50 Themes - Part 1

50 Ways to Prove That Joe Strummer and Mick Jones Were Totally Gay For Each Other

Cravings
Joe couldn't explain the craving he had the first time he saw that long, curly, ebony hair. He just longed to feel it in his fingers. Mick had just looked at him strangely and had shaken off the feeling of Joe's begging eyes.

Wheeze
One day, Paul had challenged Joe to find out if Mick was sensitive. Mick was out on the balcony, looking down at the silent, gray street with a fag in his fingers. He sealed the smoke within his broad lips and inhaled. At the same time, Joe had crept up behind him, both index fingers erect. Suddenly Mick felt small jabs take both of his sides. He yelped and twitched. His eyes widened and then watered and he found himself hacking up billows of smoke. He elbowed Strummer in the ribs, and Joe bent over wheezing with laughter. Mick was gagging and lost his cigarette in the process. His eyes sizzled a firetruck red.
"Fuck." It came out scratched and dirty.
A slap was quickly delivered to Joe's face.

High
Mick could smell the aroma of the joint Joe had passed to him, "Here."
Mick couldn't stand the smell of it. He usually loved the scent of the weed, but it smelled different today.
"Joe what's that smell?" He could feel himself getting high off of the pot already.
Joe blushed, "Nothing. Just smoke, and pass it back to me, alright?"
The scent was thick and overly sweet.
"J-Joe, what the hell is that god awful smell?" Mick said as he exhaled and passed the joint back to Joe.
From all the intoxication, Joe had come while watching Mick smoke the joint. He stared at him; watching the way he sensually ran his fingers through his thick hair, the way he pursed his lips around the joint as if it were something else. Mick's eyes widened as he recognized the scent that lingered around Joe.

Bisexual
Viv Albertine had his heart. She was sharp as a knife, witty, weird, and adorable. He loved her frame, her smile, her eyes, and her hair. Oh god, most especially the hair. Mick liked blondes. All the blondes he knew were always delicate and sweet. Mick loved nothing more than pick Viv up and hold her in his arms like a fragile China doll, inhaling her scent of perfume, menthol and bubble gum, brushing his fingers against the smooth, bumpy saber tooth chain around her neck while he hugged her from behind. He adored her. Such a shame Joe had more to provide the in the realms that had always held his curiosity in the bedroom. It made the very thought of her into a turn-off. The cruel, but honest, truth.

Uncertainty
Mick had at first been uncertain of the controversial relationship he shared with Joe, but when their lips pressed against each other for the first time he knew he was no match against true love. It had been a enlightening experience. He remembered Joe's hands had been all over him, but they never got too close. Mick probably would've stopped Joe if they had. He always wondered where he would be if he had said no to Joe. Maybe he'd be married to Viv, or some other bird.

Cards
Once in a blue moon, Joe set aside his interest in political affairs and his work on songs to indulge in the camp holiday that was Saint Valentine's. He'd never caught onto it before. It was normally because on this particular day he had no one to share the day with. A week ahead of time, he'd bought construction paper and lace and glued it all together to make cheesy giant heart and then blazoned with 'I love you' in messy glossy letters. It was horridly cheesy, but he knew his Valentine would gain some sort of entertainment out of it. As he came into the studio on the designated day, he bumped into Mick.
"S'that for Gabby, then?"
"Nah."
Joe shook his head, and delivered the sloppy mess of paint and lace into his arms.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Mick." He said casually.
Mick held it for awhile, eyes glistening, and his face flushed with guilt. He slid a hand into his shirt pocket and handed Joe a small pink paper heart torn out by hand. He passed it to Joe in the most sheepish way possible. Joe looked at the pathetic thing and realized that Mick had made this for him 5 minutes ago. Joe knew Mick had forgotten what day it was.
"Bastard." He said, and kissed Mick on the cheek.

Black
Mick looked at himself in the mirror, his naked body glistening with sweat from the steamy shower. He slid the boxers onto his hips, and smirked. Time to try on the new pants he just bought. He ran his fingers across the black leather smiling.
"Oh, oh you lovely little tight thing..."
He put them on, seeing a distorted reflection from behind him. It was Joe.
Joe licked his lips, and smiled, "What's the occasion?"
He ran his hands down Mick's hips, and down his legs.
"They are honestly beautiful, what a beautiful, beautiful pair of--"
"Pants."
"Oh no, not the pants. Those legs." Joe said, grinning.

Reflection       
The window of sunlight framed the bed. It made it warmer and more inviting. Mick refused to open his eyes and so much as budge until motherly arms of sleep refused him any longer. He sat up, spine popping, and stumbled. The sheets unfurled around him. He located his trousers and did a haphazard jig trying to get both of his legs in them and secured the belt around his waist. The bathroom door was open, as it was lacking a knob. The florescent light crackled and hummed, awaiting him. He raised his head and blinked. When his vision came clear, Mick looked closely at this face in the mirror. He looked ragged and groggy. He noticed the spot of red. Red at first glimpse, anyway. But when he tilted and turned his head, it revealed to be a fleshy pink. It was just below the ear and behind the jaw. Along the side of his neck was tiny, but visible mark. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. He looked deep into the mirror, and saw the messy bed. Lying on his stomach upon the bed was Joe, completely bare, smiling softly back at him.

Curtains
Joe was on the stage floor, sweating, and tangled around his microphone. The curtains closed and Paul offered a hand.
"Need a hand?"
Joe nodded, planting his own hand in Paul's. Mick's eyes darted quickly over to Paul and Joe's hands.
He sighed. The crowd was shouting "Encore! Encore!"  
"Damn it... Why can't they give you a goddamned break once in awhile, Joe?" he said, looking at Joe, who had just gotten up, with the help of Paul.
"I'm fine Mick, let's just please the fans and be done with this gig."
He was still trying to catch his breath.
When they got on stage again Paul and Mick both inched closer to Joe, trying to make sure he didn't fall. Joe pushed Paul away muttering under his breath that he needed no help. He pressed Mick against his other side, supporting his weight on Mick. Paul moved closer again, and yet again Joe pushed him away, this time Joe's microphone catching Paul's angry noise, which was translated into "MEOW?!?" through the screeching microphone. Paul's face turned red, that wasn't what he said. Joe turned in mid-performance to Topper angrily.
"Topper, tell Paul to stop bein' such a fuckin' dildo! I don't need help!"

Snow
Mick was always fond of the winter time. Topper and Paul couldn't imagine why. Mick always liked how cuddly everyone seemed to get as the weather got colder. Like when they'd be waiting at the street corner, and his mates would subconsciously surround him for body heat, particularly Joe. Joe would always clutch and squeeze Mick's frostbitten hand and leave it there until the stoplight had changed. Sometimes he'd leave it there a little longer than that. But he'd always release his grip before Topper and Paul had gotten far enough across the street to notice.

Rape
Mick was sitting in the cemetery down the road form the hotel, where it was quiet, and he could think. Being a musician wasn't easy. He was always searching for inspiration. Mick perked up when he heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow behind him. Mick knew it was dangerous here at night, but he and Joe had gotten into a fight and Joe had slapped him hard. Mick had honestly deserved it though. He needed some time alone. Mick felt a smothering black glove clamp itself over his mouth. Mick's muffled cry was barely able to be heard. Someone grabbed Mick's groin, and Mick cried out, this time scared. Before he knew it, he heard Joe's booming voice. He could be loud when he wanted to be. Joe tackled the man and Mick slid off the park bench. Joe was beating the man senselessly. Mick had just sat there, in shock, watching Joe. After Joe had beaten him bloody, he held Mick close as they walked back to the hotel.
"You should know better than to go out walking by yourself."

Throttle
"Wot 'ave you done this time tha's got Joe so down?"
"...s'none of your business, Topper."
"Fuckin' right, it's not. That's why I wanna know."
"It is none of your concern. Frankly, I don't think you need to know."
"Tell me. I'll leave you alone only if you tell me."
"Well, fuck! Y'never saw me stick my nose in your business when Paul decided he wanted you to stop seeing each other, did I?"
A spasm of hate traversed Topper's face. For one split second, Topper Headon became completely willing to spend the rest of his life in prison on murder charges.
"You broke things off because of Viv, didn't you?"
Mick turned away.
"Didn't you?" Topper repeated with a little more force.
"Yeah. Viv said it was either him or me. I made my choice."
"Yeah, Paul did the same to me about Caroline."
Mick said nothing. His face was sullen.
The things Topper could have done to him for using his own misfortune against him.

Gore
Mick, Joe, Topper, and Paul sat in the movie theater watching the horror film being projected in front of them. Mick loved horror flicks, but this one wasn't really grabbing his attention. He leaned his head on Joe's shoulder as more blood and gore splattered against the screen. Joe immediately noticed how odd it was for Mick to not be absorbed in the movie. Maybe he had other things on his mind?
Mick was thinking about Viv. She'd split up with him, and Mick had neglected to tell the band. He really didn't know how to bring it up, anyways. Joe felt something wet drip onto his shoulder, and he looked at Mick, who seemed to be crying, not even realizing it.
"Mick?" Joe asked, bewildered.

Psycho
Paul had been waiting in the hotel lobby, saddled with his and the rest of the band's luggage. Topper emerged from their room down the hall with two other suitcases. Both of them wordlessly nodded and with eyes asking the same question; where was Mick? Joe had returned to collect the rest of the luggage and bring it out to the van when he saw no Mick. Frustrated and fully knowledgeable of how much Mick loved to sleep in, Joe ended up marching down the hallway to room he and Mick shared. He pounded on the door, but no response came. He fished for the room key in his pocket and forged into the room, leaving the door wide open. The rhythm section peered down the hallway with their baggage bundled in their arms. They heard water running. Not long after, they heard a horrified cry from the very back of the hotel room. It chilled the blood them of both.
"Get the fuck out, Joe!" snarled Mick before lobbing moist bar of soap into Joe's eye. Joe stumbled out scrubbing his eye with the side of his hand, muttering colorfully.
Topper and Paul stared at him as he approached and drew their own conclusions.
"Wot? I thought he was brushin' 'is teef for fuck's sake!"
They looked at him like he was a madman.    

Heave
Topper was messing around with Paul`s reading glasses, sliding them on and off his grim face.
"Paul, y'should wear 'em everyday!" Topper squealed.
Paul shook his head, "No, Topper."
Then they both heard a door slam down the hall and a furious quick knock at their own door. Paul opened it and a dazed Mick stumbled in the room, his chest heaving for breath.
"Wot the bloody `ell happened to you?" Topper asked, confused.
"There's a fuckin' gigolo in our room!"
Paul raised an eyebrow, "Mick, we're not in Mexico..."
"Ok then, male prostitute!"
Paul got up, "Is he under your bed, or in the closet perhaps? If we turn the light on while you sleep, I'm sure no more monsters will come."
Mick gave Paul a sarcastic look as they walked into the room.
Paul looked at Joe, who was wearing crotchless, bottomless pants.
Paul's jaw dropped, "Wot the hell did you do to my pants?!?"
Joe's face was beet red, "Just curious... as to how they… y'know, feel..."

Chaffer
Joe had gotten particularly intoxicated at Viv Albertine's party and was being complete nuisance all night. He was flirting with all the girls and being disgusting. Whilst doing so, he made himself puke every hour or so just to drink more. Eventually, everyone ruled that they were sick of Joe dicking around but he was too drunk to stand and leave. Viv had whispered to her boyfriend to have him seen out swiftly. Joe could hardly keep his balance and could very well puke his intestines out without assistance. Mick wheeled him out the door, kissed Viv good night with an arm around Joe, and hauled him out to the car.
Though the vehicle was Mick's, Joe somehow got his greasy paws on the keys.  
"Look, Mick, ah'm fine. I'll walk from 'ere. Go back 'n have fun wiff yer girl."
"Gimme the keys, Joe."
"I'll put 'em down if lemme walk."
"Fuck." Mick muttered.
He extended his arm out to the drunken Strummer, who pulled back, smirking. He wanted to play a game. He dangled the keys over a sewer vent as if to taunt him. Mick's eyes went wide. In a heartbeat, Mick grabbed Joe by his collar and slammed him against the side of the car, giving him a wet, languorous kiss. He forced his tongue into Joe's mouth to distract him and take hold of his partner's wrists.  He cracked open Joe's closed palm and by the time Mick had taken his lips away from Joe, the keys were in his hand. Joe opened his eyes narrowly. His lips were moist and satisfied.
"You're a wise one, aren't ya, Jones?"
"Just get in the fuckin' car."      

Aspirin
After Viv's party, Mick promised he'd make up for Joe's behavior. He told her he would give her a night in the bedroom she'd remember for a life time. That night, as Mick was trying to impress Viv, in mid-thrust his soft head became acquainted with the headboard of the bed. The noise sounded pretty painful.
"Mick...? You okay?" Viv asked, watching her boyfriend recoil into the sheets.
"I think I need some fuckin' aspirin..." he groaned, his voice muffled by a pillow.

Glass
He didn't look Mick in the eye, nor did he even want to. It was like staring into the sun. As the cigarette burned away, Mick rolled over and attempted to speak to him.
"I'm really sorry, Joe."
"So I hear."
"Look, I'm not gonna carry a torch for you. I'm moving on. And so should you."
"Move on? Hah, move on, where? Where can I go?"
"You have Gabby."
Joe fell silent. He did have Gabby after all. He was just too proud to admit his selfishness.
"What's the bird's name again?"
"Ellen. Ellen Foley. She's a nice girl. Real sweet."
"Is she better than me?"
He, of course, was referring to the criteria of bedroom performance. Mick didn't want to answer that question at all. It made his skin crawl. Truth was that he hadn't slept with Ellen before.
Mick took the cigarette from Joe. Joe didn't want him to take it, but found no interest in protesting.
"I-I want a serious relationship Joe. Not just sex all the time and banter. I really appreciate all you did after Viv left me. But now, now I want to settle. This woman's got it for me. And you, well, you 'n Gabby could work out something, right? I don't know. It's done, Joe."
And there the bastard went, out of his bed, half naked, with his fucking cigarette, down the hall, acting like what he said had no effect on him whatsoever.
And it was his indifference alone that caused Joe's heart to shatter.

First
Joe remembered the first time he'd kissed Mick. It had been snowing, and Mick had been confused as to what exactly Joe was trying to get at.
"Joe, I don't understand."
Joe paused, thinking of a way to explain it without words. He'd already used all the words he could think of. All could be explained with a kiss, he thought. He pressed Mick's cold body against the brick wall as he kissed him for a long time. He slid his hands down Mick's entire body, making note of how hard the area around Mick's groin was. He could hear Mick's heart beat as he pulled back for a moment, and continued to kiss him more, rolling his tongue around Mick's.

Brown
With Joe's lust for Mick aside, the physical trait of Mick's that Joe was fondest of were his eyes. They were brown, like his, though much darker. Mysterious and sexy, even. They were wide and puppyish.
Joe always found himself trying to stare into them.
The reason being was that Joe knew at the core of things, behind the cold apathy that Mick always showed, was a sense of need. Pleading. Wanting protection.
And when Viv had finally decided that she and Mick should see other people after 4 years, Joe could see it everywhere in the look Mick gave him before the show. When Joe told him it was 15 minutes before it was time go onstage, Mick gazed up at him from the guitar upon his thigh. Joe had found the thing he'd been searching for years. Mick was practically at his breaking point. His eyes begged for Joe. Joe reached out to him and bound him in a hug.     

Baby
Mick was particularly distraught today. He just didn't feel at all well. He decided the best remedy to such an empty feeling was with a nice, fat joint. He knew just who would have one - Joe. Mick tumbled into his car, falling as he tried to get in. He just wasn't feeling up to the challenge of life today, nor driving, or even getting into the car. Mick sighed, starting the engine anyway. He backed out of the alley, unaware of how bad his vision was, due to the intense hangover he was still getting over. He blinked a couple of times, as he started down the street, he couldn't see for shit. Mick, one more time, tried to blink it off.
"Aw fuck..." he muttered, stopping the car. Another car slammed into the rear of Mick's. Mick screamed, alarmed by the suddenness of the airbag, exploding in his face. The driver of the other car seemed disturbed as well, stumbling over to Mick's car. It was Joe.
"Oy - are you al- Mick?" he said peering in the window of the car.
"Just fine." Mick muttered, pissed.
His bad day seemed to have become worse.
Joe opened Mick's car door, clearly seeing that Mick was having bad day, by the expression on Mick's face.
"Oh Mick, I'm sorry, baby..." he said, unaware that the word, "baby" had slipped his mouth.
Mick embraced Joe, ready to cry from the stress of it all.

Disgust
"Joe, wh- THE FUCK?!"
Topper stopped dead in his tracks in the corridor. The sound of Mick's muffled voice came from the door down the hall. Topper went to explore it. He faced the door and pressed his ear to it. All he could here was Joe muttering "Aw, fuck." over and over again.
"Christ, Joe, look what you did..."
"Sorry, I was hungry..." said Joe with a little laugh.
"FUCK OFF, MAN, THEY'RE MY NUTS."
"I'm sorry... You seem tense. Here..."
The next thing that heard was a sharp inhale and a grunt from Mick.
Topper's eyes widened. A look of horror gnarled his face. He'd never actually caught Mick and Joe in the act before. He couldn't decide whether this experience was fascinating or mortifying. Topper crouched down to peer through the sliver of light that directed into the room. He squinted. He could not see Joe or Mick. Just a strange whitish fluid approaching the door. Getting bigger. Reaching the door.
FUCKING HELL, IT'S IN MY HAIR, GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT!!
Topper was terrified. The fluid beaded around the ends of Toppers hair and nose. He stood up in a panic wiped his face with his sleeve. He shuddered, spat and left to find the nearest bathroom, not questioning a thing.
Meanwhile, Mick was staring down at a shirtless Joe splayed on the bed narrowly away from the door. There was a 2% milk carton turned on its side on the nightstand and dripping out on the floor.
"Well, look at that. First my peanuts and now this. You're just a lazy bastard today, aren't you?"
Joe smirked, flicking the final peanut from the bag he stole.
"And anyway," Mick added. "I hate 2% milk."
"Oh, Mick darling, would be a love and clean up this mess?" Joe beamed, instigating him, all without lifting a finger.
Mick rolled his eyes and threw the washrag in his hand at Joe, signaling to clean it up.
"Fuck off, dear." He said and he smacked him with empty peanuts bag.   

Three
There the three of them stood, looking down at Mick slamming his head on the floor.
"Rough night with Viv?" Paul asked, raising his left eyebrow slightly.
"Fucking rough, alright! Fucking bloody hell! She fucking pushed me out of the fucking taxi! Fucking hell! It was fucking pouring! That taxi driver that beat the fucking shit out of me when I told 'er I was fucking cheating on 'er! That fucking bastard!" Mick screamed.
Joe looked down at Mick, who told him only 3 days ago that he chose Viv over him.
"Fucking Viv..." Mick sobbed, slamming his head on the floor one more time.
Joe left the room, feeling the back-stabbing bastard deserved it after dumping him. He didn't need to console the man who broke his heart. Meanwhile, Topper and Paul were both kneeling beside Mick, slipping pillows beneath his head, to make the damage to Mick's head a little less.
"We're here for you man." Paul comforted Mick.

Obsession
I don't miss you. The horrible, sad truth is that I do not miss you at all. I don't want you back. I feel more independent this way I guess. You were always so needy, so clingy, always needing me to comfort you. Which I did, gladly, but I need this as reminder of how much I can live without you. I suppose I need the breathing space. As much as I hate it now, I need this time apart. It's like nasty medicine. I've been getting along fine without you. There's more me-time. More time to sit and play records and be inspired.
...I remember your face when you knocked on my door and tumbled into my arms, sobbing.
"She knows, Joe, she knows. She wants me to leave you. Oh god, I'm so fucking sorry."
I just stood there in disbelief, holding you in my arms, and shoved you aside. You chose someone who'd much rather get rid of you than someone who would love and nourish you. She got rid of you, Mick. She wanted apart. And you came crying back to me. God damn it, Mick, it was so sickening how easily I fell back into you. Feeling you against me, begging me to fuck you and forget. As pathetic as I was, I did, readily, because I loved you. I don't feel sorry for you. You deserved it. You're so full of shit and think only of yourself. You're so vulnerable and weak and I'd like nothing more than to punch you in mouth. I love you that much, Mick. I miss you so fucking much, you bastard.

Soft
No matter how hard Mick tried, he would always have a soft spot for Joe.
Joe was walking into the hotel room when he saw Mick lying down on the bed. He seemed fast asleep, but when Joe walked over, silently lingering over him, Mick pounced on him, dragging him down to the bed.
"Whoah!" "
"Y'know wot Topper told me last night?"
"Wot?"
"That he caught us in the act."
"But we weren't..."
"I know. He heard us talkin' bout the nuts."
Joe laughed hysterically, "Oh, Tops..."