Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Their accent grates slightly in his ears still, and IV can't help the way it draws his gaze to their form. Their eyes are locked on whatever screen is just behind II’s shoulder at the sports bar they dragged all of them out to. A full week before the band even needed to think about crossing the pond for the upcoming tour, yet here they are. Just to get extra time with someone who's apparently going to tag along anyway. He's being melodramatic, he knows, but in the privacy of his own mind, he lets himself be just the tiniest bit hurt.

It's not Fore’s fault that they're pretty in a startling way and behave in ways that draw attention– in an unconventional manner. It's not Fore's fault that III laughs at every joke they spit out and II wears an easy smile rarely seen in public as he watches them gesture rapidly, off on yet another tangent. And it's definitely not Fore's fault that Vessel can't seem to keep his eyes from wandering down to their neck, where that stupid silver chain sat perfectly against their skin, just barely visible with their hair pushed back before it disappeared beneath their shirt. 

None of it is Fore’s fault, but IV still hates them for it.

Okay, he doesn't hate them for it. He doesn't even resent them for it. He figured out they meant something to the other three, maybe even the girls as well, the way there was a nervous excitement in the air leading up to Fore confirming they could make it out west to meet with everyone. III spent the entire next day glued to his phone, back and forth with them on some messaging app. 

IV knew where he stood in the band, he knew who he was to Sleep – kind of, and he certainly knew where he was meant to be when it came to the others. He just wasn't sure if they were ready for… all of him. And seeing the easy grace with which Fore slid into their dynamic and made it a comfortable five caught IV off guard, sent him stumbling back into some of his bitter insecurities.

And he couldn't even really find it in himself to hold it against them. Fore made every attempt to include IV in the conversation, and the sincere curiosity in their expression drew answers out of him despite his initial determination to sulk. He found himself watching the way their mouth formed words, sure that they wouldn't look his way after picking up on their aversion to looking people in the eye. That didn't stop II from catching him staring, and he flushed up to his ears when he caught the teasing curve of the drummer’s mouth as he held back his amusement. IV wished they would do something he could use to justify disliking them, besides the jealousy and shame he feels burning in his chest. Besides the curiosity and excitement they spark right alongside them, making his heart stutter when they laugh whole-heartedly at a sarcastic quip he makes. Besides the nervous arousal that coils itself into a loose knot when they shoot a flirty remark at II without even seeming to realize what they've said – until their gaze levels directly with the drummer’s and they don't bother to hold back a grin.

It's all too much at once and he quietly excuses himself. Fore glances over at him with polite concern but doesn't ask, II searches his face for a long moment but remains silent as well, and the other two are still caught up in the words pouring from Fore’s mouth.

It's fine.

It's fine, IV will be fine. He just needs to have a smoke and focus on the irritating heat already building in California and not… not Fore. He huffs an agitated breath and fumbles with the pack in his pocket, determinedly not thinking about how the calluses on their slender hands would feel similar to his own yet entirely different, or how their eyes catch the light in ways that make their color hard to determine, or how he can almost imagine the way their voice would pitch up if he got a hand under their jaw, forcing them to look at him while he shoves a knee between their thighs to-

IV lets out a defeated groan.

+++++

“I feel like he doesn't like me. Did I say something?” Fore can feel the anxious twist of their own mouth as they watch IV make his way to the front doors, tracing the tense set of his shoulders through his long sleeve despite themself. 

III looks up sharply from his drink and sucks in a breath to say something before sputtering and coughing as he chokes on nothing. He shoots a desperate look at Vessel and motions at him as II pounds a fist into his back. 

Vessel traces a finger down Fore’s cheek and to their jaw to bring their attention back to the table and he's quick to answer their question in III's stead.

“You didn't say anything, sweetheart, you've been exactly yourself the entire time-”

“That's what I'm worried about, V. I know I can be… a lot, sometimes.”

It's II that shuts that familiar line of thinking down, “What Vessel means is that you're as charming as ever, and there's nothing you've done wrong. Even if you had, that's nothing that's unforgivable, and IV wouldn't write you off for it. He's a good guy. 

“And,” II's smile turns from reassuring to teasing again, “I can tell he's only trying to not like you.”

Fore makes a confused sound as III jumps back into the conversation, recovered enough to speak again. 

“So you saw that, too, huh?” 

III's gaze flicks over from II to Fore and his expression takes on a look of smugness that makes them squint at him, forgetting they want to ask the other two what they mean as III opens his mouth again.

“And you,” he starts, staring them down, “you're really laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

Vessel snorts beside them where he's idly playing with their hair, longer than the last time he saw them, “Don't you?”

“Can't say that I do,” they sniff.

“Right,” III deadpans, “So you're not checking to see if Ivy’s paying attention to your stories.”

“And you're not pulling out jokes you know we've heard before just to see if he laughs at them too,” II agrees, just as sarcastic.

“And of course you're not staring at him any time you think you can get away with it,” Vessel gives his own accusation in a low voice directly in their ear, smirk audible in his tone.

Fore’s cheeks flush and they glare at all of them in turn.

“Whatever,” they mutter.

The other three laugh at them, and Fore crosses their arms and pretends they're done talking for the next however long, determined to be in just as bad a mood as IV now. Their act is ruined by the way they're tucked against Vessel's side and their feet are tangled with III’s under the table, tapping out a rhythm against the side of his trainers with their boots.

“He's been gone a while,” II notes, eyes on the door now they're all done laying into Fore. “Might go check.”

He's already pushing his way out of the booth seat.

+++++

II finds him a polite distance from the door to the restaurant, back pressed to the brick wall and a cigarette forgotten in his hand, not even burning anymore as IV stares into the middle distance. 

“Alright, mate?”

IV starts a bit as II presses a shoulder into the wall next to him and fishes his vape out of his pocket.

“Yeah, II. Great, thanks.”

II cocks an eyebrow at him but doesn't press any further. Instead, he gives his bandmate an out.

“Jetlag’s killer, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” IV groans. 

He rolls his head back against the wall, disoriented by the afternoon sun versus his exhaustion telling him it's long past bedtime. II seems to share the sentiment with how he shuts his eyes and leans his own head forward to rest on IV’s shoulder. 

“You want to get out of here?” II asks. “I need a nap.”

“Fuck yes,” IV agrees.

They push their way back inside to give their farewells to the other three, and they don't even make it halfway back to their table before IV’s heart is already sinking back through the floor. In the short time he and II were gone, III moved himself to IVs unoccupied spot. His mouth is going a mile a minute and he's leaning into Fore’s space in his excitement. Vessel has somehow pulled them even closer, and he wears a wide smile of his own as he watches the two of them talk. As they approach the group, IV can see that Vessel has a casually possessive hand curled over their thigh, and III has one of their hands in both of his own.

“II!” III exclaims once they're reasonably close, “Fore was just telling us their doc finally approved them for a- what did you call it, babe?”

The pet name burns somewhere behind IV’s eyes.

“Are you comfortable talking about it in front of IV?” 

Vessel asks it with quiet understanding and Fore glances at him gratefully. Something in IV's chest jolts painfully.

“No, yeah, it's chill, I don't mind.” 

They send a sunny smile IV’s way before answering III’s question and telling II about some quality of life operation their doctor finally agreed they needed. II’s face brightens and he tells him he's happy for them, asks when the surgery is and if they'll need anything before or after. IV stands there awkwardly, caught on the edge of this little bubble of human happiness but not feeling a part of it. His fingers twitch towards the lighter in his pocket and he steels himself to just ride it out until II remembers that they were leaving.  

Finally , he informs the others that he and IV are heading back to the hotel to crash. Fore's disappointment at their time with II being cut short eases some of IV’s jealousy in a petty way. He immediately feels bad for it when they turn to him with a genuine smile.

“Bye, IV! It was nice meeting you and I can't wait to hang out more.”

There's more sincerity in their voice than he's ever heard directed at him before.

“You too, Fore.”

He tries not to think about how their names sound the exact same.

Chapter Text

It's not unusual for IV to share a bed with any of them anymore. Gone were the days of keeping an anxious arm's length between him and anyone else and locking himself in his own sparsely decorated bedroom every night. Nowadays, he ends up in III's room most of the time. On bad days, he'll be found curled up in Vessel's, soothed by the quiet aura the vocalist carries with him everywhere. On really bad days, II will try IV’s doorknob too loudly. If it opens, he'll barge in with easy to eat foods and lay himself bodily on top of IV, pressing him into the mattress until he doesn't feel like he's going to come apart at the seams anymore. The few times it's been locked, II has fallen asleep sitting in front of the door, waiting for IV to let them back in, just like he does with Vessel.

So it isn't disorienting when IV comes to hours later with his head rising and falling in time with II's chest. The hum of the hotel A/C unit and the quiet chatter from the TV are comforting instead of intrusive, and the heavy duvet on the bed is almost as reassuring a weight as II's hand tangled in his hair. IV unfurls himself from the ball he's curled himself up in, stretching his legs out straight and making a pleased noise at the aching burn in his muscles. His arms are next, out to his sides without smacking II’s face or the phone in his other hand. His left falls across II's midsection and pulls him closer. II laughs quietly as IV scrubs his face against his chest, lightly scratching IV's scalp with his nails. 

“Stop rubbing your eye gunk on my shirt, freak,” II lightly chastises.

“Mmm,” IV hums, pretending to think about it, “No.” His voice is muffled where it's still pressed into II's body. 

“Take it you're feeling better, then? You were getting a little wild-eyed before we made our way back.”

II, perceptive as ever. IV curses him for it in his own mind while he nods against his friend’s chest.

“Just tired and strung out from the plane, I guess.” 

It's not a lie, but it is a copout. II doesn't need to know how IV is feeling about everything else, especially when IV hasn't even fully figured out how he's feeling yet either. 

“I feel you. Wish I could've just slept through it like III and Vess did, maybe I'd-” a yawn interrupts II, “Maybe I'd understand how they have the energy, then.”

“Honest.”

They lapse back into companionable silence, and IV is more than willing to keep his ass right where it is, idly flicking through the TV guide and soaking up II’s attention while the other man continues scrolling. He's dozing off, half paying attention to some crime show he put on, when II laughs lightly again. The movement jolts IV a bit and he makes a questioning noise without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Need to get you and Fore in a room together; only other motherfucker I know who falls asleep to people getting murdered.”

IV swallows hard. The mention of his predecessor washes the easy relaxation and warm sleepiness from his body and leaves him feeling frozen despite the warmth he and II have built under the covers. 

“Hah, yeah... Guess it'd be nice to not get looked at weird for it for once.” IV tries to keep his tone light; he doesn't know if he's successful.

Suddenly, with the reminder that II knows things about Fore, that the two have history in a way IV doesn't, IV can't stand the man's company any longer. He acts casual as he sits up, stretches his shoulders again and pretends to linger before he sets his feet on the cheap carpet and crosses the room. He doesn't bother to close the bathroom door before he tugs his sweats down.

“Hey,” he calls over his shoulder, “did you hit up the exchange yet?”

“Stop talking to me while you piss,” is the only answer II gives. 

IV rolls his eyes.

“Yes , I went to the exchange,” II sounds exasperated and it grates on IV’s nerves, “before we even left – which you should've done too – how much do you need?”

“Just forty in case I can't get ahold of Darren.”

“Just grab it out of my wallet, should be in twenties. Grab a five too, so you can tip your tender. I know you forget.”

“You don't want to come with?” 

He knows II doesn't, that's why he made sure to mention Darren instead of any of the other people he knows that run dispensaries. Predictably, II’s nose wrinkles and he shakes his head.

“Text me when you're back and I'll meet you downstairs, though. You know what I like.”

“Sure thing.”

IV shoves his feet into his shoes and shrugs his jacket on before shoving his hands into the pockets. His wallet, cigs, and the plastic keycard for the room he's sharing with III are already in the right, and the cash from II gets added to the collection. Neither of them give a farewell on his way out the door. It's not out of the ordinary for either of them, but it still pisses IV off. 

He's muttering to himself as soon as the door clicks shut behind him. His thoughts are a mess of righteous anger and self-loathing.

Of course they're all excited to see Fore, it's been a year since they were last in London. He doesn’t hold it against his mates. Well, he does. But he knows he shouldn't, so he hates himself for that. He hates himself for being mad at II, for being sensitive, for wanting to lash out and hurt everyone as bad as they're hurting him, and especially for the sick satisfaction he gets just imagining saying all the ugly thoughts in his head out loud. He's picturing the tears in Vessel's eyes, the quiet betrayal in the set of II’s mouth, the explosive rage III would match his energy with, and it doesn't make him feel better, but it does give him an outlet for all the negativity swirling around him. 

The elevator dinging breaks him out of his thoughts. He hasn't reached it to press the button yet, only just turning the corner to bring it into view. The doors slide open and a couple stumbles out, caught up in each other and oblivious to their audience. Because everyone on Earth is having the night of their lives at the expense of IV having the worst. One half of the pair gets crowded against the wall directly in front of the elevator, and IV huffs and resigns himself to taking the stairs instead. Before he can turn, though, his attention is caught by someone else stepping through the metal door.

Sleep incarnate, did they really make someone ride with them while they suck face?

But no. No, the third party takes one long, familiar stride toward the couple and seals his front to one of the lovers’s back, leaning down to whisper something that makes the one trapped against the wall break away from their partner and pant loudly, and the full picture clicks into place. That's not some poor unwilling voyeur, it's III, wearing the same predatory grin he gives IV when the guitarist decides to get bratty during a gaming session. The man whose ass III is now blatantly rutting against isn't some nameless American, it's Vessel, still wearing the hoodie IV loaned him at the airport and looking desperate to be out of it. And the hands fisted in that hoodie, clutching at Vessel's side like a lifeline? The long legs clad in skintight black denim? The pretty gasps and low baritone drifting down the hall to where IV's still standing, stuck right where he is?

Those are all Fore’s. 

It's like watching a train wreck. IV knows he needs to turn the fuck around and get the fuck out of here, now, but his feet may as well be part of the floor for how well they're cooperating on that front. He's entranced as he watches, unable to look away no matter how bad he thinks he wants to. Vessel has his thigh pressed into the apex of Fore’s own, and his face is buried in their neck. From the way Fore squirms and screws their eyes shut, Vessel is putting his mouth right to work. One of his large hands cups their jaw, thumb pressing into the stubble there and tilting their head to give himself better access. III says something else that he can't hear, but the other two groan at his words, and when Fore rolls their hips down against the thick muscle of Vessel's quads in response, IV's attention is drawn to how hard they are, straining against the zipper of their jeans in a way that looks uncomfortable. 

Shame, embarrassment, and pure white-hot jealousy burn themselves across IV's face and down his chest. He had no reason to think this wasn't exactly how Fore's night was going to go, but seeing it right in front of him makes IV wish the floor would open up underneath his feet and send him crashing straight down into hell. Finally, he finds the self preservation to get the fuck out of dodge, and spins on his heel to stalk towards the stairwell instead. He's too focused on bleaching his own brain to get what he just saw out of his vision to notice that he's half hard in his sweats. He misses the way his hurried movement catches the eye of III, but if he had seen the bassist's quick glance, he'd have known that III noticed. And he'd have seen the way that grin on III’s face somehow grows more satisfied as he lets IV escape into the night.

Chapter Text

Fore hasn’t had a drink since they first got sick, but right now their head spins like they’re off their fucking ass. They can’t keep track of the hands on them or the conversation they’re still trying to have with III as the evening wanes into night. They’ve gone from tucked under Vessel’s arm to being pulled fully into his lap and the hand that claimed it’s territory on their thigh at the beginning of the afternoon has only inched itself further up. Vessel’s other hand has tangled itself in the day collar they still wear. All three of them had noticed it around their neck immediately, but Vessel hadn’t been able to keep himself from reaching out and pulling the chain until the little heart shaped lock revealed itself from under the collar of their t-shirt. Every shift of the chain against their collarbones from Vessel idly toying with it sends their pulse racing. And III isn’t any better. His hands have been on a rotation, unable to keep still in one place but unwilling to not be touching some part of Fore. Right now he’s got a piece of hair winding between the fingers of one hand, and he’s using the other to trace constellations between the moles dotting their upper arms. Fore’s just doing their best to act like every touch doesn’t feel like lightning on their skin after so long.

They ached for the others. They ached for their touch and their presence and the feeling of Sleep filling their veins and the pure human connection that brought all of them together when they played whatever Vessel and II had written like they pulled it down from the heavens instead of scrawled it on the pages of a beaten up notebook. For over a year, ever since their body decided it needed to play a funny trick on them right before their ritual to fully become a vessel, Fore has ached. An ocean of distance between them and everything and everyone they wanted to build their life around was harder to bear than their illness, but when the tests came back and they found out they’d never get better, they knew they weren’t Sleep’s fourth. Sleep’s fourth couldn’t spend weeks at a time bedridden, unable to worship.

Vessel fought against it the hardest. He refused to take them off the contract that kept their visa from expiring, told them if they only played one show a year that would be enough, dropped to his knees and wept against their middle, clinging onto them and begging them not to leave him. III lived in denial up until he had to let go of Fore’s hand at the CAA line. His arms came up around them automatically when they pulled him roughly into an embrace, but when they looked at him through tear-laden lashes, he just looked confused. They heard from II later that he didn’t leave their room for a week after, still confused every time the door opened and they weren’t the one climbing into the cold bed with him until one day Vessel found every piece of furniture overturned and in pieces and III’s own bedroom door closed for the first time since they all moved in. And II presumably did all his grieving where Fore would never see any of it. He stayed by their side in the ER and held back their hair and blended their meals and he held a strong face for them up until it was his turn to say goodbye. He readjusted their carry-on, smoothed out the collar of their shirt, and gave them a slightly watery smile when his hand brushed the collar he had the key for in his pocket. He tried to tell them to take care of themself, but his voice broke halfway through.

And then they all watched Fore walk out of their lives.

Fore’s never regretted anything more. Being here, caught between III and Vessel again like no time passed at all, rips open the scabs they’ve carefully left alone for 14 months, and they feel a familiar sting behind their eyes that rivals the wildfire raging itself across their skin in the wake of the two sets of hands making every effort to close the gap of missed time. They’re painfully aware of how full the bar is getting, and III picks up on the fact that they’re getting antsy, shoots Vessel a look.

“Everything good, sweetheart?” Vessel’s tone is teasing and his eyes are still stuck on the blush making its way down their throat, but there’s genuine concern beneath everything else.

“Take me-” home , they want to say, but they don’t. “Take me to bed, Vessel.”

They almost feel bad for their rideshare driver when III nearly trips over himself and Vessel is automatically out of his seat with Fore still held tight to his chest in their eagerness to get back to the hotel. It doesn’t matter that they look ridiculous with Fore the same height as Vessel and III trying to do everything one-handed because he refuses to stop holding hands, Fore just throws their free arm around Vessel’s neck and lets him carry them out the door – after they get the bill taken care of.

+++++

Fore isn't having any better luck paying attention to much of anything back at the hotel. From the moment the elevator door closes around them, Vessel is crowding them against the wall. One hand is threaded through Fore’s hair and the other presses their hips back against the metal, like he's afraid if he gives them any room to move, they'll disappear again.

“Missed you,” he murmurs. His breath fans across the side of their face and they can feel his lips moving against the skin of their cheek. “Missed this.”

“You missed public indecency?” They're trying to tease, but it's ruined by the way they're turning their head, seeking Vessel's lips with their own.

Vessel's mouth is hot against theirs when he finally kisses them. He isn't gentle, and the kiss is bruising. His lips move against theirs in the same way, but there's an edge to his desperation that wasn't there before. Vessel kisses Fore like he wishes they'd unhinge their jaw and swallow him whole. Maybe he does. Fore isn't any better. One hand is fisted in the front of Vessel's hoodie and the other has already found its way to his belt loops. They nip harshly at his bottom lip when he pulls away, and the low moan that earns splits their face in a feral smile.

The elevator dings and the door slides open. Vessel uses his grip on them to guide them backward, matching every step of theirs with one of his own so they're never more than centimeters apart. Fore's back hits the wall and Vessel bullies his way further into their space. III follows closely behind. He wraps himself around Vessel and tucks his chin over his shoulder to look at Fore. He watches the way their mouth falls open and their eyes slip shut when Vessel knocks one of their knees to the side and shoves his thigh between theirs. Vessel is already mouthing at their throat, setting his teeth to the tender flesh there before thinking better of it and sealing his lips to their skin instead.

“Look at you two,” III says, “Already falling apart. Planning to fuck in the hallway where anyone could come and see?”

Vessel moans against Fore, and Fore grinds down against Vessel, rolling their hips and clawing at Vessel's side, riding his sweatshirt up.

“Or maybe not anyone, ” he continues. “II’s just down the hall; what would he think about all this? Would he tell you off and drag you somewhere private, or would he make you both kneel right here?”

The mention of II gets both of them, and Fore and Vessel crash their lips back together. Fore’s hands frame both sides of Vessel's face, as if he'd try to pull away from them.

III's voice drops even lower, “Or do you wish Ivy was here?”

Fore gasps against Vessel's mouth and they twitch hard in their pants. Vessel presses his thigh more insistently against them and uses the hand still pressing fingerprint bruises into their hip to encourage them.

“He's pretty, right? Even when he's scowling. He looked like he wanted to tear you apart earlier; would you let him?”

Fore’s whimper is answer enough, but III wasn't actually looking for one anyway.

Abruptly, III draws back, alert, and the other two freeze. It's one thing to talk about getting caught, it's another thing entirely if someone's actually approaching. But he's already turning back with a grin on his face.

“Vessel, let's get Fore to a room. You're doing an awful job of doing what they asked.”

Vessel and Fore laugh, and Vessel finally lets them breathe enough that they can stand without the support of his body or the wall. Vessel steals one last kiss as they reorient themself, and this of course leads to Fore chasing after him for another. Before the two can completely forget what he just said, III grabs both their wrists and drags them towards his room.

Chapter Text

Fuck II.

IV doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry. He’s shaking with it. He doesn’t even really have a reason to be pissed, which just pisses him off even more. 

Fuck Fore, he thinks to himself. Fuck Fore, fuck Vess and III, and especially fuck II. 

His lip curls at the thought of the drummer. Some small part of his brain that sounds suspiciously like his therapist is begging him to stop and be rational, pleading with him to remember that there’s ways to process what’s making him angry and communicate his hurt effectively. IV crushes it down and ignores it. He doesn’t feel like stopping to think right now, he’s already thinking enough. His head spins as it replays all the worst highlights of today over and over. Fore’s desperate expression in the hotel hallway, the unadulterated glee that lit up III’s face when Fore came strolling into luggage claim, every casually intimate touch Vessel laid on their body, the near worship sparkling in Fore’s eyes every time they looked at II, the collar he knows II still carries the key to, the way Fore says IV’s name, Fore’s slender thighs shaking on either side of Vessel’s. 

IV gives a pained moan and lights another cigarette. He really needs a better coping mechanism unless he wants to buy American smokes. 

At least Darren pulled through. His left pocket hides more pre-rolls than he actually had the money for and two of the hybrid carts II prefers, and IV didn’t even need to touch his cash. He couldn’t think of an excuse not to get what II asked for, and it was free, so whatever. He still wasn’t happy about it. 

Fuck II.

IV doesn’t even know how many times he’s uttered that oath since he left the hotel. II hasn’t even done anything; it doesn’t make sense that he’s who IV’s the most upset with, but II’s betrayal hurts the most. 

Fuck II.

His eyes burn with tears he refuses to shed, so he pushes his fingers against them until colors flash across his vision and his head aches in dull protest. 

Fuck II.

Someone shoves into IV while he's still got his eyes closed, trying to keep his breathing even and standing in the middle of the otherwise deserted sidewalk.

“Watch it, dipshit,” the other person spits while IV stumbles, and that does it. 

“You fuckin’ watch it, asshole,” he shoots back, turning on his heel to hurl the insult at the retreating back of some local.

The other man turns back to look at IV, “You got a problem?”

“Huge one,” and IV is already stalking forward, shaking his shoulders out and flexing his fingers.

The stranger clocks what IV’s about to do and opens his mouth to say something before IV slams his fist into the underside of his jaw, making his teeth click together and eliciting a groan. IV sends a jab into his side while he's busy clutching his face, and the give of soft flesh under his knuckles erases everything else. 

“Fucker,” the stranger wheezes, doubled over, and then he's charging IV.

His opponent wraps his arms around IV's middle and uses his center of gravity against him to run him backward into a storefront, slamming him into the wall and bouncing his head off the brick. Lights flash in his eyes and IV can only register dull thumps of pain from his ribs while he tries to reorient himself. He grunts, grabs a fistful of short hair, and yanks the man’s head back. He needs to get the fuck out of this pin. He brings his knee up but there's not enough room to catch any sort of centre mass, so he just slams his boot back down, aiming for the man's own foot. The stranger howls and lets IV go, stumbling back. IV pushes himself off the wall and brings his arms back up. The other man glares at him and bares his teeth.

And then everything's lit up in blue and IV knows he fucked up. He puts his hands behind his head and lets his knees hit the pavement as officers yell at him and his opponent. All at once, he's exhausted and it hits him exactly how much shit he's gotten himself into this time. IV gets cuffed and thrown over the hood of a cruiser, and he just stares numbly out into the street.

+++++

“This is a collect call from Los Angeles County Correctional Facilities on behalf of-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

II is livid. II is beyond livid. He ought to refuse the call and let IV sit in a cell for the night, but he'll just call one of the other two and they'll make II go get him out anyway. Next best option is chewing him out over the phone and giving him worse once he's back. He lets the operator patch him through and waits for the line to pick up before he starts yelling.

“What were you fucking thinking?” II demands. “It's been six hours we've been here and I let you out of my sight for one second and you get yourself fucking arrested?”

“II…” even through the tinny phone static, IV sounds miserable. 

“Don't you ‘II’ me. What did you do?”

“Started a fight…”

“IV! Over fucking what- y'know what, it doesn't matter. I'm coming to get you, but you're going to wish I didn’t. I'd tell you to stay where you are, but you don't have a choice, do you? Unbe-fucking-lievable. I cannot fucking believe you decided to pull a stunt like this today. You are so-” II cuts himself off with a pinched sigh. “I'm coming to get you. You better hope whatever charges you get end up dropped, because if we have to work the tour around a court date- I can't talk to you right now.”

And he ends the call. His hands shake as he tries to put his phone down without slamming it. He tries to stabilize himself, take even breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, but it barely works. He sends one fleeting prayer up to Sleep before grabbing the keys to the rental, shoving his feet in his shoes too aggressively, and slamming the hotel room door behind him.

+++++

IV spends however long it takes II to get to the jail and pay his bond trying not to cry. He doesn’t do a good job. When a corrections officer finally comes to get him, he’s both relieved and filled with dread.

“Good news and bad news,” the cop starts. “Good news, you’re getting out of here. Bad news, your ride is here.” The cop tries to get him to laugh with her, but all he can do is grimace.

The big metal door opens in front of him, and he can feel II’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head while he gets his belongings and court date. Predictably, he doesn’t get any of the weed back, despite the fact it’s legal. The officer behind the desk glances at II and gives IV a sympathetic look. II himself has his arms crossed and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he watches IV walk toward him. It feels like everyone's on the edge of their seat, waiting for some entertainment in the form of someone else getting laid into, but II says nothing when IV stops in front of him. He just narrows his eyes, gives IV another tight sigh through his nose, and turns on his heel to walk out of the building. He doesn't turn to see if IV’s following, just gives a polite thank you to the officers at the door and pushes his way through it. IV trails miserably behind him, hugging the plastic bag with his jacket and personals in it to his chest. II only verbally acknowledges him when they get to the car.

“Cigarettes and lighter,” are all he finally says. 

IV scrambles to open the bag, accidentally dropping it onto the asphalt. He drops into a squat right where he is and starts digging through it, holding out the pack and his favorite lighter without standing back up. 

II takes the offered items from his hand and tells him, “Get in the car.”

IV pulls the bag back to his chest and slinks to the passenger door. He sits with his shame in the stuffy air freshener-scented sedan and watches II in the side mirror while he chain-smokes three of his darts. II spends a lot of the time massaging his forehead with his free hand and pinching the bridge of his nose. When he's done, IV watches him tip his head back and heave one final sigh before walking around the car and getting into the driver's seat. He turns the key in the ignition and lets it idle. The silence seems to stretch on for an eternity while they sit there, and IV feels like he'll start shaking or throwing up, probably both, if II doesn't say something. II still won't even look at him. 

“What happened, Ivy?”

He really wishes II would just yell at him again so he didn't have to explain. 

“Um…” his voice breaks a bit on the single syllable and he clears his throat, tries again, “I, uh. I was- just standing there and he shoved right into me, told me to watch it like it was my fault and- and I just-” IV ducks his head and sucks in a sharp breath, eyes stinging.

“And you just swung?”

IV nods, refusing to look anywhere except where he's picking aggressively at his cuticle. 

“What happened before that?”

The skin on IV's index finger splits open and starts bleeding. He bites his lip.

“IV?”

IV screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. II sighs yet again.

“I can't help you with whatever it is if you don't tell me.”

IV nods again. 

“You're calling Meagan in the morning.”

IV was planning to anyway, should've called his therapist before he got himself booked into the closest county jail, but he nods anyway. 

“Alright, then.”

And II lets it go. He punches the hotel into the nav system, puts the car in reverse, and turns the radio back on at a low volume. The drive back passes by in a blur and then IV is stumbling with exhaustion as he follows II through the hotel lobby. In the elevator, II grabs hold of IV’s right arm. He uses the leverage to pull IV to his side, and then carefully inspects his hand. The knuckles are still bruised and swollen and he's split the skin on two of them.

“Can I clean this when we get in?” II asks softly.

IV hums his assent and finally lets himself go halfway boneless against II, leaning heavily into his side and hiding his face in II’s hair. II’s free hand comes up to gently cup the back of his head until the elevator dings, and he leads IV back to the room. He uses cotton swabs and the cheap hotel room handsoap to get all the grit and dried blood off of IV's hand before patting it dry as gently as he can with tissue. When he's done, he cradles it gently in his own two hands and leans down to press a kiss to the flats of IVs fingers. 

“Let's get you to bed, Ivers.”

Nothing is really okay, but it can at least wait until tomorrow.

Chapter Text

IV feels like shit when he wakes up. His sides ache when he breathes in, and his head pounds like he has the worst hangover of his life. Even before he opens his eyes, the weak morning sunlight filtering through the curtains is enough to make it ache, and it's not much better when he does finally peel his eyelids back. The room spins and blurs around him and he feels his stomach lurch. He screws his eyes back shut and groans.

“There's paracetamol on the nightstand. Unfortunately I'm dragging you to breakfast.”

II’s voice is soft when he says it, and IV feels the bed dip by his knees. IV gives a weak moan of pain as he rolls to the side. He swallows the painkillers dry and lets his head fall back onto the mattress.

“C'mon, a shower will do you good. Got actual bandages when you're out.”

IV just makes another small sound as II grabs his wrists and pulls him upright.

The shower does make him feel human again at least, and he just sits on the closed toilet lid with a towel around his waist to call for II. The other man lets out a quiet, “fuck, Ivy,” when he catches sight of the purple and red mottling the guitarist's ribcage. His hand is already clean from the shower, but II runs peroxide over the knuckles anyway before carefully wrapping them. He gives a flick to the tender skin where it's split and earns a hiss from IV.

“That,” II says, “is for making me come get you from jail. You're not out of trouble and Meagan is waiting for you whenever you've eaten.”

“III is never letting this go.”

“No, he's not.”

IV sighs and pushes up to pull a shirt and joggers on.

+++++

“Man of the hour!”

III’s shout across the hotel lobby makes IV’s head throb even with the medication he took. He gives a half-hearted smile at the trio already occupying a table laden down with cheap breakfast foods. Vessel looks concerned as II and IV take their seats.

“What happened?” The singer’s voice is soft and his eyes bore into IV’s as he asks.

“Dickhead shoved into me and I started a fight about it.”

“IV!” Vessel cries at the same time a feral grin splits III’s face.

“Did you win? Did you break your hand on his face? How pissed was II when he came to get y-”

“This isn't funny, III-” there's II

“No, of course not, but I can still ask questions.”

“Are you alright?”

Everything pauses at the quiet question from Fore. IV had been so caught up in III and Vessel that he had almost forgotten they were there. They're looking at him with such honest concern that it makes his throat clench.

IV awkwardly clears his throat and nods, “Yeah. Yeah a little banged up, but I'm good.”

“Good,” chimes in III, “Now show me your other battle scars, you're not that good at fighting.”

“I can hold my own- and put my shirt down! We're in public.”

III doesn't relent until II chimes in to tell him to lay off.

+++++

“I can't say it's good to hear from you so soon, IV,” Meagan is perfectly placid as she says it. It still sets IV a bit on edge, like when he was a kid and knew he was in trouble for something.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

“What happened?”

“Got into a fight.”

“II told me as much. With a stranger?”

“Yeah. I was out for a walk and he bumped into me, told me to fuck off, and I just went for him.”

“What happened before that?”

IV hates that it's exactly what II asked him last night; hates how predictable he is.

“Uh. II and I were at the hotel after meeting up with Fore.”

“Meeting new people can always be challenging. You haven't blown up like this in a situation like that in a while, though.”

“It's… it sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

“You're judging your own feelings. Is that productive?”

“No…” IV heaves a sigh. His voice drops in volume and he's sure it's hard to hear over the phone when he says, “It's just a lot. Being around them. Being around the others around them. They all have history and I'm just. There.”

“You're jealous?”

“I guess so.” IV’s face burns as he admits it.

“Jealousy is a hard emotion to face. It comes from fear and pain, and it's embarrassing to name it. It's still an emotion that everyone feels.”

“I guess,” IV repeats.

Meagan doesn't comment on the short responses, until she does.

“Is there anything else? You're being rather cagey.”

IV flinches a bit at the directness, but Meagan has never been known to let him stew in his feelings.

“Um. With Fore…”

Meagan lets the silence stretch while IV puts his thoughts together.

“I guess… I'm not sure how to feel about them.”

“They're important to people who are important to you, it's natural to feel pressure there.”

“I just- I guess I'm looking for reasons to dislike them and I don't know why.”

“It might be helpful to think about other situations that have caused you to act like this.”

IVs mind flashes to early on in his relationship with III, when the bassist had been doing his damnedest to worm his way behind the walls IV threw up as fast as he could. There wasn't the same persistence from Fore, but IV felt the same skittish nervousness around the other. He couldn't pinpoint why.

“I'll think about it.”

“Remember to take time and feel your emotions too. Being too analytical isn't healthy either.

“Right. Thanks, Meagan.”

“Of course, IV. You know I'm available whenever you need, reach out if you think it's necessary.”

“I will. I'll try to talk to II, as well.”

“That's good initiative. Take care.”

“You too.”

The line clicks off and IV sighs at the plain white paint of the hotel wall. His thoughts swirl in his mind like paint mixing and turn into a muddy mess the more he thinks. II’s mouth pressed into a thin line flashes in his vision, followed closely by the concern on the other man's face when he saw IV’s side, the tender way he cleaned the wounds on his hand, and the lines beneath his eyes that morning while he tended to IV.

IV didn't deserve II, and he owed the other man an explanation, no matter how painful and embarrassing giving it might be. He fires off a text to II, asking him to meet IV in the room, before he can chicken out. His heart beats loudly in his ears as he waits for the click of a keycard in the door. When it finally comes, all the breath rushes out of him and he can hear his own harsh inhale as II’s sneakers round the corner. The door sounds deafening where it thuds shut behind II.

“IV?”

II's voice is gentle when he calls out. IV chokes on a sob.

“II-” IVs breath catches in his throat.

“Oh, Ivy.”

And II is sinking to his knees in front of IV. He lets the scratchy hotel carpet dig into his skin and wraps his arms around IV’s middle. IV collapses into sobs and grips II's t-shirt in his fingers. His head falls onto II's shoulder and he shakes. They stay like that, and II runs a hand over IV's hair while the other man comes apart, for what feels like hours.

IV feels wrung out by the time his chest stops jittering and tears stop pouring down his cheeks and spilling onto II’s shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he rasps out.

II just hums and lets his hand rest on the back of IV’s head, holding and grounding him and saving IV from the intensity of eye contact for the moment.

“You have nothing to be sorry for-”

“Yes, I do,” IV interrupts. “I cause all sorts of shit because I don't know how to process my feelings right-”

“You're learning. You're processing them right now, and you're not dying and I'm not going anywhere, and neither are III or Vessel. They're both worried about you and want to help, just like me.”

“Um-” IV tenses a bit under the weight of II’s reassurance. Part of him wants to flinch back and push the others away, cowering from the closeness, while some other part of him relaxes under it, desperate for II’s words to be true. “I, uh-”

“Take your time.”

“I got jealous. Of Fore. Of how close… the four of you are.” It comes out of IV's mouth in starts.

“That must be really hard to tell me. Thank you, Ivy.”

The rest comes in a rush at II’s gentle encouragement, and IV marvels at the man's ability to always say the right thing as his mouth runs.

“I know they're not going to take you from me because that's not how it works. And it's not like I have you more than they do, I don't even. Really have a problem with them, I just… don't know how to feel and it scares me and I'm scared of. I don't know what I'm scared of. And I acted out instead of talking to you about it. And I'm sorry.”

He's shaking again, and II shushes him, rocking back and forth slightly.

“You know you're loved. By me, by III, by Vessel. Fore would love you, if you'd let them.”

“It's easy to forget sometimes.”

“I know.”

IV doesn't push any further, too exhausted and strung out to even think about broaching the topic of defining their relationship, despite it being the conversation he needs. As always, II is there with his own solution where IV comes up short.

“We can talk to the others about coming up with boundaries and where you want to fit. Later, when you're feeling better. When you're up for it.”

IV nods against II’s shoulder.

“The others should hear how you're feeling as well. Fore doesn't have to be there yet, if you don't want.”

IV just nods again, fingers clenching against II's back. II scratches his nails against IVs scalp.

“Can I-” IV has to clear his throat, try again. “Can I have a kiss?”

It's the first time IV has been the one to ask. Instead of answering, II brushes a hand over IV's jaw, lifting his head from where it still rests on the drummer's shoulder. IV's eyes are puffy and he looks exhausted, but II gives him a small smile and a nod, leaning in. His breath fans over IV's lips before there's another pair pressing to them.

II is featherlight with the kiss. It's barely a brush of skin on skin, but IV relaxes into it instantly. II pulls back before planting another peck on IVs nose, both his cheeks, his forehead, between his eyes, gripping IVs jaw between his hands and manipulating his head to and fro while the guitarist huffs a laugh.

“Any time you ask,” II finally responds, smiling and running a thumb over IV's cheek.