(no subject)
Title: Falling For You
Pairing: Ray/Ian
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 1528
Summary: Ray's friends are a bunch of meddling meddlers. As much as he hates to admit it, this isn't always a bad thing.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Author's Notes: The third in the First Impressions series, all can be read as oneshots. A while ago on Twitter I started chatting this to you, I hope you like it finished as much as you liked the chat snippets.
It starts because Frank is an idiot. Ray’s sitting in English, Frank beside him, doodling at a level that doesn’t quite meet Gerard’s, but better than Ray’s own swirls and cubes. They’re not particularly participating in the group discussion about what other examples can be found for media within media, but he’s got a few notes scribbled, and they’re not actively talking. It’s good enough student behaviour for today.
Then Frank leans half out of his chair. Before Ray can stop him, he tugs on the hair of guy sitting in front of him. Frank probably thinks it’s harmless, Ray wouldn’t be surprised if the guy turns around and punches him in the face. Ray barely tolerates Frank’s little habit and they've been best friends nearly two years. Ray is pretty much positive random fro!dude doesn't want his hair touched by a stranger.
Thankfully fro!dude doesn’t turn around, which relieves Ray of having to decide whether or not he’ll stick up for Frank, or if he’ll let him get what he deserves.
Random Fro Dude comes to class the next day with his hair cut. Instead of a few feet of brown curls, it’s cut close to his head, barely long enough to spike. Ray frowns at Frank. He doesn’t apologise, so Ray has to do it for him. “Sorry he made you cut your hair. He wasn’t trying to bully you.”
He doesn’t nod to acknowledge or even better, not reply at all. Random Fro Dude turns around almost completely in his chair to ask “what are you talking about? I just wanted to cut my hair.”
Frank glares. Luckily for Ray the English class desks are approximately fifty years old; wooden with textbook holders welded on the right side. If it wasn’t for the mess of chipped paintless metal, Frank would be kicking him. “Don’t tell him I’m a bully. Tell him I am not a hair oppressor, I am a hair lover!”
Random Fro Dude smirks. “That's an interesting kink. I just like catboys.”
Frank stares as Ray snickers, and they both get interrupted by Mr Clark. “If you're quite done discussing pornography, Mr Crawford?”
Random Fro Dude opens his copy of Midsummer and starts reading the beginning of the act. Ray didn’t actually look at the taped list beside the chalk board to see who he was assigned to be, or if he’s even up today, but if he doesn’t jump in he has full confidence that Clark will bitch him out.
It occurs to Ray as he’s leaving forty five minutes later that now he knows Random Fro Dude is Crawford. With that information he can look him up in the yearbook. Going to the library and spying is much better than actually asking the guy for a first name. Doing that is practically asking for a phone number or nude pics. Ray isn’t that kind of guy.
Mikey is waiting outside of the class, like normal. It doesn’t matter that he’s a year younger when half the electives don’t even have pre-requisites, and those that do don’t have to be taken in a specific year, only subsequently. Frank fills him in on the details of Ray’s obvious crush as Ray tries his best not to listen to his summary.
They follow him to the library, of course. Lightly mocking, of course. He doesn’t blame them. In their shoes, he would do the same. It’s what friends do; be supportive while also complete assholes. Mikey asks for the yearbook so Ray doesn’t have to confront the librarian, and then rewards himself by taking the best cushion on the ratty disgusting couch half hidden on the other side of the circulation desk.
Crawford’s first name is Ian. It sounds nice. He doesn’t say that, because he’s not a moron. Frank and Mikey skip graphic design with him, and they only mock him a little bit for keeping the page with Ian’s picture open the whole period.
At lunch Frank is a few minutes late. For Gerard or Mikey he wouldn’t consider it a big deal. For either Way he wouldn’t consider two hours off a big deal. Frank is different, especially at lunch. He claims the fries on the top of the serving vat taste best, and he always rushes into line to try to get them. It’s odd.
A minute after finally Frank joins them Ray’s phone goes off. He glances at his friends; they’re four of the six people he talks to most, the other two being his mom and the owner of his favourite music shop, who lets him know about new stock. None of them have their phone out, and there usually isn’t new stock on Wednesday. His mom would call, this is a text.
its ian. frank gave me your number
Ray smacks Frank. Interfering bastard. Now he has to figure out something to say that doesn’t sound ridiculous, make him seem stupid, or make it look like all he wants is a hookup. Fucking stupid Frank.
what manga do you like?
???
catboys? Oh god, please let him have not been making a gay joke. It will suck intensely if Ian’s not only straight, but the kind of boy that thinks making comments about liking guys is so insane it’s hilarious. Ray really doesn’t need more pricks in his life.
who says i'm not just a furry?
Holy shit, that wasn’t the answer he wanted either. “Oh my god. Mikey Ian is a furry. What do I do?”
“Uh. Get a horsetail buttplug?”
Frank snorts juice out his nose. Ray hates them both. Gerard and Bob can live, but when he controls the universe Mikey and Frank will die.
Last class of the day is Short Form. Ray’s not really into poetry, but novellas and short stories are interesting to read, and just before the end of the semester there’s a lyrics unit. It’s held one of the six classrooms on the third floor. There’s no elevator. He’s pretty sure that isn’t actually legal, but no handicapped students have complained or tried to sue yet, so for now Convington is safe.
Ray is not a klutz. He’s not a graceful pretty princess ballerina, but he’s not nearly as bad on his feet as Mikey is. It’s his stupid fucking pants. They’re baggy and the stupid asshole kid crowding behind him steps on them, making it impossible to take a step up. Instead he falls backwards, down the flight. He doesn’t even have the luck of landing on the stupid asshole kid, that fucker somehow rolls out of the way. Figures.
Ten minutes later finds Ray in the nurse’s office. The woods teacher half carried him, after he had difficulty standing. There’s no sense in messing up his mom’s paycheck by making her take the afternoon off to come pick him up and take him home half an hour early. He just has to wait until three thirty to carpool with his friends, like normal. And Gerard can’t afford to skip gym, he’s almost failing as it is.
As he passes the time by reading pathetic puberty pamphlets -he could study or something, but screw that- someone knocks on the door. Ray wants to shout it’s not locked, but he’s not sure who’s on the other side, or how they’ll react. He stays quiet as the door opens.
It’s Ian. It’s Ian, and he’s not hobbling, or bleeding, or holding his head like he’s got a migraine. The complete lack of any illness brings up a question, and Ray can’t stop himself from asking. Immediate regret for how horrible the words sound out of his mouth doesn’t prevent them from having been said. “Why are you here?”
“Mikey and Frank texted me.”
Ray’s less surprised about that than that Bob didn’t. He knows Gerard wouldn’t have. Gerard is the only friend of his that isn’t a meddler. Bob doesn’t look the part, but he can play it well. “Bob didn’t?”
“I’m sure he knew that they would?”
Ray doesn’t know if Ian even knows who Bob is. He can’t ask that though, it’ll sound weird.
“How are you?”
“Well, I’m not in a genocide in Darfur.”
“Okay. But where fine is measured on levels of agonising pain?” He’s persistent, no wonder Frank approves of him. In the past, he’s rejected some of Ray’s crushes pretty extremely.
“I’m not fine, in that case.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Well, I can’t never walk again, right?”
“That’s a good attitude, considering it would be hard to go on a date if you never left your bed again. Well, some kinds of dates, at least. Not sure I’m ready for a naked date until we’ve had an unnaked one. You get that, right?”
If Ray was able to stand, he might leap for joy at the idea of both dating Ian and crawling into bed with him. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever get into bed with anyone. As it is, he just sits with his foot propped up on a second chair and smiles.