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Brian Gilbert is just a--just an absolute motherfucker.
(“Brian David Gilbert,” He says, with his smug little theater twink voice, haughty expression on his smug little theater twink face. “Bee Dee Gee. If you can’t respect me by using the correct form of my full name, I’m not sure I can deal with the hostile work environment you would inevitably cause.” Jonah hates him.)
Jonah doesn’t even really wanna do this. Theater kids are the worst, and he’s already busy enough working with the rest of the band to prepare for the Spring competition. But Mr. Clary had asked him personally--stalked him through the halls of the high school and pulled him aside in order to ask in private and everything--and Jonah kinda does this thing where he, like, can’t say no to anyone ever or else he feels super guilty. Probably not healthy, but what is an overworked eighteen year old drum major to do? He’s got anxiety.
So, Mr. Clary had asked, and made this face like maybe if Jonah didn’t agree to help then the Spring production would be screwed, and so now Jonah is spending an entire hour three days a week having to put up with Brian Gilbert (and his smug little theater twink voice and his smug little theater twink face. Jonah knows what a twink is, okay?).
“I fucking hate you,” Jonah breathes out, and maybe it doesn’t hold the same weight it has in the past because they’ve just finished their first practice and run through of the show without any mistakes, but no one needs to know that.
“Yeah?” Brian Gilbert grins up at him (he’s so short. Jonah has never been attracted to anyone so short. Not that he’s attracted to Brian Gilbert, it’s just--). “Good, ‘cause I hate you, too. And I’m tired of seeing your stupid furry face in my theater--” Which is just, it’s, it’s so Brian Gilbert, stupidly controlling of everything. His theater? It’s not his fucking theater, it’s their high school's theater. Jonah hates him-- “You gonna kiss me again, or what?”
Jonah feels himself blush head to toe, because he doesn’t do things like this. He’s too soft. He lays in bed and dreams about meeting someone kind and sweet and going on dates and holding hands. He doesn’t kiss some annoying dude who he hates in the school theater in the dark after practice. Some annoying, stupid, pretentious, ugly, short dude who acts like he’s better than Jonah even though Jonah knows he only knows how to play the ukulele, so, like, what the hell?
Jonah feels himself blush head to toe and he wants to die, because he knows that Brian Douchebag Gilbert can tell, and he smirks and pulls Jonah down by the collar of his shirt (which, like, asshole move, he’s gonna stretch it out) and plants one right on his lips. Just, like, directly right on there.
This isn’t tender, some part of his brain says. This isn’t soft. This isn’t some nice, sweet, soft spoken person you take to dinner and then kiss chastely before parting ways. This is Brian Douchebag Gilbert. Jonah still kisses back, though--
And kisses back and kisses back and kisses back and kisses back, till the lights of the theater flip on and Paul The Custodian yells at them from the doorway to get out because he needs to clean and they can do that necking shit on their own time.
Jonah jumps back, entire face aflame. He stares at Brian Gilbert’s face, weirdly shy looking, kind of anxious, and he’s prepared for the insult that Brian throws at him before booking it out of there, and he’s prepared for the next month of tender dreams he’s definitely gonna have about the boy (not that he’s… ever had any tender dreams about Brian before. It’s never happened. It’s never happened), and he’s prepared to see this production through even though it will surely be miserable and mortifying, because he’s not an asshole (not to anyone other Brian Douchebag Gilbert). He’s not prepared for Brian to swallow audibly, bite his lip, look at something over Jonah’s shoulder, and say, “Do you, uh. Do you wanna go to McDonald’s with me?”
The thing is that, like, Jonah recognizes? The I’ve never asked someone on a date and I don’t know what I’m doing and I want to crawl in a hole and die but still do you wanna go on a date with me voice (face). Jonah knows all about that, because despite the fact that he’s kind of known as the quiet, standoffish drum major (he has anxiety, okay?), he is still secretly just a soft, mushy dude, who gets crushes on pretty much anyone who looks his way twice (except Brian Gilbert. Never Brian Gilbert).
Jonah recognizes that, and so he recognizes that, against all odds, this is totally Brian Douchebag Gilbert, asking him out on a date. He still says, “Are you asking me on a date.” Brian looks pissed.
“Maybe! Okay! I might be and honestly who are you to stop me? Am I not allowed to--to, ask people on dates, Jonah Scott? Am I not allowed to find someone cute and start to like them and then ask them on a date? Jonah Scott?” Brian seems to immediately realize, then, that he’s just told Jonah that he 1) is asking Jonah on a date, because 2) he thinks he’s cute, and 3) he has at some point started to like him. Brian looks like he wants to die.
“What?” Jonah says, much more quiet than he’d intended it to be, because he is--he’s simply bewildered. This is all news to Jonah. Jonah had thought they were rivals. Jonah hates Brian Gilbert, and Brian Gilbert hates Jonah (as far as Jonah has been aware). And Brian really does just have the appearance of someone who would play the viola (the most classist of instruments), and Jonah hates people who play the viola. And he looks like he would be a terrible kisser (he’s not, the gremlin inside of Jonah’s brain thinks, and Jonah tells it to shut up). And he kind of has, like, horse teeth. And he’s ugly. And he’s a douchebag. He’s Brian Gilbert.
Jonah realizes that he has maybe been in love with Brian Gilbert for months.
“Just. Never fucking mind, Jesus, I’m gonna just go walk into traffic now, bye.” Brian starts to leave, and Jonah reaches out to grab his wrist and keep him there, mostly without even thinking about it.
“No, I’m. Uh. It’s not--it’s not a no. Actually, like. It’s a yes, but--McDonald’s?” Brian turns to face Jonah once again. Narrows his eyes.
“Yes, McDonald’s. Why?”
“That’s, like, such a shitty place to go for a first date. Like. McDonald’s?”
“Yes, Jonah Bastard Scott. McDonald’s. You do not deserve anything nicer than that, you gremlin.”
“My middle name doesn’t even start with a B, Brian Douchebag Gilbert,” Jonah says, but shyly slides his hand from Brian’s wrist to Brian’s hand and links their pinkies together. They’re not holding hands. Jonah would never hold hands with Brian Gilbert. It’s just their pinkies.
“Okay, Jonah Motherfucker Scott,” Brian says, blushing. Jonah hadn’t even realized Brian could blush. Up until about twenty minutes ago, Jonah had thought that Brian maybe was some sort of emotionless robot, or a demon or something.
“Not an M either, Brian Dumbass Gilbert,” Jonah says as they start walking out of the theater (“Finally,” Paul mutters, to which Jonah apologizes like three times, because he kind of has a huge guilt complex). “I’m not kissing you again unless you buy me a Mcflurry.”
(“What’s your sign?” Brian asks later, at McDonald’s. They’re sitting in the same side of the booth and Brian has pressed his side all up against Jonah’s side. Jonah feels like he may black out at any moment.
“Uh. Libra?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Brian says. “Well, I’m an Aquarius, so jot that down.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Jonah says, to which Brian replies, “You’re dumb as fuck,” before rubbing his palm against his drink to collect the condensation on his hand and then patting Jonah on the cheek so that the condensation comes off on Jonah’s face. Then he steals Jonah’s McFlurry spoon out of his hand and eats the ice cream that was on the end of it.
“Guess you’re lucky I like my men with zero braincells. Just--huge fuckin’ himbos,” He continues.
“Hm,” Jonah says. He steals a handful of fries from Brian and shoves them all in his mouth at once just to annoy the other boy. “I’m never kissing you again at all, actually.”
He’s lying, but Brian Douchebag Gilbert doesn’t need to know that.)