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Trailer Trashed

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Tom leans against the side of the bus, his arms resting on his knees and his beer bottle held loosely in his hand. He can hear the party down the way, and he feels like he can hear what’s going on inside the bus. Not that he needs to hear it. He’s got a decent imagination, so he can see it in technicolor and black and white. It doesn’t help that Bill’s not subtle and Mike’s an asshole.

“Tomrad, my friend, you look like a little puppy that has been kicked too many times.”

Tom looks up and raises an eyebrow at Gabe. “You’re confused, Saporta. Pete’s the furry.”

Gabe glances at the bus and then down at Tom. “C’mon. I’m getting you drunk.”

Tom inhales and then pushes himself against the bus with his feet and manages to stand up. He drains what’s left of his beer and tosses the bottle toward one of the trash cans the festival has set up near the buses. “I want the good stuff.”

“We’re on Warped, my friend. There is no good stuff.” He starts walking and Tom falls in step with him. “You know they’re not exclusive, right?”

“I know that Mike would rather gut me like a wild animal than let me near Bill.” Tom shrugs. “It’s cool. Just sometimes I would like to actually be in the bus, you know? Since that’s where all my stuff is.”

“Right.” Gabe nods, clearly not buying anything Tom’s saying. They get to someone’s bus and Gabe disappears inside. Tom can hear him bullshitting whoever’s inside and he comes out with two bottles of booze and a six-pack. “I told ‘em we were meeting them at the party and Jack told us to bring the booze on ahead. I don’t know if they believed me, but they were stoned enough to agree.”

“Do you even know whose bus that is?”

“Not a clue.” He breaks one of the cans out of the plastic ring and gives it to Tom. “Does it matter?”

“No. Not really.” Tom cracks open the beer and takes a long drink. “Where are we going?”

“You need to learn to live in the moment, my friend. Be in the now.”

“You are so full of shit, Saporta.”

Gabe laughs and heads behind one of the equipment trailers. It’s open and almost empty, most of the kits loaded out. There are a few cases stacked in the back corner as well as what he thinks is either a rug or a t-shirt. Whatever it is, it’s seen better days. “Sit.”

Gabe sits down and leans against the wall, closing his eyes as the sunlight hits them. He’s not on the tour, so he doesn’t have the same sunburned edges the rest of them do. He tugs his sunglasses off his head and drops them down onto his nose and looks at Tom. Tom sits across from him, legs stretched out alongside Gabe’s. “So, why are you here?”

“My band broke up.” He shrugs and drinks some of his beer, making a face at it. “Thought I’d come hang with my friends.” He takes another drink and then puts the beer down. “Fuck that. I can handle bad booze, but bad beer is just disgusting.” He cracks open one of the bottles and tosses the cap, taking a long swig.

“I’ll buy that.” Tom downs his beer and then leans forward and reaches for the bottle. “Why are you here hanging with me? I mean, I like you, don’t get me wrong, but out of everyone on the tour you can hang with...”

“Pete’s off with Mikeyway. Bill’s...well. You looked like you could use a drink. Don’t look gift booze in the mouth.”

Tom takes a drink and leans back, blowing out a breath. “What’s the end game here?”

“Fuck, Conrad. I told you. I’m going to get you drunk so you lose your stress. Like in that fuckin’ drugged out Jungle Book movie. Forget about your worries and your strife. That’s some zen shit right there. Just take what you need and fuck the rest.”

“I need another drink.”

“Now you’ve got the gist of it.” Gabe opens the other bottle and holds it out. “L’chaim.”

Tom clinks his against Gabe’s and takes another swallow then lets his head fall back against the side of the trailer. “Fuck.”

“Fuck what?”

“Everything. Fucking Bill and fucking Mike and fucking heat my fucking guitar is on the fucking bus and just fuck.”

“I’m sensing some deep-seated issues here.”

“And fuck you,” Tom laughs.

“I’m going to give you some good advice, are you ready?”

Tom takes another drink to brace himself. “If this involves any fucking reptiles, I’m going to brain you with this bottle.”

“That is a waste of good booze.”

“I’ll finish it first.”

“Fair enough.” Gabe takes a drink off his own bottle. “You’ve got the right idea. Fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em all. You want to fuck Bill, then do it. Tell Carden to fuck off. You want to get your guitar, you walk your ass on the bus and you get it. If they have a problem with it, you tell them to find another place to fuck. As for fucking me...” He takes another drink and smiles. “That can be negotiated.”

“Negotiated? Either you’re really kinky, Saporta, or you think I’m going to pay for your ass. Either way, no.”

“No?” Gabe’s eyebrows rise above the frames of his sunglasses and his smile is wicked. He sets his bottle aside and gets on his knees, crawling the short distance across the trailer and straddling Tom’s thighs. He reaches down and cups Tom’s dick through his jeans and squeezes. “Did you just tell me no?”

Tom’s eyelids drop and he looks up at Gabe through his lashes. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Gabe leans in and bites Tom’s lower lip before he sucks it into his mouth. Tom tastes whatever it is that Gabe’s drinking and it doesn’t mix well with his own booze. That doesn’t keep him from sliding his hands up Gabe’s thighs to his hips. He pulls Gabe forward so his dick is pressed against Tom’s. Gabe tilts his head and catches Tom’s mouth in a kiss, thrusting his tongue slowly, fucking into his mouth. “I gotta tell you, Tommy. This doesn’t feel like a no.”