Seth Gecko/Richie Gecko, incest, Geckocest, free-form, brothers, co-dependency

Motel 6 was home. There was no two bedroom house with peeling wallpaper, couch indented with the shape of a man, and no pile of overflowing beer bottles on the side table. There were cheap covers over a queen sized bed, wallpaper with floral prints, and a 1980s TV tucked at the edge of the bed. There was the clean smell of gun cleaner and Richie's cigarettes.

Most times Seth could only see through yellow hazed eyes, the color of setting sun through cheap curtains, stained yellow from time and smoke, falling over his brother's still face staring at the chrome of a 44. Richie hadn't changed, he was an immoveable personality, when Seth had to evolve- Richie had always been strong, clever, whereas Seth still fought the child that wanted to fear his father's fist.

Seth buried his fear with the love of his brother; sure as the sun did rise, sure as the sun would set, Seth Gecko would always hold his brother above the rest. It was basically scripture. Richie first, the rest later. Money, girls; Hell, he'd even give up drinking for Richie. Anything Richie needed, anything Richie wanted, Seth was his man. That's how he always wanted it to be.

Spend enough time with someone and you learn about a person. Seth could tell anyone what time Richie woke up on average, any day of the week (because sometimes it depended on the day of the week). Seth could order a three course meal and know exactly what Richie would like, and what he wouldn't. Seth could tell you that his brother's sweat tastes bittersweet, and that in the evenings his mouth tastes like cigarettes and cheap whiskey. He could tell you Richie's favorite cartoon, his all-time favorite movie, and how sometimes he talks in his sleep, and always says Seth's name in the dark like a prayer.

He could tell you that they never made it to fifth grade, and didn't have a prom. And that when they were fourteen they got drunk for the first time, and that Richie had his first cigarette when their father tried to burn him with it. Should have seen the look on the old bastard's face when Richie snatched it from his fingers and puffed it like a pro, without a single cough. Should have seen the bruises on them after, but Richie had laughed in Seth's bed that night, softly, and said that it was worth it. Seth called him stupid, but ruffled his hair and put an arm around him, careful not to touch where their father beat him.

He could tell you that Richie has had the same glasses since he was ten, and that he likes being called smart; he likes being called Richie, because Richard was the name his father gave him- but Seth always called him Richie, except for when he did something he shouldn't have. Seth could count how many times they've touched after a job, how they clung to each-other because there was no one else but each-other. Seth had only Richie, Richie had only Seth.

Seth could tell you that Richie has only mewled for him, has only whimpered under his touch, no matter how many girls Richie takes. Because Richie took care of him when they were kids, Seth takes care of him now in the only way he knows how. He lets Richie fold out under him like a map, and Seth has memorized every stop and curve, every flat plain and every sweet spot that Richie has. And it always ends the same- sweaty, hard, sore, and marked, because that was the only way the Gecko's knew how to love.