Fic - Imitation of Life - School of Rock
Title: Imitation of Life
Author: Lady DeathAngel (AKA moi)
Rating:M
Fandom: School of Rock
Disclaimer: Not mine, not profiting, 'nuff said.
Genre: romance, humor, angst, drama
Pairings: Summer/OC, Zack/OC, eventual Katie/Summer, Freddy/Zack
Warnings: language, sexual content, drug use, ncs, slash and femmeslash
A/N: This is my first child. My baby. I'm very bad about updating said baby, but I try. Anyway, read the warnings, please. They apply.
Summary: In which art imitates what makes life beautiful: every high, every low, and all the angst and love and happiness in between.
Sometimes Zack had a hard time differentiating his dreams from his reality. Not so much when he was actually awake and doing something, but during those half-lucid moments before falling into a deep sleep or before waking up he would wonder if maybe this was real and he wasn’t. Summer said maybe it was just one of the perils of being an artist, but Zack told himself it was just that the first time he’d seen the Matrix he hadn’t slept in nearly two days and it had obviously made an impact on him. A big impact.
And besides. It wasn’t a ‘peril’. It was kind of handy, actually. He’d have strange epiphanies in his sleep that inspired his most kick-ass songs and that wasn’t something that would ever go unappreciated. But he didn’t know what to think of this particular dream.
He assumed, as he watched it all play out before him, that it was a direct result of Freddy propositioning him earlier by saying "Will you pose naked for me?" and not a result of any feelings buried deep in his subconscious. Not that he had a problem with it . . . well . . . he wasn’t sure if he did or not. It certainly didn’t seem like his dream self had any problem at all with posing naked, or half, in this case, while Freddy sketched him out.
He thought that it should have seemed stupid and instead it was oddly intimate. He was sitting in on Freddy’s unmade bed, Indian style, with his head leaning back against the wall, his dark eyes trained on the blonde who was sketching quickly. Zack mused that if he ever tried to draw that fast he’d come out with scribbles, but he knew, without actually seeing the work of art, that it would look like him, and not just like him, but like him the way Freddy saw him.
In this dream state everything moved in real time and it was so silent in the room that Zack could hear two calm inhales and exhales just below the sound of a pencil on paper.
"I’m almost done," Freddy said. "So don’t move an inch, okay?"
"‘kay."
A few more moments of mad sketching and then it stopped. Freddy looked down at his sketchpad and then back up at Zack, down and up, down, shaded a little, back up, and he pronounced it finished.
"Let me see it," Zack demanded from where he’d finally relaxed his position on the bed.
Freddy moved to sit next to him and showed him the sketch. And it was just as Zack had known it would be and ten times better. He traced over the pencil planes of his face with a reverent finger and let out a low whistle.
"It’s perfect," he said softly, because any other word seemed inadequate.
And that was when the dream got . . . odd. Zack dreamed about Freddy all the time and every time it felt different. Depending on how they were, if they were closer than normal or fighting or irritated with each other, whatever, his dreams of the drummer would reflect that. This time there was a heaviness to the air that had nothing to do with a feeling and everything to do with anticipation. Freddy was staring at Zack intently and the dark-haired boy looked up slowly.
"That’s because," the blonde murmured, lifting a hand to ghost his fingertips over Zack’s cheekbones . . . the bridge of his nose . . . the indent of his upper lip and the swell of the lower . . . "That’s because," he repeated. "You’re perfect."
Zack’s skin tingled where he’d been caressed and the sensation was only enhanced by the knowledge that Freddy was leaning in, sliding his hand over his jawline and into his hair. And then they were kissing and that feeling of anticipation exploded sharply in the feel of soft lips, warm and quirked up at the corners, in the hot wet of tongues sliding over and under, teasing and licking . . . it was too much and not enough and Zack was suddenly aware of how much he wanted this boy, in this bed, at this moment. It wasn’t even a dream anymore. It just was.
An invasive wail of sirens outside of his window woke Zack up. He blinked slowly, losing the warmth of the body he could have sworn was next to him, his lips dry and unkissed, and his boxers distinctly wet and sticky. With a groan he threw his arm over his eyes. He’d just had a wet dream. A wet dream about Freddy Jones.
What the fuck?
-(
It was a fact duly noted, that Zack was definitely out of it. Summer would have chalked it up to being a Friday, only it was Thursday and the dark-haired boy had only depressed himself further by forgetting and realizing he had another day to go before the blessed weekend. She would have chalked it up to a fight with his parents, but he’d told her they were out of town (again) and wouldn’t be back for at least a week and a half, probably more. She lost things to blame it on after a while and by lunchtime, she was irritated because while other people had a bitch of a time reading him, Summer always knew what he was thinking. Always, except for today.
"Where are we going for lunch?" she asked as they walked to the cafeteria. "Because I thought we’d just hang out here with Freddy and Katie. They can’t go off campus until Monday so . . ." She trailed off at the look he shot her and she stopped abruptly, causing someone behind her to stumble and flip her off. "What . . . you’re not fighting with Freddy again are you?"
Zack rolled his eyes and started walking again.
"I never fight with Freddy. You just can’t stay mad at that kid."
She smirked.
"You did a damn good impression of it, then, when he told you Alice only liked you for your money and possibly the size of your . . ."
"Yeah," Zack cut in. "But that just hit a little to close to home and it was only a week."
Summer huffed and thought back. Only a week, sure. Only a week’s worth of angry silences and glares and the occasional sarcastic remark or two which culminated in a big fight in the middle of Dewey’s loft. They would have thrown fists, too, if Lawrence and Tomika hadn’t stepped in. After that they cussed at each other a little until they felt better and things went back to normal. She didn’t think, though, that she could handle another fight between the two.
"Well, what is it then? Because you’ve been acting weird all day and I want to know why."
He sighed and turned the most interesting shade of red before mumbling something about a dream.
"What?"
"I had a dream. You know."
She nodded and frowned.
"About who? Katie? Because she is, as you well know, a lesbian and totally wouldn’t go for you."
"She would if she wasn’t gay." Summer lifted a skeptical eyebrow and Zack smirked. "She told me so."
"Well, if it wasn’t about Katie then . . . oh. Oh."
"Yeah ‘oh’."
Summer tried very, very hard to keep a straight face. She really did. But it was freakin’ hilarious and after a moment she burst out laughing so hard she had to hold onto Zack’s shoulders. He sighed and held her upright as they finally reached Freddy and Katie’s usual table.
"What’s up with her?" Freddy asked, pointing at a still hysterically giggling Summer with a french fry.
She took one look at Freddy and cracked up again. Zack shook his head.
"It’s nothing."
Katie looked from him to Summer and back before crossing her arms over her chest.
"No, seriously, what’s up?"
Summer finally composed herself and took a deep breath, leaning over to whisper in Katie’s ear. Zack’s face, if at all possible, went two shades darker than his usual deep blush and when Katie started laughing as well, he was practically glowing. Freddy looked at them all, asked "What?" in a petulant tone and was only rewarded with more laughter and an almost inaudible groan from Zack.
"This must be the rowdy table," a deep voice said from somewhere behind them.
Summer immediately stopped laughing and went very still.
"I thought," a female voice that belonged to Alice, said. "That me and a few of my friends would come over and keep you company Zack."
"Um . . ." Zack said, all intelligent like.
"What are we?" Katie muttered. "Chopped liver?"
"Now, now, that’s much too cliched. And Zack’s such a freak he probably likes chopped liver." Freddy told her.
"Excuse me?" Zack exclaimed and Summer snorted.
"Pot," she said, pointing from Freddy to Zack. "I’d like you to me meet Kettle. I’m sure you’ll be such good friends."
Freddy rolled his eyes.
"Whatever. I’m not really that much of a freak."
Katie laughed and then deepened her voice.
"What about you, Freddy? What do you like to do?"
"I dunno," Summer answered in a high-pitched tone. "Burn stuff."
Freddy frowned as Zack, Summer, and Katie started laughing hysterically.
"Oh. My. God. I was ten! When the fuck are you gonna let that go?"
"Come on," Zack wheedled. "It’s still funny."
"Ookay," Alice said, cutting off any response the blonde might have made. "Well, can you make room, please?"
Summer and Katie shared a look as two girls with long legs and short skirts shoved their books onto their laps and sat down, opening up brown lunch bags and fishing around in them for the least fattening thing stuffed in there. Alice sat down, practically on Zack’s lap, and purred something about how good he smelled.
"Zack always smells good," Freddy said. "It’s one of his finer qualities."
She curled her lip at him.
"I don’t even want to know why you pay attention to how Zack smells," she said acidly, omitting the word ‘fag’ at the end even though everyone heard it.
Summer bristled but a hand on her thigh stopped her from gutting the pretentious little slut. She jumped and glanced sideways to see Chris, the guy who’d first announced their presence at their table. He was cute in a . . . guyish sort of way. Not like Freddy was hot or Zack was hot. They were enough to make heads turn and when they played it was like they were gods. Chris just sort of was. She didn’t know him that well, had only noticed him before because he was always hanging on other girls. He was the sensitive artist with a sense of humor and a rebellious streak. He was always in trouble, always drawing something outstanding, always telling the story of how he’d taught himself to play classical guitar, always hanging around playing songs for his adoring fans.
Summer had always wanted to tell him that he could never be Zack. Zack with his natural talent and humility and the record deals that their band still couldn’t quite grasp the concept of, even after five years. But he tried his hardest. And he was so much more attainable than Zack because he was a manwhore and a braggart and she’d hated him for resenting her friends. Until he’d started to notice her.
It had happened around a week before Alice started to leech off of Zack. Before then the girl had simply been around, seeking tutoring from both Summer and the guitarist. She’d been friendly, if a bit stupid. They’d been working together in the library, Chris off in a corner with a group of friends.
"He wants her body," she said when a girl walked up and started to talk to him.
"Why do I care?" Summer muttered, blushing and looking away.
Alice just smirked and whispered, "He wants your body too."
"That’s stupid!" she’d said so loudly the librarian had rushed over on her spindly legs to tell her to shut up or get out.
Alice just shrugged and Summer assured herself that the bitch had just been joking. After all, Summer wasn’t the type of girl that guys wanted. She was smart and the manager of a band that had put out a multi-platinum album and was currently working on material for another. She was, like Zack, unattainable and totally not hot or sexy or anything like that. And then, after Alice got to be a nuisance, Chris started talking to her.
No, not really talking. More like feeling her up in dark hallways. Always asking if she wanted to fondle him or if she wanted him to fondle her. Her answer was always a half-assed ‘no’ and she’d spend a few minutes with his hand on her chest or between her legs, looking around scared she’d get caught and pushing his hands away almost playfully. Sometimes he’d put her hand on his dick which was . . . odd. She didn’t like the way it felt in her hand under all those layers of denim and cotton and she didn’t know what to do anyway. He tried to teach her and he thought it was fun.
She didn’t know what to think. In fact, she didn’t. Think, anyway. Her mind just kind of shut off and afterward she justified it by saying at least he wanted her and she’d never been wanted before. That part of it was kind of . . . nice.
"I’m . . . I’ve got to go to the bathroom," Summer announced loudly, dislodging the hand that had steadily been making its way upward. "Katie?"
The other girl, who’s eyes had been trained on her leg stood slowly and nodded.
"Be back," she told Freddy.
He made a face and mouthed ‘Take me with you’. She just gave him a little wave with her fingers and she and Summer walked across the cafeteria to the bathroom.
"No," Summer whispered. "Come on."
She grabbed Katie’s hand and tugged her along and out of the crowded room altogether. She ushered her down a hallway and too a small, empty classroom. Once they were in there she turned and hugged her best friend to her tightly. The taller girl was stiff in her arms for a moment and then she hugged her back.
"What was up with Chris?"
"He was just . . . playing around."
There was a pause and then Katie nodded, her chin moving over the top of Summer’s head.
"He like you?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Do you like him?"
Summer sighed.
"I don’t know. Maybe I could?"
Katie laughed softly.
"Why are you asking me?"
"Because you always know the answers to all my problems."
"Don’t see what the problem is." From where Summer’s forehead was pressed against Katie’s throat, she felt the other girl swallow hard. "If he likes you and you like him back you should go for it. And if he breaks your heart I’ll break his dick."
Summer laughed drily and muttered ‘thank you’. She had no real reason to tell him no, when she thought about it. Maybe it would be nice to be his girlfriend . . . not that he’d asked her out but he seemed to like her well enough. Right? So . . . she had no reason to be so conflicted about this . . . right? She could give it a try. That would be okay.
Author: Lady DeathAngel (AKA moi)
Rating:M
Fandom: School of Rock
Disclaimer: Not mine, not profiting, 'nuff said.
Genre: romance, humor, angst, drama
Pairings: Summer/OC, Zack/OC, eventual Katie/Summer, Freddy/Zack
Warnings: language, sexual content, drug use, ncs, slash and femmeslash
A/N: This is my first child. My baby. I'm very bad about updating said baby, but I try. Anyway, read the warnings, please. They apply.
Summary: In which art imitates what makes life beautiful: every high, every low, and all the angst and love and happiness in between.
Sometimes Zack had a hard time differentiating his dreams from his reality. Not so much when he was actually awake and doing something, but during those half-lucid moments before falling into a deep sleep or before waking up he would wonder if maybe this was real and he wasn’t. Summer said maybe it was just one of the perils of being an artist, but Zack told himself it was just that the first time he’d seen the Matrix he hadn’t slept in nearly two days and it had obviously made an impact on him. A big impact.
And besides. It wasn’t a ‘peril’. It was kind of handy, actually. He’d have strange epiphanies in his sleep that inspired his most kick-ass songs and that wasn’t something that would ever go unappreciated. But he didn’t know what to think of this particular dream.
He assumed, as he watched it all play out before him, that it was a direct result of Freddy propositioning him earlier by saying "Will you pose naked for me?" and not a result of any feelings buried deep in his subconscious. Not that he had a problem with it . . . well . . . he wasn’t sure if he did or not. It certainly didn’t seem like his dream self had any problem at all with posing naked, or half, in this case, while Freddy sketched him out.
He thought that it should have seemed stupid and instead it was oddly intimate. He was sitting in on Freddy’s unmade bed, Indian style, with his head leaning back against the wall, his dark eyes trained on the blonde who was sketching quickly. Zack mused that if he ever tried to draw that fast he’d come out with scribbles, but he knew, without actually seeing the work of art, that it would look like him, and not just like him, but like him the way Freddy saw him.
In this dream state everything moved in real time and it was so silent in the room that Zack could hear two calm inhales and exhales just below the sound of a pencil on paper.
"I’m almost done," Freddy said. "So don’t move an inch, okay?"
"‘kay."
A few more moments of mad sketching and then it stopped. Freddy looked down at his sketchpad and then back up at Zack, down and up, down, shaded a little, back up, and he pronounced it finished.
"Let me see it," Zack demanded from where he’d finally relaxed his position on the bed.
Freddy moved to sit next to him and showed him the sketch. And it was just as Zack had known it would be and ten times better. He traced over the pencil planes of his face with a reverent finger and let out a low whistle.
"It’s perfect," he said softly, because any other word seemed inadequate.
And that was when the dream got . . . odd. Zack dreamed about Freddy all the time and every time it felt different. Depending on how they were, if they were closer than normal or fighting or irritated with each other, whatever, his dreams of the drummer would reflect that. This time there was a heaviness to the air that had nothing to do with a feeling and everything to do with anticipation. Freddy was staring at Zack intently and the dark-haired boy looked up slowly.
"That’s because," the blonde murmured, lifting a hand to ghost his fingertips over Zack’s cheekbones . . . the bridge of his nose . . . the indent of his upper lip and the swell of the lower . . . "That’s because," he repeated. "You’re perfect."
Zack’s skin tingled where he’d been caressed and the sensation was only enhanced by the knowledge that Freddy was leaning in, sliding his hand over his jawline and into his hair. And then they were kissing and that feeling of anticipation exploded sharply in the feel of soft lips, warm and quirked up at the corners, in the hot wet of tongues sliding over and under, teasing and licking . . . it was too much and not enough and Zack was suddenly aware of how much he wanted this boy, in this bed, at this moment. It wasn’t even a dream anymore. It just was.
An invasive wail of sirens outside of his window woke Zack up. He blinked slowly, losing the warmth of the body he could have sworn was next to him, his lips dry and unkissed, and his boxers distinctly wet and sticky. With a groan he threw his arm over his eyes. He’d just had a wet dream. A wet dream about Freddy Jones.
What the fuck?
-(
It was a fact duly noted, that Zack was definitely out of it. Summer would have chalked it up to being a Friday, only it was Thursday and the dark-haired boy had only depressed himself further by forgetting and realizing he had another day to go before the blessed weekend. She would have chalked it up to a fight with his parents, but he’d told her they were out of town (again) and wouldn’t be back for at least a week and a half, probably more. She lost things to blame it on after a while and by lunchtime, she was irritated because while other people had a bitch of a time reading him, Summer always knew what he was thinking. Always, except for today.
"Where are we going for lunch?" she asked as they walked to the cafeteria. "Because I thought we’d just hang out here with Freddy and Katie. They can’t go off campus until Monday so . . ." She trailed off at the look he shot her and she stopped abruptly, causing someone behind her to stumble and flip her off. "What . . . you’re not fighting with Freddy again are you?"
Zack rolled his eyes and started walking again.
"I never fight with Freddy. You just can’t stay mad at that kid."
She smirked.
"You did a damn good impression of it, then, when he told you Alice only liked you for your money and possibly the size of your . . ."
"Yeah," Zack cut in. "But that just hit a little to close to home and it was only a week."
Summer huffed and thought back. Only a week, sure. Only a week’s worth of angry silences and glares and the occasional sarcastic remark or two which culminated in a big fight in the middle of Dewey’s loft. They would have thrown fists, too, if Lawrence and Tomika hadn’t stepped in. After that they cussed at each other a little until they felt better and things went back to normal. She didn’t think, though, that she could handle another fight between the two.
"Well, what is it then? Because you’ve been acting weird all day and I want to know why."
He sighed and turned the most interesting shade of red before mumbling something about a dream.
"What?"
"I had a dream. You know."
She nodded and frowned.
"About who? Katie? Because she is, as you well know, a lesbian and totally wouldn’t go for you."
"She would if she wasn’t gay." Summer lifted a skeptical eyebrow and Zack smirked. "She told me so."
"Well, if it wasn’t about Katie then . . . oh. Oh."
"Yeah ‘oh’."
Summer tried very, very hard to keep a straight face. She really did. But it was freakin’ hilarious and after a moment she burst out laughing so hard she had to hold onto Zack’s shoulders. He sighed and held her upright as they finally reached Freddy and Katie’s usual table.
"What’s up with her?" Freddy asked, pointing at a still hysterically giggling Summer with a french fry.
She took one look at Freddy and cracked up again. Zack shook his head.
"It’s nothing."
Katie looked from him to Summer and back before crossing her arms over her chest.
"No, seriously, what’s up?"
Summer finally composed herself and took a deep breath, leaning over to whisper in Katie’s ear. Zack’s face, if at all possible, went two shades darker than his usual deep blush and when Katie started laughing as well, he was practically glowing. Freddy looked at them all, asked "What?" in a petulant tone and was only rewarded with more laughter and an almost inaudible groan from Zack.
"This must be the rowdy table," a deep voice said from somewhere behind them.
Summer immediately stopped laughing and went very still.
"I thought," a female voice that belonged to Alice, said. "That me and a few of my friends would come over and keep you company Zack."
"Um . . ." Zack said, all intelligent like.
"What are we?" Katie muttered. "Chopped liver?"
"Now, now, that’s much too cliched. And Zack’s such a freak he probably likes chopped liver." Freddy told her.
"Excuse me?" Zack exclaimed and Summer snorted.
"Pot," she said, pointing from Freddy to Zack. "I’d like you to me meet Kettle. I’m sure you’ll be such good friends."
Freddy rolled his eyes.
"Whatever. I’m not really that much of a freak."
Katie laughed and then deepened her voice.
"What about you, Freddy? What do you like to do?"
"I dunno," Summer answered in a high-pitched tone. "Burn stuff."
Freddy frowned as Zack, Summer, and Katie started laughing hysterically.
"Oh. My. God. I was ten! When the fuck are you gonna let that go?"
"Come on," Zack wheedled. "It’s still funny."
"Ookay," Alice said, cutting off any response the blonde might have made. "Well, can you make room, please?"
Summer and Katie shared a look as two girls with long legs and short skirts shoved their books onto their laps and sat down, opening up brown lunch bags and fishing around in them for the least fattening thing stuffed in there. Alice sat down, practically on Zack’s lap, and purred something about how good he smelled.
"Zack always smells good," Freddy said. "It’s one of his finer qualities."
She curled her lip at him.
"I don’t even want to know why you pay attention to how Zack smells," she said acidly, omitting the word ‘fag’ at the end even though everyone heard it.
Summer bristled but a hand on her thigh stopped her from gutting the pretentious little slut. She jumped and glanced sideways to see Chris, the guy who’d first announced their presence at their table. He was cute in a . . . guyish sort of way. Not like Freddy was hot or Zack was hot. They were enough to make heads turn and when they played it was like they were gods. Chris just sort of was. She didn’t know him that well, had only noticed him before because he was always hanging on other girls. He was the sensitive artist with a sense of humor and a rebellious streak. He was always in trouble, always drawing something outstanding, always telling the story of how he’d taught himself to play classical guitar, always hanging around playing songs for his adoring fans.
Summer had always wanted to tell him that he could never be Zack. Zack with his natural talent and humility and the record deals that their band still couldn’t quite grasp the concept of, even after five years. But he tried his hardest. And he was so much more attainable than Zack because he was a manwhore and a braggart and she’d hated him for resenting her friends. Until he’d started to notice her.
It had happened around a week before Alice started to leech off of Zack. Before then the girl had simply been around, seeking tutoring from both Summer and the guitarist. She’d been friendly, if a bit stupid. They’d been working together in the library, Chris off in a corner with a group of friends.
"He wants her body," she said when a girl walked up and started to talk to him.
"Why do I care?" Summer muttered, blushing and looking away.
Alice just smirked and whispered, "He wants your body too."
"That’s stupid!" she’d said so loudly the librarian had rushed over on her spindly legs to tell her to shut up or get out.
Alice just shrugged and Summer assured herself that the bitch had just been joking. After all, Summer wasn’t the type of girl that guys wanted. She was smart and the manager of a band that had put out a multi-platinum album and was currently working on material for another. She was, like Zack, unattainable and totally not hot or sexy or anything like that. And then, after Alice got to be a nuisance, Chris started talking to her.
No, not really talking. More like feeling her up in dark hallways. Always asking if she wanted to fondle him or if she wanted him to fondle her. Her answer was always a half-assed ‘no’ and she’d spend a few minutes with his hand on her chest or between her legs, looking around scared she’d get caught and pushing his hands away almost playfully. Sometimes he’d put her hand on his dick which was . . . odd. She didn’t like the way it felt in her hand under all those layers of denim and cotton and she didn’t know what to do anyway. He tried to teach her and he thought it was fun.
She didn’t know what to think. In fact, she didn’t. Think, anyway. Her mind just kind of shut off and afterward she justified it by saying at least he wanted her and she’d never been wanted before. That part of it was kind of . . . nice.
"I’m . . . I’ve got to go to the bathroom," Summer announced loudly, dislodging the hand that had steadily been making its way upward. "Katie?"
The other girl, who’s eyes had been trained on her leg stood slowly and nodded.
"Be back," she told Freddy.
He made a face and mouthed ‘Take me with you’. She just gave him a little wave with her fingers and she and Summer walked across the cafeteria to the bathroom.
"No," Summer whispered. "Come on."
She grabbed Katie’s hand and tugged her along and out of the crowded room altogether. She ushered her down a hallway and too a small, empty classroom. Once they were in there she turned and hugged her best friend to her tightly. The taller girl was stiff in her arms for a moment and then she hugged her back.
"What was up with Chris?"
"He was just . . . playing around."
There was a pause and then Katie nodded, her chin moving over the top of Summer’s head.
"He like you?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Do you like him?"
Summer sighed.
"I don’t know. Maybe I could?"
Katie laughed softly.
"Why are you asking me?"
"Because you always know the answers to all my problems."
"Don’t see what the problem is." From where Summer’s forehead was pressed against Katie’s throat, she felt the other girl swallow hard. "If he likes you and you like him back you should go for it. And if he breaks your heart I’ll break his dick."
Summer laughed drily and muttered ‘thank you’. She had no real reason to tell him no, when she thought about it. Maybe it would be nice to be his girlfriend . . . not that he’d asked her out but he seemed to like her well enough. Right? So . . . she had no reason to be so conflicted about this . . . right? She could give it a try. That would be okay.