Flower Man (4/?)
Chapter Title: Over For Dinner
Pairing: Billie Joe/Frank Iero
Rating: PG-13
Author: jupiter_kun
Summary: Billie Joe is invited to dinner at Frank's house by his mother. Frank isn't sure what to think of this.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the following text.
The following weekend after that unnerving visit to Flower Man's house, my mother invited the blonde over for dinner. I didn't know what to think when she told me this. Part of me was angry at her for not wondering what my thoughts were on the subject before inviting him over, but then I realized I was completely indifferent to whether Billie Joe came over or not.
It was around five thirty that Saturday evening when he came knocking on our door. At the moment, I had been helping my mother set the table, and dropped a handful of forks all over the floor at the sudden sound. Grumbling to myself, I bent over to collect the silverware and went off into the kitchen to get three more.
As I was doing so, I could hear my mother chatting with Billie Joe. I couldn't pick out any words, but it didn't bother me. They probably weren't saying anything important; just a standard greeting and maybe some quick catching up and nothing more.
I returned with the forks and laid them out on their proper napkins on the table. The dinner was nothing fancy really, just an oven-baked chicken and some vegetables and a basket of tiny dinner rolls. It was the best we could come up with on short notice; and if I do say so myself, I think mother and I did a pretty good job.
"Frankie boy!"
Startled again, I jumped and let out a small, probably inaudible squeak. I turned around to see the blonde smiling radiantly at me, showing off his arrangement of wonky teeth.
I smiled faintly. "Hey," I replied in greeting. "Glad you could come over."
I could almost see my mother's internal clapping at my manners.
"Glad I could be here!" Flower Man exclaimed. He was wearing a rather pleasing outfit, compaired to what he normally adorned his body with. He wore a thin sweater that was dark brown and gray striped, covered in a leather jacket. Perched on his ears and resting in his groomed blonde hair was a pair of slick shades. Covering his lower half was a pair of black, tight-fitting jeans that actually didn't look ridiculous on him. His hands were covered in fingerless gloves that matched the sweater he was wearing.
My mother smiled and told Billie Joe to find a seat at the table. He chose to sit at the chair across from mine, while mother sat on the end. When dad was around we used to say grace, but these days we skipped over the religious tradition and went straight into filling our plates with the food layed out for us and broke into friendly banter.
For a while, I stayed out of the conversation. I picked at my potatoes and nibbled slightly on my dinner roll. I never touched my chicken.
Flower Man and mother talked about flowers, no surprise there. Mom grew a few things out front, but nothing near as impressive as Flower Man's vast garden in the back. He gave gardening tips to my all but unwilling mother, whom was probably jotting notes down in her ever-hectic brain.
Billie Joe hardly touched his food, I noticed.
"Frank?"
I looked up from my plate. "What?"
"Are you going to answer our guest?" the intense brown-eyed gaze of my mother made me wonder what I'd missed, so I stuttered out-
"Oh, I'm sorry. I missed what you said."
Billie Joe smiled knowingly at me and dipped his head so his green eyes were level with mine. "Are there any young ladies at school that you like?"
I heard my mother giggle and I froze, suddenly wondering if maybe I should just pretend I hadn't heard either of them and continue to gnaw absentmindedly on my food. But Billie Joe's eyes were expectant and large, and I found my tongue slowly unattaching itself from the roof of my mouth.
"Uh.. No." Because there wasn't. Somehow, though, I knew they wouldn't give up that easily. Oh, shit.
"C'mon! You've gotta be kidding me. You're sixteen, and there's no girl out there that you're takin' a liking to?" Flower Man's voice was prodding, and it made my chest tighten. I'd been avoiding this subject since the day I found out..
"I'm not kidding," I stated firmly, giving Flower Man a quick kick to the shin beneath the table. Thankfully, his only reaction was a softening of his features and his eyes wandered off of me. I felt my muscles relax as my mother and Billie Joe resumed conversation with each other.
I don't remember what happened after that for a while. All of it blurred. There was me, hardly touching my food, and the static background noise of the two adults talking. Sometime later, it ended, and I was stacking dishes in the kitchen sink and feeling utterly blank.
Even as Billie Joe stepped out of our door, I remained completely silent, numb. It bothered me that I wasn't feeling anything. For a long time I couldn't figure out the source of this new, foreign feeling.
But then, one day it came to me.
Billie Joe's question.
He was looking for a personal answer deeper than a schoolboy crush. He was looking for a clue as to what I really was.
And fuck.
I practically threw him his answer like a baseball in a sports game.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Frank Iero
Rating: PG-13
Author: jupiter_kun
Summary: Billie Joe is invited to dinner at Frank's house by his mother. Frank isn't sure what to think of this.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the following text.
The following weekend after that unnerving visit to Flower Man's house, my mother invited the blonde over for dinner. I didn't know what to think when she told me this. Part of me was angry at her for not wondering what my thoughts were on the subject before inviting him over, but then I realized I was completely indifferent to whether Billie Joe came over or not.
It was around five thirty that Saturday evening when he came knocking on our door. At the moment, I had been helping my mother set the table, and dropped a handful of forks all over the floor at the sudden sound. Grumbling to myself, I bent over to collect the silverware and went off into the kitchen to get three more.
As I was doing so, I could hear my mother chatting with Billie Joe. I couldn't pick out any words, but it didn't bother me. They probably weren't saying anything important; just a standard greeting and maybe some quick catching up and nothing more.
I returned with the forks and laid them out on their proper napkins on the table. The dinner was nothing fancy really, just an oven-baked chicken and some vegetables and a basket of tiny dinner rolls. It was the best we could come up with on short notice; and if I do say so myself, I think mother and I did a pretty good job.
"Frankie boy!"
Startled again, I jumped and let out a small, probably inaudible squeak. I turned around to see the blonde smiling radiantly at me, showing off his arrangement of wonky teeth.
I smiled faintly. "Hey," I replied in greeting. "Glad you could come over."
I could almost see my mother's internal clapping at my manners.
"Glad I could be here!" Flower Man exclaimed. He was wearing a rather pleasing outfit, compaired to what he normally adorned his body with. He wore a thin sweater that was dark brown and gray striped, covered in a leather jacket. Perched on his ears and resting in his groomed blonde hair was a pair of slick shades. Covering his lower half was a pair of black, tight-fitting jeans that actually didn't look ridiculous on him. His hands were covered in fingerless gloves that matched the sweater he was wearing.
My mother smiled and told Billie Joe to find a seat at the table. He chose to sit at the chair across from mine, while mother sat on the end. When dad was around we used to say grace, but these days we skipped over the religious tradition and went straight into filling our plates with the food layed out for us and broke into friendly banter.
For a while, I stayed out of the conversation. I picked at my potatoes and nibbled slightly on my dinner roll. I never touched my chicken.
Flower Man and mother talked about flowers, no surprise there. Mom grew a few things out front, but nothing near as impressive as Flower Man's vast garden in the back. He gave gardening tips to my all but unwilling mother, whom was probably jotting notes down in her ever-hectic brain.
Billie Joe hardly touched his food, I noticed.
"Frank?"
I looked up from my plate. "What?"
"Are you going to answer our guest?" the intense brown-eyed gaze of my mother made me wonder what I'd missed, so I stuttered out-
"Oh, I'm sorry. I missed what you said."
Billie Joe smiled knowingly at me and dipped his head so his green eyes were level with mine. "Are there any young ladies at school that you like?"
I heard my mother giggle and I froze, suddenly wondering if maybe I should just pretend I hadn't heard either of them and continue to gnaw absentmindedly on my food. But Billie Joe's eyes were expectant and large, and I found my tongue slowly unattaching itself from the roof of my mouth.
"Uh.. No." Because there wasn't. Somehow, though, I knew they wouldn't give up that easily. Oh, shit.
"C'mon! You've gotta be kidding me. You're sixteen, and there's no girl out there that you're takin' a liking to?" Flower Man's voice was prodding, and it made my chest tighten. I'd been avoiding this subject since the day I found out..
"I'm not kidding," I stated firmly, giving Flower Man a quick kick to the shin beneath the table. Thankfully, his only reaction was a softening of his features and his eyes wandered off of me. I felt my muscles relax as my mother and Billie Joe resumed conversation with each other.
I don't remember what happened after that for a while. All of it blurred. There was me, hardly touching my food, and the static background noise of the two adults talking. Sometime later, it ended, and I was stacking dishes in the kitchen sink and feeling utterly blank.
Even as Billie Joe stepped out of our door, I remained completely silent, numb. It bothered me that I wasn't feeling anything. For a long time I couldn't figure out the source of this new, foreign feeling.
But then, one day it came to me.
Billie Joe's question.
He was looking for a personal answer deeper than a schoolboy crush. He was looking for a clue as to what I really was.
And fuck.
I practically threw him his answer like a baseball in a sports game.