I'm Not Okay-verse fic: Best Damn Dress
Best Damn Dress
by Mary
A story set in the universe of the I'm Not Okay video.
Summary: "You know who else kiss each other all the time, Frank? People who are dating."
In theory they have band practice on Saturday mornings, which mostly means that everyone's at Gerard and Mikey's garage by 12:30 or so. They keep at it until the worst of the sleepy afternoon heat hits at four, then turn all the fans up and stand in front of them, barefoot on the cool cement floor, arguing about what they're going to call their albums.
Lindsey shows up just after four-thirty. Frank's known her since they both started eighth grade at their school the same time, but even after three years and a couple of months he's not sure he's got a grasp on what she's really like. Take today, for instance, where she's just wearing an ancient Smashing Pumpkins 'Zero' tee and a pair of black jeans, her hair brushed but unstyled on her shoulders. She looks normal.
At school she never looks normal. She wears her hair up in these two little-girl pigtail things and her mouth's always bright red with lipstick and she rolls her skirts up at the waistband so they're super-short. She always looks hot, but it's a weird kind of hot that somehow stops the jerkwads on the lacrosse team from getting in her face the way they do with most other girls. When Frank first started running into her away from school, he was really surprised to discover that all that stuff wasn't the real her. It'd all seemed so convincing, which Frank guesses was kind of the point of her bothering with it.
She pulls a few DVD cases out of her bag. "Triple-A special, returned within the week as promised," she says to Gerard, and grins at him. Frank rolls his eyes. How anyone can be so perky in the late summer warmth is beyond him. "Argento, Audrey, and Aladdin."
"Aladdin over here," Mikey pipes up, taking the third case from her. "It play okay?"
"I had to fiddle with the settings to turn off the Indonesian subtitles but yeah, it was fine." She nods. "Hey, where'd you learn bass? I keep meaning to ask and then forgetting."
"Mostly from Ray. He's a good teacher," Mikey says. "Why?"
"Vanessa, the college student who lives in my parents' basement, you know her? Yeah, she's in this band, but she's gotta drop it because she's got no time for it with her course load and stuff. I'm thinking of buying her bass off her and learning."
"That's cool. I can help you pick it up if you like," Ray offers. Frank barely refrains from rolling his eyes again. Ray's supposed to be making their band great, not helping out the competition. Lousy traitor.
"Awesome. Anyway, I gotta go. Gerard, you wanna come now, or swing by later?"
"I'll come now." Gerard gives Lindsey one of his beaming smiles. "Lemme just get my stuff outta my room. I'll be right back."
Gerard and Lindsey are always doing weird art project stuff together. Some of it's awesome when it's finished, like the mural they did on the side of the old library building downtown, of all the torn book pages fluttering off and turning into birds. Some of it's creepy as shit, and once Gerard got suspended for doing this gross comic about serial killers. Lindsey's parents kicked up a big stink about how Gerard was a bad influence on their daughter, but since Lindsey's record stayed okay there wasn't really a lot they could do.
Bob's telling Lindsey and Ray about the music department at his college, but Frank's not really listening. College seems like it's still a million light-years off in the future. Except light-years aren't really years, are they? They're a distance thing. Whatever. It's a metaphor, it doesn't have to make sense. Frank's been friends with Gerard long enough to know that.
Gerard comes back, sports bag over one shoulder. Impulsively, Frank darts over to his side and smacks a noisy kiss against his cheek.
"You play nice now, and don't be a bad influence."
Lindsey snorts. "Please. This guy couldn't be dangerous if he tried." She pulls Gerard out into the heavy brightness of the late-afternoon sunlight of the driveway and sidewalk. "See you guys later."
They walk off in step with one another, Gerard's protests of "Hey, I'm dangerous, don't laugh!" fading as they move out of earshot.
Frank, Mikey, Bob and Ray hang around in front of the fans for a while longer, all of them reluctant for their weekly session of rockstardom to come to an end. Eventually, the heat wins and drives them indoors to Mikey's bedroom.
"It's still hours until the doors'll even be open," Frank grumbles, looking at his watch. He likes to go out to shows on Saturday nights, so that he can stare at the bands on the stage and think about how amazing it's gonna be when it's them up there, throwing themselves around and diving into the pit and screaming their guts out. "You guys wanna play Ravenloft or something?"
"I lost the maps," says Mikey. "I think Gerard was gonna download new ones next time he got a chance."
"That'll be in about twenty years, seeing how he's always off with Lindsey." Frank shoves a pile of Superman comics out of the way and sprawls on Mikey's carpet, banging the back of his head against the softness. "They should just get married and get over it."
"Lindsey's dating a cheerleader," Mikey reminds him.
Bob makes a 'please, feel free to elaborate on this fascinating concept' noise. Bob's a pretty articulate guy when it comes to wordless noises.
"It's nothing that sexy," Ray puts in. "She's going out with the guy in the mascot suit, that's all."
"Schechter? He's cool," Bob says in the infuriatingly unruffled, voice-of-absolute-chillness he's developed since starting college. As if his life now is so much better than the rest of them can dream. Whatever. He's the loser in a band with a bunch of highschoolers. "I'm sure she's got the hint not to go in your territory anyway, Iero, so I wouldn't count on wedding bells."
Frank glares. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Dude, you kissed him, like, five times today."
"So? It's part of our, our thing! You know, the band thing. To piss off homophobes."
"Yeah, you're pissing off homophobes by making out with your boyfriend," Ray explains helpfully, speaking each word clearly in a voice that sounds like it's trying very hard not to be a laugh. "Don't sweat it. If any of us cared, we wouldn't be here, right? You don't have to hide it."
"I care." Mikey's tone is mildly disgusted. Since everything Mikey does is mild, the fact that there's any trace of an emotion at all speaks volumes. "But only because I have to watch my brother get drooled on all the time, which is pretty low on my list of turn-ons."
"You seriously think me and Gerard are a.. a couple?" It's not that the idea's not appealing. It's an awesome idea, and one Frank has thought about a lot. It's also not one he has any plans to act on, not while they're still doing their best to survive high school mostly intact.
Maybe Bob has a point about life being better at college.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"Sure do."
"It's not like that. It's just how we act, you guys know that. It's not like this is a new thing I started doing today. Gerard and I kiss each other all the time."
"You know who else kiss each other all the time, Frank? People who are dating." Bob's voice is dry.
"Whatever. Let's just play fucking Ravenloft, okay?" Frank slumps back onto the carpet, staring up at the ceiling. "Fuck the missing map. We'll make do."
--
They all end up in their usual places at the show that night: Ray and Bob off to the side, listening to the band and paying attention to details that they'll talk over obsessively together later; Mikey down near the bathrooms, making awkward yet surprisingly effective small-talk with the girls who hang out down there for the same purpose; and Frank in the pit, going nuts.
When Gerard's with them, Frank can usually convince him to come in the pit too, especially if they have a few drinks before they head out. For a guy who's scared to death of tattoos and needles, Gerard is oddly fearless when it comes to potential cracked ribs and twisted ankles.
Frank lasts through five songs before he shoves his way out to get a breath of air and a water. He heads down to Mikey's spot, where Mikey's talking to two girls and a guy about the best places to send demo tapes.
As Frank swallows a mouthful of the overpriced bottle of water he just bought, he recognises the guy and one of the girls as Brian Schechter, the mascot guy from the school pep squad, and Lindsey, still dressed in her normal-person clothes. He's about to nod hello to them when he recognizes the other girl, and nearly drowns on a mouthful of water.
"Hey," Gerard says as Frank splutters and tries to inhale air.
"Hi," he manages to croak in reply, coupling the word with a weak smile.
It's not like he didn't know that Gerard owned drag stuff. They're all pretty honest with each other in general -- since they've got no cool image to maintain at school, there's no sense in lying about the mostly-secret things that might hurt their reputation. Like Ray's obsessive love for his playstation, or Mikey's fondness for unicorns.
So Frank already knew that Gerard had three dresses in the back of his closet that'd been bought at thrift stores, and that sometimes he messed around with makeup when nobody was around and Mikey was off doing his own thing. It'd never been a big deal, but Frank had kind of assumed that it'd always be one of those things that would never be a big deal in private.
Like the really, really, really awkward talk Frank's mom had given him when he was eleven had explained: there was some things that weren't shameful or dirty, but were personal, and shouldn't be done where anyone could see. Seeing Gerard in a dress is sort of like seeing Gerard jack off would be.
Frank splutters again.
"You okay, dude?" Gerard looks worried now. "Need someone to slap your back?"
"Fine, fine, I'm fine," Frank assures him, gulping in a breath. "Just need some air. I'm gonna go outside for a sec."
"I'll come with you."
Frank tries to think of a polite way to explain that this will somewhat defeat the purpose of going outside for air, seeing as how it's Gerard that's leaving him breathless. And wow, that sounds so tacky Frank's actually a little proud of himself for thinking it up. If the world ever turns into a cheesy sitcom, he'll be one smooth motherfucker.
They push past the door guy and out onto the mostly-deserted street. There are a few kids in the pizza place down the block, and some more over by the bus stop, but for the most part it's still and quiet. The din of the band is a muted roar through the thick walls.
"You look like a girl," Frank says softly, a little awed.
Gerard scowls. "Hey, fuck you, you already knew I did thi-"
"No, no," Frank cuts him off. "I mean... you don't look like a guy in a dress. You look like a girl." Gerard's dress is dark red with white polka-dots scattered over it, with a wide white collar and black stockings and white mary-janes. There's gloss on his lips and liner and mascara on his eyes, which should have been no big deal at all because Frank has seen Gerard do stuff with makeup on his face tons of times, but somehow this is different.
"Yeah, I know. It's fucking cool." Gerard's scowl turns into a bright beaming smile. "Bus drivers are all polite and everyone in stores tries to help you shop for stuff. Some guys are jerks, but it's no worse than the shit we put up with when we're at school, you know? It's just a different way for them to feel like they're hot motherfuckers by being shitty-ass bullies."
"So you do this a lot?" Frank shifts, uncertain of what he should say next. He feels like a creep for not noticing that Gerard was doing something like this, something that turns him into this whole other fucking person, this gorgeous snow-white girl with a clip holding her dark hair off her pale face.
"Not a lot. Just sometimes. Lind's helping me out with getting used to it. It's different to being a guy, way different."
"Oh." Frank tries to think of other words to go with that, and fails. "Oh."
"But..." Gerard goes on, gesturing now, and that's familiar enough to be a welcome lifeline for Frank. Crazy flailing to emphasize a point, that's the Gerard he knows. "It's not like I feel like a girl when I'm like this, either. Not exactly. I feel..." He laughs. "I feel like I'm a fuckin' superhero, Frankie. This is my secret identity."
"Cool," Frank manages weakly. When he sees Gerard's smile start to falter and fall, he feels more words rush up to fill the silence. "No, really, it's cool, it's just... I like the real you? I guess? And it's recently come to my attention that I've maybe been boyfriends with the real you for a while now and not noticed, because I'm a dumbass. So to see this other you is just making it even more confusing. But it's cool."
Gerard grabs him in a squeezing hug, which Frank's still-tender lungs do not approve of. He squeaks a little, but it's a manful squeak.
"It's like when Lois and Superman got married. Or didn't, because they couldn't, remember? Because it was way too dangerous for everyone to know how special she was to him. So she married Clark, and they got to be all coupley in public together without anyone giving a shit, and secretly they both knew that it was really Superman she was kissing underneath. Except that doesn't really work, because they married post-Crisis, and the idea that Superman was the real identity and Clark was the construct was more Silver Age-"
Frank giggles against the skin of Gerard's shoulder. "Your metaphor is fine. I get it. You're my hot girlfriend who's secretly the last of an alien race that can leap tall buildings."
"Now you're making it worse. The leaping's Golden Age; who needs to leap when they can fly?" Gerard retorts, but he's laughing too. "It's not too strange, is it? I want this, I want us. I want it to be a real thing and not just kisses on the cheek in the garage."
"Careful. You're starting to sound like an actual girl now."
"Shut the fuck up, asshole. I just don't want wanting you to mean that we both spend our senior year in traction, or worse. College isn't so far off, not really. Everything will be different, then."
"Different," Frank echoes. "Yeah. I guess it's not so far."
"No," Gerard agrees, and shifts position until Frank can taste his lip gloss.
by Mary
A story set in the universe of the I'm Not Okay video.
Summary: "You know who else kiss each other all the time, Frank? People who are dating."
In theory they have band practice on Saturday mornings, which mostly means that everyone's at Gerard and Mikey's garage by 12:30 or so. They keep at it until the worst of the sleepy afternoon heat hits at four, then turn all the fans up and stand in front of them, barefoot on the cool cement floor, arguing about what they're going to call their albums.
Lindsey shows up just after four-thirty. Frank's known her since they both started eighth grade at their school the same time, but even after three years and a couple of months he's not sure he's got a grasp on what she's really like. Take today, for instance, where she's just wearing an ancient Smashing Pumpkins 'Zero' tee and a pair of black jeans, her hair brushed but unstyled on her shoulders. She looks normal.
At school she never looks normal. She wears her hair up in these two little-girl pigtail things and her mouth's always bright red with lipstick and she rolls her skirts up at the waistband so they're super-short. She always looks hot, but it's a weird kind of hot that somehow stops the jerkwads on the lacrosse team from getting in her face the way they do with most other girls. When Frank first started running into her away from school, he was really surprised to discover that all that stuff wasn't the real her. It'd all seemed so convincing, which Frank guesses was kind of the point of her bothering with it.
She pulls a few DVD cases out of her bag. "Triple-A special, returned within the week as promised," she says to Gerard, and grins at him. Frank rolls his eyes. How anyone can be so perky in the late summer warmth is beyond him. "Argento, Audrey, and Aladdin."
"Aladdin over here," Mikey pipes up, taking the third case from her. "It play okay?"
"I had to fiddle with the settings to turn off the Indonesian subtitles but yeah, it was fine." She nods. "Hey, where'd you learn bass? I keep meaning to ask and then forgetting."
"Mostly from Ray. He's a good teacher," Mikey says. "Why?"
"Vanessa, the college student who lives in my parents' basement, you know her? Yeah, she's in this band, but she's gotta drop it because she's got no time for it with her course load and stuff. I'm thinking of buying her bass off her and learning."
"That's cool. I can help you pick it up if you like," Ray offers. Frank barely refrains from rolling his eyes again. Ray's supposed to be making their band great, not helping out the competition. Lousy traitor.
"Awesome. Anyway, I gotta go. Gerard, you wanna come now, or swing by later?"
"I'll come now." Gerard gives Lindsey one of his beaming smiles. "Lemme just get my stuff outta my room. I'll be right back."
Gerard and Lindsey are always doing weird art project stuff together. Some of it's awesome when it's finished, like the mural they did on the side of the old library building downtown, of all the torn book pages fluttering off and turning into birds. Some of it's creepy as shit, and once Gerard got suspended for doing this gross comic about serial killers. Lindsey's parents kicked up a big stink about how Gerard was a bad influence on their daughter, but since Lindsey's record stayed okay there wasn't really a lot they could do.
Bob's telling Lindsey and Ray about the music department at his college, but Frank's not really listening. College seems like it's still a million light-years off in the future. Except light-years aren't really years, are they? They're a distance thing. Whatever. It's a metaphor, it doesn't have to make sense. Frank's been friends with Gerard long enough to know that.
Gerard comes back, sports bag over one shoulder. Impulsively, Frank darts over to his side and smacks a noisy kiss against his cheek.
"You play nice now, and don't be a bad influence."
Lindsey snorts. "Please. This guy couldn't be dangerous if he tried." She pulls Gerard out into the heavy brightness of the late-afternoon sunlight of the driveway and sidewalk. "See you guys later."
They walk off in step with one another, Gerard's protests of "Hey, I'm dangerous, don't laugh!" fading as they move out of earshot.
Frank, Mikey, Bob and Ray hang around in front of the fans for a while longer, all of them reluctant for their weekly session of rockstardom to come to an end. Eventually, the heat wins and drives them indoors to Mikey's bedroom.
"It's still hours until the doors'll even be open," Frank grumbles, looking at his watch. He likes to go out to shows on Saturday nights, so that he can stare at the bands on the stage and think about how amazing it's gonna be when it's them up there, throwing themselves around and diving into the pit and screaming their guts out. "You guys wanna play Ravenloft or something?"
"I lost the maps," says Mikey. "I think Gerard was gonna download new ones next time he got a chance."
"That'll be in about twenty years, seeing how he's always off with Lindsey." Frank shoves a pile of Superman comics out of the way and sprawls on Mikey's carpet, banging the back of his head against the softness. "They should just get married and get over it."
"Lindsey's dating a cheerleader," Mikey reminds him.
Bob makes a 'please, feel free to elaborate on this fascinating concept' noise. Bob's a pretty articulate guy when it comes to wordless noises.
"It's nothing that sexy," Ray puts in. "She's going out with the guy in the mascot suit, that's all."
"Schechter? He's cool," Bob says in the infuriatingly unruffled, voice-of-absolute-chillness he's developed since starting college. As if his life now is so much better than the rest of them can dream. Whatever. He's the loser in a band with a bunch of highschoolers. "I'm sure she's got the hint not to go in your territory anyway, Iero, so I wouldn't count on wedding bells."
Frank glares. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Dude, you kissed him, like, five times today."
"So? It's part of our, our thing! You know, the band thing. To piss off homophobes."
"Yeah, you're pissing off homophobes by making out with your boyfriend," Ray explains helpfully, speaking each word clearly in a voice that sounds like it's trying very hard not to be a laugh. "Don't sweat it. If any of us cared, we wouldn't be here, right? You don't have to hide it."
"I care." Mikey's tone is mildly disgusted. Since everything Mikey does is mild, the fact that there's any trace of an emotion at all speaks volumes. "But only because I have to watch my brother get drooled on all the time, which is pretty low on my list of turn-ons."
"You seriously think me and Gerard are a.. a couple?" It's not that the idea's not appealing. It's an awesome idea, and one Frank has thought about a lot. It's also not one he has any plans to act on, not while they're still doing their best to survive high school mostly intact.
Maybe Bob has a point about life being better at college.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"Sure do."
"It's not like that. It's just how we act, you guys know that. It's not like this is a new thing I started doing today. Gerard and I kiss each other all the time."
"You know who else kiss each other all the time, Frank? People who are dating." Bob's voice is dry.
"Whatever. Let's just play fucking Ravenloft, okay?" Frank slumps back onto the carpet, staring up at the ceiling. "Fuck the missing map. We'll make do."
--
They all end up in their usual places at the show that night: Ray and Bob off to the side, listening to the band and paying attention to details that they'll talk over obsessively together later; Mikey down near the bathrooms, making awkward yet surprisingly effective small-talk with the girls who hang out down there for the same purpose; and Frank in the pit, going nuts.
When Gerard's with them, Frank can usually convince him to come in the pit too, especially if they have a few drinks before they head out. For a guy who's scared to death of tattoos and needles, Gerard is oddly fearless when it comes to potential cracked ribs and twisted ankles.
Frank lasts through five songs before he shoves his way out to get a breath of air and a water. He heads down to Mikey's spot, where Mikey's talking to two girls and a guy about the best places to send demo tapes.
As Frank swallows a mouthful of the overpriced bottle of water he just bought, he recognises the guy and one of the girls as Brian Schechter, the mascot guy from the school pep squad, and Lindsey, still dressed in her normal-person clothes. He's about to nod hello to them when he recognizes the other girl, and nearly drowns on a mouthful of water.
"Hey," Gerard says as Frank splutters and tries to inhale air.
"Hi," he manages to croak in reply, coupling the word with a weak smile.
It's not like he didn't know that Gerard owned drag stuff. They're all pretty honest with each other in general -- since they've got no cool image to maintain at school, there's no sense in lying about the mostly-secret things that might hurt their reputation. Like Ray's obsessive love for his playstation, or Mikey's fondness for unicorns.
So Frank already knew that Gerard had three dresses in the back of his closet that'd been bought at thrift stores, and that sometimes he messed around with makeup when nobody was around and Mikey was off doing his own thing. It'd never been a big deal, but Frank had kind of assumed that it'd always be one of those things that would never be a big deal in private.
Like the really, really, really awkward talk Frank's mom had given him when he was eleven had explained: there was some things that weren't shameful or dirty, but were personal, and shouldn't be done where anyone could see. Seeing Gerard in a dress is sort of like seeing Gerard jack off would be.
Frank splutters again.
"You okay, dude?" Gerard looks worried now. "Need someone to slap your back?"
"Fine, fine, I'm fine," Frank assures him, gulping in a breath. "Just need some air. I'm gonna go outside for a sec."
"I'll come with you."
Frank tries to think of a polite way to explain that this will somewhat defeat the purpose of going outside for air, seeing as how it's Gerard that's leaving him breathless. And wow, that sounds so tacky Frank's actually a little proud of himself for thinking it up. If the world ever turns into a cheesy sitcom, he'll be one smooth motherfucker.
They push past the door guy and out onto the mostly-deserted street. There are a few kids in the pizza place down the block, and some more over by the bus stop, but for the most part it's still and quiet. The din of the band is a muted roar through the thick walls.
"You look like a girl," Frank says softly, a little awed.
Gerard scowls. "Hey, fuck you, you already knew I did thi-"
"No, no," Frank cuts him off. "I mean... you don't look like a guy in a dress. You look like a girl." Gerard's dress is dark red with white polka-dots scattered over it, with a wide white collar and black stockings and white mary-janes. There's gloss on his lips and liner and mascara on his eyes, which should have been no big deal at all because Frank has seen Gerard do stuff with makeup on his face tons of times, but somehow this is different.
"Yeah, I know. It's fucking cool." Gerard's scowl turns into a bright beaming smile. "Bus drivers are all polite and everyone in stores tries to help you shop for stuff. Some guys are jerks, but it's no worse than the shit we put up with when we're at school, you know? It's just a different way for them to feel like they're hot motherfuckers by being shitty-ass bullies."
"So you do this a lot?" Frank shifts, uncertain of what he should say next. He feels like a creep for not noticing that Gerard was doing something like this, something that turns him into this whole other fucking person, this gorgeous snow-white girl with a clip holding her dark hair off her pale face.
"Not a lot. Just sometimes. Lind's helping me out with getting used to it. It's different to being a guy, way different."
"Oh." Frank tries to think of other words to go with that, and fails. "Oh."
"But..." Gerard goes on, gesturing now, and that's familiar enough to be a welcome lifeline for Frank. Crazy flailing to emphasize a point, that's the Gerard he knows. "It's not like I feel like a girl when I'm like this, either. Not exactly. I feel..." He laughs. "I feel like I'm a fuckin' superhero, Frankie. This is my secret identity."
"Cool," Frank manages weakly. When he sees Gerard's smile start to falter and fall, he feels more words rush up to fill the silence. "No, really, it's cool, it's just... I like the real you? I guess? And it's recently come to my attention that I've maybe been boyfriends with the real you for a while now and not noticed, because I'm a dumbass. So to see this other you is just making it even more confusing. But it's cool."
Gerard grabs him in a squeezing hug, which Frank's still-tender lungs do not approve of. He squeaks a little, but it's a manful squeak.
"It's like when Lois and Superman got married. Or didn't, because they couldn't, remember? Because it was way too dangerous for everyone to know how special she was to him. So she married Clark, and they got to be all coupley in public together without anyone giving a shit, and secretly they both knew that it was really Superman she was kissing underneath. Except that doesn't really work, because they married post-Crisis, and the idea that Superman was the real identity and Clark was the construct was more Silver Age-"
Frank giggles against the skin of Gerard's shoulder. "Your metaphor is fine. I get it. You're my hot girlfriend who's secretly the last of an alien race that can leap tall buildings."
"Now you're making it worse. The leaping's Golden Age; who needs to leap when they can fly?" Gerard retorts, but he's laughing too. "It's not too strange, is it? I want this, I want us. I want it to be a real thing and not just kisses on the cheek in the garage."
"Careful. You're starting to sound like an actual girl now."
"Shut the fuck up, asshole. I just don't want wanting you to mean that we both spend our senior year in traction, or worse. College isn't so far off, not really. Everything will be different, then."
"Different," Frank echoes. "Yeah. I guess it's not so far."
"No," Gerard agrees, and shifts position until Frank can taste his lip gloss.