fic
Title: Boys in Bands Got it So Damn Bad (1/3)
Author: nova33
Pairings: Frank/Patrick, Gerard/Pete
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Frank is almost at his boiling point with these kids, and the stupid fucking high school stereotypes. High School AU.
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction in so many ways.
Notes: Thanks to midnightblue88 for beta-ing.
Frank’s least favourite thing about the entire world right now was the fact that he has to ride the bus with kids from the public school. Which sounds really stuck up and stereotypically snobby, even in his head - yeah, the good little Catholic school boy has a problem with those public school kids - but in reality, it’s not like that at all. In reality, Frank would kill to know some of those kids, especially the completely adorable one who always wears hats. Unfortunately, it is people like said cute boy’s best friend who make Frank hate it; the people who make Frank feel like he’s lesser than them because he has to wear a fucking tie every day. As if he’s so innocent and snobby, like he’s the one that looks down on them.
Frank fucking hates high school sometimes.
The bus ride through the city is long, often too long, and he spends a lot of time listening to their jokes about Catholic school kids, seeing the mocking looks shot his way. It’s never bothered Gerard, but Gerard is apparently immune to everything that’s not inside his head. Frank’s not. Frank is almost at his boiling point with these kids, and the stupid fucking high school stereotypes.
“Would it be wrong of me to break you from your internal ranting, or more of a blessing?” Gerard asks, poking him sharply in the ribs. “You’ve been staring at that guy’s head for five minutes, like you’re trying to fucking burn a hole in it, or something.”
“Sorry,” Frank replies with a small smile and a sigh. Honestly, he’s mildly flattered that Gerard could tear himself away from the book in his lap long enough to pay attention to Frank.
“So, were you?”
“Was I what?”
“Trying to burn a hole in his head with your mind?” Gerard questions, raising both eyebrows at him.
“No, because, unlike you, am I aware that the world doesn’t work that way. I will not suddenly develop mutant abilities just because I want to,” Frank replies condescendingly, smirking at Gerard’s huffy expression. “But I would appreciate it if he spontaneously combusted,” Frank amends.
“See, now, that there’s viable proof for,” Gerard points out eagerly, and Frank rolls his eyes. “But seriously, Frankie, what do you have against him? We don’t even know the guy’s name.”
“He thinks he’s better than we are just because we go to fucking Catholic school,” Frank says angrily. “It’s in every look, every supposed-to-be witty comment, every smirk.”
“I think you may be over-reacting just a little,” Gerard states calmly.
“Really? People like him piss me the fuck off, Gee, and you can’t act like there isn’t some basis for it.”
The boy in question turns around in his seat, eyes blazing. “I’d have to be pretty fucking stupid to not know that you were talking about me right now, don’t you think?”
“Pete…” Cute boy - of the hats - turns slightly in his chair next to the guy - Pete, apparently - tugging on his sleeve. “Let it go.”
“Fuck you, man,” Pete says, directing his comment at Frank and shaking off his friend’s hand.
“What?” Frank asks heatedly. “You can’t act like it’s not true. You act like you know so much about us because we go to a private school. Like we’re so fucking naïve and innocent, and you can tell just because of the uniform I wear.”
Pete smirks. “Well, you are, aren’t you? Taught by nuns - such good little boys, nice button up shirts and ties. You wouldn’t know hardcore if it punched you in the face.”
Frank takes in Pete’s appearance - really, truly looks at him - for the first time. Dark hair, streaks of pink through the front bangs. Black hoodie with the sleeves pulled up, showing off the multiple tattoos streaking up and down his arms. “So what?” Frank asks, smirking. “You think that just because you wear black, dye your hair, and have tattoos you’re more hardcore than I am? You don’t know what I do with myself after school, what music I listen to - when I got this lip ring, for instance,” Frank snaps, and pulls his lip ring from his pocket, inserting it into the small hole in his lip. “Hardcore enough for you yet?”
Pete only looks mildly shocked, and only for a second, and then grins wickedly. “One piercing. That you leave out at school, obviously. Nice and temporary, just in case one of the nuns or mummy and daddy have an issue with it.” The mockery in his tone is overwhelming.
“Seriously, Pete, shut the fuck up,” Cute Hat Boy mutters, trying to turn Pete around to face the front. But all of Pete’s attention is focused on Frank, who is now on his feet in the aisle, trying not to fall over as the bus bumps.
“Here,” Frank says, picking at the buttons on his shirt. He can see Gerard rolling his eyes in his peripheral vision, and turning back to the book in his lap. “Is this permanent enough for you?” In a couple of seconds he has the shirt off, and then the white undershirt - his tattoos are visible along his hips, his arms, and his back. He takes a step forward and stands close to Pete, who looks surprised. “I don’t have a problem with permanence, Mr. Hardcore, or the scene. Stop patronizing me.”
“Come out with us tonight,” Pete drawls lazily after a few moments, clearly over his shock, lounging back in his chair. “And we’ll see how innocent you really are.”
“Fine,” Frank says angrily, and then pauses for a moment, considering. “Where are we going, exactly?”
“A club,” Cute Hat Boy butts in, shooting Pete a reproachful look. “But not, like, a normal club. There’s - it’s punk, good punk. There’s a band called Panicked Cobra playing there tonight - maybe you’ve heard of them? They’re pretty good.” He sounds so earnest that Frank shoots him a smile, but it changes back to a scowl the second Pete opens his mouth.
“Aw, Patrick, don’t act like it’s a fucking lounge,” Pete says, nuzzling Cute Hat Boy - Patrick -’s - neck with his nose. He turns his attention back to Frank. “You have a fake ID?”
“Do you?”
Pete smirks again. “It’s called Chemical Romance, on Poplar Street. See you at ten? Or is that past your bed time?”
“We’ll see you at ten,” Frank practically growls, before stalking back to his seat.
“That was an impressive display of manliness,” Gerard comments, not looking up from his book. “Now, where are you dragging me to tonight?”
****
“We’re going to be late,” Frank says as he and Gerard rush towards the bus stop.
“Well, we probably wouldn’t have that problem if you hadn’t taken so much time to put on your makeup,” Gerard points out, fumbling as he tries to pull his arm through his sleeve.
“Says the guy who’s half dressed,” Frank fires back, and Gerard laughs.
“Point, I guess,” he responds, and they arrive just in time to catch the bus. “Is your mother going to kill you?”
Frank smirks. “Of course not - I’m just staying over at your house.”
Gerard shakes his head as they take their customary seats at the back of the bus. “One of these days you are going to get me into trouble.”
“Like your mother would care,” Frank snorts, “She’d be proud of you for going to a punk club instead of sitting in your room drawing werewolves.”
“Nah,” Gerard replies nonchalantly, “It’s vampires at the moment.” He grins at Frank, who grins back. “So. Why do you feel the need to prove yourself to this guy?”
Frank sighs. “It’s not just him - it’s everyone. I just want to get it through their heads that Catholic school boys don’t always fit the stereotypes for Catholic school boys,” he replies, tugging at his sleeve. “It’s just general high school stupidity.”
“That you can clearly put a stop to by going to a punk club,” Gerard says wisely, nodding his head. “It’s all clear now. You are going to save teenagers from their judgmental selves by listening to some mohawked guy scream into a microphone. World order will be restored.”
“Shut up,” Frank laughs, punching Gerard in the arm.
“And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that the guy - Pete, was it? - has a really attractive friend?” Gerard questions, earning a small blush from Frank.
“Well, no,” Frank mumbles, and then grins. “That’s just the bonus.”
Gerard laughs. “You are too predictable, Frankie. As if I wouldn’t have noticed that you’ve been checking him out.”
“And you are too gay for your own good,” Frank shoots back, and then continues thoughtfully. “He seems sort of perennially shy, though.”
“Perennially shy, but friends with Pete,” Gerard points out, grinning mischievously. “And going to a punk club tonight, where you will - coincidentally -be as well.”
“Gerard, repeat after me: I will not interfere, make any not-so-subtle hints, or shoot Frank annoying smirks throughout the evening,” Frank says, scowling at Gerard.
“I will not…” Gerard smirks at Frank, “agree to any of your inane demands.”
Frank rolls his eyes. “This is going to be an interesting night.”
****
Frank hates to say it, but it appears this Pete kid has pretty fucking amazing taste in clubs. While he hadn’t actually ever heard of Panicked Cobra - hey, he likes hardcore, but it’s hard to be part of the scene when your mother has done everything except get a chip implanted to keep track of you - they are amazing.
“They’re amazing!” Frank screams into Gerard’s ear, still jumping up and down with the music.
“I know!” Gerard yells back, looking just as wild and frenzied as Frank feels. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, in the world as good as live music. Especially punk. Screaming, pushing, sweating, adrenaline-filled people moving as one in a mosh pit. Pete and Patrick are near them, and Pete is an insane bundle of energy, more so than even Frank himself, spinning and pushing and whirling to the music amidst the raging people around him. Patrick’s jumping, mouthing the words to every single song - or maybe he’s singing; Frank can barely hear himself think, let alone people talking out loud - but he’s stationary. Frank has decided he is the cutest boy he’s ever seen, and the only one who could wear a trucker hat to a punk club (without irony, he’s pretty sure) and still look fucking amazing.
Gerard elbows him the ribs in such a pointed way he knows it’s not accidental, and Frank turns to look at him. Gerard mouths ‘Make a move’, winks, and cocks his head in Patrick’s direction. Frank shakes his head, feels the sweat fly off of him, and mouths ‘later’ to Gerard, who rolls his eyes.
It’s an hour later when Panicked Cobra finally finish their set, and Frank is sitting at the bar, drinking whatever the fuck it is that Gerard gave him a couple minutes ago.
“Hey,” Gerard says, grabbing his arm, “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”
“Kay,” Frank replies, and watches Gerard weave off into the crowd. A couple seconds later, Pete and Patrick appear in his line of vision. “So, have I proven myself?” Frank sneers.
Pete nods, smirking a little. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m mildly impressed, I will say that much about you. But that’s just in comparison to your classmates, not in comparison to some of the kids in the scene.”
“I should just take what I can get, shouldn’t I?” Frank addresses his question to Patrick, who smiles at him from under the brim of his hat.
“Probably,” Patrick replies easily, with a small shrug.
“We don’t exactly need a repeat of your strip show on the bus, you know, to prove anything. It wasn’t really necessary then either,” Pete states blithely.
Frank snorts. “As if you’d ever have shut up if I hadn’t shown you the tattoos.”
“True,” Pete replies, mockingly contemplative. “And besides, if you hadn’t, Patrick never would have gotten to see your tats otherwise,” he finishes, giving Patrick an easy slap on the back. Patrick turns bright red and ducks under his hat again as Pete continues to grin down at him. He lets out a laugh and disappears into the crowd.
“Yeah, okay, so this isn’t awkward,” Patrick begins after a few moments, looking up at Frank ever so slightly.
“You’re adorable, you know that, right?” Frank asks.
“Hey, Frank,” Gerard says, running up. “Have you checked the time? We should probably get out of here.”
Frank glances down at his watch. “Oh, fuck. Yeah, we’ve gotta go. See you, Patrick.” Frank smiles at the way Patrick ducks his head and flushes a little as he waves good-bye to them.
As soon as they’re out on the street, Gerard starts laughing. “You have it so damn bad, Frankie,” Gerard manages through his chuckles. “’See you, Patrick,’” Gerard mimics, and continues laughing.
“Shut up,” Frank replies. “Hey, hey Gee,” Frank begins seriously, waiting until Gerard has stopped laughing before continuing. “We can double-date; me and Patrick and you and Pete.”
Gerard widens his eyes at him in fake shock. “He may be attractive, but he’s incredibly arrogant.”
“Not to mention he probably isn’t a vampire or a werewolf or a zombie,” Frank points out as they walk towards the bus stop.
“That’s just what he wants us to think,” Gerard shoots back, tapping his nose. “Duh.”
“It’s a bit worrying that you’re more likely to hook up with a guy if he’s a vampire than if he’s a tattooed jock who’s into hardcore.”
“Jocks are jocks,” Gerard says resignedly with a sigh. “He’s a lost cause.”
“He has Jack and Sally tattooed on his arm,” Frank points out, nudging Gerard.
“Well maybe you should date him then,” Gerard says, giving Frank a little shove.
“Nope,” Frank replies with a grin and an answering shove. “Tattoos are out this season; trucker hats are in.”
Gerard laughs. “So damn bad,” Gerard replies, shaking his head sadly. “So damn bad.”
Chapter Two