the reluctant lobotomist (fourfreedoms) wrote,
the reluctant lobotomist

Fic: The Bell House

Written on 12/22/11

“We are lost,” Micke says, patiently, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. Grant wanders a few steps ahead, holding his iPhone in front of him, trying to make out the GPS. It’s cold and his ears and nose ache, they’re in the middle of nowhere in what Micke suspects is Gowanus. They’ve been trudging through muddy snow for half an hour on what was supposed to be a fifteen minute walk from their apartment.

“We are not lost!” Grant protests. “The GPS is just confused.”

Micke snorts. “Mmm, well it better unconfused itself, because I’m about ready to offer you up to a homeless man for directions.”

Grant doesn’t even look up from the phone. “Why do I have to be the one to service the homeless man?”

“You look so nice giving blowjobs,” Micke tells him, eyeing the deserted warehouses and unlit streets with extreme prejudice. If this is Gowanus, it looks like the apocalypse hit a couple decades ago. “Now I am freezing and I will turn back to the apartment if you can’t figure out where we are going.”

“Ahah!” Grant says, pointing off into the distance at a monstrous bridge rearing up into the night sky.

“I…refuse to believe there is a concert venue that way,” Micke replies, shaking his head when Grant waves the cellphone under his nose. According to the map, the place they’re going is indeed in the direction of the scary abandoned bridge. “I’m starting to think you took me out here to kill me.”

“Nonsense,” Grant says, walking determinedly towards the bridge. “I would just detach the gas line and wait for the pilot light to come on if I wanted to do that.”

Micke blinks at his back and then races to follow. He’s not going to be left out here to be murdered in god knows where, the one time he trusted Grant to find the place they’re supposed to be going. That just wouldn’t be fair.

The sign for the venue finally appears in the distance and Grant gives him a smug ‘I told you so’ face.

“Yes, yes, you were right, eventually,” Micke replies, shrugging his coat up around his ears to get warm. There’s an accumulation of slushy snow in his boots, because, of course, this part of Brooklyn is unplowed. There’s only so much forgiveness he’s willing to offer. “You are going to owe me so many beers when we get there.”

Grant smiles, head cocked. “How about I just suck you off in the men’s room during the opener?”


This actually happened to me and regala_electra the first time we went to The Bell House in the middle of February. It's still that scary even in broad daylight in the summer.
Tags: fic, micke/grant
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