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I'm a sucker for "Exile" era.

Title: Contradictions
Pairing: Keith/Mick

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't have to write this.

The premises was quiet, no sound sliding through the thin air. The low riding sun loitered around in the sky, shining singed rays of heat. The warmth wrapped coyly around the air, drenching it. The horizon showed a thin line of burnt yellow and orange, outlining the shapeless, bulging trees.

The house was quiet, save for the noises of the house randomly groaning from the skittering cats. Mick leaned on the window seal. His elbows were the main foundation to hold up his sinewy body. His brown coated hair hung in wavy paths and fell gently across his face, caressing his cheeks and neck. A breeze would occasionally ruffle his hair with a quivering breeze, wisps of hair falling out of place.

Keith sat on the side, a loose shirt clinging to his frame. Fingers delicately caressed his guitar as a soft melody was birthed into the air, filling it with sweet and soft sounds. His brown eyes watched the strings like a mother gazing at her child. His pants were loose and were old and a bit tattered.

Blue eyes relished in looking at the scenery, hues of warm colors painting over them. A mixture of warmth radiating softly. The villa, for once, actually felt lovely. There seemed to be nothing wrong at the moment. A feeling swelled in Mick’s stomach and he actually embraced it.

“That one girl.” Absently, Mick was speaking to no one directly.

“Hm,” hummed Keith in acknowledgment.

“They think,” Mick briefly looked at his hands to inspect a butterfly walking a path on it. “I’m in love with you.”

A brief moment of silence breaks the guitar’s rhythm before Keith’s fingers went back to creating chords. Mick didn’t move from his spot, not so much as glance at Keith for a reassuring answer.

“Really,” asks Keith after a moment, still looking at his guitar. “And who are ‘they’?”

“Y’know, the press, some of the fans, Anita, my wife, some others you might care about.”

“Really?” Keith still acts distracted, an uninterested quality.

“Yep.”

Keith lifts his head from his stupor like position. His interest was vaguely held by these urn of events that had been employed. His digits still move over the tightened strings, a mechanical like tuning of his joints. Mick still didn’t look at him, whether it was deliberate or he just didn’t give it any thought.

“I’m not in love with you.” Keith is soft and well foreword.

“That’s what I said.”

Mick finally tosses his sight onto Keith. His orbs were gazing dully. A glazed expression. Mick placed his chin into his palm, settling on a firm but loose hold.

“How could I be in love with you? I already have a wife.” Mick notes this with a bored tone.

“And I have Anita.” Keith is at the same level.

Keith’s eyes are held in a staring confrontation with Mick’s. Amusement dazzles into his eyes. Mick finally fully turns towards Keith, his hair crinkling with the heated breeze that sweeps through the opened window. Slowly lifting upon toothpick thin legs, Keith unfolds himself from the floor. He felt the grime that lightly coated the floor slide across his denim clad bottom.

Mick tilted his head and moved closer to Keith. Keith responded by slowly pushing himself up to Mick. He then encircled his arms around Mick’s waist.

“Besides,” Mick says as he trailed a finger down Keith’s chest, “you’re a man. How can I love another man when I don’t swing that way?”

Allowing one hand to crawl up his backside, Keith slightly arched into the pleasant touch. “I dunno Mick. You’re not really my type either if I did swing that way.”

Anchoring limber fingers into the soft material of Keith’s shirt, Mick tugged at it until Keith raised his arms over his head.

“I don’t really think your all that attractive either.” A a soundless breath escapes Mick’s mouth as Keith speaks while tweaking his sides.

“I think,” Mick stops before he starts to unfasten his belt, “that you wouldn’t satisfy me enough to stay.”

“Keith leaned into Mick’s neck and slowly rubbed it with his nose. “I think so too. You can’t stay in one place.”

“I think so too.” Mick agreed.

“I think it’s great that we can agree and no scream like birds.” Keith tugged at the pants he was wearing and felt Mick’s hands unfasten the button.

“If we couldn’t,” Mick titled his head, “we’d be in a very bad shape.”

“Where would we be today than?” Mick stops. His eyes flickered towards and locked with Keith’s. Something briefly flooded his eyes. Slowly, Mick pressed his head into Keith’s shoulders.

“I don’t know. Just you ‘n me.” Mick muttered, breaking the character of his usual self.

This startles Keith. Mick’s voice is less confident and far more insecure. Like those early days. Mick reverted back to his original self of a child. It was like his tailored act had diminished. Fingers slowly creep up the skin on Mick’s face and he cradles it between his own palms.

“Hey Mick,” Keith says softly, for only Mick’s ears, “we’ll be together anyways. It doesn’t matter if we did, you ‘n I can’t stay away from each other long. Some how we end up back together. Like it or not.”

A slow smile morphed onto Mick’s face as he gazed at Keith. Mick brought up his hands and caressed Keith’s face and pressed his lips to Keith’s.

“Yeah.” Mick is now happier. “I guess your right.”

Both made their way to the bed. Sheets were muffled and spread out as they rolled in them. Clothes were tossed to the floor soon to be forgotten about. Both lay in a heap of sweat and sex, cool ruminant dreams flickering through their minds.

“Yeah,” Keith muttered sleepily and to no one. “I guess it is possible that I love you.”

No music. The sound of silence at 12:31 AM.





 
 
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