Current mood:	determined
Current music:	Guns N' Roses - Reckless Life
Entry tags:	mcr: matt cortez, my chemical romance, the used, the used: jepha howard

FIC: With Friends Like These.... --ADULT, MCR/The Used, Matt/Jepha 1/2
title: With Friends Like These...
author:lisa roquin
fandom: The Used/MCR
rating: Adult
pairing/characters: Matt Cortez/Jepha Howard, background Bert McCracken/Gerard Way, Brian, the rest of MCR & The Used floating around the background. (hint of Brian/Bob if you choose to read it that way & off screen Quinn/female tech)
disclaimer: lies, fiction, untrue. completely and totally made up. I know no one, know nothing of their personal lives. I make no claims of knowing much of anything.
summary: Bert's idea of being a concerned helpful friend might get someone killed one of these days, but he means well. (It was supposed to be porn. It vaguely caught hints of a plot on the way to getting to be porn, but not too much since the plot is mostly getting to the porn. Meh. Meandering to PWP how's that? Not exactly a lot to summarize other than Bert's a danger to himself & others on the way to porn)
warning: D/s, BDSM, m/m, waxing, shaving, biting, oral sex, masturbation, hair pulling, touch of spanking, object insertion/toys, bubble wand (no I'm not kidding) Bertbeinghelpful,alcohol, prescription drug use (both legitimate & recreational, legal & not on the legitimate reason) implied marijuana Also *Time frame*: vaguely Warped 03 or 04? Not exactly canonical but works well enough so call it completely AU if you are twitchy on that. Drunk!Gerard/Bert makeout antics. See timeframe of vaguely 03-04 (Otter still in MCR, Branden still in the Used, Bob doing sound for the Used, Brian pulling double duty w/ both bands). Gerard drinking/using time period. Brian drinking/using time period. Mikey drinking/using time period. Jepha significantly less ink time frame. Bert probably deserves a warning just for being Bert. overheard het. I'm probably forgetting something, but you get the picture. Straightforward kinky porn & Bert-induced-trauma.
author notes: I asked for drabbley distracty prompt on twitter almost two weeks ago because I needed to stay awake and no concentration to pick up anything in progress. pompt from kit & jynx Cortez/Jepha waxing & biting. it turned into this. Since Kit already gotses a fic, the last distraction piece, this one's all Jynxie's (hides cause it prolly adds up to ton of stuff jynx hates)
thanks to Jiltanith, Kit, Gwionfawyr & Wolfenverde for the readthroughs
word count: ballpark 20k+




Matt stretched out on the picnic table. At least there was a bit of shade at the moment. The sun was far enough down that the shadows from the truck's trailer kept most of him in the shade. There wasn't a breath of air to be had, no hint of a breeze and the humidity straight from hell.

He made a strangled sound, sudden cold stealing his breath as a bucket of water which felt like melted ice from someone's cooler was dumped on him. "The FUCK!" he managed when he caught his breath.

Bert and Gerard skidded and stumbled, landing in the dirt and gravel twice tripping over each other's feet trying to make their drunken get away, nearly taking out a few scattered people as they went. Bert cackled like a deranged hyena and Gerard gasping and nearly choking on high, nasally giggles as they disappeared into the labyrinth of busses and trucks.

"YOU'RE DEAD! BOTH OF YOU!" Matt shouted and laid his head back down. Too damned hot to chase them and it wasn't like he would have a hard time finding them later. Well, not too hard. Stealth really wasn't their strong point even if they were fairly good at disappearing long enough to make Brian scream and try to pull his hair out.

Maybe he wouldn't kill them too badly. Other than the initial shock, the freezing water felt good.

"Trail mix?"

Matt cracked an eye open. "They get you too?" Jepha was standing there shirtless, drenched and looking like a half-drowned lost puppy.

"Quinn," Jepha shrugged. He held out the bag in his hand. "It's got pineapples in it."

Matt reached and took a handful. "Dude, sit," he grumbled when Jepha just...stood there.

Jepha moved oddly quick, folding himself up cross legged on the picnic table's bench.

Matt raised an eyebrow slightly. Huh. He rolled to his side raising up on his elbow, picked a couple pieces of coconut and something from his hand and popped them in his mouth.

The night a couple weeks before had been fucked up. Hot, but fucked up. Bert had been a goddamned asshole to the extreme. Not really meaning to be, just totally shitfaced and stoned and the only ones amused by him might have been Gerard and Quinn, but Quinn had passed out before Bert really got going and Gerard had ended up puking before passing out on the bathroom floor of the motel room. Bert decided that looked like a good place to sleep and went and crawled on top of Gerard to pass out himself. Matt had been just buzzed enough and just pissed enough he almost didn't go drag their dumb asses to sit leaning against the side of the tub. He'd been ready to beat them, but not quite willing to chance them choking to death on puke in their sleep, if only to spare all the screaming when he was hung over himself when it came to Bert that night.

He'd only been stuck in with them because Brian was ready to kill Bert and Gerard, and Quinn, who managed to get caught with a sixteen year old whose pissed off father had gone tracking her down at the show because she was supposed to be in her room grounded. At least it had just been making out and groping through clothes, hadn't gotten any further than that. Brian owed him big time for drunk-and-stupid-sitting.

Jepha hadn't been the most sober himself. Tired and strung out from the road and Bert's bullshit teasing had hit him pretty fucking hard even without having drank his fair share of booze, which he had. Couldn't blame him for getting wrecked. For all the talk and whispers shrugged off as bullshit, it had been a whole different story with Bert teasing and giving Jepha all kinds of crap about his kinks. Drunk as all hell or not, Bert actually knew what he was talking about when it came to Jepha.

Hadn't turned out all bad, settling Jepha down had resulted in Matt pulling a fist full of Jepha's hair and fucking his throat raw, even if he still wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten from making sure Bert and Gerard were upright to Jepha on his knees suddenly nosing at Matt's crotch. Matt had about landed on his face tripping over Jepha cause he sure as hell hadn't expected that move, but had been just buzzed enough to not question it much either. At least not until sober, sweating and a little queasy from hangover and heat the next day setting up for the show. Just weird enough, just booze enough involved and just foggy enough of memory over how the fuck had that exactly happened he hadn't tried to ask Jepha what the hell that was.

Jepha hadn't acted anything but normal since—or as normal as Jepha got. The downpour four days ago that had not so much broken up the heat as made it soaking wet heat with mud to your knees even trying to avoid the spontaneous mudball fights and mudwrestling and hosing downs before going on stage. Jepha had been right in the thick of that. So, yeah, Jepha was pretty much normal as far as the rest of the lunatics around here. And acting normal-for-Jepha, so Matt just let the whole what the fuck happened slide.

Matt didn't have a problem with Jepha's kinks, he'd played around with them often enough himself. More than enough to want to belt Bert one all that much harder for his bullshit. The look in Jepha's eyes when Bert was being an ass said it was something else for him. Maybe not an all the time thing, but more serious than the "why the hell not, that could be fun tonight" level Matt played at even if he occasionally played pretty extreme. That bugged him as far as that night but he hadn't figured out how to bring anything up without—hell he didn't know what.

"Jepha?" Matt asked uncertainly. "Bert being a fuckwit again?"

Jepha scratched at the inside of his knee, not looking up. "Gerard rode with us last night."

"Yeah." The slightly reduced smell in the van had been noticeable even if he somehow hadn't known that, but he honestly hadn't been that fucked up in a good couple years that he would have missed that fact. It had been a week since a decent real shower with hot water, just rinsing off with hoses or whatever you could manage. Gerard didn't bother attempting showering much when shitfaced and Matt didn't think he'd been sober at all this tour.

"Bert grabbed a magazine I picked up couple stops ago."

Matt knew exactly which stop. The magazine aisle in the very back of that particular truck stop had been fucking awesome. That the magazine rack was set facing the wall making a narrow little corner and a no one under 18 sign on it had been the first sign that it was worth looking over, and damn it had been. They'd had just a little bit of everything. Well, as long as it was het, but there had been a damn good selection beyond the usual Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler and even a couple leather fetish that weren't het.

They had to have a pretty regular group of truckers or business travelers along that stretch of interstate buying to keep stocked so damn well on that. Probably pissy truckers and business travelers this week because once word hit there had been some who'd stopped at other restaurants at that interstate exit that had made their way over to check out the by then very picked over offerings.

"Little bit hardcore that had 'em actin' like twelve year old girls?" Matt guessed.

Jepha nodded slightly. "Yeah."

Matt tossed another few pieces of trail mix into his mouth. Tropical. Not bad. At least it didn't have raisins.

"Gerard started in on some of the porn you had," Jepha said quietly.

"I can imagine. And he probably wasn't exaggerating because he's only seen about a third of it."

Jepha looked up at that, then back down at his thumbnail still scratching at the inside of his knee. "Bert—"

"Was being a fucking asshole drunk out of his mind," Matt said.

Jepha nodded. "Yeah. But it—true though."

"So? Doesn't change he was drunk out of his mind being an asshole, even if Gerard and Quinn were too drunk to know what the hell Bert was saying anymore than Bert did and I've played my share, nothing I'll ever get asshole about."

"CORTEZ!"

"Shit. Look, you worried I'd get asshole or start shit? I won't. You—ever want to maybe, I'm game but..."

"CORTEZ!" Brian screamed again. He wondered which idiot did what this time. Brian was two heart beats from nuclear.

"Later," Matt rolled, sat up and hopped off the picnic table. "And thanks, this is pretty good." He held up his fist with what remained of the trail mix in it.

**


The war cry really wasn't much warning considering it was Bert and he whooped and hollered randomly half the time, and hell, he did good to realize it was Bert. No, it couldn't be construed as a real warning. There was enough noise and chaos still going on at the moment with the trucks getting loaded and Bert was hardly the only lunatic around to go yelling out war cries for no particular reason. The later it got, the higher the blood alcohol and the more likely to hear that kind of thing especially about this time of night, when it wasn't quite to late enough for that many to start passing out.

He wasn't braced for Bert flying onto his back at all. What was probably meant to be launch onto Matt for a piggyback ride ended up a tackle straight into gravel that scraped the hell out of his palms and arm and jammed his wrist, pain slamming through it bad enough to make him see stars.

"I am going to fucking kill you yet, McCracken," Matt managed to get out trying to recatch the breath that had been knocked out of him.

"Jepha wants your ass," Bert whispered in Matt's ear, all serious and earnest as a six-year-old, the booze on his breath enough to nearly make Matt's eyes water. "No, he wants you to do things to his ass. Beat it or somethin'."

"Uh huh, why don't you go worry about your ass and how far my shoe's going to end up it if you ever try tackling me again. Or worry about Gerard's ass."

"Gerard's ass is passed out. I have to have lines, Brian, Quinn and Branden all said so. And besides he passed out on Mikey's shoulder anyway," Bert mumbled poutily.

Yeah. It was the Mikey part, otherwise Bert would probably hump Gerard's leg fully clothed and pass out on top of him. And more than likely spend the next day scratching at dried come rather than changing his clothes and washing up. Bert was as bad as Gerard when it came to that.

"What—No—I don't want to know. Where's Brian?"

Matt's attention was caught by the shoes about six inches from his face and twisted to look up at Ray. "Last I knew around the port-a-pots. Branden ate something bad." It was Branden. Ate something bad was the only possibility, not drank too much or took something bad, not Branden.

"Thanks."

"Eww, you're fucking drooling on me!" Matt complained as slobber landed on his jaw.

"Sorry," Bert said, lowered his own head and licked the drool off Matt's jaw, stopped almost a second to consider and then licked him a couple more times. "You taste good. Better than Gerard, but don't tell him I said that." Bert finally declared.

"Less booze and more soap goes a long way," Matt said drily. "You gonna get off me?"

"You gonna kill me?"

"Tempting," Matt growled.

"Jepha's been all twitchy," Bert murmured quietly sounding honestly concerned and a little sad.

"You think maybe because you're a fucking dick?" Matt snapped.

"No, before I even tried sounding you out," Bert whispered. "That's why I tried sounding you out 'cause of all Gee said about your porn."

Matt turned his head, forehead pressed into the gravel, dirt and dust tickling at his nose. He couldn't even be surprised he was seriously having this conversation laying on the ground with Bert on his back. He'd been around Bert too much to be surprised. Hell, Bert's drunken concentrated asshole couple weeks before actually made sense. Bert was an asshole half the time, but not to people he liked, not like he had been—it seemed inadvertently to Jepha—a couple weeks before.

Bert licked the back of his neck. Hummed and licked him again. "You taste good."

"Quit licking me," Matt muttered, spitting a little as a piece of gravel caught on his lip. He turned and rested his cheek against the ground since Bert didn't seem to be moving just yet, he shifted and squirmed enough to get his arms out from under him hissing at the scrapes and shooting pain in his wrist.

"Jepha's been twitchy for a while, been a long time. He's picky and careful. You'd be good though. You're cool," Bert said quietly, voice small and almost sad. "Gee says you don't mind guys..."

Matt stifled the groan.

Bert licked him again, behind his ear this time with another absent little hum. Matt was pretty sure Bert didn't even realize he did that.

"Jeph knows I'll play," Matt sighed. "Knows I wouldn't turn him down. Anything else? Up to him. Okay?"

"Okay," Bert murmured defeated.

"Quinn had a pack of Oreos," Matt blurted out the lie, smelling weed strong enough on Bert along with the booze that it was more than possible mention of cookies would remind Bert he had the munchies or maybe just give him the munchies. God help them all Bert tended to go for sweets when he had the munchies and sugar wasn't really a good thing for Bert, even stoned and mellow.

He grunted at the knee to his kidneys as Bert scrabbled off him and was running hellbent for leather to find Quinn and cookies. Thank God Bert was so ADHD and usually so fucked out of his skull that momentarily distracting him didn't take anything elaborate.

A soft scrape of gravel preceded the quiet, "Need some help up?"

Matt groaned. "Yeah, maybe." he rolled onto his back and sat up. Hissing as a little pressure on his wrist throbbed all the way up to his shoulder bad enough to bring tears to his eyes. "Gonna fuckin' kill Bert."

Jepha reached for his "good" hand. Almost as scraped up as the hand with the jammed wrist but at least that wrist wasn't fucked. His knee maybe was he realized as he stood and it started throbbing. Goddamn Bert anyway.

"Thanks," Matt smiled.

"We've got a first aid kit on the bus, that—needs cleaned." Jepha frowned at his hands, which looked bad even in the shadows of the not so well lit parking lot.

"Yeah, 'preciate it," Matt agreed.

"What was—" Jepha asked warily.

"Bert being Bert," Matt shrugged, dismissing it as that.

Jepha nodded. "He usually means well."

"He's Bert." That said it all really.

"Yeah."


**

"Are you the Matt-said-so Bert was screaming about that would know why the fuck are Quinn and Bert brawling over Oreos?" Brian wanted to know half dragging a pale and shaky Branden up to The Used's bus from the opposite direction.

"Sendng Bert after cookies and saying Quinn had some saved my back?" Matt snorted. "Ray find you?"

"No. What did he need?"

"No clue. I had Bert on my back and he left in a hurry."

Brian shook his head helping Branden up the bus steps. "I'm driving the van tonight. Otter's riding with the merch gal he's fucking this week. There's room for Quinn and Bert without you. You ride with these two. Trust you two can keep quiet that Branden can rest. And what the fuck happened to you? You gonna be able to work tomorrow?"

"Bert tackled me. Try, probably not worth much though. My wrist is fucked."

"Yeah, no shit, I can see that it's double the other. Got any ice?"

"Should," Jepha nodded. "Should have some Ace wraps, too."

Branden staggered back toward his bunk without acknowledging any of them existed beyond a wordless groan and weak swat of his hand behind him that either meant "thanks and goodnight" or "fuck off, die and let me die in peace" or maybe both.

"See if you can get some water or something down him a little later. Get some fucking ice on that. The three of you stay put because I'm telling Joe he's good to take off when there's enough cleared out he can get out of the lot. I'll have the rest of them with me."

Brian turned around and was gone without anything else said, his head already off the bus and trying to sort out where he last saw who before he'd even finished talking. The tension that started to build up in Jepha's posture once the door closed behind Brian was—really kinda fuckin' pretty actually. Especially since they had the bus basically to themselves. Branden, if he moved, wasn't going any further than the toilet and back to his bunk.

"Sit, let me get the first aid kit," Jepha said quietly.

Matt settled on the couch and found he wasn't surprised at all at how thoroughly stocked the plastic storage tub Jepha pulled out from under one of the benches at the little "kitchen booth" was. They had to factor in Bert being Bert for one. Quinn worrying about Bert, even if Quinn was only marginally better in the crazy stunt arena. Jepha's kinks. Branden was religiously straight edge and as a result more than able to realize what terrifyingly lucky they hadn't maimed themselves somehow nutcases the rest of his band were. And Brian had been tour-managing them for how long on top of that. Brian was as fucking OCD on over-thinking contingencies as Bert was plain fucking crazy.

It wasn't so much the fact Jepha slid down onto his knees in front of Matt to clean the scrapes on his palms and arms from Bert's tackle, or hell, his knee. Jeans which had been getting worn now had a fairly decent hole in the knee bloodied around the edges too now that he looked at it. The worst of it was, Bert meant none of the damage inflicted but yeah, it was more than understandable why these guys ended up with a fairly well every-injury-possibly-covered-by-Walgreen's first aid kit in a bright orange storage tub.

No, not that Jepha decided kneeling in front of the couch was easist to work on Matt's hands, it was his posture and attitude that had Matt's immediate attention.

When Matt hissed at the peroxide carefully poured on his palm Jepha gulped and shuddered.

"No stupid shit," Matt said softly. "You need, dude, you ask. Don't go getting hurt pulling off some fucking Bert-logic stunt or shit."

Jepha looked up. Nervous, hopeful, almost helpless, like he didn't quite know what the hell to do with Matt.

"Jepha?"

"Been a while, and more used to ones that—kinda know and corner me—not bad just..."

Matt nodded. Dom further in the scene that made a bit of a pursuit and let their interest be known, even if it was only for a night or two. "Difference between a full out dom and sometimes switch like me, Jeph," Matt said quietly. "Played around helluva lot, more than enough and extreme enough, shouldn't be a problem with anything you'd want or even if you're willing to let me surprise ya. Fuckin' love every minute of takin' care of you for a while, if it's a night or the rest of the tour, but I'm not gonna push when I know damn well I'm not what you're really looking for and nothin' about how you're acting says this is at the level of take it or leave it I have, not for you. Damn well get the difference. That's why I won't flirt in that direction, not with you, or hell any sub but especially not someone I like. Take care of you a bit if you need, that I can do no problem, but I get difference and I ain't gonna fuck with your head."

Jepha relaxed. The pieces he couldn't quite make fit with Matt's reactions and probably Bert-and-Gerard drunk-babble settling into place almost visibly.

He finished cleaning Matt's scraped hands and the scrape from wrist to elbow on his arm with the uninjured wrist without another word, careful, thorough, touching just a little more than necessary with fingertips grazing over uninjured skin.

"FUCK!" Matt grated out through clenched teeth as Jepha felt his swollen wrist.

"Broken?"

"Just sprained bad I think," Matt shook his head half sure he was lying. He fucking hoped it wasn't broken again. It was the same wrist he'd put a couple hairline fractures wrecking his bicycle when he was twelve. Taken a week of hurting and not getting better to figure out that yeah, probably should have a cast after all. The first x-rays his mother insisted on with the trip to the ER had been dismissed as growth lines, a week of not-improving pain, a second set of x-rays, they figured a couple of the growth lines had to be hairline fractures and didn't look like fractures the first time pressed together enough by swelling.

He'd screwed up the wrist again when he was seventeen. That set of x-rays they couldn't figure if it was growth lines, scars from the old break or a new break. Told him wrap it, ice it and come back when the swelling went down in forty-eight hours. His mother had a shit fit when he'd said to hell with it, got a wrist brace and ace wraps from the drug store and just kept the damn thing wrapped for four weeks til it stopped hurting. That it took four weeks he figured he probably cracked it then too.

"Wrap it and put some ice on it, see how fucked it is in a couple days." If it wasn't better then it was time for fucking x-rays and probably a cast.

"You didn't hear him coming?"

"I heard him. I just didn't realize he was headed for me," Matt snorted. Jepha had a point. Bert was good about giving a war cry before he pounced someone.

"It's best to just brace yourself when you hear him. He jumps you once, he will again."

"Point," Matt agreed and gritted his teeth as Jepha wrapped his wrist.

"Should get your knee," Jepha said finally handing Matt the ziplock baggie filled with ice he'd fished out of melt-water in a cooler that had MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE scribbled in huge letters on every side. Probably dragged over from the van while the guys were there to abuse use of the bus AC earlier that day.

"Bert christened my duffel bag with fucking jug of one of the Canadian Shit-whiskeys. Goin' commando til we stop day after tomorrow and I can find a laundromat," Matt said tiredly. At least they'd had hose access the last three days, could rinse himself and his clothes off, and he managed to get a fresh shirt from one of the merch gals that morning and stole Ray's foot powder for his shoes. Bert had left the bottle behind as evidence, with a smiley face and a very unnecessary "Luv Bert" written on it in Sharpie—in Frank's writing, which meant Frank was witness if not accomplice to Bert and undoubtedly Gee. Matt didn't pay that much attention which brand it was exactly but the dirt cheap, gallon-sized plastic bottle with a 10.99 price tag said it all. Everything but what he had on and another t-shirt that he had worked in two days in hundred degree heat reeked to high heaven of cheap ass rotgut.

"Yeah, if you hear him, be ready. He likes you," Jepha said sagely.

Matt laughed. He couldn't argue with that advice. "Jepha?"

"The—the rest of the tour?" Jepha whispered.

"If you want, yeah."

Jepha nodded.

"You get my shoes and pants?"

Jepha nodded and untied the laces of Matt's tennis shoes pulling them off and set them neatly out of the way. With only the three of them on the bus, even if Branden wasn't half dead at the moment, his shoes were likely to still be there and not filled with—pissed on marshmallows or something. If Bert was in the vicinity, god only knew because anything was possible.

Matt stood Jepha's hands slid almost shyly up his thighs to undo Matt's belt and jeans. Matt slid the fingers of his "good" hand such as it was through Jepha's hair. "Really could throttle Bert," Matt mumbled.

Jepha all big eyed and shaky kneeling in front of him, just needy as hell and gorgeous. And thanks to Bert he was too fricken banged up to do a whole lot.

"Get my knee cleaned up—"

"Haven't shaved," Jepha blurted, suddenly looking panicked.

That made perfect sense. Bert's bullshit the hotel night Matt drew drunk-and-stupid-sitting duty had included Jepha's quirk about ridding himself of every bit of body hair from the neck down he could contort into shaving away. Bert had teased and picked, going on that he was surprised Jepha wasn't hogging the bathroom for an hour to shave everywhere since he had a decent shower not subject to pot holes or sudden bumps in the road to do it in.

Bert missed the fact that Gee and Matt were both there. If it had just been Bert and Quinn, and even Branden too, Jepha likely would have.

"Get my knee cleaned up and you can suck me off," Matt said. "Don't try to shave on the goddamned bus. Don't try at all. Hotel night coming up and Brian fucking owes me. Start off right, and shave you myself."

Jepha's breath caught with a little whining sound.

"Like that idea?"

"Yeah," Jepha nodded.

Seven weeks of tour left, that was a decent amount of time really, especially for something starting and staying on the road. Certainly long enough for Jepha to be bugged by starting off without being able to shave properly first, since that, by the way Bert sounded, was a fairly big quirk or hangup or whatever just purely Jeph's, whether he was with anyone or not. Matt would take whatever was offered and enjoy the hell out of it, far from any kind of saint, but he wasn't going to be asshole about it. Shrugging off that little quirk right at the start would be asshole. A little stubble prickle between hotel nights, lack of time, lack of chance well it was a fucking tour. It was fucking Warped—goddamned circus of heat and humidity and sweat and sunburn. Reality was keeping up a full body shave properly was not going to happen all that often, but damn, certainly could make sure to start this off right.

"You ever wax?"

Jepha's eyes widened as he looked up, hands stilling on the button of Matt's jeans. "No."

"Wrong kind of pain or just never got to it?" Matt asked. "Had a girlfriend that did year or so ago. Had some fun with that. Actually shave your balls and up around your dick, but the rest could be waxed if you'd want."

"Never got to it," Jepha murmured.

"For a reason or just didn't?"

"Mess, hard to do a lot by myself, too fucking expensive for a salon or shit," Jepha answered in a shaky tumble.

"Want to then?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll see what I can beat out of Brian tomorrow. He freaking owes me," Matt said quietly. "Try for that, if not just shave you."

Jeans off he sat back on the couch and let Jepha at his knee, which was bad enough even if the jeans saved some skin. Ice probably wouldn't hurt his knee either, red and a little swollen and aching like a bitch but minor compared to his wrist. Nothing that was going to keep him from walking or working the next day. His wrist was definitely another story. He might not have to kill Bert, Brian might before he got a chance to.

"That's good," Matt smiled and trailed a finger along Jepha's jaw. "Put the stuff away."

Matt shifted, getting a little more comfortable, knees a little further apart. He was almost half hard just with anticipation. Jepha was damn good with his mouth.

"Hands behind your back, just your mouth," Matt ordered quietly reaching with his good hand to stroke Jepha's cheek.

Jepha nodded, hands immediately moving behind his back, leaning forward to nuzzle and lick at Matt's cock.

Matt gave a growl of approval. His fist tangled in Jepha's hair, ignoring the sting in his palm as Jepha teased him fully hard then set to trying to suck Matt's brain out of his dick.

"Ready?" Matt demanded. "Better be, gonna fuck your mouth ready or not." That was all the more warning Jepha got before his fist tightened in Jepha's hair to the point it had to be pulling and painful holding he head in place. Matt braced his feet better on the floor and his shoulders against the back of the couch and began thrusting as hard as he could manage up into Jepha's mouth.

Jepha's moan was pure bliss before being cut off into choked whines and hums. The almost-instant absolute surrender was fucking gorgeous. Jepha was so pliant, so absolutely willing to let Matt do whatever he would. Matt's fist tightened in Jepha's hair even more as he slammed his hips up into Jepha's face, holding him in place hard as he came down Jepha's throat. Jepha's half smothered struggle for breath could be felt against his skin, convulsive swallows around the head of his dick. Jepha finally whimpered as Matt relaxed back against the couch and let go of his hair.

"Fuck, that was good," Matt managed as he petted Jepha's hair and cheek. "Get up here. Wanna hold you."

Jepha wasted no time in obeying, curling into Matt's side with his head on his chest. Shooting agony in his wrist curtailed holding Jepha with both arms real fast. He saw stars and had all he could do not to scream. Yeah, he was going to have to have the damn thing x-rayed when they got wherever they were supposed to be in the morning not that he figured that would do a damn bit of good. He'd probably hear we don't know if it's new hairline crack or scar from old come back when swelling's gone if it still hurts or some damn thing.

“We might have some Tylenol or something,” Jepha said uncertainly. “Got whiskey and vodka at least.”

“Nah, I'll live,” Matt murmured and pressed a kiss to Jepha's forehead. Either meant moving and moving meant setting off his wrist again. Adrenaline, pissed off at Bert, concern and turned on as hell by Jepha all wearing off and his wrist was really starting to kill him. The attempt to hold Jepha set it into orbit and bumping it a few times while fucking Jepha's mouth hadn't done it much good either.

Jepha shifted just enough and tilted his head up silently asking for a real kiss. Matt didn't hesitate, tongue delving into Jepha's mouth, learning every contour hungrily.

“You want to come?” Matt asked.

“Haven't shaved and m'tired,” Jepha mumbled.

“Then rest. I gotcha,” Matt said, hurting too damn much to fight Jepha's shy and hung up over that. Jepha curled up back like he had been and closed his eyes.

Bert was going to die. Slowly.

His wrist was killing him and probably fucking cracked again, considering his track record with that wrist and it felt like he remembered the last two times. Jepha seemed worn down to nothing the way he was acting, and probably had been before Bert got a hair up his ass to be “helpful”. A night he could possibly lay down to sleep rather than sitting in the van with Frank drooling on one shoulder and Mikey's lacquered into weird-angled spikes hair trying to blind him he was sitting up on a couch naked from the waist down with Jepha wrecked and curled up against his chest. And his wrist was hurting like a fucking bitch.

Yeah. Bert was dead.

And Brian was coughing up some of the few thousand favors he owed Matt for the hotel night.


**

“Aren't those Jepha's clothes?” Brian frowned as Matt approached. Frowning more at the way Matt had his bad wrist held up against his chest to keep it from being bumped.

“Bert poured a gallon of rotgut in my duffel bag,” Matt said. “I need x-rays. And probably a cast.”

“FUCK! You sure?”

“Yeah, tried moving it this morning and nearly passed out. Feels like it did the last two times I've broken it. Basically the same spot both times before.”

Brian cursed long enough and loud enough to get a few stares and actually draw Mikey, Frank, Bert, Gerard, Ray, The Used's sound guy, Bryar, and a couple other Used techs over.

“What the hell happened to you?” Bert wanted to know. “You're all scraped up!”

“You remember tackling me with your fucking Stoned-Tigger impression last night?” Matt asked nastily.

“Yeah? And...oh,” Bert wilted.

“Yeah. Oh. Fucker,” Matt glared.

“Bryar, Worm, you guys keep the fucking circuses in line while I find a fucking car and take Matt for x-rays.”

“X-RAYS!” Gerard yelped.

“Nearly passed out when I tried to move my hand this morning. Landed with almost all my weight on this wrist when Bert tackled me and it's the wrist I've broken twice before,” Matt snarled.

“You fucking broke Matt's wrist, fucker!” Frank shouted at Bert.

“He didn't mean to!” Gerard defended, then looked worriedly at Bert. “You totally didn't, right?”

“No!” Bert wailed.

“What the fuck were you even thinking, Bert?” Bryar sighed, sounding like he had been around Bert too long himself.

“I was trying to get him to hook up with Jepha!” Bert looked up at Bryar. “He's cool! He'd take fucking awesome care of Jepha!”

“Leave. Jepha. Alone. Bert. Your helpful has him in worse shape than my wrist.” Matt glared. He must have looked as ready to kill as he felt because Brian grabbed his shoulder and half shoved him a step further away from Bert.

Bert wilted further until he noticed cargo shorts and t-shirt Matt was wearing. “Those are Jepha's!”

“YOU POURED WHISKEY OVER EVERYTHING I HAD EXCEPT WHAT I WORE THE LAST THREE DAYS! I NEED TO GO FIND A FUCKING HOSPITAL FOR X-RAYS! KINDA NEEDED SOMETHING HALF CLEAN!”

Gerard caught Bert by the back of the jeans and tugged him backwards a couple steps, further away from Matt in a move that had them both stumbling and nearly landing on their asses before they righted themselves.

Quinn had wandered over at some point, Matt hadn't noticed him until he whacked Bert up the back of the head.

“At least I fuckin' tried, dickhead!” Bert glared at Quinn.

“Hey, ibuprofen,” Jepha said slinking up with a bottle of water and a couple of brown-orange pills that actually said Advil on them so probably safe enough to take without worrying too much. He trusted Jepha, just you never knew unless it came out of a bottle you had in your own gear, and even then it might be debatable with the way shit went on tour sometimes. “Branden had them hid because Bert gives him a headache sometimes.”

Matt ignored Bert and took the pills washing them down with the water Jepha immediately handed over after the pills.

Bert launched himself straight in the air with a war cry, jumping straight back up with another war whoop the second he hit the ground and punched the air.

Jepha shook his head and sighed with an apologetic look at Matt.

“What the fuck are you on, Bert?” Brian demanded.

Bert just laughed and kept jumping and hollering.

“BERT!”

Bert finally stopped, mostly because he was out of breath, gave Quinn a shit eating grin and stuck his tongue out.

“You were right,” Quinn patted Bert on the head. “Good job, Bert.”

Brian shook his head and cursed for a full four minutes after Mikey started timing him. His ranting about fucking lunatics got more looks and attention than all Bert's jumping and hollering.



**



It took an hour to find a car, get directions and actually get out of the venue lot once they left the two bands and handful of their crew behind. Ray had been set to tracking down Otter, which really wasn't going over very well as far as Ray, and Matt didn't think Otter was going to be too fucking pleased either.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Jepha?” Brian asked quietly, voice tight and dangerous. “He's been rocky for a long fucking time...so help me, you fuck him up.”

Matt groaned.

“Cortez, it's not a fucking game with him.”

“I know. And he knows it's a take it or leave it thing for me. Take care of him for the tour. Which I want a fucking room to ourselves tomorrow night. Bert fuckin' breaks my wrist trying to hook us up, he can fucking spring for the room or take the shit for everyone else piled in another room. Bert's been helpful enough lately think Jepha's ready to lose it. And I need to make some stops when we're done with my damn wrist.”

Brian spent most of the day cussing.

At the hospital it was mostly cussing Bert, and how Bert needed beaten. Matt rolled his eyes at the probably need another twenty four hours to be sure if it was broken or not with the scar tissue on the bone showing in the x-ray and remaining, if minimal, swelling.

The doctor, thank god, just nodded and agreed it was probably broken when Matt pointed out it felt the same as it had the last two times he'd cracked his wrist in that spot and he was going to be five hundred miles away in twenty four hours. He'd rather just get the cast and be done with fucking around, thanks, or at least a splint, something. He had work and didn't have time to piss around with no one able to figure out if it was broken or not. Nothing so much to actually set with a the kind of hairline fracture it was but a cast to immobilize it while it healed was in order and his wrist wasn't really that swollen, not too swollen to put a fucking cast on.

The drugstore got cussed about simply because it was longer away from the tour, and, well—it was pretty much a given the minute Brian blinked Bert, Frank, Gerard, Mikey or Quinn would do something totally fucking insane and he wasn't there at all so that almost guaranteed they'd all go fucking nuts and start a riot. Lube, condoms, good shaving cream, baby oil and a good razor with extra blades didn't get blinked at. When Matt stopped in front of the waxing kits Brian started again cussing about things he didn't want to know, perverts and lunatics and he needed to pick up some fucking tums.

Brian rolled his eyes but didn't say a word at the smallish purple storage tub just big enough to dump everything in and duct tape closed to keep Bert, Gee and Frank out of it.

Brian grabbed Matt's whiskey-reeking gear from the van and hauled him over to The Used's bus. Bert broke his wrist, they could put up with Matt on their couch for a week to save on his wrist getting banged around too much in the van. The week was what the doctor wanted him to take off work at least and no lifting til the cast came off. Brian knew better than he was going to listen to that, he couldn't afford to, and the guys couldn't afford to have him do that either. But a week on The Used's bus and a couple days off was being insisted upon.

“You really did break your wrist,” Bert stopped dead as he got onto the bus, staring at Matt on the couch with fresh cast on his wrist.

“Yeah, you did,” Matt snapped not quite willing to completely forgive Bert yet.

Brian was the one that informed them Matt was riding with them so he could rest and not have his wrist banged around constantly after working all day like it would end up in the van. Bert was threatened, then Quinn and Bert again for good measure.

Branden headed for his bunk, wrung out and shaky yet even if it seemed he'd managed to keep a grand total of a bottle water and a banana in his stomach after lunch which surely meant he was on the road to recovery. He'd survived their set and was headed straight for bed.

Brian took off to see what the hell had all gone wrong while he was gone. Bert and Quinn took off to find trouble, there was still about six hours before the busses and trucks pulled out. Some of the vans and cars on the edges maybe getting a chance to get out already but doubtful many did.

“You okay with me here a few days? Seriously was Brian's idea...” Matt asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Jepha nodded. “You looked fucked. Hurting bad?”

Matt shrugged. “Took a couple more ibuprofen.” He'd gotten himself a new bottle of it. He wasn't sure how much he was going to see of the script of Toradol he filled. Moderately heavy duty pain killer that would work to take down swelling as well was a good idea, yeah, but Toradol tore his stomach up and knocked him out cold. He'd had it the last time he'd fucked his wrist, they'd given him that even if they were on the song and dance of wait 24-48 to be sure when swelling was down.

Brian had pocketed the bottle when he said that. Asshole. At least one of the damn things to help sleep tonight would be good even if he could care less about most of them. The only plus side, if Brian had them Bert or Gee weren't likely to get them and accidentally OD on them. Brian wasn't a fuck of a lot better than them when it came to pills but he managed a control that wasn't as scary, not like Bert or Gee got when they were truly fucked out of their skulls not knowing when to quit or what they'd drank or taken and all over the next thing offered without a clue of what it was.

“Brian's got my pain pills. You—would you mind hunting him down for just one?”

“You don't take that bottle back, you're not going to have any,” Jepha pointed out.

“Can't take the shit and work, it knocks me out flat. And it kills my stomach anyway but at least one to fucking sleep tonight,” Matt shrugged. A few just in case would be nice, but right now he was too fucking wiped out to give a damn enough to fight about it. Brian wouldn't go through them that fast that he wouldn't be able to get a few back later. The script had been for more pills than really necessary.

Jepha was back a half hour later holding the prescription bottle triumphantly. “I let Brian keep twenty, you've got twenty. Gonna need them after working so you can sleep in a couple days too. Bert doesn't dig in our bunks. You want to put them there?”

“Yeah, that'd be good,” Matt agreed. Twenty was way more than enough, especially just taking one to sleep when it wasn't his turn to drive. That would last him through the damn wrist healing and some to spare which Brian would probably end up taking back anyway.

Jepha found a juice box, handing it over to Matt once the straw was stuck in it. “Open,” Jepha said holding a pill.

Matt smiled and took the pill from between Jepha's fingers with his tongue, unnecessarily liking Jepha's finger and thumb making him shudder.

“Put these away and get my pillow and blanket?” Jepha almost asked as Matt washed the pill down with juice.

“Yeah. Curl up with me and can tell me what you like til I zonk out,” Matt agreed. Branden already crashed and the other two weren't likely to be back for a while.

He managed to fight the t-shirt off on his own while Jepha was in back. Just tight enough that the sleeve was a trick to get over the actually small cast on his wrist. Looked like he was going shirtless, wearing tank tops or stealing bigger shirts for a while, Jepha's shirt was pretty much the same size as his own. He toed off his shoes and kicked them aside. Bert did anything to them it would be an excuse to beat him within an inch of his life as the last damn straw. It was probably safe though. Guilt over the cast would—should—spare him being the target of Bert-antics for a couple days at least.

Jepha was back in a pair of pajama pants and a fresh t-shirt hugging his pillows and blanket to his chest. He looked down at his feet and shuffled them.

“Jepha,” Matt shook his head and stood, he leaned in and kissed Jepha slowly. “I fuckin' hurt like hell, I'm beat. Not gonna push tonight. I got the stuff for tomorrow night if that's still what you want.”

“Yeah.”

“I don't give a good goddamn if you're shaved or not, not going to make a bit of difference if you've managed a chance to or not. It's fucking Warped and you've got Bert. You're just gonna have to deal that I don't care and those two factors make it forgivable anyway. Got a motel room to ourselves tomorrow night and day off after that for laundry and relaxing. We'll start off right, but I'm not paying attention to that one way or another later.”

Jepha nodded with a shy little shuffle of his feet. Matt caught Jepha's chin with his good hand and tilted his head back up. He kissed Jepha hard, press of teeth, metal-rub-almost-scrape of his lip ring against one of the little barbells Jepha had when he sucked Jepha's lower lip in his mouth and nipped.

Matt nudged Jepha to get the couch made up. He laid down and pulled Jepha down with him, he rocked up just a little, more than half hard from kissing Jepha stupid and thinking about the next night. “Willing to wait to start this off right for you doesn't mean I'm just goin' along to try to avoid death by Bert-Matchmaking or some stupid shit. Want you, Jeph.”

Jepha half smiled and melted further into him.

Matt let his eyes drift closed, exhaustion catching up and maybe the start of the Toradol kicking in and knocking him out.

“Stole the stationery Bert got for Quinn,” Jepha mumbled wriggling and pulling a few folded little papers from somewhere. Hell, possibly tucked in his underwear against his ass, which would almost be safe from Bert getting a hold of there. Almost.

Matt forced his eyes back open a crack vaguely noted pink paper and rainbow colored hearts. “Cute stationery,” he mumbled sleepily.

“My list,” Jepha said shoving it into the front pocket of the borrowed cargo shorts Matt still had on.

“Good. Fuckin' beat,” Matt yawned and kissed Jepha's hair.


**


He remembered the torn up to raw gut ache Toradol gave him. He remembered the knocked out faster than hell part. He hadn't remembered the hangover-style headache it left him with in the morning. Something not helped by Bert falling out of his bunk with a loud crash and slurred ranting, blaming Gerard whose shrill giggles followed Bert's screaming and Branden cussing.

Quinn's “Shut the fuck up, I'm busy,” was echoed with something by a distinctly female voice that wasn't quite clear enough to make out the words.

His wrist wasn't throbbing as bad this morning. Then again he hadn't tried to move yet either. Jepha wriggled on top of him and nosed at his neck. Matt's good hand slid down Jeph's back to grope his ass.

Jepha had a nice ass. Hell, he had an ass unlike plenty of guys that back went straight into legs. Yeah, Jepha had a nice, rounded just right, grab-able ass, Matt decided as he kneaded the curve of muscle. Very nice, grab-able ass.

Branden gave them a glare when he came out into the front.

Jepha wriggled a little at the almost painful squeeze Matt gave his ass. “Don' wanna hear it, Branden,” Jepha mumbled.

Matt turned his head enough to level a glare on Branden but didn't move his hand yet. They hadn't done a fucking thing wrong and he wasn't letting Jepha get stupid. And hell, he didn't even have to go back toward the bunks to know if Branden wanted to bitch, he better be bitching back there first.

“You two could have a full out scene out here and it wouldn't require as much brain bleach as those two just being them,” Branden snorted and went rummaging in the little fridge coming up with a juice box and a sorry looking apple hidden from Quinn in there. “You good, Jepha?”

Jepha nodded with a little smile, cheek rubbing against Matt's chest.

Bert and Gerard's argument as they resettled in Bert's bunk was actually fairly short and judging by the quiet they both passed out again almost immediately. The two of them didn't do quiet when they were making out any better than they did stealthy. Matt rolled his eyes at the moan from the woman Quinn had in his bunk.

“My tech, Amber.” Branden shook his head. “She screams a lot too. Just wait, she gets louder.”

Jepha smothered a giggle into Matt's skin. Giggle turned to muffled whimper as Matt squeezed Jepha's ass again, fingers digging in hard as he could. The tension that had been trying to build up in Jepha melting away mostly.

The rest went when Matt raised an eyebrow. “Take it she's been a regular thing lately?”

“Unfortunately,” Branden said drily. “To the point Bert's called play by play trying to do a Howard Cosell impression a couple times just on the noises she was making.”

“That was funny,” Jepha said sounding like he was fighting another giggle.

Matt laughed. “Yeah, I bet. At least the first time.”

Branden grinned. “Just keep hands on the outside of clothing, please?” He grabbed the mp3 player and gameboy left on the table and studiously ignored them with his juice, apple and game, music turned up loud to drown out the noise from Quinn's bunk.

“Sorry bout them,” Jepha mumbled into Matt's neck. “Fuck. Bert broke your fucking wrist.”

“He's Bert. He didn't mean to even if I'm still half wanting to beat him,” Matt whispered, starting to knead the curve of Jepha's ass again. Nice tight round little ass. He bet it would look pretty all heated and reddened. “They're not bothering me. Look at the bunch I work for.”

Between Brian managing My Chem and tour-managing The Used and both bands on the same tour he kept them together as far as the MyChem van following The Used's bus most of the time, parked close together and half the time both bands were all mixed up into one group. On top of that there was Bert and Gerard's—mutual tonsil examination society or whatever the hell it was. They weren't dating. They weren't quite fucking, because their clothes would probably be cleaner or stink slightly less if they actually got them even part way off now and again. Hell there were standing orders from Brian for the rest of them to steal their clothes if Bert and Gee actually got naked so they'd be forced to put something clean on. Mikey had also been promised brain bleach and a fifth of booze of his choice if he was the one who got the opportunity.

“Not a damn one of them has shit to do with anything,” Matt said intensely. He didn't really have to stretch his imagination much to come up with the reactions of what the doms he did know would have to the rest of The Used poking their noses into everything. “Know how they are. Doesn't matter.”

Jepha went absolutely boneless.

Matt closed his eyes and kneaded Jepha's ass, mind wandering to that night. Jepha's responsiveness combined with tender skin from the neck down by the time Matt was done with the wax. Tonight just might be worth the broken wrist. Especially since there were still weeks of tour left.

Jepha gave a contented little sigh and nuzzled at Matt's neck.


part 2a