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MOAR COLLEGE!VERSE. Four assorted ficlets, of various pairings and one maybe-pairing-I'm-honestly-still-not-sure.
Frank/Gerard, after the big story, being squishy and domestic.
"Do you want to move in?" Gerard asks.
Frank looks over at him, blinking. They're curled up on Gerard's couch, watching
Law & Order reruns, and Gerard's question comes apropos of absolutely nothing.
"What?" he asks.
"Do you want to move in?" Gerard repeats, and then adds unnecessarily, "Here. With me."
"I didn't think you were asking if I wanted to move in with your neighbors," Frank says. "And...really? You want me to move in?"
"If you want to," Gerard says, with an absolutely unconvincing attempt at nonchalance. "I mean, I know you like living with Bob, and maybe it's still too soon for us to be thinking about, like, cohabitation and stuff, but...I just think it'd be nice to wake up next to you and not have to think about waking you up so you have time to go home and change clothes, or always have stuff you like in the kitchen because you come shopping with me or leave me a list so I don't forget, or be able to talk about 'our' apartment instead of your apartment or my apartment--"
Frank kisses him, which is usually a good way to shut Gerard up, unless he's going on about comics, in which case Frank sometimes skips straight to blowjobs.
"Dude," he says when he pulls back. "All you had to say was 'yes, really'."
"Oh," Gerard says, with the tiny smile that always makes Frank fall just that much more in love with him. "Okay. Good."
"Good." Frank tucks his head back against Gerard's shoulder, turning back toward the TV. "Now shut up, or we're gonna miss the last-minute plot twist."
"We've
seen this one before," Gerard points out, and Frank reaches up to put a hand over his mouth.
Because Pete wasn't going to stay over in Europe forever.
Pete's flight back to the States gets in at ass o'clock in the morning, and Patrick drags Mikey with him to the airport, so he at least doesn't have to suffer alone.
Pete comes through the security gate practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking bizarrely awake and cheerful for someone who just got off a transcontinental flight, and literally pounces on Patrick, latching onto him and burying his face in the crook of Patrick's shoulder.
Patrick hugs him back, and, when the hug's going on a minute long with no signs of stopping, prods him gently. "Uh. Pete?"
"I
missed you," Pete mutters into his neck, like they haven't talked on the phone or online every day he's been gone, and Patrick relents and rubs his back and puts up with another few seconds of clinging.
Mikey finally clears his throat, loudly, and Pete looks up, beams as if noticing him for the first time (which is entirely possible, the way he barreled straight for Patrick), and lets go of Patrick to launch himself at Mikey instead.
They pick up his luggage and head out to Patrick's car, and Pete lets Mikey take shotgun, because he elects to sit in the back middle seat so he can lean forward between the two of them.
"So where are we going?" he asks, with that big obnoxious grin of his.
Patrick darts a glance at him. "I was thinking maybe
home? So I don't sleep through my ethnomusicology class tomorrow?"
"What? Dude, no, my internal body clock's still on French time," Pete protests, bouncing in his seat to illustrate his point. "I demand all-night diners and fattening American food and storytelling."
"Yeah, well my body's on American time, and it's controlling the car."
Pete leans his head against Patrick's shoulder and attempts to smile winningly at him. "You really think you're gonna get much sleep if I can't?"
"I could foist you off on Mikey," Patrick suggests, at which Mikey shakes his head.
"Nah, Alicia works in the mornings. She'd literally, like, tie him up and gag him if he woke her up."
Pete waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "That's supposed to be a deterrent?"
Mikey leans forward to look past Pete to Patrick. "Can we ship him back to France?"
"Just help me put up with him until the jet lag kicks in," Patrick says.
Okay, so what happened? I had no idea who was going to replace Frank as Gerard's TA, and then had the sudden revelation that Matt Cortez should do it! And also, megolas hosted a Get Cortez Laid comment ficlet thing. So I decided that not only was I going to write Cortez into the collegeverse, I was going to get him laid in the process!
Only I never got as far as the getting-laid part, because I wrote the following and then wasn't sure where to take it, I think partly because I don't feel like I know enough about Cortez to write him much. But there's the promise of eventual laid-getting?
It takes a while to stop mentally referring to Matt Cortez as "Replacement Frank", and Bob feels sort of bad about that. But in Bob's defense, that is pretty much how Matt enters the picture--first as Gerard's new TA for the spring semester, and then as Bob's new roommate when Gerard finally asks Frank to move in with him.
But they live together for a little while, and the differences start becoming clearer. Cortez isn't such a neat freak, and he doesn't stand on a chair and holler for Bob if he sees a spider, and he doesn't climb on Bob like a five-year-old (which, okay, Bob
maybe kind of misses a
tiny bit now and then, not that he'll ever admit that to Frankie). His porn collection's a lot more impressive, too.
And now Bob thinks he may have hit on the biggest difference yet, because he and Frank never made out.
It's late, and he's just tired enough and buzzed enough to not be 100% sure of which one of them leaned in first. But if it was him, Matt doesn't seem to mind, and if it was Matt, Bob's finding he doesn't have any objection.
Thanksgiving! at the Collegeverse. Jon/Spencer UST.
(For reference, this is during the big story. Frank and Gerard both spent that Thanksgiving at their parents' houses mooning over each other. Frank had a heart-to-heart with his mom about the whole thing, but Gerard tried to act like nothing was going on and kicked Mikey under the table when he smirked all through Gerard's talking about how his class was going.)
When you live in Nevada and go to school in New Jersey, five days is not enough of a vacation to go home for, even if it is for Thanksgiving. So on Tuesday evening, Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon say goodbye to their friends who are heading home and then sprawl out in the living room of the house they share, all of them too worn out to do anything but enjoy the brief respite from homework.
"Should we--" Brendon waves a hand vaguely, "Y'know, cook stuff? On Thursday?"
Ryan turns his head just enough to look over at him. "I hope by 'stuff', you don't mean 'a turkey', because I sure as hell don't know how to cook a turkey."
Brendon droops a little. "Neither do I," he says, then, brightening, "I can make pretty good mashed potatoes. And cranberry, I could just go get some of that at the store."
"Knock yourself out, if you want," Spencer mumbles, and then falls asleep on the living room floor with his head on Ryan's stomach.
That's the last Spencer thinks about Thanksgiving until the next day, when he's out running errands and ducks into a Starbucks to get out of the cold for a while. Well, when he ducks into the Starbucks he's not thinking of much besides a gingerbread latte and maybe a cookie of some sort.
"Welcome to Starbucks, may I--oh, hey, Spencer, right?"
Spencer looks up, and freezes like the proverbial deer in headlights, because that's totally Jon Walker standing behind the counter in one of those green aprons, which really shouldn't look that flattering on anyone.
"Hey," he says, once he gets unfrozen, "I didn't know you worked here."
Jon smiles crookedly. "Yeah, the band's great, but sometimes it doesn't pay so well. So, what can I get you?"
Spencer blinks, and remembers that he's here to order coffee, and does so. Jon relays the order to the girl making drinks and glances around, observing the current lack of people in line behind Spencer before he says, "You're staying in town for Thanksgiving? I remember you're not from around here,"
"Yeah," Spencer says. "And you?"
Jon nods. "Parents are in Chicago, but they decided they'd rather use the days off work to go out of town this year. I'm trying to get some sort of food thing going with the guys on my hall, but about half of them are vegetarians or vegans, so Bob and I are on our own if we want turkey."
"My roommates and I are making some stuff, probably, but none of us knows how to do a turkey," Spencer contributes.
"Eh, it's not that hard," Jon says. "I've helped my mom out a few times."
Spencer considers.
Nah, he's hung out with Jon all of twice before this, which makes it probably a bad idea. Also, they just called out his drink, so he should go get it and stop taking up Jon's time.
A couple rushes in from outside, both looking cold and windblown and like they want coffee now, and the girl calls out Spencer's order again, sounding a little annoyed.
"We've got a house," Spencer tells Jon in a rush. "Kind of a mess, but it might be better than an apartment for having a bunch of people over to eat. If you wanted. I'm going to go get my drink and let you work but Frank has my number, okay?"
Jon looks surprised, but smiles a little. "Okay. I'll see what the guys think."
Spencer grabs his coffee and hurries back out, head tilted down into his scarf to hide the grin he suddenly can't stop.
It's starting to seem like maybe this Thanksgiving could turn out to be pretty good.
Frank/Gerard, after the big story, being squishy and domestic.
"Do you want to move in?" Gerard asks.
Frank looks over at him, blinking. They're curled up on Gerard's couch, watching
Law & Order reruns, and Gerard's question comes apropos of absolutely nothing.
"What?" he asks.
"Do you want to move in?" Gerard repeats, and then adds unnecessarily, "Here. With me."
"I didn't think you were asking if I wanted to move in with your neighbors," Frank says. "And...really? You want me to move in?"
"If you want to," Gerard says, with an absolutely unconvincing attempt at nonchalance. "I mean, I know you like living with Bob, and maybe it's still too soon for us to be thinking about, like, cohabitation and stuff, but...I just think it'd be nice to wake up next to you and not have to think about waking you up so you have time to go home and change clothes, or always have stuff you like in the kitchen because you come shopping with me or leave me a list so I don't forget, or be able to talk about 'our' apartment instead of your apartment or my apartment--"
Frank kisses him, which is usually a good way to shut Gerard up, unless he's going on about comics, in which case Frank sometimes skips straight to blowjobs.
"Dude," he says when he pulls back. "All you had to say was 'yes, really'."
"Oh," Gerard says, with the tiny smile that always makes Frank fall just that much more in love with him. "Okay. Good."
"Good." Frank tucks his head back against Gerard's shoulder, turning back toward the TV. "Now shut up, or we're gonna miss the last-minute plot twist."
"We've
seen this one before," Gerard points out, and Frank reaches up to put a hand over his mouth.
Because Pete wasn't going to stay over in Europe forever.
Pete's flight back to the States gets in at ass o'clock in the morning, and Patrick drags Mikey with him to the airport, so he at least doesn't have to suffer alone.
Pete comes through the security gate practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking bizarrely awake and cheerful for someone who just got off a transcontinental flight, and literally pounces on Patrick, latching onto him and burying his face in the crook of Patrick's shoulder.
Patrick hugs him back, and, when the hug's going on a minute long with no signs of stopping, prods him gently. "Uh. Pete?"
"I
missed you," Pete mutters into his neck, like they haven't talked on the phone or online every day he's been gone, and Patrick relents and rubs his back and puts up with another few seconds of clinging.
Mikey finally clears his throat, loudly, and Pete looks up, beams as if noticing him for the first time (which is entirely possible, the way he barreled straight for Patrick), and lets go of Patrick to launch himself at Mikey instead.
They pick up his luggage and head out to Patrick's car, and Pete lets Mikey take shotgun, because he elects to sit in the back middle seat so he can lean forward between the two of them.
"So where are we going?" he asks, with that big obnoxious grin of his.
Patrick darts a glance at him. "I was thinking maybe
home? So I don't sleep through my ethnomusicology class tomorrow?"
"What? Dude, no, my internal body clock's still on French time," Pete protests, bouncing in his seat to illustrate his point. "I demand all-night diners and fattening American food and storytelling."
"Yeah, well my body's on American time, and it's controlling the car."
Pete leans his head against Patrick's shoulder and attempts to smile winningly at him. "You really think you're gonna get much sleep if I can't?"
"I could foist you off on Mikey," Patrick suggests, at which Mikey shakes his head.
"Nah, Alicia works in the mornings. She'd literally, like, tie him up and gag him if he woke her up."
Pete waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "That's supposed to be a deterrent?"
Mikey leans forward to look past Pete to Patrick. "Can we ship him back to France?"
"Just help me put up with him until the jet lag kicks in," Patrick says.
Okay, so what happened? I had no idea who was going to replace Frank as Gerard's TA, and then had the sudden revelation that Matt Cortez should do it! And also, megolas hosted a Get Cortez Laid comment ficlet thing. So I decided that not only was I going to write Cortez into the collegeverse, I was going to get him laid in the process!
Only I never got as far as the getting-laid part, because I wrote the following and then wasn't sure where to take it, I think partly because I don't feel like I know enough about Cortez to write him much. But there's the promise of eventual laid-getting?
It takes a while to stop mentally referring to Matt Cortez as "Replacement Frank", and Bob feels sort of bad about that. But in Bob's defense, that is pretty much how Matt enters the picture--first as Gerard's new TA for the spring semester, and then as Bob's new roommate when Gerard finally asks Frank to move in with him.
But they live together for a little while, and the differences start becoming clearer. Cortez isn't such a neat freak, and he doesn't stand on a chair and holler for Bob if he sees a spider, and he doesn't climb on Bob like a five-year-old (which, okay, Bob
maybe kind of misses a
tiny bit now and then, not that he'll ever admit that to Frankie). His porn collection's a lot more impressive, too.
And now Bob thinks he may have hit on the biggest difference yet, because he and Frank never made out.
It's late, and he's just tired enough and buzzed enough to not be 100% sure of which one of them leaned in first. But if it was him, Matt doesn't seem to mind, and if it was Matt, Bob's finding he doesn't have any objection.
Thanksgiving! at the Collegeverse. Jon/Spencer UST.
(For reference, this is during the big story. Frank and Gerard both spent that Thanksgiving at their parents' houses mooning over each other. Frank had a heart-to-heart with his mom about the whole thing, but Gerard tried to act like nothing was going on and kicked Mikey under the table when he smirked all through Gerard's talking about how his class was going.)
When you live in Nevada and go to school in New Jersey, five days is not enough of a vacation to go home for, even if it is for Thanksgiving. So on Tuesday evening, Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon say goodbye to their friends who are heading home and then sprawl out in the living room of the house they share, all of them too worn out to do anything but enjoy the brief respite from homework.
"Should we--" Brendon waves a hand vaguely, "Y'know, cook stuff? On Thursday?"
Ryan turns his head just enough to look over at him. "I hope by 'stuff', you don't mean 'a turkey', because I sure as hell don't know how to cook a turkey."
Brendon droops a little. "Neither do I," he says, then, brightening, "I can make pretty good mashed potatoes. And cranberry, I could just go get some of that at the store."
"Knock yourself out, if you want," Spencer mumbles, and then falls asleep on the living room floor with his head on Ryan's stomach.
That's the last Spencer thinks about Thanksgiving until the next day, when he's out running errands and ducks into a Starbucks to get out of the cold for a while. Well, when he ducks into the Starbucks he's not thinking of much besides a gingerbread latte and maybe a cookie of some sort.
"Welcome to Starbucks, may I--oh, hey, Spencer, right?"
Spencer looks up, and freezes like the proverbial deer in headlights, because that's totally Jon Walker standing behind the counter in one of those green aprons, which really shouldn't look that flattering on anyone.
"Hey," he says, once he gets unfrozen, "I didn't know you worked here."
Jon smiles crookedly. "Yeah, the band's great, but sometimes it doesn't pay so well. So, what can I get you?"
Spencer blinks, and remembers that he's here to order coffee, and does so. Jon relays the order to the girl making drinks and glances around, observing the current lack of people in line behind Spencer before he says, "You're staying in town for Thanksgiving? I remember you're not from around here,"
"Yeah," Spencer says. "And you?"
Jon nods. "Parents are in Chicago, but they decided they'd rather use the days off work to go out of town this year. I'm trying to get some sort of food thing going with the guys on my hall, but about half of them are vegetarians or vegans, so Bob and I are on our own if we want turkey."
"My roommates and I are making some stuff, probably, but none of us knows how to do a turkey," Spencer contributes.
"Eh, it's not that hard," Jon says. "I've helped my mom out a few times."
Spencer considers.
Nah, he's hung out with Jon all of twice before this, which makes it probably a bad idea. Also, they just called out his drink, so he should go get it and stop taking up Jon's time.
A couple rushes in from outside, both looking cold and windblown and like they want coffee now, and the girl calls out Spencer's order again, sounding a little annoyed.
"We've got a house," Spencer tells Jon in a rush. "Kind of a mess, but it might be better than an apartment for having a bunch of people over to eat. If you wanted. I'm going to go get my drink and let you work but Frank has my number, okay?"
Jon looks surprised, but smiles a little. "Okay. I'll see what the guys think."
Spencer grabs his coffee and hurries back out, head tilted down into his scarf to hide the grin he suddenly can't stop.
It's starting to seem like maybe this Thanksgiving could turn out to be pretty good.