The Grasshopper Unit (2/2)
Title: The Grasshopper Unit (2/2)
Summary: Almost a sequel to The Negotiation Limerick File. If you haven’t read that, this will make even LESS sense. One of Mikey's wacky inventions gets used by accident. Mayhem and toddlers ensue.
part one
“So here’s the plan,” said Ray.
Ray always packed an easel in his stuff somewhere; it meant that when they did a full-band briefing he could bust it out and hang blueprints on it. Most of the rest of the time Gerard used it for drying clothes and sometimes hanging art-in-progress. The pointer, though, that was new. Ray smacked it against the easel a couple of times until Frank stopped yawning and looked properly attentive.
“Obviously Mikey won’t be coming with us,” said Ray. “He’s busy trying to undo the damage he did last night.”
“I heard that,” Mikey yelled from the next room. “And I still don’t care. Pete thinks it’s hilarious.”
“Stop telling Pete our secrets!” Gerard yelled back crossly, and Frank patted his leg.
Ray cleared his throat and glared until everyone on the couch settled down. Frank yawned, a big asshole yawn, just to annoy him, so Bob smacked him in the side.
“Originally, we were going to have handle security while they took care of the handoff, but that’s not going to work at this point, for obvious reasons. And one of us will have to stay here and babysit, assuming Mikey still hasn’t fixed what he fucked up.”
“I’m working on it!”
“So. Three of us. Thoughts?”
Mostly Bob thought it was fucking impossible. They could get into the building, but without a distraction they couldn’t get to the hand-off location. Mikey had some intel that they were expected, and there might be some nasty characters waiting for them.
“We could,” Gerard started. “We could build a hot air balloon, okay, and then -”
“We can’t build a hot air balloon,” said Ray.
Gerard looked sad. “But if we could do that-” he started
“Which we can’t.”
Frank raised his hand. “We should call Schechter,” he said.
“You know Brian’s busy handling the climate change crisis,” Ray frowned.
Frank rolled his eyes. “I mean, we should call Schechter to babysit, so we’re freed up to have four of us at the UN building today.”
Ray blinked in surprise. “That’s… Hey. That’s not a bad idea, Frank.”
“Duh. I only have good ideas.” Frank giggled like a hyena and draped himself on Gerard. “Right? Right, Gee? Right?”
There was some gross kissage starting up at that end of the couch, so Bob resolutely looked the other way. “Shit,” he said. “Uh. How long have you been up?”
Spencer was standing there, sniffling sleepily and looking up at him with - Jesus, had that kids’ eyes always been so big? “I’na help,” he said, yawning.
“No,” said Bob.
Spencer’s usual murderous glare at being thwarted was tempered by also being the cutest fucking thing on earth. “But I’m good at it!”
“You’re good at it when you’re twenty. You’re four, Spencer. No. What if you got hurt?”
“I’m not Brendon. I’m not gonna cry,” Spencer scowled.
Bob apparently had little-kid instincts, so he grabbed Spencer and pulled him up on his lap. “I’m not worried about you crying,” he said. “I’m worried about you getting hurt.”
Gerard’s eyes lit up, which never boded well for anyone. “Crying!” he said, shoving Frank’s hand out of his jeans.
“What about it?” If it looked like Bob was hugging Spencer that was a mistake; Bob had a protective arm around the kid, in case he was part of Gerard’s deranged scheme.
Gerard rubbed his hands together like a mad scientist. “What if, right, what if we get Schechter to come with? And he brings the kids? So instead of sneaking in, we just walk in. And when we get near the drop-off point, bam! Crying!”
“Make them the distraction?” Ray said. “But… They’re kids.”
“Only sorta,” said Frank.
“Can they cry on cue?” Ray asked.
Bob sighed. It was a bad fucking idea, and if any of them got hurt he’d never forgive himself. But what they were doing for world hunger was also a pretty big deal. “Brendon can,” he said. “I saw him do it last night.”
“Brendon likes making a scene,” Spencer agreed. He was leaning on Bob, and he smelled like a little kid - crayons and french fries and baby powder, except that was impossible - and maybe Bob had to rethink this whole kid thing. Like, he’d always figured Alicia and Mikey would have kids first. It made sense, because Alicia was from the future, and she already knew they were going to have kids, so why bother waiting? But now Bob was thinking it was sort of nice having someone tiny and warm on his lap, and if he could get one like Spencer - grumpy and a little surly, but also independent and adorable - it might be worth looking into.
“I don’t know, guys,” said Ray. “Are we really gonna endanger kids?”
“Five of us including Schechter, four of them,” said Frank. “That’s zone defense! We get to the hand off, Brendon throws a fit, everyone comes around to check on the poor baby, Bob sneaks off to get the stuff, by the time he gets back we’ve taken them all home. I mean, it relies on Bob not fucking up -” Bob smacked him. “-But otherwise what’s the danger? That leaves four of us to keep an eye out for unsavory types and cameras.”
Ray frowned. “They’re important, remember? What if something goes wrong? What if one of them gets hurt? What if we lose one of them?”
“So only bring Brendon,” Frank offered.
“No,” said Spencer immediately, sitting up.
Gerard sighed, “And if Spencer goes, you know Ryan’s going to insist on going, too, and then what, we leave Jon here alone?”
“They’re little,” Frank said, voice dripping disdain. “Who cares what Spencer wants? We can put him in the closet or something.”
Spencer considered him for a long minute, and then leaned over and very deliberately bit Frank. Hard.
“Owww, motherfucker!” howled Frank, jumping to his feet.
“Language!” said Ray sharply.
“He bit me!”
“I’m coming with you,” Spencer said, scowling. He turned his head suddenly. “Ryan’s up,” he said.
Bob wondered if Mikey had invented anything yet that would test Spencer and Ryan for telepathy. “Okay,” he said. “You’re coming, too. But if any of you does anything we tell you not to, or anything happens, we’re bringing you straight back here, no arguing. Clear?”
“We didn’t take an official vote,” Gerard complained. “Ray! Bob’s subverting the democratic process again.”
Ray rolled his eyes. “Hands up who’s down with the new plan?” he asked. Everyone raised their hands except Frank, who had his hand in his mouth, sucking on the place where Spencer’d bit him.
“Me, too,” yelled Mikey. “Get them out of here, give me some peace. I think I can rig something up with the hairdryer, if I can get ten minutes of quiet.”
“Breakfast first,” said Ray. They all looked at him, and he crossed his arms defensively. “Little kids can’t go anywhere until they have a healthy breakfast!” he said, voice even higher than usual.
Bob looked at Spencer. “You like coffee, kid?” Spencer made a face. “I think we’re gonna have to take them down to the hotel brunch thing.”
“Great,” Frank mumbled. “That’ll end well.”
\\\
They got a table near the buffet. Brendon was still mostly asleep, with his head down on the table. That was basically how regular Brendon acted first thing in the morning, so Bob wasn’t worried. Jon kept trying to steal coffee - and insisting he was the only one old enough to have it - and Ryan and Spencer were having a very serious whispered conversation that Bob couldn’t hear.
Frank and Ray had refused to come down with the kids, because they were jackasses. Gerard had come with him, even though Frank kept yelling that they were too recognizable. Gerard mostly ignored perfectly sensible advice like that. Who, he asked, was going to be awake this early who also went to a lot of concerts?
So far so good. The kids were behaving themselves, and Gerard was communing with his coffee on a deep, spiritual level that kept him from scaring the few people in the hotel sitting around the brunch room.
Jon nudged Brendon’s shoulder. “Come get waffles with me,” he said.
Brendon flopped a little like a landed fish and shook his head.
“Brennnndon,” Jon wheedled. “There’s strawberries and whipped cream and chocolate chips and powdered sugar to go on top.”
Jon, Bob thought sourly, hid a lot of evil under his normally mellow face. “That’s not a good idea,” he said.
Brendon sat up. “Really?” he said. He looked at Bob. “Can we?”
Bob figured Brendon’s sugar rush was his own problem, or would be in a few hours, when he was a normal-sized person again. Not that Brendon was ever really a normal size, but whatever. “I guess,” he said. “One.”
Brendon made a high-pitched squealing noise and almost fell off his chair. He ran over to the buffet with Jon hot on his heels, probably trying to get him to eat things that would get him even more wound up.
“We want pancakes,” Spencer announced, and Bob figured that wasn’t the royal we, it was him and Ryan.
“’Kay,” he said, and shrugged. How much trouble could they possibly get in just getting pancakes? They’d still be in plain sight. He turned to Gerard. “You really think Mikey can fix this today?” he said.
Gerard rolled his eyes. “If he doesn’t, we’re kind of fucked,” he said. “I don’t know how much Schechter can cover up.”
“People are going to notice if Panic stop showing up to their own concerts,” Bob agreed.
“They might not notice if kids show up, though,” Gerard mused. Bob gave him a look. “I’m just saying, they’re still in high school or something anyway, right?”
“I think they’re older than that.”
“But like… Barely.”
“Gerard. Just because you’re freaked out about turning thirty-one-”
Gerard made a strangled noise and grabbed a cigarette. “It’s young, okay?” he said, getting a little squeaky. “It is totally young!”
Bob didn’t roll his eyes, but only because he had tons of practice not rolling his eyes at Gerard.
There was a huge, rattling crash by the buffet. Gerard and Bob both stood up automatically. It wasn’t Brendon, like Bob had mostly expected; it was Ryan whose plate had slipped out of his hands, and who was standing next to a bunch of plate shards and a pile of ruined pancakes on the floor. Spencer was around the corner, or he’d already have been between Ryan and the large, angry man with the obvious hangover who was turning around to yell at him.
As soon as the man opened his mouth - “What are you doing, you got that shit all over my pants!” - Ryan shrank in on himself. Bob was ready to vault the table. What the fuck was the point of knowing twenty ways to kill a man if you didn’t use them to kill assholes who yelled at little kids? But Gerard was already there, magically between Ryan and the guy, and he had his lecture face on.
“Are you kidding?” Gerard started. Gerard didn’t need to breathe when he was lecturing at someone, but he did need to gesticulate, and he was getting coffee everywhere wit his crazy hands. “Pants can be washed; children’s emotional stability needs to be nurtured! Do you think he did it on purpose? Are you just being an asshole?”
Ryan had been on the brink of tears, giant eyes and hands pressed over his mouth. He edged forward so he could cling to Gerard’s jeans like a physical shield. “I was just-” the man started.
Gerard wasn’t close to being finished. He took a deep breath and Bob tuned him out.
Brendon was mostly back over to the table, but he was wavering between running back over to defend Ryan and sitting down to eat his mountain of sugar. “Sit,” Bob ordered, pulling Brendon into a chair. “Eat. Gerard’s handling this.” Brendon nodded reluctantly.
“-And that’s just one way that failing to nurture all children is going to come back and haunt our society!” Gerard was yelling. Ryan as an adult had always looked at Gerard Way with a certain amount of hilarious hero worship - Brendon said it was something about the way Gerard used eyeliner - but the look on little Ryan’s face was breathtaking. That was love, Bob was pretty sure.
Eventually Gerard wound down, or at least the guy looked shamed enough to mumble an apology and run away. “I need a cigarette,” Gerard muttered, and went storming outside. Spencer had new plates for him and Ryan, and pulled him over to the table.
“You okay?” Bob asked. If Ryan couldn’t handle strangers at the hotel, how was he going to handle actually going out into public?
Ryan nodded. “Gerard’s loud,” he almost-whispered, but he sounded a little awed when he said it.
“I’m loud, too!” Brendon volunteered, in case anyone was wondering. He was also covered in melted chocolate and maple syrup. Bob grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe him off, but he was coated in stickiness up to his elbows.
Something in Bob’s head pinged, and he did a headcount. “You guys,” he said. “Where the hell is Jon?”
Spencer looked around. “He was over there,” he said, pointing toward the door.
Bob swore like a maniac under his breath. “He wouldn’t go outside by himself, right?” he said. “Spencer?”
Spencer considered. “He said that you’re treating him like a baby.”
“He fucking… Fuck!” said Bob, standing up.
Brendon stared at him. “You’re not supposed to swear!” he said, clearly outraged.
“Sorry,” Bob said. “Spence, can you keep these two here and under control?”
Spencer nodded seriously. Sure, he was four, but he was by far the most sensible kid Bob had ever encountered. “Be right back,” said Bob, and ran for the door.
He didn’t quite make it; Brian walked in, holding Jon by the arm. They hadn’t told Brian what was going on, exactly, just that they needed him to stop by and that something was up with Panic. Brian had the same face on he got when Gerard decided that they were going to steal thermonuclear weapons, or dyed his hair white. Perplexed and annoyed and a little worried that it was going to cost the band a lot of money.
“This,” said Brian, pointing to Jon, “Had better not be what I think it is.”
“Uh,” said Bob, looking around. There weren’t that many other people in the room, and mostly they were still reeling from Gerard’s lecture. “Do you maybe think that Mikey accidentally turned Panic into toddlers?”
Brian blanched. “Something like that, but I was hoping… How come this one was outside?”
“He made a break for it,” Bob said grimly, giving Jon a stern look. “But he’s gonna knock that shit off if he wants to come with us on this mission.”
Jon scuffed his sneaker on the floor. “I’m six,” he complained. “I’m not a baby like them.”
“Then don’t run away like a baby,” said Bob. “Or you can’t come with us.”
“’M sorry,” Jon mumbled, sounding not sorry at all.
Brian gave Bob his most horrified look. “How long?” he said.
“About twelve hours, now,” said Bob. “It’s… been exciting.”
Behind them, Brendon yelled, “Oooh, look! A piano!”
“Fuck,” said Bob succinctly. Jon giggled.
\\\
The ticket seller at the UN was a nice young woman with her hair in a bun and no idea who My Chemical Romance were. On the other hand, she took one look at Brendon - all cleaned up and beaming at her with his best Hi, Stranger, Please Love Me smile - and cooed, “Oh, how precious,” and they all got tickets for half price.
Bob was in charge of Spencer, so he’d expected to have Ryan by default, but Ryan was still watching Gerard with his giant eyes, following him around like a tiny duckling. Gerard hadn’t really noticed, but when Ray nudged him, Gerard shrugged and took Ryan’s hand. Ryan looked like he might swoon.
Any time they didn’t have a firm hold on Brendon he started running around and introducing himself to people, which was probably a bad idea. Ray swung Brendon up on his shoulders where it seemed unlikely he could do much damage. Brian had Jon firmly by the hand. Threatening Jon hadn’t done any good, but telling him they were counting on him had calmed him down a lot, especially when Bob pointed out that they needed him to keep an eye on Spencer.
“The signal,” Spencer whispered, tugging on Bob’s hand. When they got to the right spot on the tour, he was going to start coughing, and then the boys were going to throw the biggest possible fit. Brendon was ecstatic over getting to scream and cry as loudly as he wanted.
“Not yet,” Bob whispered back.
Spencer was fiercely determined to help, but he was also four; the tour was long and people were talking and there were lots of big crowds. He got bored pretty quickly and wandered back to talk to Ryan; the two of them giggled and whispered, while Brendon yelled, “What? What?” from Ray’s shoulder, and squirmed until Ray put him down. Jon appeared to be talking Brian into… Something. Clearly Jon had untapped depths that Bob was going to have to figure out how to exploit just as soon as he was big again.
When they got to the right hallway Bob turned around and gave Gerard their standard signal. Gerard nodded and nudged Frank with his hip. Bob didn’t worry about letting Ray know; Ray actually paid attention during this kind of shit. And then Bob started coughing.
He’d been worried the kids wouldn’t notice, but as soon as Bob cleared his throat he heard a familiar wail. Brendon threw himself on the floor, looking for all the world like Ryan had tripped him. “Owwwww!” he howled, “My kneeeee! You! Did! That! On! Purpose!”
Not to be outdone, Ryan promptly burst into tears of his own, quiet but just as devastating because he looked guilty and tragic and heartbroken. The whole tour stopped, and every parent in the group sighed sympathetically.
Bob knew a cue when he saw one. He let the group move around him to get closer to the kids, and four steps backwards he was around the corner into a highly restricted area. This way he was actually a lot closer to where he needed to be than with the whole break-and-enter plan, but it was also riskier. There were way more cameras and chances to get caught. Luckily, Bob was basically a ninja, and he had the blueprints for the whole building in his head; he headed down the hall, third door on the left, knock the secret knock, and the door slipped open. “Vampires will never hurt you,” muttered someone, and handed Bob a piece of paper, which he stuck in his pocket to read later - it would all be in code anyway - and hurried back. “Too easy,” he whispered to Ray, who nodded.
They hadn’t even moved; Brendon was still sobbing on the floor and half the grownups in the group were trying to console him, while the tour guide and the rest of them were trying to talk Ryan down from a silent, hysterical fit.
“Oh,” the poor tour guide was saying, “These poor babies.” She knew she was supposed to be moving the tour on, but she wasn’t immune to Brendon’s ridiculously pouty face, or Ryan’s trembling lip.
Another tour guide appeared out of nowhere. “Maybe we should take the family to another room to let the children calm down,” he offered smoothly. “While the rest of the tour moves on?”
“Oh, no, that’s cool,” said Schechter, but the guy was already shooing Spencer and Jon down a side hallway, and that was enough to make Ryan and Brendon run after them, so the grownups didn’t have a lot of choices except to follow. The guy had his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, pushing him, and if he didn’t move it, he was going to lose it when Bob ripped his arm out of his socket.
They went around a corner in a hallway that was awfully empty, and the tour guide opened a door. Spencer stopped dead in the doorway and said, “No,” really clearly. Bob immediately felt for the gun he wasn’t carrying.
The tour guide gave Spencer a little shove, and Jon yelled, “Stop that! but the guy still had Spencer by the arm. Bob was close enough to see what Spencer had seen; there was a man in that room, and he was holding a gun. Well. Fuck.
Gerard and Frank looked at Ray, and Ray looked at Bob. Bob said, “Not with the kids around.” He didn’t want anyone to get killed in front of impressionable toddlers. As long as they weren’t actually about to get shot, he planned to handle it as quietly as possible. Plus, there were probably more guys lurking somewhere. They tended to lurk. It was one of the most annoying things about counter-espionage.
“Did you really think you could come in here unnoticed?” asked the man with the gun.
“Guttierez!” yelled Gerard. “You son of a bitch.”
“We meet again,” said Guttierez. Bob knew they’d thwarted the guy a couple of times before, but he wasn’t really clear on when. It might have been the thing in Venezuela, with the rockets, or it might have been the thing in Australia with the nuclear fission device. Either way, the guy was probably looking to get back at them for some seriously hurt feelings. “Bryar’s going to give me whatever he just received, and no one will get hurt.” He looked pointedly at the kids.
If the tour guide didn’t let go of Spencer’s arm soon, Bob was going to throw subtlety out the window and kill everyone in sight. The guy was holding it too tightly, and at an awkward angle, so Spencer was kind of dragged up sideways. So far he hadn’t said anything, he was just looking at Bob calmly, like… Well, he was waiting for a signal, obviously, and that was a pretty awesome thing for a kid to do. Bob glanced over at the rest of them. Ryan was watching Spencer, and Jon was trying to edge closer to Spencer, but Brendon was looking expectantly at Bob. Bob tended to forget that Brendon was actually sort of good at this stuff, in his own totally ridiculous way.
“How about this,” Gerard said. “You back the fuck off and let us go, and we won’t fucking kill any of you.”
“How about this,” Guttierez replied. “I’ll start by shooting the biggest one, and go in size order.” He pointed his gun at Jon.
“No!” Spencer yelled, and bit the guy who was holding him by the arm.
Bob moved pretty fucking fast when he needed to. Guttierez had a gun, and then he didn’t, because Bob had taken it away from him, and also punched him in the fucking face. The other guy lost his hold on Spencer, because Brendon elbowed him in the crotch.
Bob tossed Ray the gun, and Ray started in on his standard speech. “Are you fucking kidding? Call your guys and tell them to back the fuck off; we’re walking out of here. No funny business, either, because we don’t negotiate with dumb fucks who threaten kids.” Brian used the tour guide’s tie to tie the guy up.
The kids were sort of huddled together in the middle of the room. Bob considered for a second, and then picked Spencer up. “You okay?” he asked. “Did he hurt your arm? Want me to kill him?”
Spencer shook his head. “I’m okay,” he said. And then he paused and leaned in to whisper, “It was scary when he wanted to hurt Jon.”
“Yeah?” Bob asked. “Nobody gets to hurt Jon. Don’t worry about it. You did a good job.”
“Me, too, I did a good job too!” Brendon said, tugging on Bob’s jeans.
“You were totally kick ass,” Frank agreed, leaning down to high-five Brendon.
Brendon slapped his hand, but shook his head. “You’re not supposed to swear,” he chided Frank.
Guttierez was on the phone; as soon as he hung up Ray announced, “I’m sick of this shit,” and slammed the guy’s head into the wall. Guttierez went limp and slid down to the floor. Bob gave Ray a look. “What?” Ray asked crossly. “He pointed a gun at a toddler. Fuck him.”
“Safe passage out,” said Gerard. “What about that?”
“I got it under control,” Brian said. “The good guys are on their way to clean up this little mess. That fucking paper better be worth it, though. I hate calling the Pentagon on my watch. It fucks up the minute hand.”
Bob frowned. “Won’t they be pissed that we’re working with NGO’s on the banned list?”
“Who gives a fuck, as long as the rice riots stop?” Gerard said.
Spencer squirmed until Bob put him down. “Ryan wants to go home,” Spencer announced, but he hadn’t actually been talking to Ryan, so Bob had his doubts.
“Get Mikey on the fucking phone,” Frank said. “Tell him if he hasn’t fixed this by the time we get back, I’m gonna fuck him up.” He glanced at Brendon, who was more and more horrified. “Sorry,” he said. “I mean, uh… Tell him to fix this or else.”
“He’s working on it,” Gerard scowled. “I mean. He’d better be. We’re some shitty babysitters.”
Spencer was hugging Ryan, and Jon was leaning on Spencer’s shoulder. Brendon had been distracted by Frank, who was playing that game where he held his hands out for Brendon to slap and then moved them too fast for Brendon to get him. Brendon was starting a serious giggle fit. “Eh,” said Bob. “Could be worse, I guess.”
\\\
Mikey’s invention looked a lot like the hairdryer, with a remote control soldered to the side, and flashing lights everywhere. “You’re sure that’s gonna work?” Gerard asked for the seventh time.
Mikey shrugged. “Either that,’ he said, “or it’ll turn them into even smaller kids. Or geckos. That’d be sort of cool. We could keep them in a terrarium.”
“We’re not keeping anyone in a terrarium,” said Ray firmly.
Mikey sighed. “Just put them all on the couch. I told me this is gonna work fine, and I wouldn’t lie.”
Brendon had fallen mostly asleep on Ryan, and Ryan wasn’t moving much either. Apparently it was naptime. Spencer climbed up next to Ryan and then looked doubtfully at Bob. “Is this gonna hurt?” he asked, as Mikey pointed the hairdryer at them.
“It better not,” said Bob, giving Mikey a stern look.
Mikey shrugged.
“S’okay,” Jon said reassuringly, taking Spencer’s hand. “I’ve got you.”
“Awwww,” said Gerard, and Frank elbowed him in the side.
“Okay, move the fuck back, the last thing we need is for Gerard to be even older,” Mikey said. Gerard squawked in outrage, but he edged back anyway.
There was a zapping noise and a bright flash of light, and then the kids on the couch were suddenly older and bigger. Not a lot older, Bob couldn’t really believe they were old enough to be on their second album and shit already, but older enough that they looked like their normal weird little selves.
Brendon yawned and blinked. “What the fuck?” he said. “My arm’s all tingly.” He looked over and frowned. “Um, Jon? Are you and Spencer holding hands?”
They were, but Spencer snatched his hand free so quickly there could have been cartoon sound effects. “No,” said Spencer quickly. “Shut the fuck up.”
“We were,” said Jon. “I’m pretty sure. Uh. Hey.” He waved at Gerard and Frank. “That was fucking weird. Did we… Did something just happen?”
“You were preschoolers briefly,” said Gerard. “But you’d better go because you guys have a concert in Philly tonight and you’re gonna be late if you don’t take Mikey’s helicopter.”
Jon blinked. “We were what?” he said. “Is this like when you lost Spencer at Woodstock?”
“We didn’t lose him, we misplaced him, and I found him eventually, didn’t I?” Mikey groused.
“No worries; we’ll show you the pictures later,” Frank said, and started giggling. “I took secret pictures. Lots of them. You were so cute with your widdle faces and your widdle bodies and-”
“He’s kidding, right?” Spencer asked Bob. “He’s not serious?”
“You were this many,” said Gerard, holding up four fingers, and then he and Frank started laughing so hard they almost fell over.
Spencer glowered, and it looked a little like he might try and hit someone, so Ray said quickly, “Up to the roof, guys, helicopter, let’s not have to explain why you’re late, okay? Up, up, up, up.” Brendon pulled Ryan to his feet and Jon offered Spencer a hand, but Spencer went inexplicably red and jumped to his feet, ignoring Jon completely. Bob filed that away under ‘weird.’
Ray and Mikey and Brian walked them out to make sure nothing happened to them on the stairs. (“Jesus, I don’t have any other experimental machines right now, relax!” “I’m just saying, Mikey, we don’t have time for you to turn Spencer into a duck or something.”)
Bob turned to Gerard. “That was a fucked up way to spend the weekend,” he said.
“You loved it,” Gerard replied, sitting down on the couch with Frank. That meant there was probably going to be some groping in a minute, and Bob needed to go get his iPod so he could blast it at top volume and drown out all the noises. “You thought they were adorable.”
“Shut up,” said Bob, who wasn’t going to lie.
“It was okay,” Frank agreed unexpectedly. They both turned to look at him. “I think I liked them better as toddlers. They talked less. It was way less annoying.”
“You were just excited to have someone to play with,” Bob said.
“Yeah, there’s that, too,” Frank agreed, and started licking Gerard.
“Yo, did you really take pictures?” Bob asked.
Frank giggled. “Awww,” he said, “are you gonna miss them?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Bob said, and punched him gently in the shoulder. Then he went into the other room, because Gerard looked pretty determined to climb into Frank’s pants, and there were some things Bob didn’t need to see. Again.
Besides, if maybe he was going to miss them, that was no one’s business but his own.
Summary: Almost a sequel to The Negotiation Limerick File. If you haven’t read that, this will make even LESS sense. One of Mikey's wacky inventions gets used by accident. Mayhem and toddlers ensue.
part one
“So here’s the plan,” said Ray.
Ray always packed an easel in his stuff somewhere; it meant that when they did a full-band briefing he could bust it out and hang blueprints on it. Most of the rest of the time Gerard used it for drying clothes and sometimes hanging art-in-progress. The pointer, though, that was new. Ray smacked it against the easel a couple of times until Frank stopped yawning and looked properly attentive.
“Obviously Mikey won’t be coming with us,” said Ray. “He’s busy trying to undo the damage he did last night.”
“I heard that,” Mikey yelled from the next room. “And I still don’t care. Pete thinks it’s hilarious.”
“Stop telling Pete our secrets!” Gerard yelled back crossly, and Frank patted his leg.
Ray cleared his throat and glared until everyone on the couch settled down. Frank yawned, a big asshole yawn, just to annoy him, so Bob smacked him in the side.
“Originally, we were going to have handle security while they took care of the handoff, but that’s not going to work at this point, for obvious reasons. And one of us will have to stay here and babysit, assuming Mikey still hasn’t fixed what he fucked up.”
“I’m working on it!”
“So. Three of us. Thoughts?”
Mostly Bob thought it was fucking impossible. They could get into the building, but without a distraction they couldn’t get to the hand-off location. Mikey had some intel that they were expected, and there might be some nasty characters waiting for them.
“We could,” Gerard started. “We could build a hot air balloon, okay, and then -”
“We can’t build a hot air balloon,” said Ray.
Gerard looked sad. “But if we could do that-” he started
“Which we can’t.”
Frank raised his hand. “We should call Schechter,” he said.
“You know Brian’s busy handling the climate change crisis,” Ray frowned.
Frank rolled his eyes. “I mean, we should call Schechter to babysit, so we’re freed up to have four of us at the UN building today.”
Ray blinked in surprise. “That’s… Hey. That’s not a bad idea, Frank.”
“Duh. I only have good ideas.” Frank giggled like a hyena and draped himself on Gerard. “Right? Right, Gee? Right?”
There was some gross kissage starting up at that end of the couch, so Bob resolutely looked the other way. “Shit,” he said. “Uh. How long have you been up?”
Spencer was standing there, sniffling sleepily and looking up at him with - Jesus, had that kids’ eyes always been so big? “I’na help,” he said, yawning.
“No,” said Bob.
Spencer’s usual murderous glare at being thwarted was tempered by also being the cutest fucking thing on earth. “But I’m good at it!”
“You’re good at it when you’re twenty. You’re four, Spencer. No. What if you got hurt?”
“I’m not Brendon. I’m not gonna cry,” Spencer scowled.
Bob apparently had little-kid instincts, so he grabbed Spencer and pulled him up on his lap. “I’m not worried about you crying,” he said. “I’m worried about you getting hurt.”
Gerard’s eyes lit up, which never boded well for anyone. “Crying!” he said, shoving Frank’s hand out of his jeans.
“What about it?” If it looked like Bob was hugging Spencer that was a mistake; Bob had a protective arm around the kid, in case he was part of Gerard’s deranged scheme.
Gerard rubbed his hands together like a mad scientist. “What if, right, what if we get Schechter to come with? And he brings the kids? So instead of sneaking in, we just walk in. And when we get near the drop-off point, bam! Crying!”
“Make them the distraction?” Ray said. “But… They’re kids.”
“Only sorta,” said Frank.
“Can they cry on cue?” Ray asked.
Bob sighed. It was a bad fucking idea, and if any of them got hurt he’d never forgive himself. But what they were doing for world hunger was also a pretty big deal. “Brendon can,” he said. “I saw him do it last night.”
“Brendon likes making a scene,” Spencer agreed. He was leaning on Bob, and he smelled like a little kid - crayons and french fries and baby powder, except that was impossible - and maybe Bob had to rethink this whole kid thing. Like, he’d always figured Alicia and Mikey would have kids first. It made sense, because Alicia was from the future, and she already knew they were going to have kids, so why bother waiting? But now Bob was thinking it was sort of nice having someone tiny and warm on his lap, and if he could get one like Spencer - grumpy and a little surly, but also independent and adorable - it might be worth looking into.
“I don’t know, guys,” said Ray. “Are we really gonna endanger kids?”
“Five of us including Schechter, four of them,” said Frank. “That’s zone defense! We get to the hand off, Brendon throws a fit, everyone comes around to check on the poor baby, Bob sneaks off to get the stuff, by the time he gets back we’ve taken them all home. I mean, it relies on Bob not fucking up -” Bob smacked him. “-But otherwise what’s the danger? That leaves four of us to keep an eye out for unsavory types and cameras.”
Ray frowned. “They’re important, remember? What if something goes wrong? What if one of them gets hurt? What if we lose one of them?”
“So only bring Brendon,” Frank offered.
“No,” said Spencer immediately, sitting up.
Gerard sighed, “And if Spencer goes, you know Ryan’s going to insist on going, too, and then what, we leave Jon here alone?”
“They’re little,” Frank said, voice dripping disdain. “Who cares what Spencer wants? We can put him in the closet or something.”
Spencer considered him for a long minute, and then leaned over and very deliberately bit Frank. Hard.
“Owww, motherfucker!” howled Frank, jumping to his feet.
“Language!” said Ray sharply.
“He bit me!”
“I’m coming with you,” Spencer said, scowling. He turned his head suddenly. “Ryan’s up,” he said.
Bob wondered if Mikey had invented anything yet that would test Spencer and Ryan for telepathy. “Okay,” he said. “You’re coming, too. But if any of you does anything we tell you not to, or anything happens, we’re bringing you straight back here, no arguing. Clear?”
“We didn’t take an official vote,” Gerard complained. “Ray! Bob’s subverting the democratic process again.”
Ray rolled his eyes. “Hands up who’s down with the new plan?” he asked. Everyone raised their hands except Frank, who had his hand in his mouth, sucking on the place where Spencer’d bit him.
“Me, too,” yelled Mikey. “Get them out of here, give me some peace. I think I can rig something up with the hairdryer, if I can get ten minutes of quiet.”
“Breakfast first,” said Ray. They all looked at him, and he crossed his arms defensively. “Little kids can’t go anywhere until they have a healthy breakfast!” he said, voice even higher than usual.
Bob looked at Spencer. “You like coffee, kid?” Spencer made a face. “I think we’re gonna have to take them down to the hotel brunch thing.”
“Great,” Frank mumbled. “That’ll end well.”
\\\
They got a table near the buffet. Brendon was still mostly asleep, with his head down on the table. That was basically how regular Brendon acted first thing in the morning, so Bob wasn’t worried. Jon kept trying to steal coffee - and insisting he was the only one old enough to have it - and Ryan and Spencer were having a very serious whispered conversation that Bob couldn’t hear.
Frank and Ray had refused to come down with the kids, because they were jackasses. Gerard had come with him, even though Frank kept yelling that they were too recognizable. Gerard mostly ignored perfectly sensible advice like that. Who, he asked, was going to be awake this early who also went to a lot of concerts?
So far so good. The kids were behaving themselves, and Gerard was communing with his coffee on a deep, spiritual level that kept him from scaring the few people in the hotel sitting around the brunch room.
Jon nudged Brendon’s shoulder. “Come get waffles with me,” he said.
Brendon flopped a little like a landed fish and shook his head.
“Brennnndon,” Jon wheedled. “There’s strawberries and whipped cream and chocolate chips and powdered sugar to go on top.”
Jon, Bob thought sourly, hid a lot of evil under his normally mellow face. “That’s not a good idea,” he said.
Brendon sat up. “Really?” he said. He looked at Bob. “Can we?”
Bob figured Brendon’s sugar rush was his own problem, or would be in a few hours, when he was a normal-sized person again. Not that Brendon was ever really a normal size, but whatever. “I guess,” he said. “One.”
Brendon made a high-pitched squealing noise and almost fell off his chair. He ran over to the buffet with Jon hot on his heels, probably trying to get him to eat things that would get him even more wound up.
“We want pancakes,” Spencer announced, and Bob figured that wasn’t the royal we, it was him and Ryan.
“’Kay,” he said, and shrugged. How much trouble could they possibly get in just getting pancakes? They’d still be in plain sight. He turned to Gerard. “You really think Mikey can fix this today?” he said.
Gerard rolled his eyes. “If he doesn’t, we’re kind of fucked,” he said. “I don’t know how much Schechter can cover up.”
“People are going to notice if Panic stop showing up to their own concerts,” Bob agreed.
“They might not notice if kids show up, though,” Gerard mused. Bob gave him a look. “I’m just saying, they’re still in high school or something anyway, right?”
“I think they’re older than that.”
“But like… Barely.”
“Gerard. Just because you’re freaked out about turning thirty-one-”
Gerard made a strangled noise and grabbed a cigarette. “It’s young, okay?” he said, getting a little squeaky. “It is totally young!”
Bob didn’t roll his eyes, but only because he had tons of practice not rolling his eyes at Gerard.
There was a huge, rattling crash by the buffet. Gerard and Bob both stood up automatically. It wasn’t Brendon, like Bob had mostly expected; it was Ryan whose plate had slipped out of his hands, and who was standing next to a bunch of plate shards and a pile of ruined pancakes on the floor. Spencer was around the corner, or he’d already have been between Ryan and the large, angry man with the obvious hangover who was turning around to yell at him.
As soon as the man opened his mouth - “What are you doing, you got that shit all over my pants!” - Ryan shrank in on himself. Bob was ready to vault the table. What the fuck was the point of knowing twenty ways to kill a man if you didn’t use them to kill assholes who yelled at little kids? But Gerard was already there, magically between Ryan and the guy, and he had his lecture face on.
“Are you kidding?” Gerard started. Gerard didn’t need to breathe when he was lecturing at someone, but he did need to gesticulate, and he was getting coffee everywhere wit his crazy hands. “Pants can be washed; children’s emotional stability needs to be nurtured! Do you think he did it on purpose? Are you just being an asshole?”
Ryan had been on the brink of tears, giant eyes and hands pressed over his mouth. He edged forward so he could cling to Gerard’s jeans like a physical shield. “I was just-” the man started.
Gerard wasn’t close to being finished. He took a deep breath and Bob tuned him out.
Brendon was mostly back over to the table, but he was wavering between running back over to defend Ryan and sitting down to eat his mountain of sugar. “Sit,” Bob ordered, pulling Brendon into a chair. “Eat. Gerard’s handling this.” Brendon nodded reluctantly.
“-And that’s just one way that failing to nurture all children is going to come back and haunt our society!” Gerard was yelling. Ryan as an adult had always looked at Gerard Way with a certain amount of hilarious hero worship - Brendon said it was something about the way Gerard used eyeliner - but the look on little Ryan’s face was breathtaking. That was love, Bob was pretty sure.
Eventually Gerard wound down, or at least the guy looked shamed enough to mumble an apology and run away. “I need a cigarette,” Gerard muttered, and went storming outside. Spencer had new plates for him and Ryan, and pulled him over to the table.
“You okay?” Bob asked. If Ryan couldn’t handle strangers at the hotel, how was he going to handle actually going out into public?
Ryan nodded. “Gerard’s loud,” he almost-whispered, but he sounded a little awed when he said it.
“I’m loud, too!” Brendon volunteered, in case anyone was wondering. He was also covered in melted chocolate and maple syrup. Bob grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe him off, but he was coated in stickiness up to his elbows.
Something in Bob’s head pinged, and he did a headcount. “You guys,” he said. “Where the hell is Jon?”
Spencer looked around. “He was over there,” he said, pointing toward the door.
Bob swore like a maniac under his breath. “He wouldn’t go outside by himself, right?” he said. “Spencer?”
Spencer considered. “He said that you’re treating him like a baby.”
“He fucking… Fuck!” said Bob, standing up.
Brendon stared at him. “You’re not supposed to swear!” he said, clearly outraged.
“Sorry,” Bob said. “Spence, can you keep these two here and under control?”
Spencer nodded seriously. Sure, he was four, but he was by far the most sensible kid Bob had ever encountered. “Be right back,” said Bob, and ran for the door.
He didn’t quite make it; Brian walked in, holding Jon by the arm. They hadn’t told Brian what was going on, exactly, just that they needed him to stop by and that something was up with Panic. Brian had the same face on he got when Gerard decided that they were going to steal thermonuclear weapons, or dyed his hair white. Perplexed and annoyed and a little worried that it was going to cost the band a lot of money.
“This,” said Brian, pointing to Jon, “Had better not be what I think it is.”
“Uh,” said Bob, looking around. There weren’t that many other people in the room, and mostly they were still reeling from Gerard’s lecture. “Do you maybe think that Mikey accidentally turned Panic into toddlers?”
Brian blanched. “Something like that, but I was hoping… How come this one was outside?”
“He made a break for it,” Bob said grimly, giving Jon a stern look. “But he’s gonna knock that shit off if he wants to come with us on this mission.”
Jon scuffed his sneaker on the floor. “I’m six,” he complained. “I’m not a baby like them.”
“Then don’t run away like a baby,” said Bob. “Or you can’t come with us.”
“’M sorry,” Jon mumbled, sounding not sorry at all.
Brian gave Bob his most horrified look. “How long?” he said.
“About twelve hours, now,” said Bob. “It’s… been exciting.”
Behind them, Brendon yelled, “Oooh, look! A piano!”
“Fuck,” said Bob succinctly. Jon giggled.
\\\
The ticket seller at the UN was a nice young woman with her hair in a bun and no idea who My Chemical Romance were. On the other hand, she took one look at Brendon - all cleaned up and beaming at her with his best Hi, Stranger, Please Love Me smile - and cooed, “Oh, how precious,” and they all got tickets for half price.
Bob was in charge of Spencer, so he’d expected to have Ryan by default, but Ryan was still watching Gerard with his giant eyes, following him around like a tiny duckling. Gerard hadn’t really noticed, but when Ray nudged him, Gerard shrugged and took Ryan’s hand. Ryan looked like he might swoon.
Any time they didn’t have a firm hold on Brendon he started running around and introducing himself to people, which was probably a bad idea. Ray swung Brendon up on his shoulders where it seemed unlikely he could do much damage. Brian had Jon firmly by the hand. Threatening Jon hadn’t done any good, but telling him they were counting on him had calmed him down a lot, especially when Bob pointed out that they needed him to keep an eye on Spencer.
“The signal,” Spencer whispered, tugging on Bob’s hand. When they got to the right spot on the tour, he was going to start coughing, and then the boys were going to throw the biggest possible fit. Brendon was ecstatic over getting to scream and cry as loudly as he wanted.
“Not yet,” Bob whispered back.
Spencer was fiercely determined to help, but he was also four; the tour was long and people were talking and there were lots of big crowds. He got bored pretty quickly and wandered back to talk to Ryan; the two of them giggled and whispered, while Brendon yelled, “What? What?” from Ray’s shoulder, and squirmed until Ray put him down. Jon appeared to be talking Brian into… Something. Clearly Jon had untapped depths that Bob was going to have to figure out how to exploit just as soon as he was big again.
When they got to the right hallway Bob turned around and gave Gerard their standard signal. Gerard nodded and nudged Frank with his hip. Bob didn’t worry about letting Ray know; Ray actually paid attention during this kind of shit. And then Bob started coughing.
He’d been worried the kids wouldn’t notice, but as soon as Bob cleared his throat he heard a familiar wail. Brendon threw himself on the floor, looking for all the world like Ryan had tripped him. “Owwwww!” he howled, “My kneeeee! You! Did! That! On! Purpose!”
Not to be outdone, Ryan promptly burst into tears of his own, quiet but just as devastating because he looked guilty and tragic and heartbroken. The whole tour stopped, and every parent in the group sighed sympathetically.
Bob knew a cue when he saw one. He let the group move around him to get closer to the kids, and four steps backwards he was around the corner into a highly restricted area. This way he was actually a lot closer to where he needed to be than with the whole break-and-enter plan, but it was also riskier. There were way more cameras and chances to get caught. Luckily, Bob was basically a ninja, and he had the blueprints for the whole building in his head; he headed down the hall, third door on the left, knock the secret knock, and the door slipped open. “Vampires will never hurt you,” muttered someone, and handed Bob a piece of paper, which he stuck in his pocket to read later - it would all be in code anyway - and hurried back. “Too easy,” he whispered to Ray, who nodded.
They hadn’t even moved; Brendon was still sobbing on the floor and half the grownups in the group were trying to console him, while the tour guide and the rest of them were trying to talk Ryan down from a silent, hysterical fit.
“Oh,” the poor tour guide was saying, “These poor babies.” She knew she was supposed to be moving the tour on, but she wasn’t immune to Brendon’s ridiculously pouty face, or Ryan’s trembling lip.
Another tour guide appeared out of nowhere. “Maybe we should take the family to another room to let the children calm down,” he offered smoothly. “While the rest of the tour moves on?”
“Oh, no, that’s cool,” said Schechter, but the guy was already shooing Spencer and Jon down a side hallway, and that was enough to make Ryan and Brendon run after them, so the grownups didn’t have a lot of choices except to follow. The guy had his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, pushing him, and if he didn’t move it, he was going to lose it when Bob ripped his arm out of his socket.
They went around a corner in a hallway that was awfully empty, and the tour guide opened a door. Spencer stopped dead in the doorway and said, “No,” really clearly. Bob immediately felt for the gun he wasn’t carrying.
The tour guide gave Spencer a little shove, and Jon yelled, “Stop that! but the guy still had Spencer by the arm. Bob was close enough to see what Spencer had seen; there was a man in that room, and he was holding a gun. Well. Fuck.
Gerard and Frank looked at Ray, and Ray looked at Bob. Bob said, “Not with the kids around.” He didn’t want anyone to get killed in front of impressionable toddlers. As long as they weren’t actually about to get shot, he planned to handle it as quietly as possible. Plus, there were probably more guys lurking somewhere. They tended to lurk. It was one of the most annoying things about counter-espionage.
“Did you really think you could come in here unnoticed?” asked the man with the gun.
“Guttierez!” yelled Gerard. “You son of a bitch.”
“We meet again,” said Guttierez. Bob knew they’d thwarted the guy a couple of times before, but he wasn’t really clear on when. It might have been the thing in Venezuela, with the rockets, or it might have been the thing in Australia with the nuclear fission device. Either way, the guy was probably looking to get back at them for some seriously hurt feelings. “Bryar’s going to give me whatever he just received, and no one will get hurt.” He looked pointedly at the kids.
If the tour guide didn’t let go of Spencer’s arm soon, Bob was going to throw subtlety out the window and kill everyone in sight. The guy was holding it too tightly, and at an awkward angle, so Spencer was kind of dragged up sideways. So far he hadn’t said anything, he was just looking at Bob calmly, like… Well, he was waiting for a signal, obviously, and that was a pretty awesome thing for a kid to do. Bob glanced over at the rest of them. Ryan was watching Spencer, and Jon was trying to edge closer to Spencer, but Brendon was looking expectantly at Bob. Bob tended to forget that Brendon was actually sort of good at this stuff, in his own totally ridiculous way.
“How about this,” Gerard said. “You back the fuck off and let us go, and we won’t fucking kill any of you.”
“How about this,” Guttierez replied. “I’ll start by shooting the biggest one, and go in size order.” He pointed his gun at Jon.
“No!” Spencer yelled, and bit the guy who was holding him by the arm.
Bob moved pretty fucking fast when he needed to. Guttierez had a gun, and then he didn’t, because Bob had taken it away from him, and also punched him in the fucking face. The other guy lost his hold on Spencer, because Brendon elbowed him in the crotch.
Bob tossed Ray the gun, and Ray started in on his standard speech. “Are you fucking kidding? Call your guys and tell them to back the fuck off; we’re walking out of here. No funny business, either, because we don’t negotiate with dumb fucks who threaten kids.” Brian used the tour guide’s tie to tie the guy up.
The kids were sort of huddled together in the middle of the room. Bob considered for a second, and then picked Spencer up. “You okay?” he asked. “Did he hurt your arm? Want me to kill him?”
Spencer shook his head. “I’m okay,” he said. And then he paused and leaned in to whisper, “It was scary when he wanted to hurt Jon.”
“Yeah?” Bob asked. “Nobody gets to hurt Jon. Don’t worry about it. You did a good job.”
“Me, too, I did a good job too!” Brendon said, tugging on Bob’s jeans.
“You were totally kick ass,” Frank agreed, leaning down to high-five Brendon.
Brendon slapped his hand, but shook his head. “You’re not supposed to swear,” he chided Frank.
Guttierez was on the phone; as soon as he hung up Ray announced, “I’m sick of this shit,” and slammed the guy’s head into the wall. Guttierez went limp and slid down to the floor. Bob gave Ray a look. “What?” Ray asked crossly. “He pointed a gun at a toddler. Fuck him.”
“Safe passage out,” said Gerard. “What about that?”
“I got it under control,” Brian said. “The good guys are on their way to clean up this little mess. That fucking paper better be worth it, though. I hate calling the Pentagon on my watch. It fucks up the minute hand.”
Bob frowned. “Won’t they be pissed that we’re working with NGO’s on the banned list?”
“Who gives a fuck, as long as the rice riots stop?” Gerard said.
Spencer squirmed until Bob put him down. “Ryan wants to go home,” Spencer announced, but he hadn’t actually been talking to Ryan, so Bob had his doubts.
“Get Mikey on the fucking phone,” Frank said. “Tell him if he hasn’t fixed this by the time we get back, I’m gonna fuck him up.” He glanced at Brendon, who was more and more horrified. “Sorry,” he said. “I mean, uh… Tell him to fix this or else.”
“He’s working on it,” Gerard scowled. “I mean. He’d better be. We’re some shitty babysitters.”
Spencer was hugging Ryan, and Jon was leaning on Spencer’s shoulder. Brendon had been distracted by Frank, who was playing that game where he held his hands out for Brendon to slap and then moved them too fast for Brendon to get him. Brendon was starting a serious giggle fit. “Eh,” said Bob. “Could be worse, I guess.”
\\\
Mikey’s invention looked a lot like the hairdryer, with a remote control soldered to the side, and flashing lights everywhere. “You’re sure that’s gonna work?” Gerard asked for the seventh time.
Mikey shrugged. “Either that,’ he said, “or it’ll turn them into even smaller kids. Or geckos. That’d be sort of cool. We could keep them in a terrarium.”
“We’re not keeping anyone in a terrarium,” said Ray firmly.
Mikey sighed. “Just put them all on the couch. I told me this is gonna work fine, and I wouldn’t lie.”
Brendon had fallen mostly asleep on Ryan, and Ryan wasn’t moving much either. Apparently it was naptime. Spencer climbed up next to Ryan and then looked doubtfully at Bob. “Is this gonna hurt?” he asked, as Mikey pointed the hairdryer at them.
“It better not,” said Bob, giving Mikey a stern look.
Mikey shrugged.
“S’okay,” Jon said reassuringly, taking Spencer’s hand. “I’ve got you.”
“Awwww,” said Gerard, and Frank elbowed him in the side.
“Okay, move the fuck back, the last thing we need is for Gerard to be even older,” Mikey said. Gerard squawked in outrage, but he edged back anyway.
There was a zapping noise and a bright flash of light, and then the kids on the couch were suddenly older and bigger. Not a lot older, Bob couldn’t really believe they were old enough to be on their second album and shit already, but older enough that they looked like their normal weird little selves.
Brendon yawned and blinked. “What the fuck?” he said. “My arm’s all tingly.” He looked over and frowned. “Um, Jon? Are you and Spencer holding hands?”
They were, but Spencer snatched his hand free so quickly there could have been cartoon sound effects. “No,” said Spencer quickly. “Shut the fuck up.”
“We were,” said Jon. “I’m pretty sure. Uh. Hey.” He waved at Gerard and Frank. “That was fucking weird. Did we… Did something just happen?”
“You were preschoolers briefly,” said Gerard. “But you’d better go because you guys have a concert in Philly tonight and you’re gonna be late if you don’t take Mikey’s helicopter.”
Jon blinked. “We were what?” he said. “Is this like when you lost Spencer at Woodstock?”
“We didn’t lose him, we misplaced him, and I found him eventually, didn’t I?” Mikey groused.
“No worries; we’ll show you the pictures later,” Frank said, and started giggling. “I took secret pictures. Lots of them. You were so cute with your widdle faces and your widdle bodies and-”
“He’s kidding, right?” Spencer asked Bob. “He’s not serious?”
“You were this many,” said Gerard, holding up four fingers, and then he and Frank started laughing so hard they almost fell over.
Spencer glowered, and it looked a little like he might try and hit someone, so Ray said quickly, “Up to the roof, guys, helicopter, let’s not have to explain why you’re late, okay? Up, up, up, up.” Brendon pulled Ryan to his feet and Jon offered Spencer a hand, but Spencer went inexplicably red and jumped to his feet, ignoring Jon completely. Bob filed that away under ‘weird.’
Ray and Mikey and Brian walked them out to make sure nothing happened to them on the stairs. (“Jesus, I don’t have any other experimental machines right now, relax!” “I’m just saying, Mikey, we don’t have time for you to turn Spencer into a duck or something.”)
Bob turned to Gerard. “That was a fucked up way to spend the weekend,” he said.
“You loved it,” Gerard replied, sitting down on the couch with Frank. That meant there was probably going to be some groping in a minute, and Bob needed to go get his iPod so he could blast it at top volume and drown out all the noises. “You thought they were adorable.”
“Shut up,” said Bob, who wasn’t going to lie.
“It was okay,” Frank agreed unexpectedly. They both turned to look at him. “I think I liked them better as toddlers. They talked less. It was way less annoying.”
“You were just excited to have someone to play with,” Bob said.
“Yeah, there’s that, too,” Frank agreed, and started licking Gerard.
“Yo, did you really take pictures?” Bob asked.
Frank giggled. “Awww,” he said, “are you gonna miss them?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Bob said, and punched him gently in the shoulder. Then he went into the other room, because Gerard looked pretty determined to climb into Frank’s pants, and there were some things Bob didn’t need to see. Again.
Besides, if maybe he was going to miss them, that was no one’s business but his own.