Category Linkin Park
Aversion Therapy
A/N: Joes method in this fic was actually used to help me get over a serious crush on a guy a few years back. Also seen on ‘friends’. It really doesn’t work. Enjoy!
Disc: Don’t know em, don’t own em, never happened!
*SMACK*
“OW! JOE! WHAT THE FUCK?”
Chester glared at the hyperactive DJ and rubbed the back of his blonde head where Joe had just clouted him. It had been going on for about a week, ever since Chester had announced to the band that he was giving up smoking. The guys had instantly applauded him, and promised to help in any way they could. Unfortunately ‘help’ had transpired as some twisted form of ‘Aversion Therapy’ as Joe had called to help him along every time he went to light up. He put the white filter between his lips again, and lifted his lighter.
*SMACK*
“FUCK OFF JOE!” The blonde screamed, moving out of the way of the grinning man, walking further down the steps of the and trying again, this time managing to get the end of the flame touching the paper before…
*SMACK*
Chester threw down the barely lit cigarette and stormed back into the bus, throwing the almost full packet down on his bunk and laying on top of it accidentally, carefully rubbing the growing bruise on the back of his head. He wouldn’t have minded so much if the guy’s didn’t all concentrate on the same spot when they were delivering their ‘help’ and as a consequence he was getting one hell of a headache.
A shadow fell over his bunk, doubtless stopped by the fact that Chester’s long legs were stretched across the narrow gap down the middle of the sleeping area. The shadow smelt of Pleasures for men and was just big enough to shelter the singer’s eyes from the artificial light streaming into them. Mike.
“Hey Spike.” Chester muttered into his pillow, eyes shutting to stop the pain that was radiating from his skull.
“Hey, Chaz” was returned, and the blonde felt the end of the narrow bed dip as the emcee sat on it. “I see Joe and the others have been at it again.” Mike, bless his soul had been the only one who didn’t try and beat the shit out of him every time he thought about lighting up. He supposed in some sick, twisted kind of way Joe’s idea was working, he certainly didn’t want a cigarette now, but then the throbbing at the base of his cranium could have something to do with it.
“Why don’t you just stop trying to smoke?” Duh, Chester thought. Mike’s voice, while usually welcomed, now just grated slightly on Chester’s nicotine deprived nerves. He knew it would wear off sooner or later, and the singer could continue to worship Mike in every way, shape and form, but for now, his best friends all too obvious comments were slightly annoying.
“Or just stop smoking where they can see.” He groused, “Don’t you think I’m trying? It’s not as easy as it looks!” He shut his eyes, cursing the emcee’s good humour when he took absolutely no offence to the older man’s snub and walked out of the bunk area, shutting the overhead light off on his way and whistling quietly.
*****
Chester looked around furtively, pulling the slightly squashed pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and his pink Zippo (the only one he could find since Rob had hidden the others) and slid one of the white cylinders out of the carton, placing it between his lips.
The first drag was pure heaven, and Chester leaned back against the side of the bus he was hiding behind. It wasn’t their bus, but the Good Charlotte bus, which had been his smoking haven since the bruises caused by the other guys had faded.
Billy Martin was having a similar problem and after one particularly intense bitching session, the younger man had promised a pain free space for Chester to smoke in. The guys still thought that Chester hadn’t smoked anything in over a month, for which he was eternally grateful as he couldn’t take much more of a beating.
“Good job I volunteered to look for you.” Chester’s eyes shot pen as the emcee’s voice sent a powerful jolt through his body, his heart racing at the scare the younger man had given him. He looked guiltily down at the lit cigarette smoking happily away in his hand, and after one more drag crushed it out on the grassy floor.
“I actually thought for a while that Joe’s mental idea had worked.” The darker man said, leaning against the hulking transport beside Chester, scuffing the toe of his skate shoes on the ground. Out of all the others, only Mike had the ability to make him feel truly guilty about sneaking around behind their backs.
“It almost did.” The singer mumbled. “I was all ready to quit for good when the goose egg on the back of my head started turning purple.” Mike chuckled at this, his smooth voice sending a hot shiver under Chester’s skin.
“Well, since it didn’t, why don’t we try another approach?” How Chester never saw this coming, he would never know. Subtle things were often lost on the older man, and the tighter than usual wife beater, open work shirt and the seductive gleam in his friend’s eyes defiantly fell under that category. The first that Chester knew of this new approach was Mike’s silky lips descending on his, massaging briefly and pulling away.
The emcee couldn’t help but grin at the stunned look on the singer’s face as Mike turned and walked back to the Linkin Park bus.
********
Chester was sitting on the steps of the band’s bus, looking fervently around for any sign of his band members. Since Mike’s confusing actions, Chester had not been back to the Good Charlotte bus, and had taken to creeping behind stores and restaurants at truck stops, smoking only half a cigarette to save time. He’d learned to fear the other, sadistic members of the band, and as a result his smoking became less and less frequent.
He quickly lit up, pulling one lungful of acidic smoke in, before he almost choked on it when the filter was pulled out of his fingers. He looked up and saw the half Asian man smiling down at him, before the infuriating emcee threw the cylinder on the ground and stepped on it, crushing it into complete uselessness.
He then stepped further towards the older man, cupping the pale face between his hands and delivering a soft, sensual kiss, tongue flicking out to tease slightly before stepping away completely and walking away, whistling once more.
All thought’s of nicotine were gone and Chester walked back into the bus and lay down on his bunk once more, highly confused at Mike’s actions. It wasn’t that they weren’t welcomed, but if someone had told him a few weeks ago that Mike Shinoda would be kissing him at various intervals he would have laughed in their faces and asked for some of whatever they were taking.
Why don’t we try another approach?
The words hadn’t registered at the time, but thinking back, Chester grinned, quite happy to let Mike carry out his alternative to Joe’s aversion therapy.
*******
The singer stared at the remaining six cigarettes in the carton. Over the past month, Mike’s attentions had taken up most of his thoughts, so much so that he didn’t even realise that he hadn’t had a cigarette until he had discovered the packet at the bottom of his old coat pocket.
Their encounters hadn’t progressed beyond stolen kisses in deserted places, no matter how much Chester hinted that he wanted more. Mike just shook his head and walked away again, and Chester went along with it silently, not wanting to push his friend into anything he didn’t want.
As he stared at the mostly empty packet, he felt absolutely no desire for them at all. He had never liked the taste much, and the smoke had often burned down the back of his throat, but his addiction had forced him to keep doing it, buying packet after packet and practically chain smoking for almost three years.
Putting his hand back in the pocket and pulling out his pink lighter, Chester tucked the plastic into the half empty pack and turned on his heel, walking out of the bus and walking over the lot to the familiar bus parked in between two strange one’s. He knocked on the metal door, and was grateful when Billy’s pretty head stuck out. Chester pulled the squashed pack of cigarettes out from their hiding place, and he handed them over, holding back a laugh when they went straight under the younger man’s Jack Skellington t-shirt.
“For when Benji cuts you off again.” He said, and the younger man thanked him, stealthily slipping back inside to stash the carton where his boyfriend couldn’t find it.
Feeling a little better, though he couldn’t quite say why, Chester headed back to his own bus, whistling a tune that he was sure he had heard before, but he couldn’t place it. Vague memories danced just out of his mind’s reach, and he ignored them until he was faced with the (for once) neatly made bunk.
A small white slip of lined paper was folded casually on his pillow, the lines from where who ever wrote it had pressed too hard with the biro standing out in the overhead light.
I saw what you did, congratulations!
Room 174 at the next stop.
A/N: Feedback is welcomed and adored! should i carry this on?