Fic: Not a Pretty Girl - Home with Bob (girl!bob) PG
Image by Itsy
Title: Not a Pretty Girl - Home with Bob
Fandom: Bandom: MCR
Characters: Girl!Bob, My Chem
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2155
Summary: They guys are nervous about meeting Bob's mother.
*
They guys are nervous about meeting Bob's mother, which Bob would mock them for except it's kind of sweet and they're making more effort than any of Bob's ex-boyfriends (and the one ex-girlfriend) ever have.
Brian greets Bob's mom with a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a smile. "Hi."
Bob's mom holds his face in both of her hands and grins widely. "Hello yourself, Brian Schechter. I hear you're still single, which is just such a waste."
One of the great tragedies of Bob's mother's life came when she realized that Bob and Brian were just friends and had no interest in, or intention of pursuing, anything else. After several long conversations in which she tried to convince Bob of Brian's suitability, and Bob explained how the total lack of attraction or romantic feelings wouldn't really make a solid foundation for a relationship, Bob's mom finally seemed to accept the situation.
Bob thinks that she only keeps bringing up the possibility because Brian always looks so surprised and pleased that someone's mother thinks he's a catch.
"Mom, that's a little ooky now that we work together like this," Bob sighs. Her mother just winks at Brian, then at Bob when Brian flushes and looks away with a smile.
"Introduce me to your guys, Roberta."
Frank's eyes widen and Bob knows that she's about to spend the next two months of her life being called Roberta. Damn it.
Bob points to each of them. "Frank Iero, Gerard Way, Ray Toro, and Mikey Way."
Frank hands Bob's mom a bushel of what Bob privately thinks is ragweed, given what it looks like and the way Ray's been leaking at the eyes and nose since Mikey brought it on the bus.
"They're a little shmooshed, Mrs. Bryar," Frank says apologetically. "But it was the best we could--"
"I'm used to gas station shopping, boys. They're lovely, thank you." She puts the bundle aside, then catches Bob's gaze with eyes that are twinkling, and yeah, that's totally ragweed. Bob bites her lip to keep from laughing and watches her mom hug the guys like they're her own kids.
After she ushers everyone into the living room, Bob's mom stares around at how straight and still the guys, except for Brian, are sitting. "Roberta, they seem nothing at all the way you described. Were you telling me lies?"
Bob is taking up three-quarters of the loveseat she's sharing with Mikey, her legs on his lap and her head on the armrest. She rolls her head to the side to look at her mom. "No, I swear that Ray totally used to be a chick."
Ray chokes, apparently on his own spit, and looks at Bob with horror. "Oh my god!"
Bob and her mother crack up at the same time, and after a startled silence everyone else joins in, even Ray, who throws a decorative pillow at Bob's face.
When the laughter settles down, everyone is relaxed and less on their best behavior. Bob's mom nods approvingly. "Much better. Now, who's thirsty?"
*
After dinner Bob gives in and leads everyone down the hall to her old bedroom, which is still her bedroom because she's never gotten her own apartment. Mostly she'll crash with friends when she's in town and doesn't want to be the girl who lives with Mommy.
The guys seem to think there'll be all sorts of embarrassing shit in there--Ray's voting for a doll collection; Mikey thinks everything is going to be pink and frilly--but they're in for a surprise. Bob's room is mostly done in neutral colors--beige walls and a green plaid comforter--and there isn't a plastic horse collection on her bureau (Gerard's guess).
The shelves are filled with magazine collections that Bob bought in piecemeal at local libraries--car mags, music mags, local papers--and random pieces of drum kits that Bob used to own and which could technically all be assembled into one giant, ugly kit that Bob's convinced would be the coolest thing ever, even if it would be unplayable.
There are a few posters on her walls, but they're not of boybands (fucking Frankie, who is still trying to bet cold hard cash on Bob having New Kids on the Block posters on her walls) or even metal bands. Chicago jazz legends are on Bob's walls, but the print that holds the prominent spot behind her bed is of a jazz drum kit, similar to what Billy Cobham played in his early days, simple and sleek and the epitome of jazz.
Bob's seen that picture every single time she's opened her bedroom door for ten years, and her eyes automatically go to it whenever she enters the room. When she lets the guys in, her eyes land on nothing but wall. She stares at the spot where the poster should be, uncomprehending, and it's only Mikey grabbing a handful of the back of her shirt and yanking that keeps her from walking right into the actual fucking kit. Which is sitting in the middle of her floor with a red bow stuck to it.
Bob gapes at it and is about to shout for her mom when she hears her asking the guys to let her through. "Jeph and Bert came by with it last month." Bob blinks and then looks at her mom, who nods and reaches out to pluck a paper off of Bob's dresser. "They left this, too."
"Huh."
*
Gerard comes into Bob's room late in the evening. Bob's sprawled on her bed, staring at the kit contemplatively, and Gerard parks his ass on her shins. Bob curses, then shifts to accommodate him.
"I'm sorry," he says.
Bob shakes her head and shrugs at the same time. "It had nothing to do with you, Gee."
That's not entirely true, of course. The rumors started flying when Gerard got clean and for some reason all of them had Bert being the corrupting influence on Gerard. And those were the nicest of the rumors. None of them came from My Chem's camp--Bob knows that for a fact--but that didn't really matter when Bob called Bert and the others to let them know she was joining My Chem. The Used were her friends and they thought she was choosing sides against them in some imaginary conflict that, unfortunately, became real soon enough.
"It's sort of...complicated," she says quietly.
Gerard lifts one of her legs so that it's stretched across his lap. He plucks at the denim around her kneecap and stares at her. "I know I wasn't at my best and shit, but did I seriously miss you being involved with one of them?"
It wouldn't be the first time someone's thought that about Bob and The Used. Or Bob and any band she's worked with, actually. At least she knows that Gerard isn't just jumping to that conclusion for the hell of it. The guys have noticed that she hasn't spoken to anyone in The Used since she joined My Chem, though they haven't prodded her for details.
"You didn't. It wasn't like that."
She turns the note from Jeph and Bert in her hands. Gerard tips to the side and pillows his cheek on Bob's thigh. He taps a finger on the folded paper. "Can I?"
Bob thinks about it for a second and then nods. Gerard takes it from her carefully and unfolds it. Bob points at the handwriting for the words Make us proud. "Jeph." She moves her finger to the added er after proud. "Bert."
When Gerard rubs his forehead and sighs, she knows he recognizes the brief note for the apology it is. "Fuck. How ugly did it get?"
Bob thinks about Jeph's accusations, Branden's insults, the way Quinn slammed out of the room, and Bert's telling silence. "Very."
"Motherfucking fuck!" Gerard hisses.
Bob drops the note and scrambles down the bed until she's looking right at Gerard. "No, don't even take this on yourself. I swear, I'll kick your ass if you do. This wasn't about you."
Gerard scowls. "Bullshit."
Bob shakes her head. "No. Listen to me. I'm going to tell you the same thing I told them when this all went down: they knew me before they knew you, before I knew you. They knew me, and what they said and did, they knew better. It's on them. Not you. Not even me."
Gerard doesn't look too sure. Bob stares at him intently because she knows she's right. She's given this a lot of thought and there is no doubt in her mind that what she's said is the only truth in the entire fucked up mess.
"Okay." Gerard takes a shaky breath and exhales it with a whoosh. "Okay. I believe you."
"Good."
Gerard's "I miss him" is so faint that Bob isn't sure she's imagined it. She still whispers back, "Yeah, me too."
The bedroom door crashes open a few minutes later and the others come tumbling into the room, high on the sugar-filled desserts Bob's mom served after dinner.
"Oh my god, Gee!" Mikey says, coming to the bed and falling across her and Gerard without care for his pointy joints, the fucker. "Gee, you're missing Roberta's prom pictures."
Bob whimpers, and not only because of Mikey's elbows. God. The prom pictures. Her mom is an evil woman who's probably laughing at Bob right now in the other room.
Bob's trying to free herself from the tangle of Way limbs when she spots Frank edging towards the kit. "Stay the fuck away from it, Iero. I mean it."
Frank flips her off but steps back to where Brian and Ray are standing by Bob's dresser. Bob meets Brian's eyes and, for a moment, is thrown back in time to another band. There's a sad acceptance at the bottom of the mess of emotions on Brian's face, and Bob realizes that there's no fixing the situation for any of them, no way of making any of this right again.
It must show on her face because Brian twists his lips in acknowledgment before jerking his head at the kit. "Play something for us, Bryar," he says steadily.
Gerard shoves at her shoulder. "Yeah, go on. Play, Roberta."
Bob punches him in the back of the head, falls off the bed, then goes to the kit and plays.
*
Before they leave, Bob's mom calls her into the kitchen to help pack up the massive amounts of food they're being sent off with.
"How are you holding up, Roberta?" she asks with a shrewd glance.
Bob's done all the thinking she can about The Used for one night. She shrugs and seals the remnants of the veggie tray from earlier in the night in a plastic baggie. "Mostly okay. I wasn't expecting that. Or anything."
Her mom snorts. "You should know I wasn't exactly nice to them when they showed up."
Bob makes it a point to stand up for herself and not rely on anyone else to defend her, but if there's anyone in the world that has a right to be pissy on her behalf, it's her mom. Bob laughs and leans over to kiss her cheek. "You're the best."
She gets a hug in return before her mom speaks again. "You're happy."
Bob stills for a moment, surprised at the seemingly random turn in the conversation. "Um, yeah. I mean, it's sort of the best job ever."
Bob's mom wraps an arm around Bob's waist and turns them both so that they're looking into the living room.
Frank and Mikey are giggling like idiots and using their phones to take pictures of every embarrassing photo hanging on the walls. Gerard is holding up a photo album--with the fucking prom pictures, damn it--so that Ray can get a good angle to snap a few pictures, too. Brian is standing to the side, talking on his own phone and staring at the picture of him and Bob that her mom keeps on the mantle.
"Go to Utah, convert to Mormonism, and marry all of those boys," her mom says sternly.
Bob snorts and leans her head on her mom's shoulder. "Jamia would take me down like a rabid dog. Also, I don't think marriage is, like, anywhere in my future, Mom."
Her mom shrugs, clearly not all that concerned, and Bob gives her another kiss on the cheek. Because, really, Bob knows that most women her age are married, and even have kids, and Bob sort of lucked out having a mother who is happy that Bob's happy in her unlikely-to-get-married life.
"They're good boys, Roberta."
Bob smiles. "Yeah, I know."
*
In her bunk a few nights later, Bob decides that while there are things that can't ever be fixed, they can maybe be left off at a better place.
She sends a text to Jeph that just says thanks.
.End
14valentines Day 3 - Health