Fic: Fierce| Fashion AU| NC 17| Part I
Fic: Fierce
Author: ficsoreal
Pairings: Mikey/Ryan, Brendon/Spencer, Pete/Patrick, Gerard/Frank
Rating: NC 17
Words: 15466
Summary: Fashion World!AU. All our favorite boys have jobs in the world of fashion.
Notes: This story comes before Fierce Outtake. I finally decided that I wasn't going to do anything more with it. This story is ridiculous and implausible. For those of you that still remember the outtake , enjoy. :)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No profit is being made.
Mikey Way was so over standing around for hours with his ass hanging out; he shifted his weight to the left and tried to stretch his back subtly.
Gerard smacked him and Mikey sighed, put upon and stopped moving. Gerard mumbled something around a mouth full of clothing pins that he couldn't quite understand, but Mikey was pretty sure his brother was telling him to stop fucking fidgeting. Mikey stood (relatively still) in the middle of a large room with paint splashed walls, strewn with reams of dark fabric and littered with the half dressed bodies of soulless mannequins. He rolled his feet, trying to ease out the swollen feeling and glanced at the clock on the opposite wall; hours had passed. Gerard had been taking measurements and adjusting sketches for the better part of the day, taking ruthless advantage of Mikey's placid nature and the fact that Mikey lived with him. Mikey wondered exactly when he had become Gerard’s own personal dress up doll. He moved again, trying to find a more comfortable spot even though comfort had obviously left the building three hours ago, around the same time that Gerard had lost his mind. “How much longer is this going to take? I have to do a fitting for Pete in two hours. A fitting that I’m going to actually get paid for.” It wasn’t like his brother didn’t pay him for his work, no, it was more like Gee just paid him when he remembered to which happened randomly and with low frequency, but even that really didn’t matter since they shared a bank account. Mikey spent whatever money he wanted to without ever asking permission and it usually worked pretty well for the both of them since Gerard never spent any money and had a separate business account for fabric, shows, employees and other business related expenses.
Gerard grunted at him irritably and tugged at the waist band of the black…well, Mikey wasn’t exactly sure what it was that his brother was fitting him with. He would probably call it a skirt if someone asked him. He looked down at the top of Gee’s tousled head and the scrap of fabric he was fiddling with and decided skirt, definitely a skirt. He hoped that no one would have the opportunity to ask him personally. He tried to shift his weight back to his right side without interrupting Gee's alterations but obviously failed miserably because Gerard growled, “Mikey,” at him, pins twitching erratically in his lopsided mouth.
He went still instantly, apologizing sullenly, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? You’ve had me standing in this one spot for hours, Gee. My feet are killing me.” Mikey hated when Gerard managed to reduce him to whining because it always reminded him that he was the younger brother.
Gerard patted his bony hip placating, quick to anger, quicker to forgive. “One more pin, Mikey. There.” Gerard stood up and stepped back, looking at him with a critical eye, hair standing up in crazy black spikes with a line creasing his forehead. “I think it needs to be shorter.” He put the tip of his index finger into his mouth and started worrying at the already ragged nail while staring vacantly at the 'skirt'.
Mikey looked down; he could see most of his thighs already. His totally hairy thighs, bony man thighs. “Is this supposed to be a miniskirt? Because I want you to know right now that I’m not shaving my legs to wear this thing on the runway.” Gerard nodded absently in agreement but Mikey could tell he wasn’t even listening to him anymore. He had moved away to stand hunched over his sketch pad on a nearby table making alterations to the original design, making it shorter. Mikey rubbed a hand over his face tiredly; he was so going to end up shaving his legs for the runway, he just knew it. “Gee, can I go now?” Gerard flapped a charcoal smudged hand at him impatiently, probably to demand quiet, but Mikey took it as permission to leave and left quickly before Gee could change his mind or correct his assumption.
Mikey didn’t really remember precisely how he became a model; it was never one of his life goals or anything. Mikey had been awkward and nearly blind for so long that the thought of being a model had never crossed his mind and if someone would have suggested it, he would have laughed in their stupid faces. Mikey was more likely to fall off the end of a runway after tripping over his own two feet than strike a pose, but he didn’t need to remember exactly how it happened to know that it involved Gerard like almost everything else in his life. One day he was innocently visiting his big brother and being bullied into trying on prototypes for outfits that he would never dream of wearing in public, the next he was walking down a runway, being leered at by bored housewives, young starlets and Pete, wearing skimpy clothes from the House of Way.
Mikey pulled off his long grey peacoat and handed it to one of the many beautiful assistants that were always scurrying around Pete’s studio, Clandestine. Pete liked to surround himself with pretty things, so everyone from the janitors to the coffee fetchers were more than pleasant to look at. When Mikey found Pete standing apart from all the mayhem that he had no doubt set out to create, the dark haired man was talking with another male model. Pete was dressed in his usual jumble of bright colors and complex patterns that made Gerard moan and shake his head sadly before wondering out loud about the future of the fashion world. Nothing out of the ordinary about Pete, but. Mikey squinted, a habit left over from his days of wearing glasses, but the squinting was even more useless than usual, because squinting didn’t bring the guy standing next to Pete into any clearer focus in Mikey’s mind. The model had to be new to the scene because Mikey didn’t recognize him from any magazines or runway shows or even from any of the open castings Gerard was always holding trying to find the next big thing, that unknown, aspiring model that had IT. The model looked very young and fresh and was dressed in a decidedly foreign flavor. Definitely younger than Mikey with soft, delicate features and beautiful hands. Mikey tugged nervously at the bottom of his black and white striped shirt, self conscious in a way that he thought he had finally grown out of. Pete spotted him out the corner of his eye and instantly, a huge, slightly manic grin lit the shorter man’s face.
“Mikey Way! One of my absolutely favorite models. Come here, you beautiful boy, and let me introduce you to the next superstar of the runway.” Mikey shuffled forward until he was within Pete’s reach and Pete drug him in the rest of the way. “Mikey Way, meet Ryan Ross.”
Ryan Ross. Ryan Ross was wearing pin stripped, pencil slacks with a white collared shirt, lovingly layered with an intricate vest that featured crimson rosettes. Mikey didn’t know what to think about Ryan’s sense of style but his face was beyond beautiful, young boyish features that belied the look in his big eyes. Ryan put his hand out and Mikey shook it gingerly; he wasn’t big on touching people that weren’t in his immediate circle of friends and family. The younger man was watching him with curious brown eyes and Ryan asked, “Mikey Way of the House of Way? Gerard Way’s little brother?”
Pete laughed his loud braying laugh with his head thrown back, shaggy hair trailing over his shoulder; he smiled hugely at Ryan’s question. “The very same. Some lucky people like Mikey here don’t have to sleep their way to the top and that’s a shame for us perverts lurking in the shadows. Truly a loss that affects the worst of us.” Pete sighed dramatically. “As much as Mikey's life of independent means saddens me, we must move forward, Ryan. That’s what fashion is about, moving forward. And I, unlike Gerard, intend to keep up with it.” He pressed a quick kiss to Mikey’s cheek. “No offense, Mikey. You know I love your brother, but all black all the time is so boring, you know? Anyway, enough of that, let me tell you what I was thinking about for the fall collection.”
Mikey didn’t bother to protest Pete’s slur against his brother’s vision because he heard some variation of it from Pete every time they were in each other’s presence. Plus, Gerard could fight his own battles most of the time and his brother’s continuing feud with Pete delighted Gerard’s artistically violent little heart. He simply turned to follow Pete deeper into the studio and even though Ryan didn’t try to engage him in conversation, he was very aware of Ryan’s gaze resting heavily on him and the grace of his slim body walking confidently along beside him.
It wasn’t that Gerard and Pete didn’t like each other…it was more that they pretended to dislike each other and bickered endlessly. Gerard fancied himself to be a protective big brother (even though Mikey had headed off more trouble for his brother than Gerard knew) and Pete stood just a little too close to Mikey for Gerard’s comfort. So, yes, Gerard was wary of Pete's intentions, but Mikey had heard Gerard defend Pete to outsiders one too many times to but much stock in his supposed 'hate' of the other designer. Pete, on the other hand, flat out adored Gerard. Pete loved the way Gerard’s lips twisted when Pete kissed Mikey on the mouth, loved the way the bright colors of Clandestine made Gerard’s eyes water and he really enjoyed sending Gerard into massive flails by questioning his vision in magazine articles for everyone to read. Mikey maybe found it all a little amusing and that was the main reason he worked almost exclusively with his brother and Pete, not because he was a bipolar diva like Vogue claimed. Gerard didn’t understand Mikey and Pete’s close friendship but he never pressed the issue. He respected Mikey’s right to choose his own friends or at least he did after that last horrible fight that had nearly resulted in Mikey moving out of their shared condo.
Gerard was on the phone when Mikey made it back from his fitting for Pete. That was a sight that was becoming more and more familiar these days and from the snippets of conversation he overheard as he walked by to settle on the couch, Gerard was talking to Frank. Frank, the reason for Gerard finding the will and motivation to put aside his aversion to communicating with almost anyone directly; he usually preferred to have a representative handle the press, the suppliers, the accounts, everyone except Frank. Gerard wanted to handle Frank personally. Mikey smiled to himself. He didn’t know Frank all that well, no one actually seemed to know Frank or what he did or where he lived or if he was some kind of convict. Frank had shown up one day in their apartment complex and knocked Gerard down in the hall when Frank had taken a blind corner just a little too fast and the two collided. Frank was around a lot more frequently after that little incident. Frank appeared to be decent enough guy on the surface, at least. He certainly seemed to like Gerard a lot and Gerard liked him which definitely endeared him to Mikey. On some days, Mikey was sure the two of them were dating, on others like when Gee was whining about not getting laid, Mikey figured they were just good friends. Their relationship or lack of relationship made Gerard happier than he had been in years and that was all that mattered in Mikey’s mind. So, he usually just shrugged the issue off and went about his own lonely business.
Gerard drifted by Mikey, one hand waving crazily through the air in front of him. “I was thinking about doing black on black with silver accents.” Mikey’s not close enough to hear Frank’s reply but Gerard scowls at the innocent phone darkly. “No, I don’t think pink is the new black. Black is black.” Mikey shook his head. It was also apparently Frank’s mission in life to make Gerard crazier than he already was. He wondered if Pete knew Frank because they would probably like each other a lot.
Mikey let his thoughts drift back to earlier in the day, drift back to Ryan Ross. They barely spoke to each other, busy with alterations and changes of clothes, but the new guy had managed to make a lasting impression on him. He closed his eyes and Ryan’s perfect likeness appeared immediately like it was etched on his eyelids. Ryan had beautiful everything but it was his hands that caught and held Mikey’s attention, long, tapered fingers and manicured nails. God, Mikey appreciated manicured fingernails, ragged nails in sensitive places did not feel good. Mmmmm, sensitive places, Mikey let his legs spread, sinking deeper into the plush couch, in the background, he heard the distinct click of a phone call being terminated. He hummed a little when he felt Gerard sit down beside him.
Gerard leaned over and laid his head on Mikey’s shoulder. It was like his default position or something around Mikey, like being in close proximity to Mikey made his head suddenly too heavy to hold up on his on and Mikey had to share in the burden. Gerard asked, “How was Pete?”
Mikey smiled a little. “Do you really care?”
Gerard pinched him on the side maliciously before rubbing the tiny prick of pain away. “Of course, I care. I care because when he causes the apocalypse or when it comes out that he sold his soul to the devil, I want to be able to say, ‘I told you so.’ I heard he has a new boy, a client of Spencer’s. Did you meet him? What’s he like?”
Mikey squinted at him. He hadn’t known that Ryan was a client of Spencer’s and just how did Gerard know when he didn’t? Gerard hadn’t even met the guy and for someone that didn’t like talking to people, Gee was sure knew a lot about almost everything. Ray, his assistant/best friend/super spy must have told him over breakfast…while Mikey was still in bed tired from a long night of strutting his stuff on the CatWalk. Seriously, the CatWalk. He had volunteered to be the headlining model at a charity benefit fashion show being hosted by his favorite animal activist, Andy. Andy had a flair for the dramatic, an almost disturbing number of tattoos and a serious love of big cats. Mikey had to scrub his face for almost an hour after the show to get the painted on whiskers off. Gerard was looking at him, patiently waiting for Mikey to answer his barrage of questions. Why did Gerard want to know about Ryan any way? Something was up. He squinted some more and asked, “Are you trying to steal Pete’s model?” It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had tried to pull a stunt like that, probably wouldn’t be the last.
Instead of answering right away, Gerard said, “Stop squinting, you’re going to get wrinkles and no one wants that,” and then belatedly, “No.” Gerard didn’t even look like he believed that he was telling Mikey the truth.
Mikey decided to give him the benefit of the doubt more out of the goodness of his enormous heart than because he actually believed him and answered Gerard’s slightly suspicious questions, “Yes, I met him. His name is Ryan Ross and yes, he’s everything you’ve heard and more.” And he loves your style and will probably try to use me to get to you sometime in the near future and I won’t even care as long as I get to kiss him. Sometimes pride had to be sacrificed in the pursuit of one's desires aka Ryan Ross.
Gerard frowned at his slightly snippy tone because Gee was sensitive to tones. He said that they were like colors and no one knew more about colors than him which was hysterical because he only ever used different shades of black in his shows. Gerard said, “I heard that Pete is fucking him. Is that true?” And for someone so oblivious most of the time, Gerard sure knew how to hit where it hurt without even trying. It was a gift Mikey supposed, a shitty one, but useful when wielded with wide eyes and a disarming smile. Mikey shrugged tetchily and Gerard curled into him tighter, apologetic even though he probably didn’t know what he had to apologize for. He probably thought Mikey was upset at the thought of Pete fucking someone else, but it was hard to stay mad at Gerard, so Mikey let the lingering curl of hurt go and snuggled back. Apology accepted.
**
Ryan had always wanted to be a model. ALWAYS. Since the day he was old enough to know what a model was, he wanted to be one. He wanted to wear the clothes, take the pictures and walk underneath the harsh glow of the runway lights. As luck would have it, the world owed him one or two or three (he suspected that Spencer counted as both one and two) and he grew up to be tall, slim and beautiful.
“How did the fitting go?” Spencer asked him, buried in the pile of portfolios stacked in front of him. He already had a much larger pile of rejected hopefuls pushed off to one side. Spencer’s office was huge and tastefully decorated with framed photos of Spencer’s most successful models, the most prominent picture being an old black and white picture of Ryan, windblown and tousled, with the vastness of the ocean in the background. Spencer, himself, sat in a large, black leather swivel chair, looking important and in charge behind his cluttered desk.
Ryan picked up one of the rejected portfolios and flipped through it. Really, what had this rather unfortunate person been thinking? Sometimes, parents did their children a disservice by lying to them about their looks to protect their precious feelings. It just led to them to getting their hearts crushed by incredulous modeling agents like Spencer. He shook his head and put his feet up on the desk, causing the stack of potentials to quiver. Spencer shot him a glare over the top page he had been looking at. Ryan smirked at him. “Pete was Pete.”
Spencer made a noncommittal sound. “What are you not telling me?” and reached for another folder, broad shoulders straining against the high count threading of his shirt.
Sometimes, Ryan marveled at how well Spencer knew him, other times he hated it. He tapped his fingers on his elevated knee and avoided the question by asking one of his own. “Do you know who Gerard Way is?”
“Who doesn’t? He designs the perfect black button ups. I love him. Plus, he’s used a few of our models in the past. Why?” Ryan belatedly noticed that Spencer was wearing one of Gerard’s shirts at that very moment. Huh.
Ryan frowned. Gerard had used some of Spencer’s models? “When did he use some of your models? Where was I?” He couldn’t imagine a reason that Gerard wouldn’t have picked him to walk his runway. He was perfect after all.
Spencer lowered the photo he was looking at to lift a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him. “You were in Europe, where you'd been for several years while I slaved away here in the States. Again, I ask you, why?”
So, he had been out of country. Damn it. Ryan pursed his lips thoughtfully, “Do you know his brother?”
Spencer said, “Mikeyway,” and it was evident in the way he said it that there was no space between the Mikey and the Way. “You met Mikeyway? He was at Pete’s?” Ryan didn’t say anything and Spencer smiled at him knowingly. “I was going to wait to tell you over lunch but Gerard is looking for someone new to cover from head to toe in black fabric. Perhaps, you would like to go to the open call or is that beneath the great Ryan Ross?” He used one hand to riffle through some loose papers to produce the memo detailing the job.
Ryan snatched it from his hand just a little too eagerly but Spencer graciously didn’t comment about his enthusiasm. There was a reason Spencer was his best friend and that reason was because he was awesome.
**
Gerard rolled over and fumbled for the oversized black shades he kept on his bedside table to keep the sun or any light for that matter from touching his delicate retinas. He glanced at the unicorn alarm clock that Mikey had bought him for his birthday years ago before slapping the shades firmly onto his face. 1 pm. God, it was so early in the day. He rolled over and tried to brace himself for a day filled with mostly hopeless aspiring models. Sometimes, he really hated casting calls, hated them. He was meant to be designing not picking out hangars for his clothes. Any way, he tended to think all models that weren’t named Mikey were largely a waste of his time, but every once and a while there was an undiscovered gem, an angel, that made casting calls worth it. He slipped his feet into his bunny house shoes and prayed that there was coffee waiting for him downstairs. Luck was with him. Ray was standing in the kitchen with a cup of magical elixir and a huge smile.
“Gerard.” Ray pressed a hot cup of coffee into his waiting hands and God bless motherfucking Ray Toro.
Ray said, “There are about twenty hopefuls waiting for your approval. They’ve been waiting for four hours. We only have the ballroom reserved until 5 this afternoon.” He stressed the four part of that last sentence.
Gerard moaned into his coffee not overly concerned with waiting or other people’s time. It wouldn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. “Is Mikey around?” Gerard valued Mikey’s opinion on the model’s he picked for his shows.
Ray nodded. “I’ll go get him and send him down. You, make your way to casting.”
Gerard loved Ray so much he wasn’t even going to be put out with Ray ordering him around. He loved Ray, Mikey, God and coffee…maybe not in that exact order though. He took another sip and made his way blearily to the condominium ballroom where a miniature runway had been setup just for the casting call. Mikey showed up a few minutes later, walking past the people seated outside waiting for their turn on the runway without paying them much attention. He pulled up a chair beside Gerard and Gee dropped his head down to rest on his shoulder. “Good morning, Mikey.”
Mikey mumbled, “It’s after twelve,” but ruffled Gerard’s hair, then smoothed it back from his forehead.
Gerard rejected the first five models without ever raising his head from Mikey’s shoulder or removing his shades. There was something just off about each of them, bad auras, funny knees, or weird elbows and one of them had absolutely horribly bad hair. It was fucking unfortunate, really. He perked up a little when Ray let William into the room. He snapped his fingers and William’s portfolio was placed into his out stretched hand. “William Beckett? He has great legs, great hips, great hair.” He nodded his head and the photos disappeared. William smiled. He knew he had just been OK'd and would be modeling for the House of Way.
“Travis McCoy.”
Gerard nodded right off the bat. He loved the energy Travis brought to the runway and the model would look fierce in midnight black, maybe something strategically ripped to show off his ink.
“Ryan Ross.”
Mikey stiffened against Gerard’s side and Gerard lifted his head fully from Mikey’s bony shoulder, curious about Pete’s newest young boything. Ryan walked into the room and by the time he reached the end of the runway, Gerard had pushed his shades up to rest atop his disheveled head so that he could watch Ryan strut in pure, unfiltered color. He put out his hand impatiently and Ryan’s portfolio was promptly offered up. Gerard flipped through a couple of pages and whispered urgently to Mikey. Mikey said, “Stop the music, please.” The music ceased instantly.
Gerard pushed out of his folding chair and stalked over to where Ryan was standing awaiting his decision. He wasn’t sure Ryan was even breathing because his thin chest didn’t seem to be moving at all. Gerard leaned in close and peered up into Ryan’s wide eyes. Pretty. He dropped to his knees without warning and Ryan’s brown eyes widened just that little bit extra. Gerard said, “Ray, measuring tape” and encouraged Ryan to widen his stance so that he could properly measure his inseam. Ryan shifted his stance cooperatively at the insistent push of Gee’s pale hands and Gerard said, grinning up at him, “Your inseam is perfect.” He glanced over his shoulder to see what Mikey thought. Mikey was looking approvingly at the outline of Ryan’s cock in the extra tight pants he was currently sporting. Gerard turned back around to take a closer look himself. The cock nestled in Ryan’s pants was definitely worthy of approval in his (and apparently Mikey’s) opinion. Gerard asked, “How do you feel about black?” basically speaking to Ryan’s crotch.
Ryan said, “I love it,” voice completely flat not giving any clues about the thoughts swirling around his exquisitely styled head.
Gerard lifted his gaze from Ryan’s groin and smiled up at him again, all teeth on full display, “You, Ryan, remind me of my brother. I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is but you’re going to be a star.”
**
“Spencer. Spencer. Spencer.”
Spencer jammed the phone between his shoulder and ear, far too busy to spare a hand to hold the phone to his ear. “I can tell from your overly generous use of my name that you got the job. No thank you for your agent?” He didn’t actually expect Ryan to thank him because the other man rarely did even when Spencer could clearly see the gratitude in his eyes.
Ryan instantly breathed, “Thank you, Spencer.”
Spencer paused. That was different. He put down the file he was holding and grasped the phone. “Talk to me, Ross.”
“Gerard Way measured my inseam while his brother watched, sprawled out in some flimsy folding chair. He was so close to my dick, I could feel him breathing on the head. I almost came right there.”
Spencer choked out an abrupt laugh. “Really, Ryan.” He could hear Ryan moving on the other end of the line. “Do you even know which one of them you want?”
“Gerard Way might be a genius and I love his work, but Mikey Way is sort of ungodly beautiful. And I have never heard another person manage to convey so much emotion in so few words.”
“We are talking about Mikey, right? Mikey Way?” Spencer managed to hold out a whole three seconds before he started howling with laughter. Because, okay, he had actually talked to Mikey before and Ryan had obviously been struck crazy by his infatuation. Mikey had even less inflection in his voice than Ryan and Spencer wouldn’t have believed that was possible until he exchanged words with the younger Way brother at some party at Pete’s place. It had been like talking to a rather lovely zombie. Ryan hung up on him with a disgusted huff but Spencer didn’t stop laughing until five minutes later, phone still clutched in hand, when Brendon came by his office to see if he was alright. Spencer nodded, tears trailing down his cheeks and waving Brendon away but Brendon hung around just to be sure.
**
Pete loved the fashion industry. He loved creating, the colors, and the fabrics. He loved dressing up beautiful girls and boys and sending them out into the public to shine in the limelight.
Pete wasn’t exactly new to the fashion world but he definitely hadn’t been on the scene as long as Gerard. Pete knew that a great deal of his success he could trace directly back to the Way brothers and their tendency to start drama without even realizing it. It was a well known fact in fashionable circles that Gerard disliked Pete almost as much as Mikey liked him. Really, Pete thought the whole “beef” between him and Gerard was a huge exaggeration. Gerard was just a crazy, older brother that didn’t want to believe his little brother had any sexual desires or life outside of the House of Way. Pete wished that half the things Gerard believed he had done to and with Mikey were true. At least if he was fucking Mikey, he wouldn’t be about to die of fucking boredom.
Pete weaved in and out of the wine sipping crowd intent on finding something to hold his interest for an hour or two. He didn’t know what that something was yet but he was confident that he would be able to recognize it. He spotted Spencer in a corner listening to a familiar short, dark haired man talk excitedly at him. Pete grinned. Spencer was exciting, alright, and if it wasn’t for Ryan’s delicious ass, Pete would have made a serious play for him a long time ago. Ryan’s ass and the slightly murderous gleam in Spencer’s business partner’s eyes whenever Pete got too close to Spencer’s amazing hips, but finding Spencer more than likely meant that Ryan was nearby. Those two spent a lot of time together. Pete vaguely remembered hearing that they had grown up together in the desert and shared a girlfriend between them for a year in hopes of producing the perfect child or something to that effect. He couldn’t really remember all the details. He glanced to the left and the right of Spencer and there. A couple of people down, Ryan was speaking to a rather short, unfortunately dressed man in a suede baseball cap. Pete’s mouth turned down at the edges disdainfully. They let just about anyone into these parties nowadays.
He made his way over with half formed intentions of trying to get Ryan alone and maybe into his bed later. He took a quick sip out of his glass and said, “Ryan. There you are! I’ve been looking all over this ghastly place for you.” Ryan and the woeful fashion victim he was conversing with both turned at the sound of his voice.
Ryan looking as unmoved as he usually did, said, “Pete, meet Patrick Stump,” and whatever plans Pete might have had for the night flew out of the window when his eyes meet Patrick’s.
Ryan was still droning on but Pete couldn’t understand a word. He wanted to say, “I’ve dreamed of you for years,” or maybe, “I want to dedicate my Spring line to you or I love you like I love Hemmy,” and the Lord knew how much he loved his dog, but what he actually said was, “Please, tell me you decided to wear that outfit as a joke.” Then he had to fight the urge to slap his hand over his own mouth in horror. Where was his brain to mouth filter when he needed it?
Patrick’s (amazing) eyes widened and then narrowed fitfully, before he turned sharply back to Ryan and said, “It was nice to meet you, Ryan. Call me if you want to continue this discussion at a later date.” He smiled tightly at Pete and stalked off into the crowd without saying goodbye.
Pete watched him walk away until Ryan nudged him and asked, “Do you need me to fetch you a napkin?”
Pete wanted to bite Patrick’s thighs. He needed Ryan to fetch him some strawberry flavored lube and whipped cream and maybe some chocolate syrup. He shut his mouth with a snap and muttered a confused, “What?” at Ryan.
“You’re drooling.”
Pete was touching his fingers to his mouth before he realized what he was doing. Ryan laughed lightly at his put out expression and Pete said, “I was not. I would never drool over someone wearing such hideous clothes.”
“Right.” Ryan looked at him knowingly.
Where did Ryan get off giving him knowing looks. Pete knew way more than Ryan. He narrowed his eyes at him. “So, a little bird told me that you’re going to be walking the runway for Gerard.”
Ryan paused in sipping his drink. “And does that little bird have a name?”
Pete smiled widely. “I’ll tell you if you give me Patrick’s number.” Those magnificent thighs. Pete could see himself biting the tender skin between those legs, sucking bruises onto them that no one else would see but him.
Ryan, that little bastard, said, “I’m not that curious,” and nodded genteelly at him before blending back into the crowd in Spencer’s general direction.
**
Brendon really wanted to touch Spencer Smith’s hips. Like really, really wanted to. They called to him, those hips. He tried to keep that want to himself, hidden behind an easy smile and a helpful demeanor, and he was very successful at it. He hated it. Hated it because his success meant that Spencer had no idea how he felt about him and those taunting hips. Sometimes, when he went to Spencer’s office he wanted to push everything off his desk and offer himself up for the taking. He never actually did it because Brendon wasn’t stupid despite what other people tended to think. He wanted Spencer’s body, yes, but he also wanted to keep working with the man. Wanted to stand by his side and continue to support him as he made The V’ s Modeling Agency a force in the industry they both loved.
Brendon had left his home with nothing but the clothes on his back and a dream in his head. He had wanted to be the best hairdresser in the world and no one was going to hold him back. And no one did. He was well on his way to being one of the most sought after hair stylist in the business when everything he thought he wanted changed in an instant. Brendon met Spencer James Smith V at one of those soulless get-togethers that all the wannabes and up-and-comers were obligated to attend, networking to get their names heard, to be seen with the right people. Brendon had taken one look into Spencer’s brilliant blue eyes and knew that he would do anything he had to do just to stay in Spencer’s presence. He gave up hairdressing with barely a second thought to become an assistant and part time commercial model in Spencer’s fledgling agency. Now, he was a partner in one of the most successful modeling agencies in the United States of America, but he still wasn’t where he wanted to be. In Spencer’s bed and in his heart.
Spencer smiled at him and pointed over toward where Pete and Ryan seemed to be engaged in a rather intense conversation. Brendon smiled back helplessly and pretended to be interested in whatever mocking statement Spencer was about to make.
**
“Hi, Mikey.”
Mikey looked up to see Frank walking toward him and he was about to say, “Hello,” back to him, but stopped and frowned. How did Frank get in the house? “How did you get in here?” As far as he knew Gerard was still in bed, but maybe Ray had let him in. Huh.
Frank just waved off his question as if it was unimportant how he had managed to get into their apartment without anyone noticing. “Is your brother still in bed? No, don’t get up. I’ll just go wake him up myself.”
Mikey stared mouth hanging open as Frank continued on his merry way in the direction of Gerard’s bedroom. Ray wandered into the airy kitchen and settled on a stool next to him. Mikey asked, “Did you let Frank in?”
Ray looked puzzled, “No? Why? Is he here?” He settled down on the stool across from Mikey.
“Huh.” Mikey stuffed another orange slice into his mouth. Strange.
**
Brendon was hovering around the edge of his office door, so Spencer put down the ever present portfolio of a potential new client and asked, “What, Brendon?”
Brendon beamed at him and came in to sit in the chair opposite Spencer’s desk. He shifted around like he always did and said, “Spencer you really need to get a new chair. This one is so uncomfortable.”
Spencer said, “It’s supposed to be uncomfortable. Interviews are uncomfortable.”
Brendon moved around some more before saying, “I’m sure all the interviewees are uncomfortable enough with you staring blank faced at them. This torture device you call a chair is just over kill. Anyway, I came in to ask if you’re going to the party tonight?”
Spencer looked at him balefully. “Which one?” There was never just one party going on at any time in the fashion world.
“The one Pete is hosting,” Brendon picked up a pink pen with a green feather attached to the cap and twirled it around his fingers. “I hear it’s the place to be. He’s inviting all the most important people, top models, agents and producers.”
“How did you get invited then?”
Brendon made a hurt face at him. “Mean, Spencer Smith, totally mean. I’ll have you know that I am a Very Important Person. See, I was going to ask you to be my date but now I’m not so sure I want to.”
The phone started ringing while Brendon was talking and Spencer held a finger up for silence and answered on the third ring. He never picked up on the first or second ring, he was a very busy man after all. “Hello? Oh, Ryan.” Brendon had obediently stopped talking and now was listening to him talk to Ryan with a fond expression on his face. Spencer wasn’t fooled. Brendon was just waiting for his turn to badger him into pretending to be his boyfriend so that the desperate fringe crowd would stop trying to blow him in exchange for being signed with the agency. He was staring at Brendon so hard that he missed what Ryan was saying and ended up agreeing to whatever he was talking about. “Yeah, whatever. What? No, I didn’t mean--, I don’t want--, Brendon was just--, No, I’m not going back on my word. Ryan…Okay, I’ll be ready by ten.” Spencer hung up the phone and put a hand over his face. Ryan could be really trying at times. That’s what he got for paying more attention to Brendon than his phone conversation.
When he took his hand away from his eyes, Brendon was watching him with a curious expression on his face. When he noticed Spencer looking back at him, he smiled but it looked pale in comparison to his normal smile and said, “Well, I guess you already have a date for tonight. I should probably get back to work.”
Spencer wondered idly why watching Brendon quietly leave the room made his chest ache.
**
Pete called Ryan because Ryan had the information that Pete wanted (okay, needed) and that skinny bitch was playing hardball. If he wanted to play the game then he needed to recognize that Pete had mastered it a long time ago.
“Ryan.”
“Pete.” Ryan sounded as amused as someone with a monotone could.
Pete would not be provoked; it wasn’t part of his plan. His totally awesome plan to get into Patrick Stump’s pants and between his thighs. “I know that you’re coming to my party, right?” Ryan was totally coming to his party. It was the place to be.
Instead of admitting there was no other place he would rather be which Pete knew to be the absolute truth, Ryan said, “I don’t know, Pete. Spencer and I sort of have other plans.”
Pete drummed his fingers on his knee. “You could just bring Spencer with you. He’ll enjoy it. There will be plenty of people to look at with pity in his eyes and snicker about behind his hand.” Spencer was kind of a bitch. Pete was beginning to understand why Spencer and Ryan were such good friends.
Ryan said, “Parties have been boring us lately.” Pete could practically hear the smirk hiding under the smooth surface of Ryan’s voice.
It was obviously time to pull out the big guns. “Oh, did I mention that Mikey will be there?” The pause in the steady cadence of Ryan’s breathing was slight but Pete caught it. Checkmate.
Ryan said slowly, “No, you didn’t. I can’t promise anything but I’ll think about putting in an appearance.”
Pete smiled. “While you’re thinking about it, could you call Patrick and tell him how much you would appreciate his company? You do still have his number, don’t you? If you don’t, don’t worry about it. Things like dates and invitations slip my mind all the time. Now that I think about it, I’m not entirely sure I remembered to invite Mikey.” He didn’t know who Ryan thought he was fooling, it was perfectly obvious he had a hard on of enormous proportions for Mikey and while Ryan was following behind Mikey, Pete would just slip in and entertain that delicious little producer himself.
Ryan said smooth as motherfucking silk, “I’m certain I still have it.”
Pete’s voice was sugary and light. “Well, I guess I’ll see you both there, then.”
**
Patrick answered the phone with a distracted, “Hello?”
Ryan clutched the phone a little bit tighter and Spencer gave him an encouraging look. Ryan took a deep, calming breath. So, much depended on him convincing Patrick to show up to Pete’s party (like being close to Mikey in a nonprofessional capacity). “Patrick, it’s Ryan.” Please, remember me.
“Hi, Ryan. What’s up?” Unspecified noises filtered over the line into Ryan’s ear.
Ryan let out the air he had been holding in. Okay, at least he seemed to remember him. “I was hoping to continue that conversation we started at Fashion Rocks.”
“Yeah, that’s cool.” A clang sounded in the background and someone yelled out a profanity. Ryan pulled the phone away from his ear and Patrick said, “Umm, I’m kind of working at the moment-“
Ryan said, “No, no. That’s okay. I was hoping that I would see you at Pete’s party. He mentioned extending you an invitation.”
Patrick said, “Umm…”
Ryan’s stomach rolled. That sounded ominous. He rushed on to say, “Pete’s really a good guy. He was having a bad day and I’m sure he just wants the opportunity to apologize.” Please, believe me. God, he could strangle Pete for dangling Mikey in front of him like this making him possibly ruin what could have become a great friendship.
There was silence across the line before Patrick asked, “What did Pete promise you to get me there?”
Ryan put his head down into his hand and Spencer made an inquisitive noise, but Ryan just shook his head. Of course, Patrick was too smart for his shit. His urge to cause Pete bodily harm grew stronger. “Mikey Way.”
Patrick hummed. “I thought Mikey and Pete-“
Ryan cut him off, “Not anymore, not for a long time.” He didn’t like to think about the two of them in a relationship.
Patrick said, “I’m not the type to stand in the way of young love. So, I’ll tell you what, if you can get Gerard there, then I’ll be in the place.”
No way was that shit going down. Ryan was well versed in the rumors about how reclusive Gerard had become. The designer rarely went to industry parties after he left the dark side of the modeling lifestyle behind a couple of years ago. Ryan sighed. “Thanks, Patrick. I’ll see what I can do.” He hung up the phone to find Spencer staring at him with a bemused look on his face. “What?”
Spencer shrugged and sat down beside him and the couch. “What do you have to do in order to get him there?”
Ryan sighed, “I honestly could kill Pete right now.” He dropped his head into his hands. This was so not going to happen. “Patrick wants Gerard to be there. I guess he has some business proposal he wants to run by him or something. I didn’t ask.”
Spencer mused, “You must really want Mikey a lot to go through all of this effort. It isn’t like you.”
“I just think we could be something together.” Ryan’s voice was muffled by his hands.
Spencer said, “Call Patrick back and tell him Gerard will be there. I’ll handle this.” Ryan took his hands away from his face and put his head on Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer handed him the phone.
**
When Ryan was sixteen years old, he told Spencer that he was going to be a supermodel. Spencer had laughed in his face. That had been the end of that particular conversation, at least in Spencer’s mind.
Later, when Spencer found out that Ryan was posting, let’s just call them questionable, pictures of himself on the internet for any old pervert to see, Spencer took him aside and told him quite firmly to stop it. Ryan said, “I need to find an agent. My time is running out. I’m getting old.” Ryan was seventeen years old.
Spencer said, “I’ll be your agent…just stop doing that. It’s dangerous.” It was Ryan’s turn to laugh at him.
Ryan asked, derisively, “And just who do you think is going to take a sixteen year old boy seriously?”
Spencer looked at him, blue eyes coolly confident and said, “Don’t ever doubt me.” That was the day The V’s Modeling Agency was born. It wasn’t long before Ryan was a true believer, the first in a line of many.
**
All of Pete’s parties verged on the ridiculous with lots to drink and tons of beautiful people to look at. Spencer stepped carefully around a laughing blond with a full cup of brightly colored alcohol in her hand and about a gallon of saline solution in her breasts. His mouth crooked to the side as she spilled a bit of the liquid in her cup down her cleavage. The tiny crowd of men surrounding her swarmed closer as if the alcohol was blood in the water.
Spencer arrived at the party with Ryan but it wasn’t long before Ryan abandoned him in favor of hunting down the elusive Mikey Way and Brendon managed to sniff out his presence. Brendon relocated to Spencer’s side the moment he spotted him across the room, quickly abandoning the group of aspiring models that had him cornered. Brendon was vibrating faintly with the low hum of energy that always seemed to be dancing just under his skin and Spencer suffered his presence good-naturedly. Brendon could be exhausting but was mostly adorable…kinda reminded Spencer of an overexcited puppy but the other man was great at his job and Spencer couldn’t imagine trying to make it through a work day without him. Brendon was currently whispering in his ear about something or maybe someone but Spencer had mostly tuned him out in favor of watching Ryan work his way closer through the raucous crowd toward an unsuspecting Mikey Way. The younger Way brother was looking slim and beautiful in carefully tailored all black (no doubt at Gerard’s urging).
Brendon leaned even further into Spencer’s personal space and said, voice pitched to be heard over the pounding music, “I have dreams about sucking your dick.”
Spencer said, “Yeah, okay,” absently and then he actually processed what Brendon had said. He whipped around to stare wide eyed at Brendon, “Wait, what?” Brendon quirked a smile at him and faded back into the rapidly shifting crowd, retreating quickly before Spencer could get a hand on him.
**
Mikey was more than a little bored not because it wasn’t a good party because Pete knew how to throw a motherfucking party, okay? But when Pete had asked him to show up, asked nicely, and maybe mentioned casually that Ryan would be in attendance, Mikey had imagined spending his night talking to the other model. So far, no such luck. He looked around surreptitiously trying to see where Gee had disappeared off to. He idly wondered what had made Gerard decide to come anyway. Unlike him, Gerard didn’t do the party thing too often and especially not the kind of parties Pete threw which were pretty ridiculous by anyone’s standards, full of hot young things and substances to make you seem even hotter in the low lights. A soft hand touched his arm and interrupted his musings. Mikey turned to find himself looking into artfully made up brown eyes. Ryan.
Ryan smiled at him and said, “You seemed like you could use the company.”
Well, bored no longer. “And what lovely company,” he said mildly. Mikey placed his still full glass of wine on the tray of a passing waitress and turned to fully face the other model.
Ryan looked like he didn’t quite no how to take that comment but discarded his glass in a smooth mirror of Mikey’s action. “Do you want to find a quiet place to talk?”
Mikey looked at him silently for a moment before letting a small smile cross his lips. “I know just the place. Follow me.” Ryan fell into to step beside him, close enough that Mikey could feel the heat radiating off his slight body.
**
When Pete finally found Patrick, he was talking to crazy ass Gerard and wasn’t that just a kick in the balls. Patrick wasn’t dressed much better than the first time that Pete had seen him and Gerard was wearing his standard all black uniform. He watched the two of them for a while from the shadows. Watching the way Patrick’s hands were flailing about adorably and Gerard was smiling his creepy, pointy tooth smile. It was disgusting. He obviously had to save Patrick before Gerard decided to drink his blood or smother him with black cloth and hide his body.
“Patrick, there you are. I’ve been looking for you all over.” He paused and said pointedly, “Gerard.” Patrick was rubbing his temple tiredly and Pete assumed that meant Gerard had given him a headache. He could sympathize. Gerard gave him headaches all the time.
Gerard said, “Pete,” and he was looking back and forth between the two of them like he knew something Pete didn’t which was totally untrue. And, also, he was totally tired of people that didn’t know anything giving him knowing looks.
Patrick said, “Hello, Pete. I was just talking to Gerard, so if you-“
Pete cut in. “Of course, I will rescue you from him, fair maiden. Come on, let’s go.” Patrick shot Gerard a panicky look over his shoulder and Gerard looked like he was about to say something Pete didn’t want to hear so Pete pulled out the big guns. “I thought I saw that short, tattooed guy that follows you around all the time standing really close to some girl in a short dress earlier but I’m sure that couldn’t have been him.” And just like that Gerard left Patrick to his own devices. Pete grinned. The Way brothers were pretty easy once you got to know them.
Patrick asked quizzically, distracted from his efforts to get away from Pete, “What short guy?”
Pete shrugged, “I’m not even sure he has a name.”
**
Part II
**
Author: ficsoreal
Pairings: Mikey/Ryan, Brendon/Spencer, Pete/Patrick, Gerard/Frank
Rating: NC 17
Words: 15466
Summary: Fashion World!AU. All our favorite boys have jobs in the world of fashion.
Notes: This story comes before Fierce Outtake. I finally decided that I wasn't going to do anything more with it. This story is ridiculous and implausible. For those of you that still remember the outtake , enjoy. :)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No profit is being made.
Mikey Way was so over standing around for hours with his ass hanging out; he shifted his weight to the left and tried to stretch his back subtly.
Gerard smacked him and Mikey sighed, put upon and stopped moving. Gerard mumbled something around a mouth full of clothing pins that he couldn't quite understand, but Mikey was pretty sure his brother was telling him to stop fucking fidgeting. Mikey stood (relatively still) in the middle of a large room with paint splashed walls, strewn with reams of dark fabric and littered with the half dressed bodies of soulless mannequins. He rolled his feet, trying to ease out the swollen feeling and glanced at the clock on the opposite wall; hours had passed. Gerard had been taking measurements and adjusting sketches for the better part of the day, taking ruthless advantage of Mikey's placid nature and the fact that Mikey lived with him. Mikey wondered exactly when he had become Gerard’s own personal dress up doll. He moved again, trying to find a more comfortable spot even though comfort had obviously left the building three hours ago, around the same time that Gerard had lost his mind. “How much longer is this going to take? I have to do a fitting for Pete in two hours. A fitting that I’m going to actually get paid for.” It wasn’t like his brother didn’t pay him for his work, no, it was more like Gee just paid him when he remembered to which happened randomly and with low frequency, but even that really didn’t matter since they shared a bank account. Mikey spent whatever money he wanted to without ever asking permission and it usually worked pretty well for the both of them since Gerard never spent any money and had a separate business account for fabric, shows, employees and other business related expenses.
Gerard grunted at him irritably and tugged at the waist band of the black…well, Mikey wasn’t exactly sure what it was that his brother was fitting him with. He would probably call it a skirt if someone asked him. He looked down at the top of Gee’s tousled head and the scrap of fabric he was fiddling with and decided skirt, definitely a skirt. He hoped that no one would have the opportunity to ask him personally. He tried to shift his weight back to his right side without interrupting Gee's alterations but obviously failed miserably because Gerard growled, “Mikey,” at him, pins twitching erratically in his lopsided mouth.
He went still instantly, apologizing sullenly, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? You’ve had me standing in this one spot for hours, Gee. My feet are killing me.” Mikey hated when Gerard managed to reduce him to whining because it always reminded him that he was the younger brother.
Gerard patted his bony hip placating, quick to anger, quicker to forgive. “One more pin, Mikey. There.” Gerard stood up and stepped back, looking at him with a critical eye, hair standing up in crazy black spikes with a line creasing his forehead. “I think it needs to be shorter.” He put the tip of his index finger into his mouth and started worrying at the already ragged nail while staring vacantly at the 'skirt'.
Mikey looked down; he could see most of his thighs already. His totally hairy thighs, bony man thighs. “Is this supposed to be a miniskirt? Because I want you to know right now that I’m not shaving my legs to wear this thing on the runway.” Gerard nodded absently in agreement but Mikey could tell he wasn’t even listening to him anymore. He had moved away to stand hunched over his sketch pad on a nearby table making alterations to the original design, making it shorter. Mikey rubbed a hand over his face tiredly; he was so going to end up shaving his legs for the runway, he just knew it. “Gee, can I go now?” Gerard flapped a charcoal smudged hand at him impatiently, probably to demand quiet, but Mikey took it as permission to leave and left quickly before Gee could change his mind or correct his assumption.
Mikey didn’t really remember precisely how he became a model; it was never one of his life goals or anything. Mikey had been awkward and nearly blind for so long that the thought of being a model had never crossed his mind and if someone would have suggested it, he would have laughed in their stupid faces. Mikey was more likely to fall off the end of a runway after tripping over his own two feet than strike a pose, but he didn’t need to remember exactly how it happened to know that it involved Gerard like almost everything else in his life. One day he was innocently visiting his big brother and being bullied into trying on prototypes for outfits that he would never dream of wearing in public, the next he was walking down a runway, being leered at by bored housewives, young starlets and Pete, wearing skimpy clothes from the House of Way.
Mikey pulled off his long grey peacoat and handed it to one of the many beautiful assistants that were always scurrying around Pete’s studio, Clandestine. Pete liked to surround himself with pretty things, so everyone from the janitors to the coffee fetchers were more than pleasant to look at. When Mikey found Pete standing apart from all the mayhem that he had no doubt set out to create, the dark haired man was talking with another male model. Pete was dressed in his usual jumble of bright colors and complex patterns that made Gerard moan and shake his head sadly before wondering out loud about the future of the fashion world. Nothing out of the ordinary about Pete, but. Mikey squinted, a habit left over from his days of wearing glasses, but the squinting was even more useless than usual, because squinting didn’t bring the guy standing next to Pete into any clearer focus in Mikey’s mind. The model had to be new to the scene because Mikey didn’t recognize him from any magazines or runway shows or even from any of the open castings Gerard was always holding trying to find the next big thing, that unknown, aspiring model that had IT. The model looked very young and fresh and was dressed in a decidedly foreign flavor. Definitely younger than Mikey with soft, delicate features and beautiful hands. Mikey tugged nervously at the bottom of his black and white striped shirt, self conscious in a way that he thought he had finally grown out of. Pete spotted him out the corner of his eye and instantly, a huge, slightly manic grin lit the shorter man’s face.
“Mikey Way! One of my absolutely favorite models. Come here, you beautiful boy, and let me introduce you to the next superstar of the runway.” Mikey shuffled forward until he was within Pete’s reach and Pete drug him in the rest of the way. “Mikey Way, meet Ryan Ross.”
Ryan Ross. Ryan Ross was wearing pin stripped, pencil slacks with a white collared shirt, lovingly layered with an intricate vest that featured crimson rosettes. Mikey didn’t know what to think about Ryan’s sense of style but his face was beyond beautiful, young boyish features that belied the look in his big eyes. Ryan put his hand out and Mikey shook it gingerly; he wasn’t big on touching people that weren’t in his immediate circle of friends and family. The younger man was watching him with curious brown eyes and Ryan asked, “Mikey Way of the House of Way? Gerard Way’s little brother?”
Pete laughed his loud braying laugh with his head thrown back, shaggy hair trailing over his shoulder; he smiled hugely at Ryan’s question. “The very same. Some lucky people like Mikey here don’t have to sleep their way to the top and that’s a shame for us perverts lurking in the shadows. Truly a loss that affects the worst of us.” Pete sighed dramatically. “As much as Mikey's life of independent means saddens me, we must move forward, Ryan. That’s what fashion is about, moving forward. And I, unlike Gerard, intend to keep up with it.” He pressed a quick kiss to Mikey’s cheek. “No offense, Mikey. You know I love your brother, but all black all the time is so boring, you know? Anyway, enough of that, let me tell you what I was thinking about for the fall collection.”
Mikey didn’t bother to protest Pete’s slur against his brother’s vision because he heard some variation of it from Pete every time they were in each other’s presence. Plus, Gerard could fight his own battles most of the time and his brother’s continuing feud with Pete delighted Gerard’s artistically violent little heart. He simply turned to follow Pete deeper into the studio and even though Ryan didn’t try to engage him in conversation, he was very aware of Ryan’s gaze resting heavily on him and the grace of his slim body walking confidently along beside him.
It wasn’t that Gerard and Pete didn’t like each other…it was more that they pretended to dislike each other and bickered endlessly. Gerard fancied himself to be a protective big brother (even though Mikey had headed off more trouble for his brother than Gerard knew) and Pete stood just a little too close to Mikey for Gerard’s comfort. So, yes, Gerard was wary of Pete's intentions, but Mikey had heard Gerard defend Pete to outsiders one too many times to but much stock in his supposed 'hate' of the other designer. Pete, on the other hand, flat out adored Gerard. Pete loved the way Gerard’s lips twisted when Pete kissed Mikey on the mouth, loved the way the bright colors of Clandestine made Gerard’s eyes water and he really enjoyed sending Gerard into massive flails by questioning his vision in magazine articles for everyone to read. Mikey maybe found it all a little amusing and that was the main reason he worked almost exclusively with his brother and Pete, not because he was a bipolar diva like Vogue claimed. Gerard didn’t understand Mikey and Pete’s close friendship but he never pressed the issue. He respected Mikey’s right to choose his own friends or at least he did after that last horrible fight that had nearly resulted in Mikey moving out of their shared condo.
Gerard was on the phone when Mikey made it back from his fitting for Pete. That was a sight that was becoming more and more familiar these days and from the snippets of conversation he overheard as he walked by to settle on the couch, Gerard was talking to Frank. Frank, the reason for Gerard finding the will and motivation to put aside his aversion to communicating with almost anyone directly; he usually preferred to have a representative handle the press, the suppliers, the accounts, everyone except Frank. Gerard wanted to handle Frank personally. Mikey smiled to himself. He didn’t know Frank all that well, no one actually seemed to know Frank or what he did or where he lived or if he was some kind of convict. Frank had shown up one day in their apartment complex and knocked Gerard down in the hall when Frank had taken a blind corner just a little too fast and the two collided. Frank was around a lot more frequently after that little incident. Frank appeared to be decent enough guy on the surface, at least. He certainly seemed to like Gerard a lot and Gerard liked him which definitely endeared him to Mikey. On some days, Mikey was sure the two of them were dating, on others like when Gee was whining about not getting laid, Mikey figured they were just good friends. Their relationship or lack of relationship made Gerard happier than he had been in years and that was all that mattered in Mikey’s mind. So, he usually just shrugged the issue off and went about his own lonely business.
Gerard drifted by Mikey, one hand waving crazily through the air in front of him. “I was thinking about doing black on black with silver accents.” Mikey’s not close enough to hear Frank’s reply but Gerard scowls at the innocent phone darkly. “No, I don’t think pink is the new black. Black is black.” Mikey shook his head. It was also apparently Frank’s mission in life to make Gerard crazier than he already was. He wondered if Pete knew Frank because they would probably like each other a lot.
Mikey let his thoughts drift back to earlier in the day, drift back to Ryan Ross. They barely spoke to each other, busy with alterations and changes of clothes, but the new guy had managed to make a lasting impression on him. He closed his eyes and Ryan’s perfect likeness appeared immediately like it was etched on his eyelids. Ryan had beautiful everything but it was his hands that caught and held Mikey’s attention, long, tapered fingers and manicured nails. God, Mikey appreciated manicured fingernails, ragged nails in sensitive places did not feel good. Mmmmm, sensitive places, Mikey let his legs spread, sinking deeper into the plush couch, in the background, he heard the distinct click of a phone call being terminated. He hummed a little when he felt Gerard sit down beside him.
Gerard leaned over and laid his head on Mikey’s shoulder. It was like his default position or something around Mikey, like being in close proximity to Mikey made his head suddenly too heavy to hold up on his on and Mikey had to share in the burden. Gerard asked, “How was Pete?”
Mikey smiled a little. “Do you really care?”
Gerard pinched him on the side maliciously before rubbing the tiny prick of pain away. “Of course, I care. I care because when he causes the apocalypse or when it comes out that he sold his soul to the devil, I want to be able to say, ‘I told you so.’ I heard he has a new boy, a client of Spencer’s. Did you meet him? What’s he like?”
Mikey squinted at him. He hadn’t known that Ryan was a client of Spencer’s and just how did Gerard know when he didn’t? Gerard hadn’t even met the guy and for someone that didn’t like talking to people, Gee was sure knew a lot about almost everything. Ray, his assistant/best friend/super spy must have told him over breakfast…while Mikey was still in bed tired from a long night of strutting his stuff on the CatWalk. Seriously, the CatWalk. He had volunteered to be the headlining model at a charity benefit fashion show being hosted by his favorite animal activist, Andy. Andy had a flair for the dramatic, an almost disturbing number of tattoos and a serious love of big cats. Mikey had to scrub his face for almost an hour after the show to get the painted on whiskers off. Gerard was looking at him, patiently waiting for Mikey to answer his barrage of questions. Why did Gerard want to know about Ryan any way? Something was up. He squinted some more and asked, “Are you trying to steal Pete’s model?” It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had tried to pull a stunt like that, probably wouldn’t be the last.
Instead of answering right away, Gerard said, “Stop squinting, you’re going to get wrinkles and no one wants that,” and then belatedly, “No.” Gerard didn’t even look like he believed that he was telling Mikey the truth.
Mikey decided to give him the benefit of the doubt more out of the goodness of his enormous heart than because he actually believed him and answered Gerard’s slightly suspicious questions, “Yes, I met him. His name is Ryan Ross and yes, he’s everything you’ve heard and more.” And he loves your style and will probably try to use me to get to you sometime in the near future and I won’t even care as long as I get to kiss him. Sometimes pride had to be sacrificed in the pursuit of one's desires aka Ryan Ross.
Gerard frowned at his slightly snippy tone because Gee was sensitive to tones. He said that they were like colors and no one knew more about colors than him which was hysterical because he only ever used different shades of black in his shows. Gerard said, “I heard that Pete is fucking him. Is that true?” And for someone so oblivious most of the time, Gerard sure knew how to hit where it hurt without even trying. It was a gift Mikey supposed, a shitty one, but useful when wielded with wide eyes and a disarming smile. Mikey shrugged tetchily and Gerard curled into him tighter, apologetic even though he probably didn’t know what he had to apologize for. He probably thought Mikey was upset at the thought of Pete fucking someone else, but it was hard to stay mad at Gerard, so Mikey let the lingering curl of hurt go and snuggled back. Apology accepted.
**
Ryan had always wanted to be a model. ALWAYS. Since the day he was old enough to know what a model was, he wanted to be one. He wanted to wear the clothes, take the pictures and walk underneath the harsh glow of the runway lights. As luck would have it, the world owed him one or two or three (he suspected that Spencer counted as both one and two) and he grew up to be tall, slim and beautiful.
“How did the fitting go?” Spencer asked him, buried in the pile of portfolios stacked in front of him. He already had a much larger pile of rejected hopefuls pushed off to one side. Spencer’s office was huge and tastefully decorated with framed photos of Spencer’s most successful models, the most prominent picture being an old black and white picture of Ryan, windblown and tousled, with the vastness of the ocean in the background. Spencer, himself, sat in a large, black leather swivel chair, looking important and in charge behind his cluttered desk.
Ryan picked up one of the rejected portfolios and flipped through it. Really, what had this rather unfortunate person been thinking? Sometimes, parents did their children a disservice by lying to them about their looks to protect their precious feelings. It just led to them to getting their hearts crushed by incredulous modeling agents like Spencer. He shook his head and put his feet up on the desk, causing the stack of potentials to quiver. Spencer shot him a glare over the top page he had been looking at. Ryan smirked at him. “Pete was Pete.”
Spencer made a noncommittal sound. “What are you not telling me?” and reached for another folder, broad shoulders straining against the high count threading of his shirt.
Sometimes, Ryan marveled at how well Spencer knew him, other times he hated it. He tapped his fingers on his elevated knee and avoided the question by asking one of his own. “Do you know who Gerard Way is?”
“Who doesn’t? He designs the perfect black button ups. I love him. Plus, he’s used a few of our models in the past. Why?” Ryan belatedly noticed that Spencer was wearing one of Gerard’s shirts at that very moment. Huh.
Ryan frowned. Gerard had used some of Spencer’s models? “When did he use some of your models? Where was I?” He couldn’t imagine a reason that Gerard wouldn’t have picked him to walk his runway. He was perfect after all.
Spencer lowered the photo he was looking at to lift a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him. “You were in Europe, where you'd been for several years while I slaved away here in the States. Again, I ask you, why?”
So, he had been out of country. Damn it. Ryan pursed his lips thoughtfully, “Do you know his brother?”
Spencer said, “Mikeyway,” and it was evident in the way he said it that there was no space between the Mikey and the Way. “You met Mikeyway? He was at Pete’s?” Ryan didn’t say anything and Spencer smiled at him knowingly. “I was going to wait to tell you over lunch but Gerard is looking for someone new to cover from head to toe in black fabric. Perhaps, you would like to go to the open call or is that beneath the great Ryan Ross?” He used one hand to riffle through some loose papers to produce the memo detailing the job.
Ryan snatched it from his hand just a little too eagerly but Spencer graciously didn’t comment about his enthusiasm. There was a reason Spencer was his best friend and that reason was because he was awesome.
**
Gerard rolled over and fumbled for the oversized black shades he kept on his bedside table to keep the sun or any light for that matter from touching his delicate retinas. He glanced at the unicorn alarm clock that Mikey had bought him for his birthday years ago before slapping the shades firmly onto his face. 1 pm. God, it was so early in the day. He rolled over and tried to brace himself for a day filled with mostly hopeless aspiring models. Sometimes, he really hated casting calls, hated them. He was meant to be designing not picking out hangars for his clothes. Any way, he tended to think all models that weren’t named Mikey were largely a waste of his time, but every once and a while there was an undiscovered gem, an angel, that made casting calls worth it. He slipped his feet into his bunny house shoes and prayed that there was coffee waiting for him downstairs. Luck was with him. Ray was standing in the kitchen with a cup of magical elixir and a huge smile.
“Gerard.” Ray pressed a hot cup of coffee into his waiting hands and God bless motherfucking Ray Toro.
Ray said, “There are about twenty hopefuls waiting for your approval. They’ve been waiting for four hours. We only have the ballroom reserved until 5 this afternoon.” He stressed the four part of that last sentence.
Gerard moaned into his coffee not overly concerned with waiting or other people’s time. It wouldn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. “Is Mikey around?” Gerard valued Mikey’s opinion on the model’s he picked for his shows.
Ray nodded. “I’ll go get him and send him down. You, make your way to casting.”
Gerard loved Ray so much he wasn’t even going to be put out with Ray ordering him around. He loved Ray, Mikey, God and coffee…maybe not in that exact order though. He took another sip and made his way blearily to the condominium ballroom where a miniature runway had been setup just for the casting call. Mikey showed up a few minutes later, walking past the people seated outside waiting for their turn on the runway without paying them much attention. He pulled up a chair beside Gerard and Gee dropped his head down to rest on his shoulder. “Good morning, Mikey.”
Mikey mumbled, “It’s after twelve,” but ruffled Gerard’s hair, then smoothed it back from his forehead.
Gerard rejected the first five models without ever raising his head from Mikey’s shoulder or removing his shades. There was something just off about each of them, bad auras, funny knees, or weird elbows and one of them had absolutely horribly bad hair. It was fucking unfortunate, really. He perked up a little when Ray let William into the room. He snapped his fingers and William’s portfolio was placed into his out stretched hand. “William Beckett? He has great legs, great hips, great hair.” He nodded his head and the photos disappeared. William smiled. He knew he had just been OK'd and would be modeling for the House of Way.
“Travis McCoy.”
Gerard nodded right off the bat. He loved the energy Travis brought to the runway and the model would look fierce in midnight black, maybe something strategically ripped to show off his ink.
“Ryan Ross.”
Mikey stiffened against Gerard’s side and Gerard lifted his head fully from Mikey’s bony shoulder, curious about Pete’s newest young boything. Ryan walked into the room and by the time he reached the end of the runway, Gerard had pushed his shades up to rest atop his disheveled head so that he could watch Ryan strut in pure, unfiltered color. He put out his hand impatiently and Ryan’s portfolio was promptly offered up. Gerard flipped through a couple of pages and whispered urgently to Mikey. Mikey said, “Stop the music, please.” The music ceased instantly.
Gerard pushed out of his folding chair and stalked over to where Ryan was standing awaiting his decision. He wasn’t sure Ryan was even breathing because his thin chest didn’t seem to be moving at all. Gerard leaned in close and peered up into Ryan’s wide eyes. Pretty. He dropped to his knees without warning and Ryan’s brown eyes widened just that little bit extra. Gerard said, “Ray, measuring tape” and encouraged Ryan to widen his stance so that he could properly measure his inseam. Ryan shifted his stance cooperatively at the insistent push of Gee’s pale hands and Gerard said, grinning up at him, “Your inseam is perfect.” He glanced over his shoulder to see what Mikey thought. Mikey was looking approvingly at the outline of Ryan’s cock in the extra tight pants he was currently sporting. Gerard turned back around to take a closer look himself. The cock nestled in Ryan’s pants was definitely worthy of approval in his (and apparently Mikey’s) opinion. Gerard asked, “How do you feel about black?” basically speaking to Ryan’s crotch.
Ryan said, “I love it,” voice completely flat not giving any clues about the thoughts swirling around his exquisitely styled head.
Gerard lifted his gaze from Ryan’s groin and smiled up at him again, all teeth on full display, “You, Ryan, remind me of my brother. I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is but you’re going to be a star.”
**
“Spencer. Spencer. Spencer.”
Spencer jammed the phone between his shoulder and ear, far too busy to spare a hand to hold the phone to his ear. “I can tell from your overly generous use of my name that you got the job. No thank you for your agent?” He didn’t actually expect Ryan to thank him because the other man rarely did even when Spencer could clearly see the gratitude in his eyes.
Ryan instantly breathed, “Thank you, Spencer.”
Spencer paused. That was different. He put down the file he was holding and grasped the phone. “Talk to me, Ross.”
“Gerard Way measured my inseam while his brother watched, sprawled out in some flimsy folding chair. He was so close to my dick, I could feel him breathing on the head. I almost came right there.”
Spencer choked out an abrupt laugh. “Really, Ryan.” He could hear Ryan moving on the other end of the line. “Do you even know which one of them you want?”
“Gerard Way might be a genius and I love his work, but Mikey Way is sort of ungodly beautiful. And I have never heard another person manage to convey so much emotion in so few words.”
“We are talking about Mikey, right? Mikey Way?” Spencer managed to hold out a whole three seconds before he started howling with laughter. Because, okay, he had actually talked to Mikey before and Ryan had obviously been struck crazy by his infatuation. Mikey had even less inflection in his voice than Ryan and Spencer wouldn’t have believed that was possible until he exchanged words with the younger Way brother at some party at Pete’s place. It had been like talking to a rather lovely zombie. Ryan hung up on him with a disgusted huff but Spencer didn’t stop laughing until five minutes later, phone still clutched in hand, when Brendon came by his office to see if he was alright. Spencer nodded, tears trailing down his cheeks and waving Brendon away but Brendon hung around just to be sure.
**
Pete loved the fashion industry. He loved creating, the colors, and the fabrics. He loved dressing up beautiful girls and boys and sending them out into the public to shine in the limelight.
Pete wasn’t exactly new to the fashion world but he definitely hadn’t been on the scene as long as Gerard. Pete knew that a great deal of his success he could trace directly back to the Way brothers and their tendency to start drama without even realizing it. It was a well known fact in fashionable circles that Gerard disliked Pete almost as much as Mikey liked him. Really, Pete thought the whole “beef” between him and Gerard was a huge exaggeration. Gerard was just a crazy, older brother that didn’t want to believe his little brother had any sexual desires or life outside of the House of Way. Pete wished that half the things Gerard believed he had done to and with Mikey were true. At least if he was fucking Mikey, he wouldn’t be about to die of fucking boredom.
Pete weaved in and out of the wine sipping crowd intent on finding something to hold his interest for an hour or two. He didn’t know what that something was yet but he was confident that he would be able to recognize it. He spotted Spencer in a corner listening to a familiar short, dark haired man talk excitedly at him. Pete grinned. Spencer was exciting, alright, and if it wasn’t for Ryan’s delicious ass, Pete would have made a serious play for him a long time ago. Ryan’s ass and the slightly murderous gleam in Spencer’s business partner’s eyes whenever Pete got too close to Spencer’s amazing hips, but finding Spencer more than likely meant that Ryan was nearby. Those two spent a lot of time together. Pete vaguely remembered hearing that they had grown up together in the desert and shared a girlfriend between them for a year in hopes of producing the perfect child or something to that effect. He couldn’t really remember all the details. He glanced to the left and the right of Spencer and there. A couple of people down, Ryan was speaking to a rather short, unfortunately dressed man in a suede baseball cap. Pete’s mouth turned down at the edges disdainfully. They let just about anyone into these parties nowadays.
He made his way over with half formed intentions of trying to get Ryan alone and maybe into his bed later. He took a quick sip out of his glass and said, “Ryan. There you are! I’ve been looking all over this ghastly place for you.” Ryan and the woeful fashion victim he was conversing with both turned at the sound of his voice.
Ryan looking as unmoved as he usually did, said, “Pete, meet Patrick Stump,” and whatever plans Pete might have had for the night flew out of the window when his eyes meet Patrick’s.
Ryan was still droning on but Pete couldn’t understand a word. He wanted to say, “I’ve dreamed of you for years,” or maybe, “I want to dedicate my Spring line to you or I love you like I love Hemmy,” and the Lord knew how much he loved his dog, but what he actually said was, “Please, tell me you decided to wear that outfit as a joke.” Then he had to fight the urge to slap his hand over his own mouth in horror. Where was his brain to mouth filter when he needed it?
Patrick’s (amazing) eyes widened and then narrowed fitfully, before he turned sharply back to Ryan and said, “It was nice to meet you, Ryan. Call me if you want to continue this discussion at a later date.” He smiled tightly at Pete and stalked off into the crowd without saying goodbye.
Pete watched him walk away until Ryan nudged him and asked, “Do you need me to fetch you a napkin?”
Pete wanted to bite Patrick’s thighs. He needed Ryan to fetch him some strawberry flavored lube and whipped cream and maybe some chocolate syrup. He shut his mouth with a snap and muttered a confused, “What?” at Ryan.
“You’re drooling.”
Pete was touching his fingers to his mouth before he realized what he was doing. Ryan laughed lightly at his put out expression and Pete said, “I was not. I would never drool over someone wearing such hideous clothes.”
“Right.” Ryan looked at him knowingly.
Where did Ryan get off giving him knowing looks. Pete knew way more than Ryan. He narrowed his eyes at him. “So, a little bird told me that you’re going to be walking the runway for Gerard.”
Ryan paused in sipping his drink. “And does that little bird have a name?”
Pete smiled widely. “I’ll tell you if you give me Patrick’s number.” Those magnificent thighs. Pete could see himself biting the tender skin between those legs, sucking bruises onto them that no one else would see but him.
Ryan, that little bastard, said, “I’m not that curious,” and nodded genteelly at him before blending back into the crowd in Spencer’s general direction.
**
Brendon really wanted to touch Spencer Smith’s hips. Like really, really wanted to. They called to him, those hips. He tried to keep that want to himself, hidden behind an easy smile and a helpful demeanor, and he was very successful at it. He hated it. Hated it because his success meant that Spencer had no idea how he felt about him and those taunting hips. Sometimes, when he went to Spencer’s office he wanted to push everything off his desk and offer himself up for the taking. He never actually did it because Brendon wasn’t stupid despite what other people tended to think. He wanted Spencer’s body, yes, but he also wanted to keep working with the man. Wanted to stand by his side and continue to support him as he made The V’ s Modeling Agency a force in the industry they both loved.
Brendon had left his home with nothing but the clothes on his back and a dream in his head. He had wanted to be the best hairdresser in the world and no one was going to hold him back. And no one did. He was well on his way to being one of the most sought after hair stylist in the business when everything he thought he wanted changed in an instant. Brendon met Spencer James Smith V at one of those soulless get-togethers that all the wannabes and up-and-comers were obligated to attend, networking to get their names heard, to be seen with the right people. Brendon had taken one look into Spencer’s brilliant blue eyes and knew that he would do anything he had to do just to stay in Spencer’s presence. He gave up hairdressing with barely a second thought to become an assistant and part time commercial model in Spencer’s fledgling agency. Now, he was a partner in one of the most successful modeling agencies in the United States of America, but he still wasn’t where he wanted to be. In Spencer’s bed and in his heart.
Spencer smiled at him and pointed over toward where Pete and Ryan seemed to be engaged in a rather intense conversation. Brendon smiled back helplessly and pretended to be interested in whatever mocking statement Spencer was about to make.
**
“Hi, Mikey.”
Mikey looked up to see Frank walking toward him and he was about to say, “Hello,” back to him, but stopped and frowned. How did Frank get in the house? “How did you get in here?” As far as he knew Gerard was still in bed, but maybe Ray had let him in. Huh.
Frank just waved off his question as if it was unimportant how he had managed to get into their apartment without anyone noticing. “Is your brother still in bed? No, don’t get up. I’ll just go wake him up myself.”
Mikey stared mouth hanging open as Frank continued on his merry way in the direction of Gerard’s bedroom. Ray wandered into the airy kitchen and settled on a stool next to him. Mikey asked, “Did you let Frank in?”
Ray looked puzzled, “No? Why? Is he here?” He settled down on the stool across from Mikey.
“Huh.” Mikey stuffed another orange slice into his mouth. Strange.
**
Brendon was hovering around the edge of his office door, so Spencer put down the ever present portfolio of a potential new client and asked, “What, Brendon?”
Brendon beamed at him and came in to sit in the chair opposite Spencer’s desk. He shifted around like he always did and said, “Spencer you really need to get a new chair. This one is so uncomfortable.”
Spencer said, “It’s supposed to be uncomfortable. Interviews are uncomfortable.”
Brendon moved around some more before saying, “I’m sure all the interviewees are uncomfortable enough with you staring blank faced at them. This torture device you call a chair is just over kill. Anyway, I came in to ask if you’re going to the party tonight?”
Spencer looked at him balefully. “Which one?” There was never just one party going on at any time in the fashion world.
“The one Pete is hosting,” Brendon picked up a pink pen with a green feather attached to the cap and twirled it around his fingers. “I hear it’s the place to be. He’s inviting all the most important people, top models, agents and producers.”
“How did you get invited then?”
Brendon made a hurt face at him. “Mean, Spencer Smith, totally mean. I’ll have you know that I am a Very Important Person. See, I was going to ask you to be my date but now I’m not so sure I want to.”
The phone started ringing while Brendon was talking and Spencer held a finger up for silence and answered on the third ring. He never picked up on the first or second ring, he was a very busy man after all. “Hello? Oh, Ryan.” Brendon had obediently stopped talking and now was listening to him talk to Ryan with a fond expression on his face. Spencer wasn’t fooled. Brendon was just waiting for his turn to badger him into pretending to be his boyfriend so that the desperate fringe crowd would stop trying to blow him in exchange for being signed with the agency. He was staring at Brendon so hard that he missed what Ryan was saying and ended up agreeing to whatever he was talking about. “Yeah, whatever. What? No, I didn’t mean--, I don’t want--, Brendon was just--, No, I’m not going back on my word. Ryan…Okay, I’ll be ready by ten.” Spencer hung up the phone and put a hand over his face. Ryan could be really trying at times. That’s what he got for paying more attention to Brendon than his phone conversation.
When he took his hand away from his eyes, Brendon was watching him with a curious expression on his face. When he noticed Spencer looking back at him, he smiled but it looked pale in comparison to his normal smile and said, “Well, I guess you already have a date for tonight. I should probably get back to work.”
Spencer wondered idly why watching Brendon quietly leave the room made his chest ache.
**
Pete called Ryan because Ryan had the information that Pete wanted (okay, needed) and that skinny bitch was playing hardball. If he wanted to play the game then he needed to recognize that Pete had mastered it a long time ago.
“Ryan.”
“Pete.” Ryan sounded as amused as someone with a monotone could.
Pete would not be provoked; it wasn’t part of his plan. His totally awesome plan to get into Patrick Stump’s pants and between his thighs. “I know that you’re coming to my party, right?” Ryan was totally coming to his party. It was the place to be.
Instead of admitting there was no other place he would rather be which Pete knew to be the absolute truth, Ryan said, “I don’t know, Pete. Spencer and I sort of have other plans.”
Pete drummed his fingers on his knee. “You could just bring Spencer with you. He’ll enjoy it. There will be plenty of people to look at with pity in his eyes and snicker about behind his hand.” Spencer was kind of a bitch. Pete was beginning to understand why Spencer and Ryan were such good friends.
Ryan said, “Parties have been boring us lately.” Pete could practically hear the smirk hiding under the smooth surface of Ryan’s voice.
It was obviously time to pull out the big guns. “Oh, did I mention that Mikey will be there?” The pause in the steady cadence of Ryan’s breathing was slight but Pete caught it. Checkmate.
Ryan said slowly, “No, you didn’t. I can’t promise anything but I’ll think about putting in an appearance.”
Pete smiled. “While you’re thinking about it, could you call Patrick and tell him how much you would appreciate his company? You do still have his number, don’t you? If you don’t, don’t worry about it. Things like dates and invitations slip my mind all the time. Now that I think about it, I’m not entirely sure I remembered to invite Mikey.” He didn’t know who Ryan thought he was fooling, it was perfectly obvious he had a hard on of enormous proportions for Mikey and while Ryan was following behind Mikey, Pete would just slip in and entertain that delicious little producer himself.
Ryan said smooth as motherfucking silk, “I’m certain I still have it.”
Pete’s voice was sugary and light. “Well, I guess I’ll see you both there, then.”
**
Patrick answered the phone with a distracted, “Hello?”
Ryan clutched the phone a little bit tighter and Spencer gave him an encouraging look. Ryan took a deep, calming breath. So, much depended on him convincing Patrick to show up to Pete’s party (like being close to Mikey in a nonprofessional capacity). “Patrick, it’s Ryan.” Please, remember me.
“Hi, Ryan. What’s up?” Unspecified noises filtered over the line into Ryan’s ear.
Ryan let out the air he had been holding in. Okay, at least he seemed to remember him. “I was hoping to continue that conversation we started at Fashion Rocks.”
“Yeah, that’s cool.” A clang sounded in the background and someone yelled out a profanity. Ryan pulled the phone away from his ear and Patrick said, “Umm, I’m kind of working at the moment-“
Ryan said, “No, no. That’s okay. I was hoping that I would see you at Pete’s party. He mentioned extending you an invitation.”
Patrick said, “Umm…”
Ryan’s stomach rolled. That sounded ominous. He rushed on to say, “Pete’s really a good guy. He was having a bad day and I’m sure he just wants the opportunity to apologize.” Please, believe me. God, he could strangle Pete for dangling Mikey in front of him like this making him possibly ruin what could have become a great friendship.
There was silence across the line before Patrick asked, “What did Pete promise you to get me there?”
Ryan put his head down into his hand and Spencer made an inquisitive noise, but Ryan just shook his head. Of course, Patrick was too smart for his shit. His urge to cause Pete bodily harm grew stronger. “Mikey Way.”
Patrick hummed. “I thought Mikey and Pete-“
Ryan cut him off, “Not anymore, not for a long time.” He didn’t like to think about the two of them in a relationship.
Patrick said, “I’m not the type to stand in the way of young love. So, I’ll tell you what, if you can get Gerard there, then I’ll be in the place.”
No way was that shit going down. Ryan was well versed in the rumors about how reclusive Gerard had become. The designer rarely went to industry parties after he left the dark side of the modeling lifestyle behind a couple of years ago. Ryan sighed. “Thanks, Patrick. I’ll see what I can do.” He hung up the phone to find Spencer staring at him with a bemused look on his face. “What?”
Spencer shrugged and sat down beside him and the couch. “What do you have to do in order to get him there?”
Ryan sighed, “I honestly could kill Pete right now.” He dropped his head into his hands. This was so not going to happen. “Patrick wants Gerard to be there. I guess he has some business proposal he wants to run by him or something. I didn’t ask.”
Spencer mused, “You must really want Mikey a lot to go through all of this effort. It isn’t like you.”
“I just think we could be something together.” Ryan’s voice was muffled by his hands.
Spencer said, “Call Patrick back and tell him Gerard will be there. I’ll handle this.” Ryan took his hands away from his face and put his head on Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer handed him the phone.
**
When Ryan was sixteen years old, he told Spencer that he was going to be a supermodel. Spencer had laughed in his face. That had been the end of that particular conversation, at least in Spencer’s mind.
Later, when Spencer found out that Ryan was posting, let’s just call them questionable, pictures of himself on the internet for any old pervert to see, Spencer took him aside and told him quite firmly to stop it. Ryan said, “I need to find an agent. My time is running out. I’m getting old.” Ryan was seventeen years old.
Spencer said, “I’ll be your agent…just stop doing that. It’s dangerous.” It was Ryan’s turn to laugh at him.
Ryan asked, derisively, “And just who do you think is going to take a sixteen year old boy seriously?”
Spencer looked at him, blue eyes coolly confident and said, “Don’t ever doubt me.” That was the day The V’s Modeling Agency was born. It wasn’t long before Ryan was a true believer, the first in a line of many.
**
All of Pete’s parties verged on the ridiculous with lots to drink and tons of beautiful people to look at. Spencer stepped carefully around a laughing blond with a full cup of brightly colored alcohol in her hand and about a gallon of saline solution in her breasts. His mouth crooked to the side as she spilled a bit of the liquid in her cup down her cleavage. The tiny crowd of men surrounding her swarmed closer as if the alcohol was blood in the water.
Spencer arrived at the party with Ryan but it wasn’t long before Ryan abandoned him in favor of hunting down the elusive Mikey Way and Brendon managed to sniff out his presence. Brendon relocated to Spencer’s side the moment he spotted him across the room, quickly abandoning the group of aspiring models that had him cornered. Brendon was vibrating faintly with the low hum of energy that always seemed to be dancing just under his skin and Spencer suffered his presence good-naturedly. Brendon could be exhausting but was mostly adorable…kinda reminded Spencer of an overexcited puppy but the other man was great at his job and Spencer couldn’t imagine trying to make it through a work day without him. Brendon was currently whispering in his ear about something or maybe someone but Spencer had mostly tuned him out in favor of watching Ryan work his way closer through the raucous crowd toward an unsuspecting Mikey Way. The younger Way brother was looking slim and beautiful in carefully tailored all black (no doubt at Gerard’s urging).
Brendon leaned even further into Spencer’s personal space and said, voice pitched to be heard over the pounding music, “I have dreams about sucking your dick.”
Spencer said, “Yeah, okay,” absently and then he actually processed what Brendon had said. He whipped around to stare wide eyed at Brendon, “Wait, what?” Brendon quirked a smile at him and faded back into the rapidly shifting crowd, retreating quickly before Spencer could get a hand on him.
**
Mikey was more than a little bored not because it wasn’t a good party because Pete knew how to throw a motherfucking party, okay? But when Pete had asked him to show up, asked nicely, and maybe mentioned casually that Ryan would be in attendance, Mikey had imagined spending his night talking to the other model. So far, no such luck. He looked around surreptitiously trying to see where Gee had disappeared off to. He idly wondered what had made Gerard decide to come anyway. Unlike him, Gerard didn’t do the party thing too often and especially not the kind of parties Pete threw which were pretty ridiculous by anyone’s standards, full of hot young things and substances to make you seem even hotter in the low lights. A soft hand touched his arm and interrupted his musings. Mikey turned to find himself looking into artfully made up brown eyes. Ryan.
Ryan smiled at him and said, “You seemed like you could use the company.”
Well, bored no longer. “And what lovely company,” he said mildly. Mikey placed his still full glass of wine on the tray of a passing waitress and turned to fully face the other model.
Ryan looked like he didn’t quite no how to take that comment but discarded his glass in a smooth mirror of Mikey’s action. “Do you want to find a quiet place to talk?”
Mikey looked at him silently for a moment before letting a small smile cross his lips. “I know just the place. Follow me.” Ryan fell into to step beside him, close enough that Mikey could feel the heat radiating off his slight body.
**
When Pete finally found Patrick, he was talking to crazy ass Gerard and wasn’t that just a kick in the balls. Patrick wasn’t dressed much better than the first time that Pete had seen him and Gerard was wearing his standard all black uniform. He watched the two of them for a while from the shadows. Watching the way Patrick’s hands were flailing about adorably and Gerard was smiling his creepy, pointy tooth smile. It was disgusting. He obviously had to save Patrick before Gerard decided to drink his blood or smother him with black cloth and hide his body.
“Patrick, there you are. I’ve been looking for you all over.” He paused and said pointedly, “Gerard.” Patrick was rubbing his temple tiredly and Pete assumed that meant Gerard had given him a headache. He could sympathize. Gerard gave him headaches all the time.
Gerard said, “Pete,” and he was looking back and forth between the two of them like he knew something Pete didn’t which was totally untrue. And, also, he was totally tired of people that didn’t know anything giving him knowing looks.
Patrick said, “Hello, Pete. I was just talking to Gerard, so if you-“
Pete cut in. “Of course, I will rescue you from him, fair maiden. Come on, let’s go.” Patrick shot Gerard a panicky look over his shoulder and Gerard looked like he was about to say something Pete didn’t want to hear so Pete pulled out the big guns. “I thought I saw that short, tattooed guy that follows you around all the time standing really close to some girl in a short dress earlier but I’m sure that couldn’t have been him.” And just like that Gerard left Patrick to his own devices. Pete grinned. The Way brothers were pretty easy once you got to know them.
Patrick asked quizzically, distracted from his efforts to get away from Pete, “What short guy?”
Pete shrugged, “I’m not even sure he has a name.”
**
Part II
**