bootson: (Panic- Bden Piano Man)
[personal profile] bootson
Title: Iron the Kinks Out
Series: This is What's Left
Pairing: Brendon/Mikey
[livejournal.com profile] hc_bingo prompt: Mind control/possession
Summary: Brendon's almost used to having someone else taking over part of his mind.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Telepathy, unintentional mindlinking, mentions of unethical scientific experimentation, there is no actual kink in this (contrary to what the title may suggest)
Word Count: ~1200
Disclaimer: Know nothing. Own nothing.
Author's Notes: Stand alone continuation of the This is What's Left 'verse shared with [livejournal.com profile] dr_jasley. This one is in Brendon's POV. All you NEED to know is that this is a futuristic AU in which Mikey and Brendon have been kidnapped by alien (Udonian) researchers.

Waiting for the Burn Out (Mikey's POV)
A Shadow of Hope (Gerard's version of Waiting by [livejournal.com profile] dr_jasley
Reach Out, Scream Out (Mikey's POV)
All Washed Out (Mikey's POV)



The only thing Brendon had held onto all these years was his mind.

Mikey scoffed, a thin sense of mirth flowing across the table on the tail-end of his running commentary on Udonian misinterpretation of Earth recipes. Brendon wanted to tease him about his assumption that Brendon’s mind was already a long way from normal - wanted to banter half-heartedly about it - but settled for poking at his clumped up spaghetti instead.

Contrition, a thin dusting of emotion, washed over that spot at the front of Brendon’s mind. These secondary feelings were starting to feel normative; over a month of having someone else encroaching on you mental headspace can do that to a person.

Sometimes, Brendon still became a wreck of anxious shaking and cold sweats when he got a burst of conflicting emotions or a string of random words that only made sense due to an insider’s knowledge of Mikey Way’s thought patterns. Brendon was starting to expect these, but sometimes they came out of nowhere; sometimes Mikey forgot to shield.

“It’s okay, Brendon,” Mikey promised, reaching out t tap Brendon’s white knuckled grip on his dulled-down fork.

Brendon smiled, feeling Mikey’s thoughts retreat a bit.

“I know. I just… “ He trailed off when Mikey sent him a hard look and a light mental shove.

They didn’t talk about this, not aloud, not where the Udonians could hear, never outside this inexplicable mind-link they shared. Well, Brendon could explain it; Mikey had told him about the surgery the Udonians had forced on him. The way Mikey had prattled on with explanations was hardly recognizable, not something Mikey ever did when he was actually speaking. Brendon only knew for a fact that it had been Mikey because the essence was so right, all aloof and apathetic.

Brendon took a bite of his congealed noodles and hummed a tune at Mikey. Mikey rolled his eyes, but the tendrils of his thoughts were ridiculously fond, if a little melancholy.

Sorry, Brendon forced across the link, focusing on their lunch instead of the songs he was trying to get Mikey to remember enough to maybe sing back at Brendon.

Mikey shook his head. I like when you hum. Just… my brother does that. Sometimes. When he’s really into something he’s working on.

Humming again, Brendon nodded. There were a lot of side-comments about this older brother, the elusive man who Mikey seemed to either idolize or… idolize was actually the only word Brendon had for it. The stories were never elaborate – not even stories, necessarily, just small side comments – but Mikey mentioned his brother enough to know that Mikey was missing him in ways Brendon had forgotten how to miss people.

The mental link probably wasn’t helping anything. Brendon, apparently, didn’t have much of a mental filter. Mikey always had a ringside seat to Brendon’s every observation: counted footsteps, thoughts on Udonian Caretaker 17’s new hairstyle, Mikey’s own ridiculous hair.

Mikey reached out to tug at the ends of his hair, sending along a promise that he usually kept it shorter. Not that it actually mattered; Brendon was pretty much happy with everything about Mikey so he wasn’t going to complain. Mike’s lips twitched when Brendon thought it, but Brendon still nudged at Mikey’s ankle under the table.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, not really. Mikey tried to mute his thoughts when Brendon got nervous, worried that this … connection meant Mikey could take the only thing Brendon had left, could possess this last part of Brendon that the Udonians hadn’t stolen. If Mikey took everything, he could control Brendon in ways the Udonians had never thought to try – not counting that time right before they took Spencer away, a year or so before the Udonians had sent Brendon to Mikey.

Mikey tapped Brendon’s fingertips, pressed gently until Brendon slotted his fingers between Mikey’s, not hold hands but close enough.

Don’t want to take over. Not changing you. Sincerity and sorrow swirled between the words, tying up the loose ends of Mikey’s thoughts.

I know. Thank you Brendon very carefully thought back. He never knew if Mikey got exactly what he was saying or if it was just a lot of gist.

Mikey’s thoughts were clear, if a little more fluid than his speaking voice and infused with more emotion. Brendon came through as a constant drone or something; Mikey called it muted fuzz. Emotions ran strong, hitting Mikey squarely in the chest until he almost couldn’t breathe through it; Brendon had seen that happen once, when his panic over this new development had been burning his lungs. Words, though, were apparently more like talking through a bad comm connection; Brendon didn’t pretend to understand. He’d been with the Udonians since he was ten years old and never been poked with electrodes, so what did he know?

“Everything,” Mikey mumbled softly, breathily, and almost silent. Brendon slid their hands closer together until their knuckles met and fingers interlocked, falling over the back of each other’s hands.

The touches were new, something Brendon always forgot he missed. No one had touched him – not really – not since the hugs Spencer used to allow. The occasional back pats and head scratches from the Udonians were rewards, only followed the occasions when Brendon managed to repair or reconstruct particularly complex random bits of tech the Udonians gave him to toy with. Mikey’s touched were like Spencer’s had been: given freely and for no reason other than Brendon needed it.

Fucking scientists. Mikey’s anger surged but burnt out quickly when he noticed a shiver run through Brendon’s hand.

Mikey tightened his fingers on Brendon’s and used his free hand to lift his plastic water glass to his lips. Brendon sighed and worked another noodle out of the mess on his plate.

“It’s not so bad,” Brendon promised, conversationally.

Mikey met Brendon’s eyes over the cup. Between bites, Brendon smiled, basking in the approval radiating between their minds. He refocused on the solid points of contact and felt his shoulders lose just a bit of the tension he always held there.

If Mikey kept touching him, Brendon could learn to be okay with Mikey’s thoughts taking up residence in Brendon’s head. If someone had to own a piece of Brendon’s brain to do with it what they would, Mikey wasn’t such a bad candidate.

Actually, Brendon might even learn to be okay with the possibility that Mikey could convince Brendon of anything, either through manipulation or newly acquired mind-fuckery.

That probably didn’t actually bode well for the future. Not that anything did in the shiny labs on Udonia that Brendon knew as home.

Mikey coughed, choking and glaring at Brendon while he spluttered. Brendon bit his lip and avoided Mikey’s gaze. Mikey didn’t understand everything.
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August 2013

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