Chapter Text
“Hey, sleeping beauty, buenos dias, ” Whispers the familiar voice attached to the warm hand shaking Party Poison awake. They mumble something half-asleep in response and squint at the warm light filtering in through the windows, shielding their eyes with their hand.
“Wha-?” Poison mumbles, slowly stretching their stiff joints awake.
Having apparently shifted in their sleep, they’re mostly sideways now, with their head resting on someone’s thigh, and a hand tapping at their shoulder. Their eyes adjust to the light, and a black-haired Fun Ghoul tilts his head and smiles at them.
“Ghoulie!” Poison exclaims, immediately sitting up and wrapping their arms around him. “Phoenix fucking Witch, Fun Ghoul, it is good to see you.”
“Good to see ya too, sugar,” Ghoul smiles into their shoulder.
“When did y’all get back?” Poison asks. “Jesus, what time is it?”
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Gerard says, entering the living room and placing a bowl of cut fruit on the table. They’re wearing thin glasses, a cardigan paired with a shapeless floor length skirt, and hair tied up similarly to how Poison does it. “We got back right after you fell asleep, actually.”
Fun Ghoul plucks a shockingly-red strawberry out of the colorful ceramic bowl and examines it curiously, while Poison rubs their eyes.
“Frank was supposed to wake me up when you got here,” They say to Ghoul, who smiles at them sheepishly.
“I know,” He says. “I just didn’t want to wake you up, you needed the sleep.”
“Ugh, you sound just like Frank.” They sigh. “Which is the point, I guess?” Poison adds, glancing at Gerard, sitting in an armchair adjacent to the couch. Fun Ghoul pops a strawberry in his mouth, and his face lights up.
“Goddamn, is this what vitamins taste like?” Ghoul mumbles to himself, and both Poison and Gerard share the same snorting, not fully awake laugh about it.
“Yeah,” Gerard says to Poison’s question. “I don’t know, I guess that was kind of the point. There wasn’t a lot of dialogue in the videos, but I needed to create characters that the guys could easily get in and out of, which is easier when their personalities are similar.”
Poison nods and turns to Ghoul.
“Hey, did ya hear we’re supposed to be dead right now?” They ask with a smirk creeping onto their face, and lean into his shoulder. Something about narrowly escaping death has them feeling clingier, which is they think is kind of gross, even though they’ve done way grosser things for/with/to him.
“He filled me in while you were sleeping.” Ghoul says, helping himself to more fruit. “I met Frank, by the way, last night. He’s cool, I guess. And everyone else; Ray looks too much like Jet, it’s weird.”
“Oh, yeah, where’d they all go?”
“The guys took off a little after midnight,” Gerard adds. “I said I’d keep an eye on you two.”
“So y’all didn’t run into Kobra or Jet or the Girl, huh?” Poison asks softly. Ghoul puts his hand on their back (he thinks they’re silently in agreement that a little extra affection is warranted right about now).
“Haven’t found ‘em yet, sorry baby.” He says. “But they’re out there, ‘cuz if we made it, they sure did. ‘S just a matter of when and where.”
Gerard watches the two Killjoys from across the room; notes the way Ghoul rubs Poison’s shoulder softly, feels a little shitty for putting these two into such a fucked up world, even though they really couldn’t have known it’d turn out like this. Right now, they’re actually supposed to be in the studio with the guys, working on new songs and shit (it’s the whole reason Mikey and Frank are even in town), but life got in the way like it always did. He and Ray and Mikey had found Ghoul something like 2 miles out in the forest, sort of downhill from his house. He (Fun Ghoul) was mostly unscathed, save for some burns from the shootout, but no broken bones or open wounds. He and Frank got along unsurprisingly well, and they traded places on the couch. Gerard had offered him the guest room, but he insisted on staying on the couch with Party Poison, and carded through their hair and let them sleep on his thigh the rest of the night.
“Trust me, you guys stand out,” Gerard says with a soft smile, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Even by LA standards. Ray lives around here, too, so he’s on the lookout at his place.”
“I’m gonna go check your backyard again,” Poison decides, and moves to get up.
“Um, no, you’re not,” Gerard says, looking them up and down, and noting how they wince when they stand up. Poison gives them a funny look. “Not right now, at least. I think you should go take an actual bath first. It’ll make you feel human again, trust me.”
“Saying ‘trust me’ two times in five minutes isn’t gonna make me trust you any faster, dude…” Poison mumbles, sitting back down. They glance at Ghoul, who looks at them with soft eyes and a look that says maybe he’s right…? And Party Poison rolls their eyes. “Fine.”
“Bathroom’s second door on the left.” Gerard say, and open up some book about plants and natural medicine off of the coffee table.
Fun Ghoul stands up first, and Poison gets their first proper look at him. He looks the same as he did 24 hours ago: unkempt shoulder length black hair, tan skin decorated with scars, black and yellow demolition shirt paired with his usual battle vest. Poison understands what Gerard meant when they said that they stand out, because against the cozy, earth-toned, maximalist backdrop of the living room, Fun Ghoul looks comically out of place. He offers Party Poison his hand and helps them up, slinging their arm over his shoulder even though they argue that they can walk just fine.
“I like helping you, y’know,” Ghoul says. “Don’t worry about it.”
He gives Gerard a thumbs up and a quiet thanks as they walk down the hall and turn into the bathroom. Poison mumbles something in his ear about how He’s the reason we don’t have running water, y’know.
Gerard’s bathroom is nice, because everything is nice when your only reference point is a shitty, rundown motel in the middle of a war-torn desert, but also because Gerard’s bathroom is seriously nice. Dark wood and stone countertops, somehow even more potted plants, and a wonderfully large tub. Poison sits on the closed toilet seat lid and works off one of their boots, while Ghoul starts the water and feels the temperature with his hand. His green vest is hanging on one of the towel hooks, and Poison’s leather gloves sit on the counter next to the sink.
“Can I get in with you?” Ghoul asks. He kneels in front of them and helps them take their other boot off.
“‘Course you can,” They say. “I thought that was a given.”
“Just thought I’d check.” Ghoul smiles.
Party Poison stands up and leans their back against the wall for support. Ghoul unzips their blue racing jacket and practically peels it off of them.
“Ghoulie, sweetheart, ya know I know how to undress myself…” They say, somewhat nervously.
“C’mon, let me take care of you?” Ghoul says. He hangs their jacket up next to his.
“I’m not that hurt!” They say, almost reflexively. “It’s okay.”
“I know, baby…” Ghoul sighs, and he works on Poison’s shirt next. It’s black with a red trim, and it ends up on the floor next to their boots soon enough.
Poison undoes their belt and holster, and Ghoul helps them wriggle out of their fucking impossibly tight jeans, which are permanently caked in orange dirt and dried blood.
“We’re gonna wash our clothes today.” Ghoul says, helping Poison to the tub. They gingerly step into the warm water. “Okay.” Poison says, sort of distantly. Once Poison is sitting comfortably, Ghoul pulls his shirt off over his head and quickly sheds his pants, which lay discarded on the mess of clothes on the floor.
Fun Ghoul has always been shorter and smaller than Party Poison, it’s just a fact of life, but he can’t shake how small Poison feels to him right now. He slides into the tub and situates himself behind them, wrapping his arms around their waist and putting his head on their shoulder. Poison stares into the water, the tips of their red hair just scratching the surface.
“I know it’s weird not bein’ in control right now.” Ghoul says into their warm skin. He holds onto them a little tighter and sways slowly.
“Yeah,” They say, knocking their head against his. “I don’t know. I feel like I fucked up somehow. I don’t like it.”
“It’s not your fault, Pois’.” Ghoul offers. “We were always gonna end up in that fight.”
“I know, I know, but that makes it worse, somehow?” They mumble. “We’re not supposed to be here at all. We’re s’posed to be dead. Something went really fucking wrong with my plan, and I think it’s my fault.”
Poison feels a little choked up, and their voice cracks off into this quiet and small thing. Ghoul wordlessly cups warm water in his hands and wets Poison’s hair. He pumps some shampoo into his palm, and it supposedly smells like “the first day of summer”, but it’s warm and different and nothing like the expired tropical coconut soap in his motel room. He scrubs it into their scalp, taking his time to really massage it into their hair; they lean into his touch, and close their eyes.
“Are you alright?” He asks plainly, combing through their soapy hair with his fingers.
“Nah, man,” They sigh. “I feel like I’m being eaten alive.”
“I like that I’m not dead because of you, alright?” Ghoul says. He works their hair into a lazy braid. “I like being here and washing your hair.”
Poison grunts something unintelligible and lets Fun Ghoul tilt their neck back and rinse their hair out.
“You’re real cute when you’re sleepin’, y’know.” Ghoul continues.
“That’s creepy, Fun Ghoul.” Poison says.
The edge of the tub is lined with what’s probably a dozen different bath products with different pink and white and pastel labels, and Ghoul picks out a cherry scented body wash. Several years worth of dirt and grime can’t be undone in one bath, but Fun Ghoul wants to try. He lathers the soap and rubs it into Poison’s tan and freckled shoulders.
“You miss bein’ in control of every detail.” He states. Poison nods. “It’s okay baby, it’s not the end of the world. We lived through that already. You can figure everything else out later, just let me take care of you today. Please?” He adds.
“I get what you’re sayin’, Ghoulie, I do.” Poison says. “You’re a sweetheart.”
“You sound sad.” He lifts Poison’s arms to wash underneath them, then runs his fingers over the bumps of their ribcage.
“I am, a little.” They admit. “I miss it, miss everyone. I’m scared about what’ll happen when we’re gone.”
Ghoul presses a kiss to their cheek, and to the side of their neck.
“It’ll be okay.” He promises. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” Poison says.
They shift a little, rippling the water, in Ghoul’s lap so that they can curl up against his chest. They feel sort of small, and sort of powerless, and they don’t really know what to say about that, so they just hang their long arms around Fun Ghoul and he just pets their hair the way he knows they like. Poison kind of feels like they’re crashing. Fun Ghoul plants little kisses on the top of their head and all over their face and whispers little reassurances while they work through this feeling of not really being there. Ghoul understands, and they stay like that for a long time.