Ficlet: Warped Zone
I have too much love for the go-back-in-time-to-sleep-with-your-younger-self trope. A lot too much. Set in a magical fake Warped Tour where Panic, FOB, TAI, and MCR all played together and Gerard's hair was still pink. For some reason!
Title: Warped Zone
Author: llamapi
Rating: PG-13 for language
Length: -1400 words
Summary: “I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Patrick said shrewishly, snapping Pete back to the moment. “At least your 18-year-old self didn’t reject you for being old!”
“Jon Walker, you shock me,” Spencer said, with a particularly mocking mustache-angle, “with your dastardly depths. All this time I thought I knew you, and then you go and do something like jump through a strange hole in time for the express purpose of having sex with your younger self.”
Jon felt himself blush, which was irritating, because seriously what the hell did he have to feel embarrassed about? This was bullshit.
“Spencer Smith,” he said, looking pointedly at his bandmate, who was still angling his facial hair at him, “you are acting as though you didn’t do it first.”
“I didn’t know that was going to happen when I went through the gate!” Spencer exclaimed, throwing his hands out in front of him. “That was completely coincidental. You had a plan!”
“Oh, are we calling it a gate, now?” Brendon broke in. “That’s so Atlantis.”
“You have regained your status as king dork,” Spencer announced. “Get me a soda.”
“More importantly,” Ryan’s foggy monotone sounded, as though through several layers of velvet (but in actuality through only one layer of velour), “more important, even than the nomenclature of the time-hole, Brendon’s status, or the exact depths of Jon’s evil soul, is...” he trailed off in an inaudible buzz.
“Wanna try that again, Cheech?” Jon said.
Ryan removed the hat from his face. “I said, were you any good?”
Jon blinked. “Which... one of me?”
* * * *
“I just can’t get over the fact that I told you to go fuck yourself... and you did!” Mike Carden was laughing like a dying hyena, curling over on himself and brushing tears out of his eyes while William looked on disapprovingly.
Sisky shrugged. “What? It was my turn.”
Spencer was the one who’d found the... gate. Time-hole. Whateverthefuck, in the trees behind the porta-potties. What had possessed him to go through it, he couldn’t say, but when he’d come back and confirmed that:
A) he’d encountered himself at approximately three years previous to the present,
B) sleeping with your younger self did not in fact cause wormholes or the apocalypse,
and
C) even he had had a crush on himself during his pretty lesbian phase,
the word had spread quickly to varying results.
“Really, Adam... Jesus, your younger self?” William shook his head. “That has to be statutory.”
“He wasn’t that much younger!” Sisky said. “It was me from like, two weeks ago.”
“Does that count as incest, or masturbation?” Mike wondered. Sisky shrugged.
“Who topped?” asked William.
“Who do you think?” said Sisky.
* * * *
“I can’t fucking believe you guys both got your 18th birthdays and I got--” Pete threw up his hands. “That is so fucking unfair!”
The time-hole had proven to be fairly inconsistent, but so far nobody else had been sent back as far as Pete. It was tragic; he’d been so very, very, psyched. He’d shoved himself into his trashiest jeans, flat-ironed each individual hair, and stepped through the shimmering portal with full intention of rocking his teenage world. His vision had swirled, then blackened, and the next thing he knew he was on his back in damp grass with his own concerned face looming over him.
“Hey, are you okay?” Oh. My. God. His eyes were enormous. And his stupid floppy hair falling into his face as he reached down with a slim, tanned arm covered in... snap bracelets?!
“What the fuck?” Pete squawked, and sat bolt upright, sending his younger self staggering backwards with alarm. Pete stared. “Umbros...” he said dumbly. “You’re like TWELVE!”
“Are you on drugs, or something?” Little Pete said, nudging a soccer ball with his toe. “You were just lying there.”
“No, no, no, no, no!” Pete wailed. He grabbed his tiny double by the shoulders and shook him for emphasis. “We’re supposed to have SEX!”
His younger self froze, a stricken expression on his face. “Oh god!” Pete pulled his hands away as if he’d been burned. “No! Shit!” He slapped his palms over his face and laughed weakly into them. “Jesus, I’m the cause of my own childhood trauma!”
The mini-Wentz looked like he was about to bolt. Pete sighed. “Look, dude, forget I said that.” He looked around for the first time and realized they were standing on the soccer field behind his junior high school. He could hear strains of kid-laughter and yelling from the playground in front, distant and familiar, like the sound of birds at the beach. “What is it, lunch recess?” Little Pete nodded warily.
“Where are your friends?” Pete asked.
His little self shrugged, face going moody. “They’re pissed at me,” he said.
Pete sighed again. That used to happen. “You wanna play soccer?” he blurted out.
Little Pete considered him, then shrugged and kicked the ball over. “Okay,” he said gruffly. “Just don’t try and touch me or anything, weirdo.”
“I won’t!” Pete snapped. “God!” He passed the ball back and they kicked it around until the bell rang for fifth period.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Patrick said shrewishly, snapping Pete back to the moment. “At least your 18-year-old self didn’t reject you for being old!”
“Harsh,” Joe said around a laugh, and kept rolling his joint. His younger self had sold him weed.
Pete put his arm around Patrick and squeezed. “Yeah... you were kind of socially retarded back then,” he said. “Cute as a fucking button, though.” Patrick sniffed.
There was a loud KRIZZZAK! from the trees, and suddenly Andy was walking toward them looking smug and well-used.
“Hurley!” Pete yelled. “You were gone forever! Please tell me you had sex with yourself.”
Andy stopped and looked at Pete witheringly. “No,” he said. “Why would I do that?”
There was a silence while Pete, Patrick, and Joe shrugged in unison. Patrick cleared his throat. “So what did you do?” he asked.
Andy beamed. “I beat the shit out of him!” he said. “I walked up to myself, told him I was him from the future, and punched him in the face.”
“What the hell for, man?” Patrick sputtered.
“I was so complacent back then,” Andy said, waving a hand around. “I needed something like that to happen to strengthen my resolve.” He grinned evilly. “It was awesome. Once I convinced him of my superior futuristic fighting skills, he agreed to let me train him. We spent the whole day sparring.”
Patrick shook his head and rolled his eyes skyward. “That’s... that’s very you, Andy. I’m glad you had fun.”
“And then I fucked Matt’s younger self,” Andy said.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Pete crowed.
* * * *
“I really don’t think I’m you from the future,” Gerard mused, leaning back against the couch cushions.
“I don’t think you are, either,” his younger self said flatly. “Your hair is ridiculous and you gesticulate like a crazy person.”
“No, no, no, you’re definitely me in the past-- well, a past,” Gerard screwed up his eyebrows. “Just, if I’d gone back in time, shouldn’t I remember it already happening? Or something?”
“You’d think,” his younger self said, and they lapsed into silence again, watching zombies shuffle around on the TV screen. One bit a chunk out of a man trying to kill it with a shotgun, then picked up the gun and started shooting other humans.
“They’re capable of leeeeeeaaaaarrrrrniiiiiiing!!” both Gerards quoted simultaneously, in identical falsetto. They looked at each other and broke into hesitant grins.
“So what is this, then?” said Younger Gerard.
“My guess is alternate universe,” Gerard replied.
“That sounds reasonable,” said Younger Gerard, turning his gaze back to the zombies. A moment later he glanced back. “Seriously, dude, pink?”
“Fuck you,” said Gerard. “I have a hot wife.”
“Really?” Younger Gerard was incredulous.
“Yes,” Gerard said, triumphant. “We’re gonna have a kid...” he trailed off, eyes going a little wide. “Jesus...”
“I’m pretty sure your kid’s not going to be Jesus,” said Younger Gerard.
“Who the fuck knows anymore? There’s goddamn alternate universes popping up all over the place, anything could happen,” Gerard snarked.
Younger Gerard shrugged his eyebrows. “I guess.” He paused. “You’ll be all right, I think. As a dad.”
“...Thanks,” Gerard said weakly. “Do you mind if I hang out here for a little bit?”
“Sure, whatever,” Younger Gerard said. “You wouldn’t want to have sex, would you?”
“Maybe in a while,” said Gerard. “This is kind of a good part.”
Title: Warped Zone
Author: llamapi
Rating: PG-13 for language
Length: -1400 words
Summary: “I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Patrick said shrewishly, snapping Pete back to the moment. “At least your 18-year-old self didn’t reject you for being old!”
“Jon Walker, you shock me,” Spencer said, with a particularly mocking mustache-angle, “with your dastardly depths. All this time I thought I knew you, and then you go and do something like jump through a strange hole in time for the express purpose of having sex with your younger self.”
Jon felt himself blush, which was irritating, because seriously what the hell did he have to feel embarrassed about? This was bullshit.
“Spencer Smith,” he said, looking pointedly at his bandmate, who was still angling his facial hair at him, “you are acting as though you didn’t do it first.”
“I didn’t know that was going to happen when I went through the gate!” Spencer exclaimed, throwing his hands out in front of him. “That was completely coincidental. You had a plan!”
“Oh, are we calling it a gate, now?” Brendon broke in. “That’s so Atlantis.”
“You have regained your status as king dork,” Spencer announced. “Get me a soda.”
“More importantly,” Ryan’s foggy monotone sounded, as though through several layers of velvet (but in actuality through only one layer of velour), “more important, even than the nomenclature of the time-hole, Brendon’s status, or the exact depths of Jon’s evil soul, is...” he trailed off in an inaudible buzz.
“Wanna try that again, Cheech?” Jon said.
Ryan removed the hat from his face. “I said, were you any good?”
Jon blinked. “Which... one of me?”
* * * *
“I just can’t get over the fact that I told you to go fuck yourself... and you did!” Mike Carden was laughing like a dying hyena, curling over on himself and brushing tears out of his eyes while William looked on disapprovingly.
Sisky shrugged. “What? It was my turn.”
Spencer was the one who’d found the... gate. Time-hole. Whateverthefuck, in the trees behind the porta-potties. What had possessed him to go through it, he couldn’t say, but when he’d come back and confirmed that:
A) he’d encountered himself at approximately three years previous to the present,
B) sleeping with your younger self did not in fact cause wormholes or the apocalypse,
and
C) even he had had a crush on himself during his pretty lesbian phase,
the word had spread quickly to varying results.
“Really, Adam... Jesus, your younger self?” William shook his head. “That has to be statutory.”
“He wasn’t that much younger!” Sisky said. “It was me from like, two weeks ago.”
“Does that count as incest, or masturbation?” Mike wondered. Sisky shrugged.
“Who topped?” asked William.
“Who do you think?” said Sisky.
* * * *
“I can’t fucking believe you guys both got your 18th birthdays and I got--” Pete threw up his hands. “That is so fucking unfair!”
The time-hole had proven to be fairly inconsistent, but so far nobody else had been sent back as far as Pete. It was tragic; he’d been so very, very, psyched. He’d shoved himself into his trashiest jeans, flat-ironed each individual hair, and stepped through the shimmering portal with full intention of rocking his teenage world. His vision had swirled, then blackened, and the next thing he knew he was on his back in damp grass with his own concerned face looming over him.
“Hey, are you okay?” Oh. My. God. His eyes were enormous. And his stupid floppy hair falling into his face as he reached down with a slim, tanned arm covered in... snap bracelets?!
“What the fuck?” Pete squawked, and sat bolt upright, sending his younger self staggering backwards with alarm. Pete stared. “Umbros...” he said dumbly. “You’re like TWELVE!”
“Are you on drugs, or something?” Little Pete said, nudging a soccer ball with his toe. “You were just lying there.”
“No, no, no, no, no!” Pete wailed. He grabbed his tiny double by the shoulders and shook him for emphasis. “We’re supposed to have SEX!”
His younger self froze, a stricken expression on his face. “Oh god!” Pete pulled his hands away as if he’d been burned. “No! Shit!” He slapped his palms over his face and laughed weakly into them. “Jesus, I’m the cause of my own childhood trauma!”
The mini-Wentz looked like he was about to bolt. Pete sighed. “Look, dude, forget I said that.” He looked around for the first time and realized they were standing on the soccer field behind his junior high school. He could hear strains of kid-laughter and yelling from the playground in front, distant and familiar, like the sound of birds at the beach. “What is it, lunch recess?” Little Pete nodded warily.
“Where are your friends?” Pete asked.
His little self shrugged, face going moody. “They’re pissed at me,” he said.
Pete sighed again. That used to happen. “You wanna play soccer?” he blurted out.
Little Pete considered him, then shrugged and kicked the ball over. “Okay,” he said gruffly. “Just don’t try and touch me or anything, weirdo.”
“I won’t!” Pete snapped. “God!” He passed the ball back and they kicked it around until the bell rang for fifth period.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Patrick said shrewishly, snapping Pete back to the moment. “At least your 18-year-old self didn’t reject you for being old!”
“Harsh,” Joe said around a laugh, and kept rolling his joint. His younger self had sold him weed.
Pete put his arm around Patrick and squeezed. “Yeah... you were kind of socially retarded back then,” he said. “Cute as a fucking button, though.” Patrick sniffed.
There was a loud KRIZZZAK! from the trees, and suddenly Andy was walking toward them looking smug and well-used.
“Hurley!” Pete yelled. “You were gone forever! Please tell me you had sex with yourself.”
Andy stopped and looked at Pete witheringly. “No,” he said. “Why would I do that?”
There was a silence while Pete, Patrick, and Joe shrugged in unison. Patrick cleared his throat. “So what did you do?” he asked.
Andy beamed. “I beat the shit out of him!” he said. “I walked up to myself, told him I was him from the future, and punched him in the face.”
“What the hell for, man?” Patrick sputtered.
“I was so complacent back then,” Andy said, waving a hand around. “I needed something like that to happen to strengthen my resolve.” He grinned evilly. “It was awesome. Once I convinced him of my superior futuristic fighting skills, he agreed to let me train him. We spent the whole day sparring.”
Patrick shook his head and rolled his eyes skyward. “That’s... that’s very you, Andy. I’m glad you had fun.”
“And then I fucked Matt’s younger self,” Andy said.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Pete crowed.
* * * *
“I really don’t think I’m you from the future,” Gerard mused, leaning back against the couch cushions.
“I don’t think you are, either,” his younger self said flatly. “Your hair is ridiculous and you gesticulate like a crazy person.”
“No, no, no, you’re definitely me in the past-- well, a past,” Gerard screwed up his eyebrows. “Just, if I’d gone back in time, shouldn’t I remember it already happening? Or something?”
“You’d think,” his younger self said, and they lapsed into silence again, watching zombies shuffle around on the TV screen. One bit a chunk out of a man trying to kill it with a shotgun, then picked up the gun and started shooting other humans.
“They’re capable of leeeeeeaaaaarrrrrniiiiiiing!!” both Gerards quoted simultaneously, in identical falsetto. They looked at each other and broke into hesitant grins.
“So what is this, then?” said Younger Gerard.
“My guess is alternate universe,” Gerard replied.
“That sounds reasonable,” said Younger Gerard, turning his gaze back to the zombies. A moment later he glanced back. “Seriously, dude, pink?”
“Fuck you,” said Gerard. “I have a hot wife.”
“Really?” Younger Gerard was incredulous.
“Yes,” Gerard said, triumphant. “We’re gonna have a kid...” he trailed off, eyes going a little wide. “Jesus...”
“I’m pretty sure your kid’s not going to be Jesus,” said Younger Gerard.
“Who the fuck knows anymore? There’s goddamn alternate universes popping up all over the place, anything could happen,” Gerard snarked.
Younger Gerard shrugged his eyebrows. “I guess.” He paused. “You’ll be all right, I think. As a dad.”
“...Thanks,” Gerard said weakly. “Do you mind if I hang out here for a little bit?”
“Sure, whatever,” Younger Gerard said. “You wouldn’t want to have sex, would you?”
“Maybe in a while,” said Gerard. “This is kind of a good part.”