, and Nick threw his head back as Tyson sucked, worked his wrist, held him down with his other hand. Nick pressed his back further into the wall, trying not to moan too loudly, but fuck Tyson was fucking skilled at this, his mouth and his tongue and Nick shut his eyes, brain futzing out as Tyson ran the pad of his thumb over and around Nick’s hip. His thigh twitched in rhythm with Tyson’s sucks, and the groan collected in his throat, escaping before he could stop it, “Oh, oh, oh, oh, fuckyesTy, fuck,” and he squeezed his eyes shut and yelped, “fuck,” as Tyson sucked particularly hard, tongue wrapped around him, hands working, and Nick came. He saw stars on his eyelids and didn’t even realise until he was relaxing against the wall that he had groaned, loud and high.

Tyson pulled his mouth off Nick’s softening cock. “Fuck, Nick,” he breathed, and Nick beckoned him upwards. Tyson stood, kissing him hard, and Nick turned them around, pushed him against the wall.

“My turn,” Nick smiled into his mouth. He moved down to his knees, keeping as much skin contact as possible as he went, and licked at Tyson’s cock. He liked just looking at it, sometimes, liked licking and touching and just trying to make Tyson make those little noises in his throat that were really fucking hot. Tyson’s hands tangled in his hair, and Nick took him in, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, other hand moving around to cup his balls just the way he liked. Nick sucked, long and languid and slow, and Tyson whimpered.

“Gonna fucking kill me some day,” he murmured, pushing Nick’s hair back off his forehead. Nick just sucked harder and hummed, deep in his throat, watching as Tyson forced his eyes open again. Their gaze locked, and Nick sucked, working one hand at the base, working the other hand back, back, between his cheeks and gently in. Tyson sucked his breath in and closed his eyes, arching his neck. “Gonna fucking kill me,” he whined at the back of his throat. “Fuck.” Nick hummed again, sucking, licking as best he could, twisting both wrists. Tyson’s mouth fell open and he bucked upwards; Nick moved to compensate, and Tyson bucked again. Another buck, and he came, Nick’s mouth filling; overflowing, as he felt the trickle out of the corners. He pulled off, swallowing carefully and wiping at his chin with one hand.

He stood up, leaned against Tyson. “You’re so much fun to blow,” he murmured, nuzzling at his neck.

Tyson just made a small noise in his mouth and looked up at the ceiling. Nick grinned, smug, and reached down to untangle their clothes. “We’re going to shower now, right?”

Tyson nodded weakly.

“Okay good. It’s just, uh, we didn’t bring any … clothes in here. For after.”

Tyson just nodded again.

Nick shrugged. “Alright.” He started the shower up, hoping someone would be around in the dressing room when they were finished, agreeable to fetching clothing for them.

When they emerged later (clothed, thanks to Mike) and found the others hanging out with the other bands, they had only been in the room five minutes when Andy pulled them aside.

“Listen,” he began, voice low, “I heard what happened this morning, and I’m. Uh. I’m sorry.”

Nick glanced at Tyson and back to Andy. “What for?”

“Well, okay, so I was just – talking to Patrick this morning, on the bus. And uh. And then there’s this bit where I just, I don’t remember anything. And it’s fucking weird, because I definitely remember right before it, and I definitely remember right after it, and there’s like, just this hole in the middle of it. I don’t even know how long it lasted, not – not a whole lot of time, but just. I don’t remember. And then suddenly I had a ferret in my lap.”

Tyson blinked. “Did you have a Patrick in your lap before then?” he asked, keeping his voice down. Andy glanced around and then back at them.

“Don’t tell Pete, okay? I kind of. Uh. Might have made a pass.” He sighed.

“Well, they’re not – I mean, Pete’s not – they’re not dating any more, right?” Nick hissed.

“No, but. It’s weird,” Andy sighed again. “And I think I just made it worse, so I’m just going to. Pretend it didn’t happen, I mean, that part. I think that’s how we’re dealing with it.” He looked over at Patrick, who was deep in conversation with Greta and Darren. “But just, the blacking out thing, it was fucking weird. And it felt like – I don’t know, like there was something I’d done or said, or something, and I should remember it, but I don’t.”

“What, and you think that had something to do with us getting tails?” Tyson asked, incredulous.

Andy looked him square in the eye and said, “Yes.”

“Oh.” Tyson considered that. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t be any less cracked than anything we’d come up with to explain it, right Nick?”

Nick nodded. “I don’t know what happened, but – Andy, don’t feel bad, dude. What happened happened, but we’re okay now. Look, no fur.” He held a hand up, demonstrating how very un-paw-like it now was.

“Yeah, no harm no foul.” Tyson patted Andy on the back. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? It was a weird morning, let’s all just ignore it. It’s already gone away.” He grinned. “Have another Mount Dew, chill out, do some partying. You’ll feel better.”

Andy visibly relaxed. “Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”

Nick gave him a half hug with one arm. “And uh. Try to just get over the Patrick thing, okay?” he whispered.

Andy sighed. “Yeah, I know. I will.”

Tyson kissed him on the cheek. “You can do it, Hurley,” he beamed, and then slipped an arm around Nick’s waist. “Nickolas, my good man, what say we partake of some of that beer I spy on the table?”

“Awesome,” Nick grinned, giving Andy one last pat on the arm and following Tyson over to where the alcohol lived.

It was three o’clock by the time they staggered to Nick’s bunk, laughing breathlessly into each other’s shoulders. “G’night, Shab,” Tyson called, far too loudly and far too near Nick’s ear.

“Ty,” he slurred as he pulled them both into the bunk, “why’re we wearing stuff? I mean. It’s bed time, right?”

“You’re right,” Tyson nodded, starting to struggle out of his clothes. “We should be totally nide. Nude.” He pushed the bundle of clothing into one corner of the bunk, settling up against Nick. “You know what I think,” he whispered, and the corners of Nick’s mouth were already turning up. “I think you should fuck me.”

“I think I should fuck you too,” Nick agreed, digging in the small pouch hanging by the pillow for the bottle of lube. He slathered it onto his hands, and some on Tyson’s waiting fingers. They fumbled slightly, but got both Nick’s cock and Tyson’s ass nicely slick with as little giggling as could reasonably be expected. Nick was, in some part of his mind, still nineteen and hardly able to believe his luck in getting to fuck the hot best friend he’d had a crush on for years, and it was this part of his mind that made him bury his face in Tyson’s shoulder, either laughing softly or just breathing in, because either way it was pretty awesome. He slipped into Tyson, trying to go slow, or aim right, and not quite getting either; Tyson shifted, aligning them better, and Nick pushed in. Tyson arched his back, and Nick dipped his head to kiss Tyson’s neck, open-mouthed and wet.

“Mmm, you’re the best…est,” Tyson murmured, his eyes sliding closed. Nick pushed inside him, slow and hot and slick, and closed his own eyes.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, deep and even. “Yeah…”

His movements slowed, body slackening on top of Tyson, who just snuffled and nuzzled closer, and Nick didn’t even notice when he fell asleep too.

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