Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Pete Wentz?!" the normally mild mannered Patrick Stump cried out. "As in the eyeliner slathered greasy moron over there?! That Pete Wentz?!"

"Thanks, hon," called Pete, the 'eyeliner slathered greasy moron', from across the classroom.

A few people sniggered, and Patrick's pale skin flushed crimson.

"Please, Mr Way. Please don't make me work with him..." he begged.

Mr Way sighed, tugging on his tie.
"Look, Patrick," he said, "You've got to learn to work with everyone in the class. You can't just work by yourself all the time. How else will you excel as an actor?"

Patrick frowned. "But Mr Way..."

"No buts, Patrick," the teacher interrupted. "If anyone else has any problems with my casting, they can come and see me after class, okay?"

There were a few grumbles, but most people simply nodded in agreement.

"Now," said Mr Way, pushing his copper hair back with one hand, "Let's read through the script, from Act 1: Scene 1.
Hayley, will you narrate for us please?"

..............a few hours earlier..............

Patrick woke up at ass o clock in the morning, courtesy of his mother yanking the curtains open and letting in a bright stream of sunlight.

"It's too early..." he groaned pitifully, pulling the comforter up over his head.

"You've got theatre class first thing, Patrick. I know you don't want to miss it, now get! Up!"

The last two words were punctuated by her yanking the covers off his bed, causing him to shriek in alarm.

"Don't be such a drama queen, Patrick," his mom, or rather, the dark lord Patricia, said, fondly, but with a hint of irritation.
"Seriously, sweetheart, you need to get up now. I don't want you to be late. Do you need some coffee? There's some downstairs. Now, get out of bed!"

She left, taking his covers with her, and leaving the fricking door open.

If Patrick hadn't had such a hard on for drama - and admittedly for his teacher, Mr Way, he would've probably just got his emergency blankets out from under the bed and gone back to sleep until his mom came back in, screaming like a harpy.

Unfortunately he loved drama with a passion, and hey, it wasn't his fault that Mr Way was pretty damn hot too.

Groaning miserably to himself, he struggled to heave himself out of bed, fumbled blearily for the door handle, and managed to stagger his way to the bathroom and into the shower.

After a shower that kept unexpectedly switching from fricking lava water to the arctic ocean, Patrick was feeling slightly more awake, and 100% ready to stab a bitch.

He managed to poke himself in the eye with his glasses, and while blindly staggering about, groaning expletives, he banged his toe on the side of the toilet.

Feeling just about ready to curl up and die on the wet tiles, he felt for the door handle and hopped his way into the hall, managing to prise his sore eyelid open and wipe his streaming eyes on his towel.

After his eyes had stopped leaking all over the place, Patrick grimly surveyed his reflection, wincing at the sight of his slightly red left eye.

"PATRICK!!!" His mom screeched from downstairs.

Glancing at his phone through watery eyes, he paled.
Somehow he'd managed to spend an extra half hour in the bathroom.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, slinging on his least crumpled boxers, his favourite (slightly sweaty) Bowie shirt, and some jeans, grabbing a hat and dousing himself in deodorant as a second thought, before stumbling down the stairs.

"Oh, shit!" He'd forgotten his bag.

He sprinted up the stairs and stood in his room, clutching his bag and panting slightly.

"PATRICK!" Bellowed his mother.

"COMING!" He screamed back, making his way back down the stairs.

As Patrick stumbled into the kitchen gasping and out of breath, his mom looked mildly surprised instead of angry.

"Oh, sweetheart, I didn't realise you were already ready to go. It's only quarter to seven. I called you down because Dale from across the road asked if we'd take her son to school," she said with a falsely innocent smile.

Patrick's mild horror and confusion must have shown on his face, because she continued. "Dale Wentz? Remember? You used to go trick or treating with her little boy, Peter?"

He blanched. "No. No way."

Patricia frowned. "What are you on about now?"

He just shook his head, before making his way into the hall, heart full of dread.

He pushed open the door of the living room, to be greeted with the shiny black hair and bright white grin of none other than his nemesis, Pete Wentz.

"Hiya, Pattycakes!" Pete chirped.

Patrick opened his mouth but no sound came out.

"You okay there, Pumpkin Patty? You've gone all white," Patrick's worst enemy said with a giggle, while swinging his legs infuriatingly.

"I-I--you..." Patrick spluttered.

Pete shot him a dazzling smile.

It was then that Patrick's mom decided to make an appearance, smiling widely at the two boys.
"Are we ready to go, then?" She asked, cheerfully.

Patrick stalked past her moodily, clutching his bag and shoving his hat as far down on his face as it would go.

Why was everyone in such a fucking good mood?

In his opinion, everything that could have gone wrong had, and knowing him, his luck probably wouldn't change.

The car ride to school was a complete shitshow.
That was an understatement.

Patrick's original plan had been to hide in the back of the car, headphones jammed in his ears, and continue writing down that sweet little riff he'd had going round his head for the past few days.

Unfortunately, Pete Fucking Wentz decided to get in the way of his master plot by sitting right next to him -- seriously, what was his problem? -- instead of in the front with Patrick's mom, like he'd thought he would.

Also the annoying fucker had impeccable music taste.

Patrick could hear the jaunty piano opening of "Oh! You Pretty Things" coming out of his headphones.

When Pete noticed him looking, he'd offered Patrick an earbud with a surprisingly sweet smile.

Patrick had merely glared in response, but Pete's grin hadn't wavered.

Patrick had wondered how he managed to look so sincere and warm. It was a lovely smile.

Instead of glaring again, he had found himself blushing slightly and looking away. He had to concentrate very hard on remembering to hate Pete for the rest of the journey.

Chapter Text

When they got to the school gates, Patrick's mom slowed down to a stop.

"Thanks so much, Mrs Stumph!" Pete said, still flashing that megawatt smile.

"You're welcome, Peter, dear. Call me Patricia," she replied.

And then, instead of getting out on his side, he'd clambered over Patrick's lap and got out of his door.

Patrick squeaked and went very pink in surprise, and as he got out of the car after Pete, he thought he could hear his mom giggling as she began to drive away.

There were only a few people scattered around the parking lot, no one he knew very well.

There were a couple of theatre kids; he recognised Hayley's flaming orange hair -- his friend Joe firmly believed that you could see her hair from space -- and her best friend, Ashley, this week sporting a bright pink bob.

Patrick was pretty sure they were secretly professional hairdressers. They probably did each others' hair at top secret sleepovers.

A car door slammed, jolting him out of his thoughts.

It was Mr Way, looking tired but as beautiful as ever. He was wearing a blue suit and red tie today, Patrick thought they set off his pale skin wonderfully, and smiled shyly at his teacher as he walked past.

"You have a thing for Mr Way?"
Patrick whirled around to see his nemesis beside him.
"Huh? I thought you'd gone with your friends... And no. He is very pretty though..." he said, slightly dreamily.

Pete scoffed. "Yeah, right."
Patrick thought he could hear a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"Wait, are you jealous?"
Pete looked away quickly. "No."
"You are!" Patrick stared at his worst enemy's (admittedly rather lovely) profile. "You're jealous because you like Mr Way too!"

Pete's head whipped around.
"Wait, what?" He stared at Patrick in confusion. "No, why would I like Mr Way? I don't like Mr Way, I like--"
Unfortunately the bell cut off the last part of his sentence, and they were separated by a stream of students, some rushing, some dawdling and some (Brendon Urie) moonwalking to class.

As usual, Patrick was the first into the theatre classroom.
He had just sat down in his normal spot, when Mr Iero, from the English department, burst out of the props and costumes room looking over his shoulder and giggling.

He hadn't noticed Patrick yet, he was looking over his shoulder at someone or something behind him, and adjusting his collar. There were large dark red marks trailing down his neck and disappearing into his shirt.

Patrick's eyes widened as Mr Way walked out too, shutting the door behind him carefully, before wrapping his arms around Mr Iero's neck and kissing him deeply.

The two teachers were so engaged in each other, that they didn't notice when Patrick quietly grabbed his bag and sneaked out of the classroom.

The corridor of the drama department was empty, empty apart from the figure of Pete Wentz leaning on the wall outside.

Patrick didn't even try to glare at him, offering him a weak smile as he tried to contain his disappointment.

It wasn't even that he'd thought he had a chance with Mr Way.

His drama teacher was smoking hot and adorably clumsy and awkward, yes, but he had only really lusted after him.
He knew nothing would come of his affections, he just thought maybe he'd be let down a little easier than this.
It stung to be reminded just how undesirable he was.

Tears began the blur his vision and he rubbed at his eyes furiously. No fucking way was he going to cry in front of Pete Wentz.

Speak of the devil, Patrick's nemesis was standing awkwardly in front of him, holding a Kleenex.
"Uh, sorry, man," he said.
Patrick sniffled wetly. "It's fine."
He took the Kleenex and wiped his eyes and nose.
"Thanks," he muttered.
Pete smiled softly at him.
"It's okay."

This was very un-Petelike behaviour.
Usually the other boy was loud, obnoxious and annoyingly cuddly with his friends.

Patrick told himself the reason he was irritated by Pete's octopus-like tendencies was definitely not because he had always wondered how it would feel to be held in those arms. It was just because... reasons.

The door to the theatre classroom swung open and Mr Iero sashayed out, looking very pleased with himself.

Upon seeing the two boys in the corridor he grinned sheepishly.
"Get to class on time, yeah?" He said, unsuccessfully trying to tidy his dark hair.

Pete shot Mr Iero a glare and moved fractionally closer to Patrick.
"Whatever," he muttered.

Mr Iero's good mood remained intact however, and he all but skipped down the corridor, whistling something that sounded suspiciously like Beyoncé's "Love On Top".

"Are you alright?" Pete said gently.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Patrick huffed.
"It's not like I'm heartbroken or anything. It was just a little crush. I'm fine."

Pete opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by the rest of the class heading towards them, lead by Ryan Ross sprinting and screaming in terror.
The lanky music obsessed boy didn't usually run much, and Joe had once told Patrick that he'd once got out of breath walking the stairs from music class to theatre.

As he came closer, the cause of his fear became apparent.

Brendon Urie was chasing after him, wearing a mask with one of the members of Five Seconds Of Summer on it and singing a Justin Beiber song at the top of his lungs.

Ryan dived behind Pete and grabbed hold of his sleeves.
"Tell him to stop! Please!" He shrieked.

Luckily it was then Mr Way decided to open the door and let everyone in.
He didn't even question them, he merely sighed wearily and asked Brendon to take off his mask, although he did admire the 'craftsmanship'.

Chapter Text

Once they were all inside and seated (meaning after Mr Way had managed to pull an angry Ryan off a laughing Brendon), the class was almost silent for once, staring as their teacher took a large gulp of coffee.

"Mr Way, is that a hickey?" Ashley called out. She and Hayley broke down into fits of giggles.

Their teacher spilled some of his coffee into his lap in alarm.
"W-What? No, no, it's uh. It's a rash. From, uh, shaving."
The two girls gave him knowing looks and he hastily carried on talking.

"Anyway, my um, rash isn't really anyone's business." The class tittered and he flushed a dark pink.
"What is everyone's business," he continued, "Is our new play."

Patrick sat up straighter.

"As some of you may know, it's LGBT+ history month. I have talked to the headmistress, Miss Ballato, and she approves of my idea. We're going to do an LGBT Romeo and Juliet!"
Mr Way said excitedly.
"I have already completed the cast list, so no one has to audition. I am confident you will all do wonderfully. We will be performing the play in front of the school in February, after the holiday."

The class began to chatter amongst each other.
Patrick heard Brendon Urie declare loudly that he would make Ryan his Juliet, right here on this desk.

"Um, guys," Mr Way called. "Do you want to hear the cast list or not?"
He looked stunned when they actually shut up and listened.

"Okay, good," he continued. "So, Ashley, you'll be Juliet's nurse."

Hayley gave her friend a solid high five.

"The Capulets will be played by Hayley and Jenna. The Montagues will be played by Spencer and Jon. Brendon, you'll be Mercutio."
Brendon crowed delightedly and attempted to high five Ryan, who ducked.

"Tybalt will be played by Tyler, and Benvolio will be Josh. Andy, you're Paris. The Prince of Verona will be Joe, I know he's not in today, but one of you can call him later or something."

Mr Way eyed his class, some of whom were beginning to fidget.

"Tell you what," he sighed. "How about I just tell you who'll be playing Romeo and his fair uh, Julius, and then if I haven't mentioned your part you can just come and collect your script from the front and it'll tell you."

He paused to take another gulp of coffee.

"Pete -- leave Josh's hair alone, please -- you're Romeo,"
Patrick gripped the table in alarm.
What?! But he was the best actor in the class! Why wasn't he Romeo?
Mr Way continued, "And Julius will be played by Patrick."

"Fuck yes!" yelled Pete. "Patty, you're my Juliet..." He began to make kissy faces across the room.

"What?!" Patrick wailed. "Pete Wentz? As in the eyeliner slathered greasy moron over there?! That Pete Wentz?!"

"Thanks, hon," called Pete, blowing him a kiss.

Patrick sank lower into his chair as Mr Way continued talking about the play.
No fucking way.
He sat in a daze as a script was dumped sullenly onto his desk by Tyler, the only jock in theatre.

"Remember, guys," chirped Mr Way, apparently not noticing Patrick's pissed off expression, "Romeo and Julius do need to have a few kisses. I want them to be really emotional and romantic, so you two really need to spend some time together and perfect your chemistry!"

Patrick began to bang his head on the table in horror.

Across the room Pete got up from his chair and ran across the classroom highfiving everyone, before climbing into Patrick's lap. "Alright, Juliet?"

"Shut up, Pete," Patrick groaned, burying his face in his nemesis's back.

"Well!" said Mr Way, brightly. "Seems like our star-crossed lovers are getting on pretty well! Pete, Patrick, would you two lovebirds like to go and practise in the costumes room?"

"No!" said Patrick, horrified.
"Yes!" Pete yelled, delighted.

"Off you go, then," said Mr Way, sipping his coffee.

Pete jumped off Patrick's lap and tugged the reluctant other boy into the props room.

The class laughed uproariously, and Brendon yelled, "Yasssss! Get it, Romeo!"

Pete gave him the finger, and closed the door behind them.

Patrick gulped nervously, clutching his script to his chest.

His nemesis didn't seem to have any ulterior motives for sealing them in together, in fact, he wasn't even looking at Patrick, he was headfirst into a box full of hats.

"Hey, Patty!" his slightly muffled voice called. "I found you the perfect hat!"
He resurfaced, waving a dainty princess hat, complete with tiara and veil.

Patrick eyed it with a grimace.
"If I put that on, will you stop being so annoying?"
Pete's face fell briefly, but he shot Patrick a dazzling grin.
"Of course I will, Juliet, my luuuuuurve..."

Patrick rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling at Pete's antics.
"Pass it here, then," he grumbled.

Pete squealed happily and dived forward, pulling Patrick's trucker cap off and replacing it with the pointy princess hat.

"You look very majestic," Pete said very seriously. "I'd let you reign over my lands."

Patrick blushed. "W-What the fuck, Pete? What does that even mean??"

Pete grinned and dropped a comedy wink. "It means whatever you want it to, Juliet..."

Patrick hid his face in his script.
"Okay then. I'm going to pretend that didn't happen. Can we just read through the script, please?"

Pete gave him the shit-eating grin of all shit-eating grins.
"We can do whatever you want, Princess."

Patrick groaned. "Please stop."

Chapter Text

Back in the classroom, Mr Way had managed to get everyone to pair up, "get to know each others' characteristics better", and go through the script, acting out their parts, and reading through the rest of the text.

In one corner of the room, Josh Dun was looking nervously up at his partner, who had been sitting, silently staring at his script for the past few minutes.

"Um," he tried. "Tyler, is it?"
His partner gave no acknowledgement that he'd even heard him.
"Well, Mr Way says we need to get to know each other better, so..." he trailed off, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

"Sorry. Um. Never mind then. I'll just... yeah." Josh silently cursed his own awkwardness, looking back down at his script in embarrassment.

"I like your hair."
Tyler's voice was a lot higher than Josh had anticipated.

Josh's head shot up embarrassingly quickly. He flushed, meeting his partner's eyes for the first time.

The other boy was soon looking back at the papers in his hand again, but a shy smile was curving over his lips.

Josh felt his face burning and he found it difficult to stop smiling as he hid his face in his script.

"Um, shall we start from the top?" he asked timidly.

"Sure." the other boy shrugged.

"Um. Okay, so...Two households, alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene.
From ancient grudge to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean..." Josh began.

"From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of starcross'd lovers take their life, who's misadventured piteous overthrows..." Tyler continued in his soft, quiet voice.

"Do with their death bury their parents' strife..."

They continued on like this, reading a line or two each, until they'd finished reading the prologue, and were on to scene one.

As they read further, both boys seemed to gain confidence from each other, and they had soon abandoned the script in favour of discussing the play, and the various characters.

"But don't you find it romantic?" Josh exclaimed. "He can't even imagine a life without his love, he doesn't want to live without her. Sorry, I mean him."

Tyler scoffed. "He takes the easy way out. He has his whole life ahead of him. She, he, I mean, was his first love, yeah, but he still has a lifetime to figure out what he wants to do next. And if he'd just waited a little bit, he'd have been able to run away with him and they'd be able to have gay little babies together or something."

"Yes, but that's what makes it so tragic and romantic!" Josh insisted.
"He didn't want to be away for his love for even a few minutes, he thought he'd failed Juliet -- uh, Julius. He couldn't take losing him."

Tyler's face was still doubtful.
"Fine, but I still think he could have tried harder."

"Tyler Joseph, you are impossible! You're such a cynic, it's unbelievable."
Josh burst out.
"Haven't you ever felt so deeply about someone that you would do anything to keep them safe, and you wouldn't be able to take it if you lost them?"

To his surprise, Tyler looked down at the desk, cheeks dark red.
"Uh, never mind. You're probably right. Let's do the next scene." he mumbled.

By the end of the double lesson, Mr Way felt extremely pleased.

He'd only had to separate Brendon from Ryan's legs once, which was a record, and to his delight, his class had actually got on really well with the script, even forming little groups from their pairs and working through their scripts.

Brendon had only made a few sword innuendos, and Hayley and Ashley had concentrated a lot better together than he'd expected.

Humming happily to himself, he dismissed the class and locked up the room, before hurriedly heading off for lunch -- Mr Iero had hinted that there was a surprise waiting for him in his office.

Pete was declaring his undying love when Patrick heard the click of the lock.

"Pete, wait," Patrick interrupted. "Did you hear that?"

"You broke character!" Pete whined.

"Okay, but I thought I heard something. Never mind. Keep going?"

The other boy gave him lewd grin, and opened his mouth, presumably to make a dirty remark.
"With the script," Patrick said, hastily.

"Fiiiiiine." Pete replied with a pout.
He took a breath, before looking up at Patrick with dark sincere eyes.
"Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?"

"W-what satisfaction canst thou have tonight?" Patrick flushed, surprised that Pete hadn't even tried to make it sound sexual, and yet a spike of heat had shot straight to his crotch.

"The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine." Pete answered, still staring deeply into Patrick's eyes.

Patrick swallowed nervously before continuing. "I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; and yet I would it were to give again."

"Wouldst thou withdraw it?"
Pete took a step forward, clasping Patrick's (mildly sweaty) hand in his own. "For what purpose, love?"

Patrick found himself fixated on the way the other boy's mouth moved on each word.
Inhaling sharply, he carried on acting.
"But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have."

He took Pete's other hand in his own, hoping he wouldn't notice how much he was shaking.
"My bounty is as boundless as the sea; my love as deep, the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite."

Patrick paused, swallowing.
He noticed Pete's eyes flickering to his lips and throat and looked away, his face hot.

"I hear some noise within: dear love, adieu. Anon, good nurse! Stay but a little, I will come again."

"Oh, blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, being in night, that this is but a dream, too flattering sweet to be substantial."
Pete's voice was sincere and husky, he gripped Patrick's hands tighter and stepped closer to him.

"T-three words, dear Romeo and g-goodnight indeed... Oh, fuck..." Patrick lost his train of thought as he watched Pete slowly lick his lips.

"Is something wrong?" Pete asked, looking genuinely concerned. "You've gone all red..."

"No, no," Patrick gasped, quickly dropping Pete's hands. "I-I need some air." He all but staggered to the door, desperately tugging on the handle.
"Fuck, Pete, it's not opening..."

Chapter Text

Mr Way had practically run to his office; bumping into various students and apologising over his shoulder.

He keyed in the door code excitedly, heart thumping in his chest.

Sitting at the desk in his spinny chair, bare chested with a daisy in between his teeth (he hadn't been able to find roses anywhere on school property), was Mr Iero.

"Frankie!" he squealed, hastily pushing the door closed, and darting towards the other man.

Mr Iero pushed his chair back from the desk, giving Mr Way a very suggestive look.

"Take off your tie, Gee..." he said softly, beckoning with one finger. "Let me see your neck?"

Gerard felt his face growing warm as he quickly fumbled to remove his tie.

"Now come here," Frank murmured, patting his lap seductively.

Gerard walked towards him, weak at the knees, and climbed slowly onto his lap, holding onto his shoulders to steady himself.

The two men stared at each other.

"Missed you," mumbled Gerard, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
Beaming up at him, Frank booped him on the nose.
"Missed you too, cutie."

Gerard blushed, lightly shoving his boyfriend. "Shut up, you're the cute one."

"Are you saying that 'cause I'm short?" Frank said, with a giggle.

"Yeah..." Gerard answered, grinning.

It was Frank's turn to shove him. "Hey!"

Gerard buried his face in his indignant boyfriend's neck. "'Hey' what?"

"Oh!" Frank gasped as Gerard bit down on his shoulder playfully. "All of a sudden I --oh!-- don't seem to remember..."

"Good." Gerard began to softly kiss his way down his neck, and Frank's hands somehow found themselves reaching for his boyfriend's belt...

In the cafeteria, Jenna was interrogating Tyler about theatre class.

"I saw you talking to him... How did it go?" she teased him.

Tyler shushed her quickly, looking around for all signs of anyone having heard.

Luckily, everyone on their table was distracted, laughing at Brendon's latest attempt to seduce Ryan: this time by deep-throating a banana and winking at him from across the room.

Ryan had his head in his hands and the tips of his ears were burning pink.
Next to him, patting their friend sympathetically, were Spencer and Jon.

There was no sign of Josh.

"It went okay, I guess." Tyler mumbled. "All we really did is discuss the script."

"That's all?" Jenna giggled. "Are you suuure?"

Tyler looked down at his fries with a grimace. "He thinks I'm an 'impossible cynic'... I'm pretty sure he hates me."

Jenna stared at him.
"That's definitely not what I saw... You guys already bicker like an old married couple, why not just ask him out?"

He stared at the salt and grease from the fries on his fingers sadly.
"He hates me, Jen. And we'd never talked before then. I already screwed it up."

"Well, then why's he staring at you like he wants to lick your dick like a lollipop?"

"Jenna!!" Tyler hissed, his head shooting up so quickly, they were both surprised he didn't get whiplash.

Sure enough, Josh was sitting by himself a few tables away, staring at him with interest.
He quickly looked away when he noticed Tyler staring back, though.

"See!" Jenna said triumphantly.
Tyler gazed back down at his food, smiling shyly.
"You should ask him out." she continued. "Go on, I dare you."

Tyler popped a fry into his mouth without replying.

Jenna stole a handful of his fries, so he took a bite of her -- supposedly low fat -- chocolate and blueberry muffin.

He almost choked on his mouthful as she excitedly grabbed his arm.

"He's coming over here!" she practically screamed.

Tyler felt like screaming himself as he looked up to see the red haired beauty who'd been subject of his late night fantasies for the past few months heading towards him.

Swallowing nervously, he tried to control his breathing.

Josh reached their table, biting his lip anxiously. "Hey, Tyler... Hi Jenna... I was just uh... Well I wondered if you wanted to go and practise some of our scenes?"

Tyler's voice came out even higher than normal. "Yes!" he squeaked. "I mean, yeah, of course. That'd be cool."

Relieved, Josh smiled warmly at both of them. "Uh, good. Do you wanna go now?" he asked.

Tyler jumped up from his seat just a little too enthusiastically.

Jenna rolled her eyes fondly.
"You kids have fun!" she called after them, before stealing the rest of Tyler's fries.

On their way to the theatre department, Tyler and Josh managed to sneak several glances at each other without the other realising, both firmly telling themselves that the other was definitely not interested.

When they reached their classroom, they realised Mr Way must have locked up for lunch.

"Come on," Josh said, absentmindedly taking Tyler's hand. "Mr Way's probably in his office."

Tyler thought his face was going to explode in happiness.
"Y-yeah, let's go and find him."

Chapter Text

Pete had made Patrick sit down on the floor, gently telling him to try not to move, as it might make him feel worse.

They'd been locked in for at least half an hour now.

Pete had been adorably concerned -- Patrick had told him that he'd just been feeling a bit dizzy, however Pete had decided that Patrick was probably suffering from a fever, and needed to stay warm.

Obviously, due to Pete logic, this meant him stripping off his hoodie and shirt for Patrick to wear on top of his own t-shirt, instead of just grabbing a sweater from one of the many overflowing costume boxes.

When Patrick pointed this out, blushing profusely, he'd just stretched out his (stupidly toned) tan arms and smiled, saying that his clothes were 'pre-warmed' whereas the costumes were probably 'dusty and cold as fuck'.

Patrick couldn't bring himself to argue, his eyes fixed to the other boy's lightly muscled golden torso.

Pete's clothes smelt warm, and slightly of almonds.

He'd snuggled himself into them, smiling as he watched Pete ransacking the little room, trying to find some kind of exit.

The most he'd found was a tiny, tiny window, and a ventilation shaft that they were both too short to reach.

Inconveniently, there was no signal either, and Pete couldn't even text anyone to get them out.

Eventually he gave up trying to find a signal, and slumped down in front of Patrick.

Reaching over to push some hair out of his face, Pete held his hand to Patrick's forehead, worrying his lip in concern.

"You're very hot..." he said anxiously.
"So are you," Patrick's traitorous brain decided to reply.

Pete stared at him. "What?" he said, grinning widely.

"I didn't say anything!" Patrick blurted out. "You must have imagined it!"

He looked away, embarrassed, staring down at Pete's incredibly ugly neon sneakers.

"Sure, Juliet..." Pete teased.

Patrick glared at him.
"Let's just focus on getting out of here, Romeo -- fuck, I mean Pete."

Pete began laughing a (strangely adorable) big, stupid donkey laugh, slinging an arm around Patrick's shoulders.
Against his better judgement, he leaned into his nemesis's embrace, unable to stop himself from laughing with Pete.

Halfway to Mr Way's office, Josh had realised that he was holding Tyler Fricking Joseph's hand... and that the jock hadn't let go, or shoved him into a locker or called him an 'emo fag loser' or any similar gem of a nickname.

Also, they had been talking about the X-Files, and Josh had learned that Tyler wrote his own music, and didn't really like basketball or parties as much as his reputation led everyone to believe.

By the time they had reached Mr Way's office, he was sure that his face and ears were a similar scarlet to his hair.

He was holding Tyler Joseph's hand!
This had to be the best day ever.

Lost in his thoughts, he absentmindedly watched Tyler knock on the door with his right hand, still clutching Josh's with his left.

"Shit!" They both heard Mr Way's muffled voice curse. "Just coming, just coming!"

There was another voice, or rather someone else giggling, and the two boys looked at each other curiously as they heard Mr Way shush the other person.

A few seconds later, a very bedraggled Mr Way opened the door; his jacket crumpled on the floor behind him, and someone else's pants on the filing cabinet.

"Um, hi," Mr Way said, rather breathlessly. "What can I do for you?"

"Hiya!" Mr Iero's voice piped up from somewhere behind him.

"Frank!" their teacher hissed over his shoulder. Looking back at the boys, he continued. "Did you want to ask something about the new play?"

"We just wanted to ask if we could use the classroom, to practise?"
Tyler squeezed Josh's hand a little tighter without thinking.

"Oh, yeah, sure, of course," Mr Way babbled, darting glances into the room behind him. "Uh, I'll just go get you the keys. Bring them back at the end of lunch, yeah?"

He turned to search through the pockets of his jacket, quietly muttering "Frank, what the fuck did you do with them?"

Mr Iero's head popped out from under the desk, and he tossed Mr Way his keys grinning.

"Is he...?" Tyler whispered. "Naked?" Josh continued. "I think so..."

The two boys turned to each other giggling.

Mr Way straightened up and handed them the keys, his face flushed.

"Use protection, kiddos!" Mr Iero called, from under the table.
Mr Way whirled around. "FRANK!!"

"Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set, on the fair son of rich Capulet," Pete murmured, "As mine is on his, so his is set on mine. And all combined, save what thou must combine; by holy marriage, when and where and how."

He sneaked a glance at his fair Julius; it was now very warm in the little room, and Patrick had fallen asleep a little while ago, face pressed snugly into the curl of his bicep, mouth soft and warm against Pete's skin.

He smiled to himself, and went back to the script. "We met, we wooed and made exchange of vow; I'll tell thee as we pass, but this I pray, that thou consent to marry us today."

Patrick made a small noise and his glasses slid further down his nose as he nuzzled his face into Pete's chest.

"I'm going to skip ahead to the wedding, that okay, Patty?" he whispered, gently rubbing the curve of the other boy's waist with his thumb.

"Ah, Julius," he began softly, "If the measure of thy joy be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more, to blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath,"

Patrick sighed a little, and Pete allowed himself to pull him closer -- after all, he was supposed to be his Romeo...
"This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue unfold the imagined happiness that both receive in either by this dear encounter."

Pete dropped his script, deciding instead to dedicate his other hand to stroking Patrick's cheek.
He closed his eyes, pressing his face into Patrick's hair sleepily.

Chapter Text

Tyler and Josh ran away from Mr Way's office, hand in hand and still giggling together.

They collapsed laughing outside their classroom, holding each other to stay steady.

When they had caught their breath, Tyler offered Josh his hand, and the two of them unlocked the door to the classroom, and went in.

The lights were on the other side of the room, so clutching each other firmly, they felt their way across the dimly lit room.

"Josh?" Tyler's voice was right by his ear and the other boy jumped, startled.
"Yeah, Tyler?" "Look up," Tyler whispered.

Josh looked up to see the glow in the dark stars Mr Iero had persuaded Mr Way to glue to the ceiling.

Because their teacher was a complete slut for being dramatic (and for Mr Iero), he had arranged the little plastic stars into constellations and drawn little planets in glow in the dark pen, carefully annotated with names and 'not to scale' in his spiky handwriting.

Josh squeezed Tyler's hand in the dark.

"Do you want to grab a couple of torches from the supply cupboard and sit in the dark instead?" he said softly.

Tyler gave his hand an answering squeeze. "Yeah, that'd be awesome," he breathed.

He still couldn't believe that Josh had voluntarily held his hand, and now wanted to sit in the dark and look at the (admittedly fake) stars with him.
It sounded like a really cliché romance, except downgraded by being in school, of course.

Still, in that moment, there was nothing Tyler would rather be doing.

They felt their way to the supply cupboard, giggling every time they bumped into a desk or chair.

"Wait, Ty, are the torches in the costumes room or in here?" Josh asked.

"I don't think they'd be in the costumes room, but we could have a look if we can't find them in here?" Tyler let go of Josh briefly to fumble with the keys, finally managing to slot the right one in the lock.

The door creaked slightly as it swung open, and the boys found each others' hands again as they peered around the cupboard.

"I can't see any torches..." Josh whispered. "I can't see anything!" Tyler whispered back. Josh laughed at that.
"Yeah, that's true... Can you help me get that box down?"

Instead of reaching to get it himself, Tyler surprised him by grasping his middle and lifting him up.

Josh flailed in midair for a bit, partly because his brain was screaming TYLER TYLER TYLER, and partly because he hadn't really been expecting to suddenly have no ground beneath his feet, and to have Tyler's strong, soft hands gripping his hips...
Nope, nope, nope.
Stop it, Josh, he told himself firmly.
What was he meant to be doing? Oh, yes.

He reached forward, lifting the lid of the box and sifting through it for a torch, all the while embarrassingly aware of Tyler's warm body close to his; feeling his breath against his back, and his chest pressed into Josh's lower back.

"Have you found anything yet?"
Tyler's voice was slightly strained, assuming it was because he was too heavy for the other boy, Josh hurriedly said "I can't find anything... You can put me down now, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Tyler laughed, "Nah, I'm good. Take your time."

Unsure whether this was sarcasm or not, Josh quickly tried another box.
"I found some batteries?"

"Good," Tyler's voice rumbled slightly against Josh's back and he shivered.

"I can see a torch, but I don't know if I can reach it..."

Tyler sighed softly -- probably in irritation, Josh thought guiltily. "I'm sorry, I'll get down now..." he added apologetically.

"Sure, if you want," Tyler replied seemingly nonchalantly.

In truth, he was buzzing with nerves.

He had Josh Dun's cute little ass pressed against his stomach. Jesus.
His fingers tightened on Josh's hips just thinking about it, and he slowly put him down, breathing much faster than he'd have liked.

"Maybe we should try the uh, thingy room?" his voice came out stupidly high.

Josh laughed, and Tyler could feel the warmth of his body, even if he couldn't see his face.

"Come on, then." Josh fumbled for his hand in the dark, accidentally grabbing Tyler's thigh. "Oh my gosh, sorry!"

"It's okay." Tyler managed to say, hoping his hand wasn't as sweaty as it felt.

All the blood in his body seemed to be rushing south, he hoped desperately that the other boy wouldn't notice as they felt their way back into the classroom.

"You know," Mr Way mused. "It's a little strange that Patrick didn't come and complain about being put with Pete."

Mr Iero, now clothed in his own pants, and Mr Way's shirt and jacket, sniggered. "I told you that would be a great idea!"

The copper haired teacher frowned. "I actually originally wanted to cast Brendon and Ryan as Romeo and Juliet."

"Bet Ryan would love that..." Mr Iero giggled.

"Exactly," Mr Way said, dryly. "Are you still going to try to set them up in your class?"

Mr Iero swished his hair rather dramatically. "Maybe." he said, winking at his boyfriend.

Mr Way sighed. "Well, let me know how it goes..."

He was sure there was something he was forgetting, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

The first thing Patrick was aware of was that he was so, so comfortable he didn't ever want to get up, he didn't even want to open his eyes...

The second was the subtle scent of almonds, and a hand moving gently through his hair.

He breathed out sleepily, feeling the warmth of another body pressed against his.

He had no idea where he was, or who he was with, but he was warm, and the person he was sleeping on was soft and smelt really fuckin good.

He opened his eyes just a crack to try and see who might be holding him.

"Patrick?" The Mystery Guy asked quietly. He thought he recognised the voice, it was a nice voice. He wished that he could wake up like this every day.

Mystery Guy's hand stopped carding through Patrick's hair, and pressed a warm kiss on the side of his neck.

Smiling, Patrick closed his eyes and returned to a half asleep state.

For some reason, Josh had decided that debating whether or not Mr Way might be hiding aliens in his classroom was a good idea.

"What if he's an alien himself?" Tyler added, amused.

Josh gasped. "Of course! He's in fact their leader. That's why he wore those sparkly flares when he was supervising last year's prom! It was a signal for the rest of his people."

"And what about Mr Iero's lederhosen?" Tyler enquired, sending them both into fits of highly attractive snorting giggles.

"H-he was trying to blend in with the h-h-humans," Josh wheezed with laughter, clutching Tyler to stay upright.

"Let's check the--" Tyler tried to say, his stomach partly aching from laughing, and partly from the tightness of his pants over his... 'little problem'.
"Let's check the costumes room for aliens!"

"O-oh my gosh," Josh spluttered. "I bet Brendon Urie is an alien... Maybe he's hiding in there..."

"His f-forehead is big enough to be an entire p-planet by itself!" Tyler was all but cackling with laughter now.

They continued to laugh as they tried to open the door, struggling to fit the key in the lock.

When they finally unlocked the door, a very giggly Tyler decided that the best way to check for aliens was to shout, "Take me to your leader!" at the top of his lungs.

Unfortunately this plan backfired when a new voice yelled, "Shut the fuck up, or you'll wake him up!" back at them.

Being sensible humans, they ran away, clutching each others' hands and screaming.

Chapter Text

"I know there's something I've forgotten..." Mr Way said for the third time in the past five minutes.

"Geraaaard..." Mr Iero whined, "I'm literally on my knees in front of you, and you're still going on about work..."

"Hm?" Gerard looked down at his tiny boyfriend. "Oh! Oh, well in that case..."
He gave Frank a saucy grin.

Frank reached out and unzipped his pants with a smirk.

"Aloha, cowboy," Frank said, with a wink, pulling Gerard's pants and boxers down and wrapping his lips around his dick.

Josh and Tyler ran down the corridor, wide eyed and panting.
"Come on," Josh gasped. "Just a little further..."
"Mr Way will know what to do..." Tyler managed to say.

They ran past some kids who hastily stubbed out their suspicious looking cigarettes when they saw them, and past Miss Ballato, who called after them, but they didn't stop.

Mr Way's office was in sight, luckily, and the door was slightly ajar.

The two boys sprinted towards it, pushing the door open. "Mr Way, you have to help--" Josh began.

Mr Way was standing against the wall, Mr Iero kneeling in front of him.
Both were staring sheepishly at them.

Tyler and Josh ran away, screaming even more.

"Can you shut the door?" Mr Iero called after them.

"Pete?" Patrick murmured. "What was that?"

Pete ruffled his hair gently. "Nothing to worry about. The door's open now, should I take you to the nurse? You're still burning up..."

"Mm." The smaller boy snuggled his face further into Pete's shoulder.
"Don't wanna move."

Pete couldn't stop smiling, he didn't really want to move either, he had both arms full of a soft, sleepy Patrick Stump who was wearing his shirt...
But he didn't want Patrick to get sick, so he tried again, "Trick, I think I need to take you to the nurse now..."
"Nooo," Patrick clung even tighter to him. "Wanna sleep."

"You can sleep in the nurse's office, I'll be there with you. I won't leave, I promise." Pete could feel Patrick's pout, only centimetres from his nipple and he shivered, trying to get himself under control.
"Look, Patty, we're going to the nurse's, even if I have to carry you there..." He said, in what he hoped was a firm voice.

Patrick sat up and beamed at him. "Yesss carry me!"

Pete stared at him incredulously.
"A few hours ago you didn't even want to speak to me, and now you want me to carry you?" Patrick nodded, before snuggling back into Pete's chest.
"You must really be sick..."

He stared for a moment, smiling softly at where Patrick was clinging to him, as if Pete really was his beloved Romeo.

Then he got himself together.
"Come on, Trick, we're going to the nurse's. You've got to get up. Come on."

Somehow he managed to haul both of them to their feet.

He noticed the princess hat lying abandoned on the floor, and with a grin, he carefully reached across Patrick to get it, straightening up and placing it on top of his gingery blond mess of hair.

Then he scooped Patrick up into his arms, bridal style, and they made their way out of the theatre room, and into the corridor, earning several whistles from other students as they passed.

Chapter Text

Dallon Weekes was having a really weird day.

It was his first day as a trainee nurse at Juanfield High, and he was already very confused and concerned about the school.

First off, he'd had to go and collect a student from English, where a tiny guy in leather pants who'd turned out to be the teacher was standing on his desk, bragging about his hickies.

Outside the classroom, he'd asked the girl if class was always like that.
She'd laughed and told him usually it was worse.

Very confused, he'd given her the note his boss, Dr Way, had told him to deliver, and tried to make his way back to his office.

He'd bumped into another teacher on the way, a dark haired guy, who miraculously, appeared to be taller than him.

Dallon had apologised, but the other guy had just winked at him and purred something in Spanish that sounded very inappropriate.

He'd hurried away quickly, earning a slap on the ass from the mystery creepy guy.

When he reached reception, there was no sign of the friendly secretary he'd talked to earlier, and worse, he couldn't remember which way his office was.

He'd eyed the only two people around; he'd been introduced to the janitor, Bob, earlier, but he wasn't sure if he talked, and he didn't look very friendly... He was busy mopping the floor with a sour expression.

On the other hand, the student sitting down looked incredibly uncomfortable and he wasn't sure if he wanted to disturb her.

Looking back at where Bob the janitor was picking his nose with disinterest, he decided he might as well just risk it and ask the kid.

As he made his way towards her, she looked more and more alarmed.
"Uh, hi?" He said. "Sorry, I'm new, I was just wondering where the nurse's office is?"

She looked slightly more relieved, although still on edge.

"I don't know." She said, staring at her shoes. "I'm new, too. This is my first day."

"Oh... I'm sorry to trouble you, I'll go and ask someone else."

He'd wandered off awkwardly, and somehow found himself at the back of a crowd of screaming students.

A teacher was trying and failing to separate two kids who were enthusiastically making out.

Luckily, or unluckily, that was when Dr Way had found him.

"Mr Weekes, where have you been? I sent you to Mr Iero's room an hour ago." His (slightly terrifying) boss had said, looking very annoyed.

When Dallon had apologised and explained that he'd got lost, Dr Way had handed him a crisply folded map of the school with strict instructions not to get lost again, before leading him to the medical room.

The nurse's office was in truth, a large room separated into the main medical room, and two small offices.

Dallon's office was tiny, and almost completely bare of decoration.

He had a clear desk, and a reasonably comfortable spinny chair, but the walls were a nasty mustard yellow, and the paisley curtains looked like someone had vomited all over them.

He'd had about half an hour of peace before Dr Way had stuck his pale pointy face around the door and said, rather snootily, "I'm going on my break now. You need to sit in the medical room and try not to break anything until I get back."

The medical room was painted a pretty light purple, and there were fresh flowers in a vase by the sink.

There was a single bed with plain white covers, and the walls were scattered with various paintings and photographs of what he assumed to be the theatre department's last play.

Somehow, Dallon doubted that Dr Way would have put them up.

He seemed more like the kind of guy to have complex medical diagrams up, rather than gothic marching band paintings and Juanfield's version of Aladdin.

Speaking of Juanfield's version of Aladdin, a guy who looked a lot like the kid who'd played Jasmine burst in with a huge grin on his face.
"Where's Spikey Mikey?" He demanded.

"Spikey Mikey?" Dallon repeated, confused. The kid wouldn't stop bouncing about and it was starting to make his head spin, even after just a few seconds of his presence.

"The angry blond guy. Mr Way's little bro." Jasmine Boy replied, tugging on the sleeves of his lavender hoodie, still grinning widely.

Dallon was confused, and said so.
"Why exactly are you in here, um..."
"Brendon!"
Dallon looked helplessly at him.
"You didn't answer the question..." he pointed out, rather obviously.

The kid rocked on his heels, still beaming away.

"I had to get some ice for my boyfriend, well, he's not my boyfriend yet, but he will be." Brendon explained cheerfully. "I accidentally punched him in the eye. I was trying to get into the drama. I think I went too far. Will you get me some ice?"

Dallon hurried to the small fridge-freezer in the corner of the room, grabbing an ice pack.

"Try not to punch anyone else..." He pleaded, as Brendon skipped away with his ice.

Hopefully, Dallon thought, making himself a cup of coffee, no one else would get themselves knocked out, knocked up or knock anyone else up or out until Dr Way came back.

There was a knock at the door.

He sighed wearily, and got up, but the door was already opening.

"Hi, Mikes, just wanted to-- oh, sorry," a man with a spectacular fro chirped. "Hi, you must be Mr Weekes? I'm Mr Toro. I teach music."

Bewildered, Dallon showed him in, and he made himself at home, pouring himself a coffee and perching on the edge of the little bed, smiling all the while.

"Don't mind Mikey, he's just grumpy because Mr Saporta keeps flirting with other people." Mr Toro piped up.

Dallon stared at him, what was he on about?

"Mr Saporta teaches Spanish, and he used to flirt with Mikes all the time, but he just got glared at, so he stopped. Mikey secretly liked the attention though, so he's been pissy for the last few weeks," Mr Toro continued, nodding sagely. "I bet Mr Iero that they'd get together at prom, he thought it'd be in the new year. I think he might be trying to set them up so he wins. He's very devious, you know."

Dallon didn't know, but he nodded along, trying to look like he understood.

Mr Toro drained his entire cup in one go, before sticking his hand out, firmly shaking Dallon's hand and leaving with a friendly wave and an "I'll see you soon, Mr Weekes, have a lovely day!"

Dallon stared after him wide eyed.
Was everyone in this school completely bonkers?

Luckily he had a little peace and quiet for a while, and he was able to get some filing done, and organise some of his papers and first aid leaflets.

Dr Way -- or rather, Spikey Mikey, poked his head around the door a few times, making snide comments about being glad nothing was on fire or broken, but he seemed in a slightly better mood than earlier, and soon went into his office, humming something that may or may not have been the funeral march under his breath.

It wasn't until right at the end of the lunch hour that he was disturbed again, by a frantic knocking at the door.

Two boys, one dark haired, the other with crimson dyed hair, burst in, out of breath.

"There's an alien in the theatre room!" They gasped out simultaneously.

"Um. How about you come and sit down and I'll get you some coffee?" Dallon said awkwardly, looking at them in alarm. "I think I have some cookies somewhere..."

He ushered the pair into his office, looking on worriedly as they all but collapsed down onto the floor, gripping each others' hands so tightly their knuckles were white.

When he saw this, Dallon went into full mother hen mode, rummaging through his bag to find the jar of lollipops and sachets of instant cocoa he kept in case of emergency, handing each boy a piece of candy, and hurrying into the other room to boil some water and find two clean mugs.

A few minutes later he came back in, clutching two steaming cups, which he placed on the floor in front of the boys.

"I'll go see if we have any blankets, and then you can tell me all about it?" Dallon offered, bustling back into the other room and searching the cupboards for spare blankets.

There was only one; a large red quilt that looked like it had been knitted by a third grader. He sighed. It would have to do.

(It was a present Brendon Urie had made for Dr Way, when he ended up in the medical room after accidentally impaling himself: he'd stalked Ryan to his knitting group; pretending he knew how to knit to impress him. It hadn't ended especially well, but Brendon had learned how to knit after that, and every so often he'd give clumsily made blankets to various people. Ryan had been given seven, all in different colours. No one but Spencer knew that he adored them, and slept with all of them on his bed, even in the middle of summer)

Luckily, the two boys didn't seem too concerned about the lumpy wool and the wonky stitches, they were too busy drinking their cocoa, hands still firmly clasped.

Dallon was just about to ask them what their names were and what had happened, when there was another knock at the door.

"Stay here, please, I've just got to see who that is," he said, stepping out into the medical room and closing his office door behind him.

Opening the door that led into the corridor, he was startled to see a shirtless boy with messy black hair carrying a smaller boy with a tiara and princess hat on, who appeared to be asleep and drooling on his shoulder.

Speechless, he waved them in.

When Dr Way came out of his office to check his new assistant hadn't set fire to, broken, damaged or moved anything, he found him sitting cross-legged on the floor, filling in the paperwork he'd been left.

There was a student sleeping on the bed, another sitting on a chair, clutching his hand with his left, and scribbling something down in a notebook with his right.

Dr Way raised an eyebrow, his face emotionless.

"Mr Weekes," he said in a mildly irritated stage whisper. "Are you following the school protocol?"

His assistant jumped, startled, before turning around to face him.
"Uh, yes, Dr Way, I think so."

"You think so?" he asked, pointedly.

"Yes, Dr Way," Dallon gulped nervously.
His boss shot him a calculating look.
"Alright. I'll be in my office if you cannot manage without adult supervision."

Face burning with embarrassment, Dallon turned back to his filing. "Thank you, Dr Way." he mumbled.

He wasn't actually sure if he was 'following school protocol', but when he'd last checked on the two boys -- Tyler and Josh, they said their names were -- they had been fast asleep, curled up in each others arms, and hadn't had the heart to wake them up and send them back to class.

The kids in the medical room were a different story.

He'd asked the fringey guy what had happened, and he'd shrugged, not taking his eyes off the other boy.
"Trick's really hot, I think he has a fever," he'd whispered, staring wide eyed at the sleeping boy.

"I'm sure I can help," Dallon had offered, "What are your names?"

Since then, he hadn't been able to coax Pete back to class, and Patrick had only woken up briefly, for just long enough to swallow a couple of paracetamol and some water, and to slap Pete (weakly albeit) across the face.

Alarmed, Dallon rushed to get him some ice, and was surprised to see the dark haired boy braying with laughter, before leaning over to place a kiss on Patrick's forehead, causing the sleeping boy to smile.

"I'm so confused..." the assistant nurse whispered to himself.

On hearing this, Pete sat up quickly with a guilty blush on his face.

"He's my Juliet," he said, by way of explanation.

When he saw Dallon's face grow even more bewildered and concerned, he hurriedly added, "In the school play. But he's hated me since third grade, because I kissed this guy, I guess he was Tricky's crush or something. We were besties until then..."
He trailed off, wistfully. "It's complicated. There was this whole thing in seventh grade where I tried to get him to like me, and that ended with me accidentally smacking him in the face with my bass in band class..."
Dallon tried not to look too alarmed. "It was supposed to be romantic, I was trying to serenade him, but I guess he didn't realise I was going to spin around," Pete continued. "Anyways, I've been in love with him for years and he thinks I'm just a stupid jerk who hit him with a guitar." He broke off, staring down at his shoes. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"No, it's okay," Dallon said, sympathetically. "I'm sure he doesn't really hate you. You seemed pretty cosy when you came in..."

Pete shot him a sour look.
"He was pretty out of it... He probably thought I was Mr Way or someone."

"Mr Way?" He asked, curiously. "As in Dr Way?"

"Nah, his older brother," Pete laughed bitterly. "He's a theatre teacher. Real pretty and all that. Trick has a huge thing for him." The last part was muttered miserably.

"Ah." Dallon said, very helpfully. To change the subject, he hurriedly continued with, "Well, Patrick will be fine, it seems like he's just dehydrated. Has he eaten anything today?"

Pete shook his head, wide eyed.

"I'll go get him something from the vending machine," he said, squeezing Patrick's hand one more time before getting up to go.

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/82/47/d2/8247d21a8e7b7b6abcfbb248ede5c4ae.jpg

Chapter Text

As soon as Pete had left the room, Patrick sat upright, staring after him.
"Pete thinks I hate him?" he asked in a very small voice.

Dallon rushed over to his side. "Oh, god no, please don't cry... don't focus on that part, I think you need to talk some things over together... He'll be back soon."

He wasn't sure what to do next; his nursing degree didn't have any instructions on what to do to help lovesick teenagers.

Patrick wrapped his arms tightly around himself, hiding his face in the sleeve of Pete's hoodie and shaking slightly.

"Hey, shhh, don't be upset..." Dallon said, in what he hoped was a comforting tone, awkwardly patting the boy's arm.
"I'll go make you some cocoa..."

He quickly set the small kettle boiling, finding a mug that was printed with a selfie of two people in the snow, one with long, bright red hair, the other he recognised as the tiny teacher from the English department.
Both were beaming happily; the English teacher was cupping the redhead's face in gloved hands and kissing his cheek.

Printed on it in pink comic sans were the words: "happy birthday Mikey. lots of love from Gee and Frank xx".

Dallon smiled at this, carefully putting the cup back on the shelf and finding a plain black one, giving it a quick rinse before tipping in a sachet of hot chocolate.

While he waited for the kettle to boil, he went back over to Patrick, passing him a box of tissues.

When the water was done, he made up the hot drink, stirring it carefully before putting it down on the chair Pete had up until recently occupied.

"There you go. Now please don't cry, I'm sure Pete will be back soon and you can sort everything out with him then." Dallon wrung his hands worriedly. He desperately wanted to help, he just wasn't sure what he could do.

Speak of the devil, it was then that Pete made his way back in, clutching a couple of candy bars and a pack of granola.

"Oh, uh, hey Patrick." He said nervously. "I didn't know you were awake..." Upon looking more closely at the other boy he darted forward to his side, concern spreading over his features. "What's the matter, Tricky? Did I do something?"

To his surprise, when Patrick lifted his head, he was laughing as well as crying.

"C'mere you stupid idiot," the smaller boy mumbled, throwing his arms around Pete's neck.

Pete, looking bewildered but delighted, tentatively put his arms around Patrick's waist. "So... you don't hate me?" He asked.

Patrick giggled through his tears.
"You fucking moron... I was pissed that you kissed Joe because I liked you, not him."

Dallon, a very confused spectator, was tempted to say "language", however thought he'd better not ruin the moment.

Clearing his throat he hastily announced that he really ought to go and check on Tyler and Josh.

The two boys took no notice, only having eyes for each other.

"I thought you hated me!" Pete murmured in wonderment. "Fuck, I'm so stupid..."

"Yeah, you are," Patrick agreed, fondly. "You silly spoon."

"You were a bit of a drama queen about it though... I had nightmares for a week after you sent me that letter... You know, the one that said I was going to suffer for my crimes, signed as Morrissey?" Patrick blushed guiltily. "And then that time in fifth grade you swapped my shampoo for green hair dye and I looked like Shrek for a month?"

"You ran me over with your bike!" Patrick replied indignantly. "And you spilled paint all over me that one time..."

"Both of those times were accidents! And I made sure you were okay, didn't I?"

"Yeah, okay," Patrick nodded grudgingly. "But you're still an idiot." he said, tugging Pete closer and holding him tighter.

Chapter Text

*four years previously*

Everyone was getting very excited about the new theatre teacher.

Frank had been carefully avoiding him, ever since his arrival.

The reason for this was that when he had first been introduced to the (sinfully gorgeous) Mr Gerard Way, he had poured coffee all over him.

It was an accident, of course, but the look of absolute confusion on the new teacher's pretty face had turned Frank into the kind of blushing mess he had avoided becoming since his early teens.

He had awkwardly stammered apologies, trying to wipe the coffee off his pants with his hands, so when the other teachers came in, it looked like he was just pathetically groping Mr Way's legs.

Then he'd hurriedly got to his feet and fled, still apologising at a hundred miles a minute.

Unfortunately, Mr Way had been everywhere after The Incident, which made it very difficult to avoid him, especially as he kept popping up out of nowhere, and giving Frank these adorable shy little smiles, the kind that would fill anyone's insides with butterflies.

It was very difficult not to stare at his feet and blush like a moron, smiling widely and clutching his papers, in a daze for the rest of the day.

After a few weeks of this, Frank's class had demanded that he do something about his pathetically obvious crush.

Two of the girls had even pushed them into the staffroom together and held the door shut, however this plan hadn't worked quite as they'd hoped, as the elderly Mr Cooper was also in the room, talking aloud to his dead wife, Judith.

Mr Way had cleared his throat nervously. "Um, Mr Iero, are your class doing any Shakespeare this term?"

His voice was possibly the best thing Frank had ever heard.

Swallowing, Frank had replied, "Y-Yes, we're doing To Kill A Mockingbird, but we're almost done, and then we'll be doing Macbeth... And uh, you can call me Frank."

The smile Mr Way had given him could have cured every known disease in the world. "Oh, good! May I come and watch you teach sometime, just, you know, to help me get started with my own class?" He smiled shyly. "And you can call me Gerard."

Frank felt like one of those little plastic nodding dogs. "Y-Yeah! By all means. I um, I'd love to help out in any way I can."

Realising how desperate he sounded, he wished for the floor to cave in under his feet and deposit him somewhere he could hide.

Luckily, Gerard didn't seem to notice his embarrassment, smiling warmly and continuing to talk about how the drama and english departments should really collaborate more together, seeing as the subjects were so interlinked.

The next ten minutes passed slightly less awkwardly, with Frank actually managing to hold a conversation with his beautiful colleague, and not melting into a puddle of affectionate goo.

By the end of break, the girls had apparently got bored of not seeing any 'hot man action', because the door was unguarded; they walked out, chatting about their favourite Shakespeare play (Twelfth Night: "'Cause it's fucking fabulous") and how Olivia had a big gay crush on Viola.

They separated, only realising that their shoulders and hands were almost brushing, until Gerard had walked Frank up to to his classroom door.

"I guess I'll see you in the staffroom later?" Frank began.
Gerard blushed, pushing his scarlet hair out of his face. "Uh, you could always come see me in my office? I have muffins? And netflix on my laptop..."
"Yes!!" Frank practically screamed. "I mean, yes, that'd be great."

He couldn't stop smiling as Gerard walked away offering him a shy little wave and smile.

He was still beaming as he went into the classroom, ignoring his class's shenanigans in favour of sticking the first DVD he found in his desk into the computer (thankfully, it was Ghostbusters, rather than the porn that was also stashed in there).

Face planting onto the desk, he couldn't stop thinking about Gerard's adorable little smile... his ridiculously long eyelashes... the way the light shone through his hair when he walked and how his voice got higher when he'd been excited during their conversation earlier...

Shit.

He was so fucked.

For the next month, he went to Gerard's office every lunch break.

They had a little system worked out; Frank would leave Gerard little presents of spare hair ties, comics, and extracts from plays he thought he'd like, and Gerard would hide little sketches in Frank's desk drawer and buy him different cakes and cookies from the "absolutely fuckin amazing" bakery near his apartment.

Every two weeks, they would do a shared class; Gerard would come and help out, acting out various parts of Macbeth, to the amusement of Frank's class -- their teacher always sat at the front of the class, staring starry-eyed at him.

They would spend every lunchtime together, sharing food and talking about their various classes, and sometimes, when Gerard came over for a netflix or horror movie marathon, they'd fall asleep together on the couch.

When Frank had a shitty day, he knew that he could count on Gerard to give him a hug and doodle little cartoons of the most irritating of his students being devoured by zombie kittens.

His crush on the other teacher was still going strong; hitting him hard whenever Gerard tugged on his hand to show him a new drawing he'd done, or his latest idea for the school play, eyes shining with excitement.

He'd pretty much accepted that Gerard wasn't at all interested in him; in fact, the other teacher seemed to be completely oblivious to any form of romantic intentions.
He looked absolutely bewildered when students tried to flirt with him, and had confessed to Frank that he'd been confused when Miss Ballato had asked him to get drinks with her, not understanding that it was meant to be a date until she tried to kiss him.

Although he was slightly salty about Gerard going on a date (accidental or not) with someone else, he soon forgot about it when the drama teacher asked him to prom.

Or rather, to help organise the prom with him.
And the prom rep committee...
And Miss Nestor...

But hey, it was the thought that counted, right?

Prom was only a week away, and Gerard had been running around all over the place trying to make sure everything would be perfect for the big night.

Frank was beginning to worry about him; when he came over in the evenings, he'd often fall asleep before they were even half way through a movie: even when it was Return Of The Jedi.

It was concerning enough that Gerard could fall asleep during Star Wars, but him falling asleep before Han, Luke and Leia had even escaped Jabba's palace??
That was a definite warning sign...

On the days leading up to prom, students and teachers of all ages would not fucking stop asking Gerard to prom.

Frank had got into the habit of scowling every time someone approached them; however it turned out he didn't need to, as Gerard kept turning people down, apologising shyly.

Frank wondered if Gerard was going to ask anyone, maybe he was waiting until the last minute, or maybe he was going to ask him to go as friends, or something.

He doubted it, though.

Gerard was completely exhausting himself trying to organise everything, as well as sorting his "fuckin fabulous" top secret outfit out.

When Frank admitted that he had no plans to dress up, seeing as they were only supervising, and not actually attending the dance, Gerard was appalled.

They ended up sneaking out of school at lunchtime to go to the mall, giggling, after telling their respective classes that they had free periods for the rest of the day.

When they were there, Frank refused to let the theatre teacher pay for a suit for him, insisting on buying himself a new dress shirt and waistcoat.

Gerard, undeterred, ending up buying him a rather lovely dark blue jacket, as well as a horrible fuzzy leopard print tie and extremely tight leather pants as a joke.

Frank got his revenge by getting Gerard a fluffy pink feather boa and tiara, however he loved them, and wouldn't take them off for the rest of the day.

The cashier had looked very confused at the sight of two adults buying such an interesting mix of clothing items, but had probably seen stranger things, seeing as she didn't comment.

After the clothes store, Gerard pulled Frank into another store - *insert generic shoe shop name here* - to get himself some shoes.

Frank teasingly suggested a pair of glittery magenta and orange stilettos, to which Gerard said, "Fuck no, I'm not that kind of girl," so dryly that Frank was practically on the floor from laughing so much.

He eyed a pair of lace up heeled boots thoughtfully though, eventually asking for a pair in his size, looking at Frank nervously for his reaction.

The small teacher beamed back at him. "They're awesome! You'll look so pretty!"

Gerard blushed, hurriedly typing in his pin number on the cash machine as the server behind the counter raised his eyebrows in amusement, before boxing up the shoes and putting them in a carrier bag.

Frank could tell that Gerard was still a little flustered about the whole heels business, so he decided to lighten the mood by saying, "OMG let's go get milkshakes!" in his best tumblr white girl voice.

Still blushing slightly, Gerard beamed at him, making Frank's head and heart spin. "Yeah okay, I'll pay. It'll be my treat."

Gently taking Frank's hand, he picked up the bag with his shoes in with his other hand, and they walked out of the store together, Frank feeling like his heart was going to burst right out of his chest with happiness.

Finally, the big day arrived.

Gerard had had so much coffee that Frank thought he might turn into The Flash if he had anymore.
He was already halfway there; whizzing about all over the place, pinning up last minute decorations and making sure everybody had a date, or at least a friend to take them.

Earlier in the week, a few of the seniors had come to him in tears, saying that they had no one to go with.

Frank was amazed at how many students had managed to get dates after going to see Gerard; apparently he was a master matchmaker.

Half an hour until the doors were due to open, Frank stood fidgeting in his suit outside the gym, which had been jazzed up with crêpe paper flowers and trailing glittery vines for the occasion (this year's theme was nature).

He was holding a dark purple rose corsage for Gerard, deciding at the last minute that he would make at least a little bit of an effort to get in the prom mood, seeing as his friend was so excited about it.

Gerard had said he'd be there by quarter past seven: the doors were due to open at half past.

Beginning to get slightly flustered, he wondered if he should text to find out where Gerard was, maybe he'd got held up in traffic? He only lived a couple of blocks away, but still...

Realising he was starting to sweat with anxiety, Frank forced himself to calm down.

He was probably just talking to the students that were already milling about in the corridors, or making sure the caterer turned up, or something.

Frank was just about to get his phone out of his waistcoat to call, when he heard Gerard's unmistakable voice from around the corner. "Ah, shit!"

Grinning, Frank pocketed his cellphone and began to walk in the direction of the other teacher's voice.

"Hey, Gerard!" He called. "Are you ready to-- oh fucking hell, Gee..."
Stopping still, he stared in lust and amazement at the sight of Gerard.

The drama teacher was bent over, re-lacing the ankle boots he'd bought the other day.
He straightened up in shock when he saw Frank, a blush highlighting his pale cheeks.

"God, Gerard, you look amazing..." Frank breathed, unable to take his eyes off him.

Gerard was wearing a short dress, the colour of dark wine.
His scarlet hair was styled into a messy braid crown, with wisps escaping and hanging into his face.
His eyes were lined with soft dark kohl, and his lips were painted with some kind of shimmery gloss.

"Uh, hi," he said, shyly. "You like it?"

Frank nodded, hurriedly closing his mouth to make sure he didn't accidentally dribble on anything. "I fucking love it. You look beautiful."

Gerard beamed, offering Frank his arm. "Shall we?" he asked with a giggle.

"We shall." Frank agreed, looping his arm through the other teacher's.

Somehow, before he knew it, he was drunk, slow dancing with an equally tipsy Gerard to the Macarena.

That Beckett kid had spiked the punch; Frank had watched him doing it, making sure that the vodka he used wasn't the cheap shitty variety, and nodding approvingly when he stirred it properly.

Through the night, students and teachers alike had been coming up to congratulate him, he had no idea what for or why, but he was dancing with his gorgeous best friend and so he'd just nodded happily or thanked them distractedly by standing on his tiptoes to look over Gerard's shoulder.

In the heels, Gerard was nearly six foot, so Frank's face was mostly just pressed into his chest, his hands finding themselves on Gerard's ass before long, because his arms were 'getting tired by reaching up to his shoulders'.

Or at least that was his excuse.

Gerard hadn't even commented; Frank assumed it was because he was drunk, rather than because he liked it (he was wrong, of course, Gerard was a puddle of ecstatic mush on the inside).

A few drinks later, and he found himself on the stage, burping into the microphone.
"Right, everyone, I have an announcement to make..." He slurred, trying to stay upright. "Gerard... Gee... Gigi my love... Will you fucking marry me? You're my best friend-" he hiccuped -"and your ass is the best thing I have ever laid hands on. I mean eyes."

"Fuck yes I will! Ask me again in five years, you sexy little leprechaun!" Gerard yelled back from the dance floor.

The students erupted into cheers, and Frank beat his chest triumphantly, King Kong style, before toppling off the stage, and passing out into Gerard's waiting arms.

They moved in together the next week, hauling the stuff from Gerard's shitty little apartment into Frank's slightly less shitty apartment.

William Beckett wrote in the yearbook that his greatest accomplishment at the school was "making Mr Iero finally get his shit together and get with Mr Way".

Ever since, Gerard and Frank have offered to supervise prom every year; Frank wearing his awful tie and leather pants, and Gerard wearing his feather boa and tiara.
They have made it their mission to wear the most ridiculous outfits each year, making it a competition between them.

Frank has a picture of the two of them together in his wallet; it was taken just before his announcement.
Both are beaming at the camera, one of Gerard's spaghetti straps is slipping down his arm, and Frank's face is nuzzled into his chest.

He also has a collection of Gerard's little sketches, and in his bedside table, there is a little box with a silver ring in, waiting until the time is right.

Chapter Text

When Patrick's mom arrived to pick him up, she was only slightly surprised to see him with a half naked Pete draped all over him, scowling and blushing in equal measure.

"Hello, Peter! Would you like a ride home?" She called out of the front side window, just to stir shit up.

Beaming delightedly, Pete tugged his captive towards the car. "Thanks, Patricia!"

Unlike the drive to school, the way home was far more entertaining.

Pete decided to serenade them both with his version of 'I Will Always Love You'.

By the end, even Patricia was begging him to shut up, however this did not deter him, and he finished on an absolutely horrific screeching high note, arms outstretched in some form of jazz hands.

Patrick clapped halfheartedly. "Uh, that was great, Pete."

Pete gave him a sultry wink. "Thanks, sugar."

This resulted in Patricia cackling with laughter and Patrick having to stare at his scuffed sneakers and think extremely un-dirty thoughts, all the blood rushing either to his face or - ahem - elsewhere.

Luckily, Pete didn't seem to notice this, as he was already distracted by singing (if you could call it that) his next song; an interesting rendition of 'All The Single Ladies'.

Patricia actually put the radio on in an attempt to drown him out.

Fortunately for the ears of everyone in the nearby vicinity, Pete's house was just around the corner, and he stopped 'singing' as the car slowed down.

"See you tomorrow, Juliet," he crooned, leaning over to plant a smacking kiss on the tip of Patrick's nose, before climbing out of the car and Naruto-running to his house.

Patrick hid his face in his hands, beet red with embarrassment.

His mom was finding it fucking hilarious, wiping away tears of mirth and managing to say through giggles, "I'm definitely going to ask Dale if she wants us to take Peter to school more often in future."

It was only when he was safely in his room with his battered acoustic and a PB&J sandwich that he realised he was still wearing Pete's clothes.

......................................................................

That night, Patrick slept deeply, dreaming of warm dark eyes and sweat-soaked golden skin; of a quiet voice murmuring to him, and a sweet familiar scent.

He dreamed of a hot mouth licking and nibbling at his neck, hands gripping his back, a strong lean body pinning him down... He thrusted his hips desperately into empty air, clawing at the bed covers and gasping out a mix of swear words.

In his blissful unconscious state, little did he know that across the street, Pete was lying awake, having similar thoughts.

He wondered what it would be like for Patrick to be his, and only his...
To be able to hold him close and breathe him in, caress his --oh so tempting-- soft pale skin, and kiss that delicious blessing of a mouth... Oh, those fucking lips... They'd be the end of him, and he'd go happily.

His thoughts wandered to far less pure territories, full of sweat, skin and saliva, and Patrick writhing and grinding against him, and he swore softly to himself.

Just because Patrick didn't hate him didn't mean he liked him. He had to remember that the other boy was strictly off limits. Pete knew he couldn't take losing his friendship again.

Unfortunately, not thinking about Patrick worked fine in theory, but not so much practically.

Pete was haunted by him; his imagination kept spewing up images -- extremely vivid and detailed -- of Patrick: on his knees, lying down, legs spread far apart, or his favourite, Patrick laid out beneath him, every inch of his beautiful body pressed against Pete's.

Guiltily, he reached into his boxers, stroking himself slowly to thoughts of Patrick staring innocently up at him though his eyelashes, fingers curled around his cock. He soon came with a cry, Patrick's name on his lips and echoing in his ears in the filthiest way.

Chapter Text

.......................................................................

When Patrick woke up the next morning, he found he was tangled in the bedcovers, his boxers sticking to him unpleasantly.
Fucking hell.
His body and mind ached longingly with the reminder of his dream, and he swore to himself, praying his mom hadn't heard anything.

He was hard again, and he groaned in annoyance, managing to pull himself free of the crumpled sheets and stumbling into the shower.

Once under the warm water, he sighed quietly to himself, cursing Pete for being so fucking irresistible.

He reached down, imagining his Romeo pressing him against the wet soapy tiles, wrapping a hand around him and mouthing along his jaw.

"Pete, Pete, Pete," he moaned, hand moving faster, getting lost in his fantasy as his euphoria built up and up.

With one final stroke he came undone, whimpering Pete's name as the water washed the evidence away.

He took his time getting ready, he'd woken up much earlier courtesy of the pool of sweat and sticky sheets he'd been lying in.

He actually took some time with his hair, brushing it through and trying to style it a little.

When he was back in his room, he searched his closet for something to wear.
He ended up picking a simple blue t-shirt, and faded jeans, pondering whether or not Pete would notice if he wore his hoodie.

Deciding it didn't matter too much, because he could always just say he was returning it, he slipped into it, breathing in Pete's familiar scent, smiling to himself.

Heading downstairs, he grabbed his bag, making his way to the kitchen and tossing some bread into the toaster, and making enough coffee for three, grinning to himself at the thought of the ride to school with Pete.

He had just finished eating when the doorbell rang, and he hurriedly leapt up as his mom screamed "GET THE DOOR," from upstairs.

He answered the door, face flushed, and deepening in colour when he came face to face with Pete.

The other boy had gelled his hair spikily to the side, he had fresh eyeliner on for once, and he was looking really, really ridiculously good looking.

Overwhelmed and suddenly overcome with his thoughts from the previous night, Patrick couldn't stop staring, eyes wide open.

Pete gave him his huge megawatt smile, "Hey, Patty! I'm here for my ride," he leered, grinning before adding (in what was probably supposed to be a seductive husky voice, but actually just sounded like a bad Batman impersonator), "In a cheesy movie, this is where you'd declare your never ending love for me and carry me upstairs to have your wicked way with me."
He winked, nonchalantly leaning against the door.

Patrick's face flooded with colour. "Pete!" he hissed. "Don't be so--" He paused, struggling to think of an accurate word that wasn't a compliment.
He sighed, giving up, but not giving Pete the satisfaction of meeting his eyes.
"I made coffee, come have some with me," he grumbled, pulling Pete inside.
"Is that an innuendo?" Pete crowed, waggling his eyebrows furiously.

Without thinking, Patrick reached past him to shut the door, pressing himself against the taller boy's body in the process. "Maybe it was," he murmured, gazing up into Pete's face, which was frozen into an expression of shock and something else.

Smiling, he stood on his tiptoes and leaned in closer, until their lips were millimetres apart, almost brushing. Pete looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
"Now, how about that coffee?" He said brightly, pulling away and sauntering off to the kitchen, hips swaying.
Pete was left standing against the door, staring after him, stunned and unfairly aroused. "Fuck..." he breathed.

He followed him into the kitchen, speechless for once, taking the coffee the other boy held out for him.

After a minute of quiet, Pete opened his mouth to ask if Patrick had meant what he'd said, and could they please please do that again, except with more actual contact?
"Can we please never mention that again?" Patrick interrupted, cheeks dark red. "I don't know why I did that, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything."

Pete swallowed his coffee, the hot liquid scalding his throat. I love you! He wanted to yell. You can do that as much as you want!

Instead, he finished the rest of his drink in silence. You probably fucked up and pissed him off again! his mind screamed.
"Okay," he managed to croak out. "Sorry if I came on too strong, people say I need to tone myself down sometimes."

Patrick gazed at him worriedly, wishing he could kiss the sad look off his face.

You never have to be anyone you're not around me, he thought. You're my Pete, I don't want you to 'tone yourself down', not for me, not for anyone.

He looked down at his drink instead, not really wanting it anymore, but not wanting to look at Pete's unhappy face in case he leaned over and acted on his urge to kiss the other boy.

He knew that even if Pete did like him back, he'd soon get bored of him and find a shinier newer model. So there was no point sticking his heart out where it could be torn to pieces.
......................................................................

The journey to school was almost completely silent, leaving Patricia wondering what was going on with the boys. She decided not to ask, knowing how bitchy her son could be when he got defensive.

Instead, she flicked on the stereo, one of Patrick's mix CDs coming on; it was one he'd recorded himself, and as the scratchy audio filled the car, his voice came over the top of the strum of the guitar, sounding young and nervous. "Um, happy birthday, mom, I wrote this one for you."

As real Patrick protested -- "MOM, NO!!" -- recorded Patrick began to sing, his voice clear and strong.

Pete, who had been worrying about whether he'd upset Patrick again, was lulled out of his anxiety by the other boy's --ridiculously fuckin beautiful-- voice.

"Patrick..." he breathed, momentarily forgetting his doubts. "I didn't know you could do that... You gotta sing for me sometime..."

Patrick met his eyes, before staring back down at his feet, embarrassed. "Uh, alright."

Pete reached over and grabbed his hand, flooded with enthusiasm. "Promise?"

Gazing at their interlinked fingers, Patrick's pale cheeks flushed red. Pete was really enjoying making him blush, it was the most adorable thing...
"I promise, you weirdo," he grumbled, unable to keep himself from smiling back at Pete.

He didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the journey.

Grinning like an idiot, Pete's heart was filled with hope as he wondered if maybe, maybe he had a chance to prove Patrick he wasn't the annoying idiot everyone thought he was.

Chapter Text

There were two girls sitting in reception; a blonde and a brunette.

The brunette had wide, worried blue eyes; her hair was short, it looked like she was growing out a bob.
She was wearing a loose fitting soft grey blouse and a dark skirt, and her eyes kept flitting between the timetable clutched in her hands and the door at the other side of the room.

The blonde stared at her with interest; her own hair was long and plaited, falling down her back. She was dressed far more casually, in comfortable jeans and her favourite t-shirt.

She had never seen this girl before, and she felt strangely drawn to her, wondering what it was that was making her so nervous.

Before she had a chance to even think of something to say to start a conversation, the receptionist, Miss Nestor, came out of her office. "Jenna Black and Sarah Orzechowski?" She called. Both girls stood up, looking at each other curiously.

They followed her into the office, standing a little awkwardly as she sat down behind her desk, smiling at them.

"Hello, ladies," She said. "Jenna, as president of the student council, you were my first choice when the headmistress asked me for a responsible student."
The blonde girl beamed at the compliment.

"Now, Sarah here is our newest student. Her first day was actually yesterday, however Mr Wilson was on duty after me, and instead of showing her around he just gave her a map and a timetable." Her features crinkled slightly with irritation. "So what I would like you to do is to show Sarah around, make sure she knows where everything is, and who the teachers are. I've put you together in most classes, because your timetables are very similar. Is that alright, Jenna?"
The blonde girl nodded, smiling at Sarah, who ducked her head shyly, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

Miss Nestor smiled at them both fondly. "Okay, good. Off you go to class, I'll give you both a slip explaining why you're late."
She rummaged in her desk drawer, pulling out two green cards, signing them quickly, and handing them to them.

Jenna turned to the girl next to her. "Come on, then, we've got English with Mr Iero first, that should be an interesting experience for you!"
Sarah followed her closely, not wanting to get lost.

...........................................................................................

When they entered the English classroom, their teacher was nowhere to be seen.
Sarah stood, her timetable clasped to her chest as she surveyed the busy classroom.

There were several displays up, however only two out of about five looked like they were in any way educational.

On the far side of the room, the largest display board was screwed to the wall, the black title on the colourful paper standing out: FRERARD, it read.
She wondered what it meant.

The display was covered in drawings (in varying degrees of skill) of two people, one with hair that seemed to change colour depending on the picture, the other with black hair that changed in length.

The pretty blonde girl from reception -- Jenna -- was suddenly in front of her. "Hey, Sarah, I saved you a seat. Do you mind sitting next to me?"

She shook her head, following Jenna over to a table in the middle of the room.

No sooner had they sat down, a short man with longish dark hair burst through the door.
His mouth looked almost painfully red and swollen, his collar was askew and he was holding his jacket over his arm. Despite his raggedy appearance, he looked absolutely delighted.
"Sup kiddos!" He yelled over the general classroom clamour.

Everyone stopped talking, instead cheering at him, some of the boys wolf-whistling loudly.
"We love you Mr Oreo!" They chanted.
"But not as much as Mr Way does..." shouted a boy with an admirable expanse of forehead.

The class howled with laughter, and the teacher -- Mr Oreo??? -- grinned. "Shut up, guys, c'mon..." he said, making swatting gestures with his tattooed hands.

Sarah wasn't entirely sure if he was the teacher or just a classroom assistant, but she was glad he hadn't noticed her yet.

"Right," said Mr Oreo, tossing a clipboard in the vague direction of a bespectacled strawberry blonde boy in the first row. "Be a dear and take the register for me?"

He continued talking at a hundred miles a minute, setting up his computer as he did so. He stopped talking, briefly pausing to look up at his class.

His gaze landed on Sarah.
"Oh, hello," he said. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Mr Iero, however my horrible class" -- the class giggled --"call me Mr Oreo, the cheeky bastards. It's cause I'm short, they like to take the piss out of me."

Jenna glanced over at Sarah, expecting her to look scandalised. Surprisingly, the dark haired girl was holding her hand over her mouth, hiding a small grin.

"What's your name then, newbie?" The teacher continued, hopping onto his desk and swinging his legs, beaming all the while.

"I'm..." She paused, nervously looking at the sea of faces turned towards her. "I'm Sarah." Mr Iero/Oreo nodded, not looking especially interested and turned back to his computer.

Without a second thought, Jenna reached under the desk to give her hand a comforting squeeze.

Sarah whirled around to face her, meeting her eyes with her own stormy blue ones.
Jenna found herself blushing under the intensity of the other girl's gaze, taking in her creamy skin, thick dark lashes and soft pink lips, before forcing herself to look away, embarrassed and ashamed of herself.

She wasn't supposed to be crushing on anyone, least of all the new girl. It was her senior year.
She could date after she'd finished her exams, and besides, her parents would never approve. She'd be able to find a nice boy after college and settle down, it wouldn't be so bad...

Lost in her thoughts, she missed Sarah's keen gaze tracing over her features with shy interest, forgetting that under the table, their hands were still clasped together.

...........................................................................................

For the remainder of the lesson, Sarah couldn't concentrate on anything apart from the soft warm hand in hers. She was conscious of the fact that she was sweating nervously, shifting in her seat to stop her thighs sticking together uncomfortably.

She hoped Jenna couldn't tell, wishing she didn't react to situations like this, and trying to reassure her anxious mind that she didn't reek like a guy, reminding herself that at least there was no way she could smell as bad as the janitor she'd bumped into the day before.

She was passing just fine, she told herself, and besides, this was a new school; a new start.
It would be okay; no one would find out.
She could check her make up at lunchtime to make sure she still looked pretty, and try and make new friends somehow.

At least she had Jenna, that was a start, even though she was unsure if the girl was just being friendly because she had been told to.

...........................................................................................

Somehow, before long it was the end of the lesson, and Mr Iero came down from where he was standing on his desk -- something Jenna assured her was perfectly normal "he does it every lesson, it's tradition™".

The next lesson they had was theatre, and Sarah listened intently as Jenna talked about their current play, telling Sarah that Mr Way would make sure she had a part, and not to worry, because they'd only started working on it yesterday.

Realising that she had been clutching onto Sarah for who knows how long, she let go as if the other girl's hand was a live snake, feeling her face heat up with embarrassment.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise I was still doing that... I'm really sorry, please don't be mad or anything..." she blurted out, searching her face for any signs of her being angry or upset.

Instead, the other girl smiled softly.
"No, it's okay," she said in her quiet, pretty voice. "That's what friends do, right?"
Jenna exhaled slowly in relief.
"Yeah, yes of course. I just wasn't sure if you..." she trailed off, instead offering the other girl a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Never mind."

Sarah had no time to ask her what she was going to say, only enough to give her a questioning look as a tall person with copper red hair pushed open the doors, asking them to come in and find a seat.

...........................................................................................

The theatre teacher, Mr Way, turned out to be the nicest person she'd met at the school (besides Jenna, of course).

After taking registration, and asking everyone to split into groups, he'd given her a script, telling her he was "delighted to have a new student", and did she have any preference on parts, or would she mind being Friar Lawrence, seeing as they didn't yet have one?

She'd said she didn't mind at all, and that Romeo and Juliet was one of her favourite plays, which made him clasp his hands together excitedly, going on about how important it was that the most famous love story gave the LGBT community the representation it deserved, and he would probably have kept talking if Jenna hadn't interrupted.

"Mr Way, I really think I should start Sarah off with her script..."

"Oh?" He said, sounding confused for a second. "Oh, yes, of course that's a good idea." He turned back to face Sarah, adding "If you have any problems settling in, please do pop over and see me."

She nodded, assuring him that yes, yes she would, before following Jenna across the room to where two boys were seated.

Jenna introduced them as Tyler and Josh, and they greeted her with smiles, before the red-haired Josh enthusiastically began to describe an encounter they'd had with a "real life alien", complete with frenzied hand gestures. The other boy, Tyler, fondly watched him in silence, his hand stroking along Josh's thigh.

Sarah noticed this, privately wondering if the two were together.

The evidence for this grew as the darker haired boy threw his arm around the redhead's waist, hand stroking his side almost possessively. "C'mon, Joshie, we need to go practise." He murmured softly.
Josh blushed slightly, "Yeah, okay." He smiled at the two girls. "See you later Jenna, Sarah..."

When they had gone, Sarah shuffled closer to Jenna, whispering, "Are your friends dating?" into her ear.
She thought she felt the other girl shiver as she got closer, although she must have imagined it.

"No... Or rather, they say they aren't... They adore each other, they're both just very shy," Jenna replied quietly, smiling at her in that warm, pretty way she had. "I personally think something happened between them yesterday, but they're just keeping quiet about it."

Sarah nodded thoughtfully. "How is this school with um... same sex couples?" she asked, fiddling with her skirt.

Jenna beamed at her. "The school doesn't give a crap -- pardon my French," she replied, "Mr Way and Mr Iero are 100% definitely together, and the people who disagree with it tend to keep it to themselves."

Sarah nodded, feeling slightly reassured. "And uh..." she hesitated. "And what about students who aren't, you know, cis..." She half expected Jenna's pretty face to contort with disgust, or at least look a little confused.

Instead, she continued to surprise Sarah by smiling and saying, "Why would there be a problem? The Lord tells us to love our neighbours, and I for one see nothing wrong with neighbours who don't necessarily fit into society's expectations."
She must have taken Sarah's surprise the wrong way, because she added frostily, "Why, do you have a problem with transgender people?"

Sarah laughed; it was the first time Jenna had seen her look so relaxed.
"No, no, of course not," she replied, "That'd be a bit hypocritical of me."
Jenna's eyes widened almost comically in surprise. "Oh," she said. "Oh, I had no idea..."

Sarah was smiling so much her face was beginning to ache. "Thank you," she said, locking eyes with the blonde girl for the first time since the morning.
Jenna blushed, the colour contrasting with her light hair. "I didn't do anything..." she said, gazing back at the other girl. "Yes, you did." Sarah replied, finding that her hand was stroking Jenna's knuckles gently, and she looked away, embarrassed. "Let's get on with the script."

Chapter Text

When Patrick got into school, Joe was waiting with his friend Andy by the parking lot.

Pete had scurried off to go and pester Brendon and Ryan, but not before planting a surprisingly sincere kiss on Patrick's cheek.

Anyone who saw this and knew Pete's reputation would think that he was just being clingy to be irritating, however Patrick knew that he'd meant it; it was an unexpectedly sweet gesture, and he was sure his face was beet red with embarrassed delight.

Andy and Joe didn't notice him at first, their focus occupied on each other. Andy was fondling Joe's curls, nuzzling their faces together.

When Patrick cleared his throat to get their attention, Joe practically leapt away from his friend, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Oh, uh, hey, Patrick..." he stuttered, eyes darting from side to side as if to try and find an escape.
Patrick raised his eyebrows. "So what was that then?" he said pointedly.
"It wasn't gay I swear!" Joe blurted out, panicked. "I was reading his aura," Andy said calmly. "He has a very interesting spiritual presence, I find it very soothing."

Patrick was at a loss for words.

Andy Hurley was Joe's Buddhist, vegan best friend, fond of sunflowers, bees and weightlifting.

No one was especially sure what Andy stood for, some people thought it was short for Andrea, some people thought it was Andrew.
Because they never felt the need to correct people, students and teachers referred to Andy by both male and female pronouns, however Joe and Patrick always made sure to use gender neutral ones.

Luckily, it was then that Spencer arrived, dispelling the awkwardness. "Hi guys," he said in his deep, matter of fact voice. "Have any of you seen Ryan?"
Joe looked bemused, shaking his head. "Sorry man," he said. Andy looked similarly unsure, yet still almost dreamily calm.

"I think I saw him with Pete and Brendon earlier?" Patrick offered.
Spencer nodded, looking long-suffering. "He will not stop talking about how irritating he finds Brendon Urie, and yet he follows him around like a little lost puppy..." he grumbled. "Thanks anyway. See you later."
He made his way across the parking lot and into the school building, still complaining about Ryan's incompetence with Brendon under his breath.

...........................................................................................

First period passed relatively quickly.
Patrick had to take the register for Mr Iero (the lazy fucker), and apart from a new addition to the class, there was very little of note.

Pete sat on the opposite side of the room to him, next to Brendon, and the two kept a running commentary throughout the course of the lesson, chatting just quietly enough that Patrick couldn't quite make out what they were saying.
He caught his name a couple of times though, unless they were discussing a some other guy called Patrick. He couldn't think of anyone else with the same name at the school, but when he heard the word 'spongebob' he assumed it was safe to say they weren't talking about him.
This made him feel oddly sulky, and he had to mentally restrain himself from pouting sullenly.

Mr Iero, from his spot on top of his desk, was ranting about how cool Shakespeare's plays really were. He hopped from table to table on the front row as he told them just how "ridiculously fuckin hot" Mr Way had been in the school's production of Much Ado About Nothing a few years back, with lots of throaty moans and sighs to go with his inappropriately gesturing hands.

Patrick was barely paying attention, thinking instead of what Pete would sound like if he were making similar sounds... Joe had to elbow him in the ribs; apparently he'd been drooling on the desk.

Hastily he sat up, red-faced, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and scanning the classroom to make sure no one had seen.
Unfortunately, that was when he made direct eye contact with Pete, who apparently had been staring rather hungrily at him the whole time.
For a tense few seconds, they gazed at each other, the tension so thick you'd have a difficult job slicing it with a machete.

Then the spell was broken as Jon Walker began to have a coughing fit at the back of the room; apparently he'd tried to eat one too many pieces of candy at once, and Spencer had to whack him on the back until he stopped choking.
Mr Iero just rolled his eyes, "You know the rule, Jonny Boy, if you're caught eating in my lesson, you have to share it round."

Jon tried to protest, however Spencer managed to wrestle the pack of candy out of his grasp, and tossed it to Mr Iero, who grinned like a toddler presented with a shiny new toy, popping three pieces into his mouth and chewing happily.

...........................................................................................

The rest of the lesson passed pretty uneventfully, or rather, as uneventfully as Mr Iero's English class could get.

They all trooped off to Theatre, Pete immediately attaching himself to Patrick's arm like a living furnace.

While Mr Way was distracted with the new girl, Patrick began to take registration for him; funnily enough, everyone was there -- except Ryan.
This was extremely odd. Ryan loved theatre. He was a natural born drama queen, and with his various layers of floaty scarves and embroidered waistcoats, he fit right in.

After marking everyone else present, Patrick wandered over to where Brendon and Pete were having what looked like an interesting discussion on something or other, interrupting them to ask if they knew where Ryan had got to.

Brendon grinned like the Cheshire Cat, "Last time I saw him, he was wearing that black cloak he loves so much... You know, the one he brought in for that Halloween party last year? Anyway, he hissed at me and ran away across the football pitch."

Patrick looked dubiously at him. "Okay... That sounds fake, but okay..."

Brendon waved his hands frenetically. "No no no, seriously it's true!"

Just then, a figure in a black cape burst out of the props cupboard, waving its arms and hissing like a snake that had been stepped on.
It ran across the room, and out of the door, Mr Way still not noticing, too busy discussing the play with the new girl.
"What the fuck," Patrick said flatly.
Brendon chased after the cloak covered figure, screaming, "Wait for meee, Ryan my love!"

Patrick stared after him, extremely confused.
"Should I... Should I go get Mr Way?" He asked Pete, who shrugged. "I'm sure it'll be fine." The other boy said. "Let's get on with our script... Do you wanna go in the cupboard again?" he added, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Patrick shot him a teasing smile. "Only if you don't get us locked in again, you prick."
He stood up, tossing his hair out of his face so dramatically it would have made Ryan Ross jealous.
"Come on then, Romeo."

Pete scrambled to his feet, grabbing his script and hurrying after him enthusiastically.

...........................................................................................

Once in the cupboard, to Pete's dismay, Patrick picked up his script, and continued acting as if nothing had ever happened, and he hadn't just been swinging his hips and batting his eyelashes like a flighty temptress.

Still, he tried to regain his composure, reading along with him and trying not to leap onto the other boy and reenact his fantasies from the previous night.
They were going from Act 1 Scene 5, the night of Capulet's party.

Gently, Pete clasped Patrick's hand in his, holding their intertwined hands on top of his heart. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand... This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this," he began, gazing into his eyes, hoping that the other boy could tell he meant every word, as if Patrick really was his own fair Juliet. "My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Patrick swallowed, looking shyly down at his feet.
"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this;" He looked up at Pete, pressing their free hands together gently. "For saint's have hands that pilgrim's hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss."

"Have saints not lips? And holy palmers too?" Pete added, letting go of Patrick's hand to slip an arm around his waist. "Ay, pilgrim," Patrick said, looking rather flustered. "Lips that they must use in prayer."

Pete pulled Patrick closer, so that if they'd been the same height, they would have been chest to chest.
"Oh, dear saint, then let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."
The hand on Patrick's waist crept underneath his shirt and slowly stroked along his skin.
Patrick shivered, "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers sake." he added, somewhat indignantly.

Laughing softly, Pete leaned in closer, so their noses were touching, "Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take; thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged."
Patrick stared up at him, eyes wide. "Now you have to kiss me," he ordered in a half whisper. Pete smiled, cupping Patrick's face with one hand and his waist with the other. "That, I can do."

Patrick closed his eyes, gripping the front of Pete's shirt and pulling him closer. "You fucking idiot," he mumbled, pressing his lips hesitantly at first, and then harder against Pete's warm mouth.
Pete inhaled sharply, fingers digging into Patrick's sides as they stumbled together, trying to taste as much of each other as possible.

They ended up with the smaller boy backed up against the wall; Pete standing between his legs and sliding their hips together, kissing him until they were gasping for air, before starting on his neck, nibbling along his jaw and running his hands tenderly up and down Patrick's chest and stomach.

Patrick's head was hanging back, and his mouth, red from the attention it had received, was half open, making little "oh" noises, his hands clutching onto Pete's shirt.

When Pete was satisfied with the dark pink marks he had left on Patrick's skin, he kissed each one softly, and lifted his head to resume kissing Patrick, sucking and playfully biting at that fucking temptation of a lower lip. Patrick tangled his fingers in Pete's hair with a sigh, standing on his tiptoes so he didn't have to tip his head back to kiss him.

"Then have my lips the sin that I have took," Patrick gasped into Pete's mouth, melting under the other boy's attentions. "Sin from thy lips? Oh, trespass sweetly urged," Pete growled, rocking their hips together and coaxing a whimper from the perfect mouth of his Juliet. "Give me my sin again!"

Chapter Text

"Okay guys, sorry for the delay, I was just getting Sarah up to speed with the play and her character," Mr Way said apologetically, wringing his hands. "Um, where is everyone?"

The majority of the class shrugged, either because they didn't know, or they didn't care.
"Ryan ran off to be Batman and Brendon chased after him!" Ashley called out.
"Right..." Mr Way looked confused. "Do I need to ask someone to go find them?"
Hayley stuck her hand up in the air. "I'll go!"
"Me too!" Ashley chorused.
They ran out of the room together, giggling.

Mr Way turned to the rest of his class, bewildered. "Has the janitor come in to clean yet? And, uh, where are my star-crossed lovers??"
"Sucking face!" Someone yelled. "Or dick!"
Mr Way adjusted his collar, looking extremely embarrassed. "Ah." He said. "Well at least they're getting into character?"

There was a knock at the door, and Mr Iero stuck his head round, out of breath and cackling with laughter. "Babe, you've gotta come and see this!" he giggled, dashing in and tugging the bemused drama teacher outside with him.

Most of the students that weren't focusing on their work got up and followed them curiously, leaving only Jenna and Sarah, who were learning their lines together, and Andy, who was busy with a sewing machine, making one of the costume pieces.

.............................................................................................

In the corridor outside, the class were following Mr Way (Mr Iero had climbed onto his back and was acting as the designated GPS, navigating the treacherous school halls for him), in the direction of the sports field.

As they got closer, the source of Mr Iero's excitement was revealed; Brendon was running round and round the field, in hot pursuit of a black cloaked figure. Both were screaming and waving their arms wildly.

While his class watched in awe, cheering them on, Mr Way turned around to face Mr Iero. "Do you really think that's Ryan?"
Mr Iero shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past him..."
"Yes, but..." The copper haired teacher wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Would Ryan Ross ever really run?"
There was a pause.
Mr Iero thought about it before grinning broadly. "We both know he'd do anything for Brendon Urie."
Mr Way nodded; that was very true... however he still had his suspicions.

..........................................................................................

Meanwhile, in the theatre department, Andy had moved onto sewing a second costume, and Jenna and Sarah had abandoned their scripts in favour of getting to know each other better.

This would have been all well and good, were it not for the elephant in the room, or rather the enthusiastic noises from the costume cupboard.

The walls were as thin as paper, and there was an interesting soundtrack of something or someone thudding against them, with a lovely mix of swearing, sighing and wet kissing noises.

Let's just say, it was an uncomfortable situation for the girls outside.

Andy didn't seem to mind, or even notice; they were happily embroidering a long piece of material with white looping daisies.
It was going to be the skirt of Hayley's gown, and they were very excited to be getting the opportunity to sew so many pretty costumes... They had big plans for Romeo and Julius's outfits and couldn't wait to get started.

After a while, inside the props and costumes room, Patrick and Pete had finally realised that it was probably not a good idea to be noisily and aggressively making out during class, and so they had settled for a more quiet activity.

Patrick was sitting on Pete's lap, limbs wrapped around him like a fluffy haired octopus with kiss bitten lips.

They were reading their lines through to each other, kissing each other thoroughly at the right moments, and just whenever they felt like it (Pete often opting for some light gropage of Patrick's butt).

"I still hate you," Patrick kept saying between kisses. Each time, Pete would smile against his soft mouth and pull him closer. "Of course you do."

..........................................................................................

Ryan Ross walked past the football field on his way back from the music block, looking at the crowd of students swarming on the pitch with disinterest.

One of the juniors had probably pulled a stupid stunt. Not that he cared enough to even make such an educated guess, but never mind.
He could multitask caring too much and not giving a shit pretty well, except with the exception of only two people: John Lennon, and - he swooned a little just thinking about him - Brendon Boyd Irresistibly Gorgeous Urie, his future husband.

Not that Brendon knew that yet, but Ryan would totally make a move at some point. He could be pretty smooth if he did say so himself, and he was at least 70% sure that he'd have the confidence to have a proper romantic conversation with him before prom. Hopefully.

Making his way to Drama, clutching his sheet music, he looked furtively around before pulling a lumpily knitted scarf from his bag and sliding it around his neck, inhaling the scent and walking on.
He allowed himself to feel the softness of the wool on his skin until he reached the door of the theatre classroom, before slowly and sadly removing it from his neck and putting it back in his bag.

He headed into the room, before realising that there were only three students present and no teacher in sight. "Um, guys, where's Mr Way?" he demanded.
Jenna and Sarah looked up at him, Andy ignored him and carried on sewing.
"Oh, a guy called Ryan is running round the school dressed as Dracula and the loud one with the big head chased after him." Sarah answered helpfully.
Jenna tugged her sleeve. "Sarah, that's Ryan right there..."

..........................................................................................

The students outside were cheering boisterously as they followed in pursuit of the mysterious black-clad drama queen.

His lavender hoodie flapping majestically in the wind as he ran, out of breath, Brendon lead the pack, hurtling down the hill towards where the caped crusader was legging it out of the school gates and off down the road.
"Ryaaaaaaaannn!" He screamed. Then he stopped running, causing everyone to crash into him and fall over. "Would the Ryan Ross we all know and love-" -- some people grumbled at the loving part -- "really go off school property?"

"No, he's a fucking goody two shoes!" Someone who sounded an awful lot like Mr Iero yelled from the back of the pile up.

"Exactly." Brendon replied grimly. "He's probably been brainwashed."
"Maybe he got abducted by aliens!" Josh suggested. "Or that was his evil alter ego!" Tyler added.

Everyone began to shout random ideas, and Mr Way and Mr Iero decided to have a sneaky smooch instead of trying to shut their students up.
While they were all distracted, the cloaked figure calmly walked back onto school grounds, shrugging off his cape and folding it under his arm as he went, whistling happily.

Chapter Text

Throughout the rest of the week, Ryan couldn't shake off the cloak rumour, no matter how many times he told people that he was at a guitar lesson.

Whenever he walked into a room, people would gasp and turn to whisper in their friends' ears, or ask him how his latest Darth Vader cosplay was going.
Someone had made a massive poster with a badly photoshopped image of his face and a blown up photo of the awful 1960s Batman, and it kept popping up around the school in different locations.

Indignant and unamused, there was only one thing he could do to channel his raging fury.
The minute he got home he would write about the injustice of it all in his diary.

As soon as the bell rang for the end of the day, Ryan stormed down the corridor haughtily, his satin waistcoat and knitted scarf flapping (not very impressively) behind him.
Ignoring the delighted yells of "IT'S GOTHAM CITY'S HERO!! WE'RE ALL SAVED!", he stalked through the crowd, scowling at everyone through his fringe.

He nearly made it off school grounds without incident, until he heard the enchanting voice of his cheekiest daydreams and sauciest fantasies calling him. "Ry-Ry! Wait for meee!"

Unable to resist an opportunity to blush and stammer awkwardly in front of the love of his life, Ryan froze, the blood flooding into his face as Brendon skipped up to him, smile brighter than Ryan's future.
Without warning, he flung his arms around him, squeezing him tight.
For a few seconds, everything was blissful -- his nose was buried in the soft dark mess of Brendon's hair, and he could smell chocolate and coffee on his breath.

Then Mr Iero walked past with an armful of folders -- "Gay!" he yelled.

Brendon let go of him quickly; he looked embarrassed, but he smiled fondly up at Ryan in a way that made his heart flop about in his chest like a dying fish.
Brendon didn't seem to notice, instead taking in the long knitted length around his neck. "You're wearing the scarf I made you?" He looked delighted; it reminded Ryan of the look on his face when he'd been cast as Princess Jasmine in last year's play.

Ryan opened and closed his mouth uselessly. "Uhh... No..." he said, sweating nervously.
Brendon looked confused. "But this is the exact pattern I made for you... And I put our initials together in a heart, look!"
Ryan yanked the scarf out of Brendon's hands. "It's time for me to disappear into the night!" he said, running away dramatically, before pausing to get his breath back and jogging slowly, in a way he hoped was both mysterious and attractive. Unfortunately, it just made him look like a middle-aged person trying to get fit and failing.

...........................................................................................

Frank was pacing anxiously, fists clenched and mind racing. What if Gee didn't want to marry him? What if he was just a temporary part of their life? His treacherous mind began to spit out a multitude of pessimistic "what if"s and "maybe"s, and he had to force himself to calm down, staring at the half-moon dents his nails had bitten into his skin.

Across the hall he heard the shower curtain's telltale creak as Gerard yanked it open, humming noisily.
Just listening to the adorable dork brought relief to Frank's heart and a smile to his face. Taking a deep breath, he firmly reminded himself that there was no way someone as perfect as Gerard would put up with him for so long if they didn't mean it.

"Frankie, look what I've done to my hair!"
Speak of the devil; he hadn't even heard them come in. "Oh, hey baby..." he said softly, smiling up at them. Gerard was standing a few feet away from him, a light blue towel wrapped around his waist, hair vibrantly blonde. He was smiling radiantly: the kind of smile that made Frank's insides squirm with an overload of affection and want.

"Help dry me off?" He asked, smile shy, but eyes sparkling with mischief.
Frank smirked, reaching for him. "C'mere then, lemon boy..." His arms were suddenly full of warm, wet - slightly soapy - skin, he could feel the soft press of Gee's lips on his neck, and their spindly fingers sneaking underneath his t-shirt.

He moved his hands to get a better grip on their hips, pushing the towel away to the floor - annoyingly this took a lot more effort than he expected, and Gerard giggled at the look of frustration on his face.
He rolled his eyes at them fondly, shuffling the both of them back onto their bed; a manoeuvre made more difficult by the fact that his hands were otherwise occupied, and that he wasn't looking where he was going.
Eventually they managed to tumble under the covers together, limbs intertwining as they kissed each other softly and slowly, taking time between breaths to whisper out "I love you"s.

They didn't want to do anything else, too exhausted from their long days and too wrapped up in each other to crave anything further.
The gentle intimacy of just being able to hold Gerard as his own, filled Frank with so much love that he felt like his heart would surely swell and burst from the sheer size of his affection.
They fell asleep curled up together.

At 3am, when Frank's screaming bladder awoke him, he only just about managed to prise himself away from Gee's clutching fingers and legs wrapped around him without waking them up. Padding back from the bathroom across the carpeted hallway in the dark, he wondered how he had ever got so lucky.

He slipped back into the bedroom, closing the door as quietly as he could, and made his way back to the bed. He stood beside it for a long time, just staring. There was something so soft and open about Gee's sleeping face, almost child-like in its vulnerability.

After a while, Frank began the challenge of sneaking back in. Gerard wasn't a particularly heavy sleeper, and sometimes he would wake up just at the loss of his boyfriend's warmth.

He tried to get in slowly, easing one leg in at a time, however he wasn't careful enough, and Gee's eyes blinked open drowsily. "Frankie?" he murmured.
Giving up on the stealth approach, Frank moved forward, pressing his face to Gerard's bare skin.
He heard a low hum from somewhere in their chest, and they brought their arms up to hold him carefully, as though he were the most precious thing in the world. Then - "Agh! Your feet are freezing cold, you fucker!"

Frank grinned, running his foot along the length of Gee's leg, laughing softly as they squirmed away from him, holding him at arm's length. "Aww, babe... If I'm too cold, why don't you warm me up?"

"Fuck off," Gerard grouched. "Get some socks on or something." But he pulled Frank closer and kissed the side of his face gently. "Let me sleep, you idiot."

After that, there was silence for a long time.
Frank waited for a while, before whispering out, "I love you, Gee."
He could feel Gerard's smile against his cheek.
"I love you too, Frankie. Now go the fuck to sleep or I won't shower with you in the morning..."

Chapter Text

..........................................................................................
RYAN'S DIARY: TOP SECRET
..........................................................................................

Dear Diary,
Today while I was seeing Mr Toro for my guitar lesson, an imposter dressed in my limited edition Sauron cloak and convinced my boyfriend-to-be to follow them around the school. I'm outraged???

Sincerely (apoplectic!), George Ryan Ross The Third.

..........................................................................................

Dear Diary,
Today I accidentally walked in on Mr Iero writing "Mr & Mr Iero-Way" (with lots of hearts) on his whiteboard. It was frankly quite scandalous, seeing as I always thought the two of them were just good friends...
Still, when I told Spencer about my discovery, he just laughed and called me an "oblivious moron"?
I didn't even know he knew the word oblivious!
You learn something new every day.

Sincerely (with mild confusion), G. Ryan Ross (the 3rd)

..........................................................................................

Dear Diary,
People won't stop calling me Batman!! It's all that usurper's fault. And if I were going to be a superhero, I'd be Aquaman. I mean, come on. He can talk to fish! What can Batman do that could possibly compare?

Sincerely (with outrage), Ryan Ross.

..........................................................................................

Dear Diary,
Today, the person who invented good looks and talent (no, not John Lennon), my future husband Brendon, HUGGED me. HE HUGGED ME.
FOR A WHOLE SEVEN SECONDS!!!!!!!!!!
I COULD FEEL HIS WARMTH AND HIS HEART WAS BEATING AGAINST ME AND HIS HAIR SMELLED SO GOOD AND I WANT TO LIVE IN IT.
I think I played it cool, don't worry.
Unfortunately he also noticed that I was wearing the scarf he made me. This sets me back in my "play hard to get" strategy... I could always discuss tactics with Jon and Spencer??

Sincerely (besotted), Ryan Ross.

.........................................................................................

pete's tumblr: @mrspatrickwentz
..........................................................................................

(today at 00:37)

patrick motherfuckin stump will be the death of me... p.w.
..........................................................................................

@rossenthusiast asked: what's up buttercup? ;)
you replied: shut it breadknob

..........................................................................................

(today at 01:59)

not to kiss and tell or anything but jesus christ i can't get him out of my head,,,,,fuckin help..... p.w.

@rossenthusiast replied to your text post: nawwwww peteyy you're whippeddd

..........................................................................................

(today at 02:02)

fuck.

..........................................................................................

Chapter Text

For Jenna, every lesson that wasn't drama suddenly seemed to drag on forever, and she found herself counting down until she could talk freely with Sarah again. Although the other girl was in most of her classes, in the more academic lessons it was difficult to talk about the things she really wanted to, because Sarah was much too shy when there were lots of people around.

On the plus side, this meant that Jenna could look at her as much as she wanted; finding herself gazing in fascination at the way she frowned slightly as she wrote, and the way bits of her hair escaped the two french plaits it was just a little too short for.
Sarah Orzechowski was absolutely perfect, she decided. The kind of beauty that makes you want to sing, to scream to the world how happy you are to have found it. The kind of beauty that deserves to be cherished, preserved, adored, fought for: she was a modern day Helen of Troy.

Jenna was rudely interrupted from her musings by Mr Iero, who was suddenly standing in front of her, holding out his hand. She managed to catch the tail end of whatever he was saying, repeating the only word she'd listened to; "-essay?"
"Yeah, Jenna," he said, looking amused. "I am your English teacher, you know. Can I have your essay or are you going to hang on to it forever?"
There were a few sniggers from the front of the room. She felt her face growing warmer. "Y-Yes, sorry, I got distracted..." She quickly passed over the piece of paper she was clutching.
Sarah gave her a sympathetic smile; it made her heart skitter, and she looked down at her desk, smiling uncontrollably.

She had Phys Ed next; luckily, or unluckily, depending on how she looked at it, Sarah had completed her sports requirements at her old school, so there were no distractions in the changing rooms. Still, she felt incredibly gay stretching out in her track uniform, especially when she noticed Sarah waving at her from the stands.
When Miss Asher blew her whistle for the sprint to begin, she felt that perhaps the blush on her face had spread to her entire body; as she ran, her limbs felt like they were on fire, and she soared past the other runners.
When she reached the end of the track, lungs screaming for air, she only had a few seconds to breathe before she was swarmed by the other girls, and their teacher, who was waving her clipboard and stopwatch ecstatically. "Jenna Black, I'm impressed! You've beaten all three of your highest records!"
The other girls yelled in support, but she could only stand, stunned, looking up into the stands to see Sarah leaning over the side, smiling down at her brightly, strands of her hair whipped by the wind around her face, as if she was in a freaking hairspray commercial. She was the most beautiful thing Jenna had ever seen, and she couldn't stop staring up at her, feet frozen to the ground and a ridiculous smile on her face.

Oh, no, no, no... She wasn't supposed to be feeling like this about girls. Not after what happened last time...
..........................................................................................

Dallon Weekes was 100% sure that the creepy Spanish guy was stalking him.
No, he wasn't going crazy.
Mr Sporty, or whatever his name was, was EVERYWHERE. Seriously.
Every time a student came to the medical room, he'd open the door and see him sneaking past suspiciously. In the halls, Dallon had heard him talking furtively to Bob the janitor; they seemed to be discussing rare snake breeds. And then, yesterday, on his way home from work, Mr Sporty had popped up from behind a hedge and given him a creepy wave, telling him to "drive safe, amigo!", which was even weirder considering he was quite clearly walking. It was all very mysterious.

Compared to his first day, his first week at Juanfield was relatively tame, with only a few cases of weirdness. Dr Way had mostly kept to himself, occasionally muttering about how incompetent his assistant's way of sorting files was, but more often than not he would nod approvingly when Dallon completed a task. Once it looked like he might even have cracked a smile, but it could have been a trick of the light.

Currently, Dallon was treating himself to a break, with a mug of hot coffee and a pack of cookies. He was dipping a cookie into his drink, and the chocolate chips were melting all over his fingers, which was probably his favourite thing to happen ever. It was all very wholesome and relaxing, until without warning, the door swung open and Mr Sporty (Sporta?) bounded in, limbs everywhere like an energetic stick insect.

"Hola!!" he called enthusiastically, with unwarranted jazz hands. "I'm Gabe, the best person you'll ever meet."
Staring at him in shock, Dallon was speechless. Half of his cookie dropped into his mug with a 'plop!', something his creepy intruder seemed to find hilarious.
When he was finally done laughing, Gabe straightened up, face deadly serious. "Okay, amigo, this is how it's going to go. You get me details on how to seduce mi amor, and I'll stop stalking you. Deal?" Dallon stared at him. "Okay, what?" The stupidly tall teacher repeated himself more slowly.
"Yeah, I heard you the first time, but why the hell were you stalking me in the first place, and who do you need help seducing?" Gabe/Mr Sporty's face broke into a huge cheesy grin. "You're the closest person to my love, besides his hot big brother, but his tiny boyfriend threatened me with castration if I went anywhere near him, so you're the only option."
Dallon couldn't quite believe his ears. "Wait... you want to date Dr Way???" The taller man nodded, looking every bit like a lovestruck puppy. "Why?!"
Gabe launched into a speech about how gorgeous Dr Way - or "My darling Mi-Mi" as he called him - was, going into unwanted detail about how much he would quite happily be "chiseled to death" on his beloved Mi-Mi's cheekbones.

Dallon had to forcibly remove Gabe from the room when he started going on about the things he wanted his Mi-Mi to do to him -- featuring some very inappropriate noises and facial expressions.
Unfortunately when he shoved Gabe out, he managed to slip on the wet floors (Bob was mopping up, looking as friendly and approachable as ever a.k.a, not at all), sliding down the halls screaming in a terrified falsetto.
He landed with a thump on top of the grumpy janitor, dramatically proclaiming, "Oh, Bob! You always do sweep me off my feet!"

Somehow, Dr Way chose that moment to walk around the corner, his expressionless face turning to a look of full on fury. Even from the other side of the hall, Dallon could see the danger signs.
"Mr Saporta, would you kindly remove yourself from the janitor?" The doctor said frostily, adjusting his glasses in the most passive aggressive way possible. Gabe picked himself up, blew a kiss at Dr Way, and strode off down the corridor, singing a song he'd made up about cobras. It was very joyful, and he was proud of it.

Dr Way waited until his singing had faded out of earshot before grabbing Bob by the front of his shirt and dragging him up to his feet. "Listen, you limp salad leaf," he growled. "You stay away from my man or I will be forced to..." he trailed off, thinking. "I will be forced to do something impressive that I haven't thought of yet, but I swear I will take you down, cleaner man."
Bob began to sweat nervously. "You've got nothing on me..." he said, sounding panicked. "Uh, I mean, just let me get on with the mopping." He was treated to the Mikey Way Daggers Glare™ (patented 2001).
After an uncomfortably long few seconds of glaring, Dr Way finally let Bob go, stomping grumpily towards his office. Dallon managed to make incredibly awkward eye contact with him, and he hissed, "Not a word Mr Weekes. Not a fucking word."
This was terrifying for the poor trainee nurse, who hurried back to his (now lukewarm) coffee, too scared to leave his office for at least an hour afterwards for fear of bumping into Dr Way and earning a place on his hit list.

..........................................................................................

The last two lessons of the day were double drama, something Brendon was very glad about.
He had a fabulous new plan to win Ryan's affections, seeing as everything he was currently trying didn't seem to be working.

He arrived ten minutes early to drama, leaving physics early after telling Mr Wilson that his period had come early and he "had to dash to get a pad". Mr Wilson felt too uncomfortable to ask if Brendon even had a uterus, and he really didn't want to be sued for discrimination, so he just let him have a bathroom pass.

Now in the theatre classroom, Brendon was sitting in his usual space, waiting for Ryan with a gleeful grin on his face. As the classroom slowly filled up, everyone avoided the seat next to him. They had learned by now that he'd only kick up a fuss if he wasn't allowed to sit beside his beloved.
Ryan eventually turned up, fashionably late; he was wearing a bowler hat and a trench coat, for some reason. Brendon thought he looked absolutely wonderful, and said so, in a very bad fake British accent. Ryan, taking it as sarcastic criticism, gave him a sulky pout and hid behind his fringe.

"Hi, guys!" Mr Way's voice chirped from the doorway. "Get into pairs and carry on working for fifteen minutes or so, and then we'll see some paired performances!" He sashayed to the front of the room and struck a pose, flaunting his new blonde hair. "You look lemon-tastic!" Joe yelled. Their teacher beamed, before whipping out the register and quickly ticking off whoever he could see.
The class began to clatter out of their seats and into pairs, some of the girls and Andy crowding around Mr Way to ask how he got his winged eyeliner so perfect. Brendon managed to persuade Ryan to practise in the cupboard with him by telling him that "all the best actors have 1 on 1 tuition-- wink wink, nudge nudge, y'know what I mean" -- Ryan just looked a bit confused at this, but allowed Brendon to drag him away.
This was incredibly frustrating for Pete, because Patrick was looking especially delectable today, and he wanted an excuse to kiss the living daylights out of him. Still, they could always just go through the scenes with kisses in together... he thought, with an alarmingly predatory grin.
...........................................................................................

Meanwhile, in Dr Way's office, the man himself had almost completed his top secret revenge plot.
As he sealed his findings into an envelope, and removed his surgical gloves, Dr Way allowed himself one long triumphant laugh.

In the office next door, Dallon sat frozen to his seat in terror; the maniacal laughter ringing in his ears. He wondered if Dr Way had been possessed by a James Bond villain, and shivered.

..........................................................................................

Chapter Text

"Brendon, I know all my lines," Ryan tried yet again to reason with Brendon (or 'Señor Escandalo', as he was now answering only to). "There is really no need for you to test me on them."

"Nonsenso!" Señor Escandalo replied, twirling an imaginary moustache. "Let's-a go through it once-a more-a!" He then did the most awful hip gyration movement possible. It was so ridiculous and cringey that every dancer within a mile radius flinched.
Ryan gaped for a few seconds, before collecting himself and glaring again.
Señor Escandalo stopped his attempt at dancing. "What's-a wrong-a, Señorita Belladonna?"
"That's an extremely offensive portrayal of Mexican people, you know," Ryan sniffed, folding his arms disapprovingly. "You can't just go tossing your white privilege around all over the place."

Señor Escandalo looked incredibly confused. "I wasn't trying to be Mexican. I was being French..."
Ryan decided that then was the perfect moment for a facepalm.
"Brendon," he muttered through gritted teeth. "I will leave unless we start doing some actual work."
Señor Escandalo beamed at him happily. "That's okay, because I have a brilliant idea!"
Ryan groaned, head in his hands. "Give me strength..."
"No it's a great idea!" The shorter boy waved his hands excitedly. "Let's start a mariachi band, in honour of my Frenchness! We'll call it 'Hispanic! at the Disco'. Trump will hate it!"
Ryan couldn't even bring himself to reply to that one. Though... It was a pretty catchy name...

..................................................................................

In his evil lair -- or rather, his office, Dr Michael Way was doing something only three people had ever seen him do before. He was smiling.
His terrified lab rat -- or rather, assistant, looked like he was ready to turn tail and run any minute now.

"Dr Way, sir, I've finished the paperwork you needed filled in?" he said, nervousness turning it into a question. "Would you mind signing them?"
Dr Way looked up at him, still smiling.
"Yes, my child!" He replied in a typical children's TV presenter voice. "Call me Mikey! There's no need to be so formal."

This didn't help Dallon's fearful predicament, and he passed over the papers with shaky hands.

Dr Way signed them quickly in his spiky handwriting, before getting to his feet, waving cheerfully before disappearing out of the door.
Dallon stared after him for a few seconds, before deciding it was high time he had another cup of coffee. Maybe he should call his mom, too. And do some more filing. In fact, maybe he should just stay in his office for the rest of the day.

..................................................................................

To explain Dr Way's extremely creepy behaviour, first we have to rewind back a few hours, to 11:02 am, exactly.

At 11:02, Dallon was trying to take his break, Bob was mopping floors, and Gabe was being an annoying hopeless romantic.

Dr Way was on his way back to the medical room from reception. He'd been engaging in a rather one sided conversation with the headmistress, Miss Ballato, who was complaining about the lack of background checks required for cleaners and mealtime staff. He'd nodded and tried to look interested, before managing to finally slip past her and head back to his office.

This was when he'd found himself enraged at the sight of Mr Saporta flailing on top of the janitor, whose hand was dangerously close to the Spanish teacher's ass.

Well. We all know how that went down...

Once in his office, Dr Way had a brilliant idea. He would have his sweet, sweet revenge... Although, he wasn't entirely sure why he was so angry with Bob... it wasn't like he was jealous or anything. He just didn't approve of the cleaners molesting his colleagues! That was all.

He was soon finished with his master plan, and he emailed Miss Ballato, trying to sound as apologetic as possible.

Dear Miss Ballato,
It has come to my suspicion that Mr Bob T. Builder (a caretaker employed by you), has a terrible history of crime. His face and birth dates match those of the convicted bank robber, Robert Bryar. I think it would be best to get the police involved.
You were completely right about your outrage at our relaxed background checks, for this scoundrel has been lurking among our students for two years now! He must be stopped.
Sincerely, Dr Michael Way.

After pressing send, he allowed himself one triumphant victory laugh.

Fast forward a few hours, and Miss Ballato had replied, telling him that she was grateful for his advice, and she would talk to the police immediately. He was so delighted, he actually smiled with teeth, and went off to the drama department to tell Gerard all about it.

...................................................................................

Meanwhile, outside the costume cupboard, the whole class were listening to Brendon and Ryan's (rapidly increasing in volume) antics.

"BRENDON GET THE HELL OFF ME---WHAT ARE YOU DOING??"
"Shhhhhh! I'm helping with your acting skills!"
"GET THAT AWAY FROM ME! STOP IT. NO. BRENDON. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Mr Way coughed awkwardly. "Um, so, I'm going to go and check on them, the rest of you please carry on?"

As soon as his back was turned and the rest of the class's attention was occupied, Pete grabbed Patrick's hand and tugged him out of the room. The smaller boy looked annoyed until Pete whispered something into his ear that made his cheeks flush a violent red.

In the cupboard, Ryan's yells had become rather muffled, and Brendon could be heard crowing victoriously. Mr Way knocked on the door.
"Is everything alright in there?"

There was a pause.

"Brendon is only answering to 'Señor Escandalo' and he's trying to use his French love powers on me by tying me up in a scarf he knitted that went wrong." Ryan blurted out. "And there's glue. He, um, somehow managed to glue part of his mouth to me, and he can't speak."
There was a loud squawk.
"He can make chicken noises though?"

Speechless, Mr Way turned to his class with horror and confusion in his eyes.
"What the f-- uh, what the frick?" The class shrugged. Mr Way sighed, running his hands through his majestically lemony hair. "I am so not qualified to deal with you lot..."

Picking up his cellphone, he decided to call someone even less qualified to help him out.

"Babe, I know you're in the middle of class but-- yeah. Yeah..." The class leaned in to listen and Mr Way glared at them, mouthing 'piss off'.

"Fuck, Frankie, this is not the best time..." He stammered, refusing to meet his student's eyes. "We'll do that later, okay... Fuck, don't tease me... Shit, my students are listening. Get here right now, shortass. Please Frankie..."

Mr Iero must have said something inappropriate in reply, because Mr Way hissed, "FRANK!" and stabbed the 'end call' button repeatedly with his finger. The class began to hoot with excitement, bombarding their poor teacher with crude questions and innuendos.

In the costume cupboard, Ryan was cursing every deity in existence.

Brendon's soft beautiful mouth was fricking glued to his shirt. Only the fabric was separating them from touching his chest. The thought was enough to fill his head with internal screaming.
Also the fact that Brendon had fricking tied them together. And that his hand was totally sneaking up his thigh. It was too much amazingness to take in.

One second he was upright, and the next he had fainted, taking Brendon down with him and accidentally pinning him to the floor.

That was how they were found, unable to get up; after half an hour of Mr Iero trying to pick the lock that turned out to not even have been locked in the first place.

As soon as Ryan had realised he was on top of Brendon, he had fainted again.

Not knowing what to do, Mr Way decided to go to the medical room and get help from his brother. Mr Iero stayed in the classroom, trying on different costumes and not being a sensible adult.
Brendon tried to unstick his lips unsuccessfully.
Ryan remained unconscious.
The rest of the class carried on as normal.

Chapter Text

There were two boys standing together outside, the rain soaking through their clothes and plastering their hair to their faces.
Everything was silent apart from the hum of raindrops falling to the ground, and they stood, taking in each others' warmth.

Water droplets were dripping into Patrick's face, and to be quite honest, he'd been expecting something a little saucier when Pete had told him he wanted him, now, and dragged him out of class. But somehow, cuddling in the middle of a downpour was better than anything he could have imagined.

"This is probably the longest you've been quiet for, like, ever..." he murmured, looking up into his not-quite boyfriend's eyes. Pete pulled him closer, looking defensive. "I can be quiet..."
"Yeah, right..."
"I so can!"
"Mhm..."
Pete leaned down and nipped Patrick's ear playfully. "Don't be mean to me, Pattyy..."
Winding his arms around the taller boy's neck, and standing on his tiptoes, Patrick pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Pete's mouth.
Pete frowned slightly, "That wasn't long enough, kiss me again..."
Rolling his eyes fondly, he cupped Pete's cheek and caught his lips with his own.
This time, there was heat behind the kiss, and when they broke apart, both felt a little dazed, leaning in for more.

The rain had slowed to a silvery drizzle by the time they pulled away to breathe, clutching each others' wet shoulders and panting hard.
Patrick's glasses had steamed up slightly, and he could feel his face reddening with embarrassment.

There was a little strand of saliva connecting their mouths, and Pete broke it with the tip of his finger.
"Gross," Patrick managed to say, although he was still struggling to breathe, let alone comprehend the hungry heat in the base of his stomach.
"You're gross," Pete replied with a grin, stroking Patrick's lower lip with his thumb.
"Shut up, you're the gross one," the smaller boy murmured, toying with the long bits of hair on the back of Pete's neck.
"That is true..." Nestling his face into the space between Patrick's jaw and his neck, he pressed a soft kiss just underneath his ear. "But maybe you could help ungrossify me?"
Patrick smiled, "What would you suggest?"
Instead of replying, Pete licked Patrick's lip in a way that was probably supposed to be seductive.
Patrick made a disgusted face, but leaned in to kiss him again, finding himself lost in the warmth of his mouth and longing for more.

The taller boy seemed to feel the same way, because suddenly he was kissing harder, more urgently, all tongue, teeth and desperation.
Patrick soon himself rubbing his hips against Pete in an embarrassingly eager way, and the other boy followed suit, enthusiastically grasping at his ass and pulling him closer.
Encouraged by this reaction, Patrick continued grinding up onto where Pete seemed to be getting increasingly excited. He received a groan of, "Shit, Patrick..." and grinned, breaking the kiss to lick a stripe along the other boy's tanned throat.
"Now --shit-- you're --ahh-- the gross one..." Pete gasped out. There was a pause, before they both dissolved into giggles, clutching each other helplessly.
"You're ridiculous..."
"Yeah..."
"I love you, Pete..."
"What?"
Patrick's face flooded with colour, and he looked away, heart thudding. "Um... never mind... Ignore that?"
"You love me?" Pete looked both disbelieving and the happiest he'd ever seen him.
"Yeah, of course I do," he replied, staring at his feet. And then, so that Pete wouldn't think he was going soft or anything, he added, "You idiot."
And suddenly Pete was picking him up, and trying to twirl him around in his arms, Little Mermaid style. It didn't work particularly well, and he almost dropped him, but it was still a sweet gesture, and Patrick couldn't stop smiling at the beautiful boy he'd wasted so much time pretending to hate.

When Pete finally put him down, he cupped Patrick's face in his hands, and gave him a quick kiss. "Wanna have a BFF sleepover tomorrow?"
Patrick rolled his eyes fondly.
"Sure, as long as you don't attack me in the night."
Pete gave him his best creeper face. "No promises there, sugar..."
"And you're going to have to convince my mom," Patrick said, trying to fight the blush that Pete's last comment was causing.
"Well, that's great cause she already said yes!"

..................................................................................

Little did they know, but from the nearby bushes, a cloaked figure was hunched over, watching them with interest.

..................................................................................

Finally, finally, it was the end of the day. Frank was out, doing the grocery shopping, and Gerard was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee and a pile of marking.

Most of it was their boyfriend's, but sometimes when Frank did his own marking, there would be complaints from parents, so Gerard tried to do as much of it as possible before their boyfriend noticed. Thinking of complaints from parents, they were incredibly glad that Mikey had been able to unstick the kids in his class without a trip to the hospital.

Turned out it wasn't even proper glue, it was some kind of maple resin. They didn't even want to know why Brendon had tree sap with him.

The whole situation was rather ridiculous, and they were glad the day was over. They'd had to teach the juniors first thing... That had been horrible, as usual. That Barakat kid had managed to get another kid - Alex? - stuck on top of a large pile of chairs, and he'd cried, refusing to come down for half an hour.
Gerard had had to climb up and carry him down, seeing as none of the others wanted to help out. The kid had cried on his shirt, which was a little annoying because it was a nice shirt, one of their favourite non-slouchy ones...

Squinting at Ashley's essay, they tried to figure out what Justin Beiber had to do with the title ("themes of social class in Of Mice And Men"), before finally just giving her a B and drawing a little smiley face next to her grade.

Most of the essays were on task, although Joe's had "420 BLAZE IT" scrawled across the bottom, and Brendon's had "i <3 Ryan Ross" surrounded by little hearts. Gerard gave them both an extra mark, for making them smile.

The best paper they read was Jenna Black's.
Three quarters of it was perfect, giving a detailed analysis of the book and following the task.
The last section was the most adorable thing he had read in a long time. It was a little poem, dedicated to the blueness of Sarah Orzechowski's eyes, and the exact shade of her lips, described as "soft as a butterfly and the colour of coral".
They wondered if she'd realised she was even writing it at the time, and gave her an A+ and a smiley face. Beautiful work! ♡ they wrote at the bottom of the paper, before slipping it into the middle of the marked pile, so that Frank wouldn't find it. They knew their boyfriend had good intentions, but there was no way he could keep a secret.

Gerard managed to get through seven more essays before exhaustion overcame him.
That was how Frank found them when he returned home; features soft and open, clutching the papers to their chest almost protectively.
He couldn't bear to rouse them when they looked so peaceful, instead giving them a soft kiss, and going upstairs to bring their duvet down, so that they could sleep on the couch together.

..................................................................................

When Dr Way returned home to his pristine apartment, it was late, and the darkness of the hall threatened to swallow him up.
He trudged to the kitchen after dropping his bag on the floor, before deciding it was far too late for coffee. He settled on a herbal tea he'd been given by his grandmother before she died, and while he was waiting for the water to boil, he refilled the dish on the floor with cat food, and changed the water.

Upon hearing the rattle of biscuits hitting the saucer, Bon Jovi waddled into the room, curling around his leg before going over to her bowl. "You're getting a little chubby, aren't you?" he asked, fondly reaching down to stroke her head. Of course, there was no reply, but he felt slightly less lonely with her there, even if she did wake him up at 4 am to bring him dead beetles and bits of feather and grass.

He'd found Bon Jovi as a kitten, abandoned in a cardboard box in the elevator of his apartment building, and he couldn't bear to leave her there.
He'd originally just been going to take her to the animal shelter, but Gerard persuaded him to keep her, and he reluctantly did, slowly growing attached to her.

The only reason she was called Bon Jovi was because of his sibling's boyfriend. Mikey had wanted to call her Dorothy, but Frank and Gerard made Wizard of Oz references until he agreed on the name they'd picked.

It was always a little uncomfortable going to the vet, they'd call for Bon Jovi, and he'd have to shuffle awkwardly to the front desk with everyone staring at him. Luckily, she was a very well behaved cat, and even though he pretended to only tolerate her presence, he doted upon her.
He bought her the best cat food, and never forgot to brush her teeth in the morning, and let her sleep in his bed, even when she left muddy footprints all over his nice clean sheets.
It was a little sad to admit, but he was pretty sure apart from Ray, Gerard and Frank, she was his best friend.

When the kettle had boiled, he made his tea, and stirred in some honey, before retreating upstairs to his bedroom. Bon Jovi padded up after him, settling down on him, and somehow managing to cover his slacks in cat hairs. He rolled his eyes at her, but allowed her to remain on his lap, stroking behind her ear affectionately.
After he had finished his drink, he decided that his pile of work could wait, and changed into the Star Wars pyjamas no one but Gerard knew he owned, before turning off the light.

...................................................................................

Chapter Text

When Dallon arrived into work early the next morning, he was surprised to see a squad car with police officers swarming all around the entrance.
Miss Ballato was standing, talking to an officer with a grim look of determination on her face.

Upon seeing him, she waved him over, looking fractionally more cheerful.
"Mr Weekes!" she called. "So lovely to see you in so early. You wouldn't happen to have seen Michael anywhere?" The confusion on his face must have been obvious, because she hurriedly added, "I mean Dr. Way, of course. Have you seen him?" He shook his head apologetically, she looked disappointed. "Never mind, then. When he arrives, please tell him to come and find me?"

After agreeing to pass the message along to his boss, Dallon walked to the medical room, wondering what on earth was going on.
Perhaps Dr Way was being arrested for being an evil genius?

He was just about to enter the medical room when he heard a rustling from inside.
Alarmed, he pressed his ear to the door, listening.
What if Dr Way was inside, plotting to massacre them all, or blow up the earth?!
But all he could hear was happy humming, and paper crinkling... Deciding it was probably safe to enter, he opened the door, revealing none other than Gabe, wrapping up a large package in skeleton print wrapping paper. He had sticky tape on his nose, and there were petals everywhere.

"Um... Hello?"
The Spanish teacher looked up at his voice, giving him a brilliant smile. "Dylan, amigo!" He continued wrestling with the tape and paper, before finally managing to secure the package. "What can I do for you?"
His quiet mumble of "Actually, it's Dallon," went unnoticed, and Gabe continued humming, a huge grin on his face. "What exactly are you doing here, Gabe?" Dallon added, slightly louder than before.
"I'm wooing my Mi-Mi!" Gabe replied, still beaming. "Come and see my flower arranging skills!"

Reluctantly following him into Dr Way's office, Dallon was surprised to see several vases filled with black and white carnations, each with a single red rose in the middle. Grudgingly, he admitted he was impressed. He hadn't expected much when Gabe had told him he planned on winning Dr Way's love, but he was pleasantly surprised. "This is... actually really lovely..."
Gabe punched the air and whooped in delight, narrowly missing the ceiling fan, before dancing around the room like an oompa-loompa.

It took a very long time for the trainee nurse to persuade him to leave, and after much coaxing, he finally did, grabbing a spare staff member and forcing her to conga with him down the corridor.

Dallon's original plan had been to stay in his office until Dr Way made him come out, but unfortunately he didn't have time to hide, because he could see his boss through the window, stalking towards the medical room down, coat billowing like some kind of surgical supervillain.

"Good morning, D-Dr Way..." he mumbled as his boss entered the room. "Bold statement," Dr Way replied. "Good morning, Mr Weekes." He cast his stony gaze around the petal strewn room with mild surprise. "What is all this mess?"
"Ah. You see, you have a... um, a secret admirer."
Dr Way didn't seem to be terribly impressed or surprised by this. He pulled a miniature metal detector out of his pocket, scanning the badly wrapped parcel in the middle of the room. "Hmm..." Shrugging, he gingerly began to unwrap the package, carefully removing the haphazardly applied tape. Inside was a cardboard box, covered in duct tape. Dr Way sighed. "Dallon, will you fetch me my letter opener? It's in my desk. Left drawer."
It was the first time he'd ever called his assistant by his first name. Dallon rushed to fetch the (rather deadly looking) letter opener, careful not to knock over any of the flowers inside his boss's office.

When presented with the letter opener, the corner of Dr Way's mouth twitched; it was almost a smile. "Excellent," he said, before stabbing into the box, slicing through the many layers of tape with relish. Dallon was slightly scared of the look on his face, so he kept his distance, though he couldn't help leaning over to see what was inside.

Dr Way pulled out a piece of paper that was only slightly stabbed. "'My darling Mikey'," he read aloud. "'I didn't know what your favourite candy was, so I bought the ones that reminded me of you, colon, close bracket'. Why have they written extra punctuation marks?"
Dallon looked over his shoulder curiously. "Oh, it's a smiley face... Aren't you going to see what's inside?"

"I'm getting to it," Dr Way snapped. He tipped the box over cautiously, brandishing his letter opener and looking like he was expecting something to leap out at him. Instead, a multitude of Milky Way bars tumbled out onto the carpet.
Dallon was expecting him to have a temper tantrum, however his boss's mouth twitched into a tiny smile, and he gathered up his chocolate and went into his office without saying anything.

A minute later he came out again, looking slightly misty eyed. "I have to go to..." He paused, holding a hand over his mouth to cover his smile. "I must go and pick up some files. You can take a break if you want." He left hurriedly, one of his Milky Ways clasped to his chest.

..................................................................................

In the staff room, there was a large multicoloured rota, which displayed the names of the teachers and when they had to do an assembly.
Today it was meant to be one of the more elderly English teacher's turns, but poor old Mr Hoppus had done his back in when he'd slipped on a leaf, so the headmistress decided to take charge.
Luckily, she actually had something pressing to tell the students about, and she didn't have to resort to cracking out one of her trusty powerpoints (entitled interesting things like: "Mushroom Hunting In Fall" and "Handwashing Tips and Tricks".).

Standing on top of the stage, Miss Ballato adjusted her waistcoat and tie as she watched the bored looking students file into the lecture hall.
When they were all in, she smiled at them, before gesturing towards the police officer to her left, whose sideburns were on a whole other level of fabulous. "This is Sergeant Dirnt," she began. "He is here to tell you about the reason the police are investigating our school. There's no need to be alarmed, we're in good hands."
The police officer nodded grimly at them all. "This school has been unwittingly harbouring a notorious criminal for several years." There was a gasp around the auditorium, but it was quickly stifled when Patrick elbowed Pete in the stomach.
"He has been walking among you, plotting and planning, posing as one of the staff."

Segeant Dirnt waved a hand impatiently, and another, younger, police officer dashed forward from where he was sitting watching the assembly with the students, handing the other officer something.

Shooing him away, Sergeant Dirnt plugged what turned out to be a memory stick into the laptop balanced on top of the speaker's desk. He clicked a remote, and fiddled with the laptop for a couple of seconds, and suddenly the screen behind him was filled with a familiar face.
"This is the nefarious bank robber, Robert Bryar." The police officer said, glaring at the audience. This was less to do with the serious subject of the assembly, and more to do with Joe Trohman enthusiastically picking his nose and not paying attention to anything but whatever he'd found in there.

The sergeant cleared his throat, scowling pointedly at Joe, before continuing. "He has been posing as a caretaker at this school for two years, which is how long it has been since he escaped from prison. Somehow, he must have had a tip-off that the law was coming after him, because he disappeared yesterday." He paused to breathe, still glowering angrily in Joe's direction. "If any of you kids see him, you must report it to us, or we'll arrest you for withholding information from the police. Have a good day now."
Abruptly, Sergeant Dirnt stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
The other police officer hopped onto the stage hurriedly, adding "Remember, he's very dangerous! And he likes to wear disguises, particularly long coats and cloaks! Be safe, not illegal!" Then he smiled brightly at them, and ran out after his colleague. From the back of the auditorium, Ryan stared at Brendon in horror.

..................................................................................

It was only twelve o' clock, and Miss Nestor was already exhausted. The police had been "casually" popping in and out every hour or so, interviewing various members of staff and searching the building, in case Bob was hiding somewhere.

On top of all the drama, she had an entire stack of Miss Ballato's files to proofread and sort through, and although she was terribly fond of her boss and didn't mind the workload, all she wanted to do was curl up under the desk and hide from everything.

Annoyingly, one of the policemen, who introduced himself as 'Detective Cool', (although she didn't believe there was any way that was his real name) kept coming in and flirting with her. Very badly.
She wasn't sure how many times she could politely decline his invitations to do "texting and scones" as he put it, without screaming that she was a fucking lesbian and she would take him down if he didn't leave her alone.

Also her fucking computer was playing up, and as she wasn't some weak-ass bitch, she'd have to find time to fix it herself -- there was no way she would ever resort to calling up one of the IT people for help. Irritatingly, all the wires underneath her desk were tangled together, and it took a solid five minutes before she was even able to try and assess the situation.

There was a knock at the door, and she sat up, startled, hitting her head on the desk and cursing loudly. Just her luck: of course Detective Stupidhead would decide to come in when she had her butt in the air.
"Oh, shit, I didn't mean to scare you!" An amused voice called from behind her. Heart hammering against her ribs, Jamia crawled out hurriedly, only to come face to face with a familiar pair of cherry red stilettos. "Oh, um, hi Lindsey..." Was all she could think to say. Unfortunately, as she looked up, she realised she could see right up her boss's skirt, and tore her eyes away, blushing profusely.
"Hi Jamia..." Lindsey replied, her smirk practically audible. "I can see you're hard at work, but I was just wondering if I could steal a minute or two of your time?"

Still rather pink, Jamia got herself to her feet, before facing her boss, who was quite clearly trying to suppress a grin.
"I was wondering..." Lindsey continued. "What are you doing this evening? Would you be interested in some... light entertainment?"
Was her boss freaking asking her out???
Staring at her in confusion and embarrassment, Jamia opened her mouth to reply that, no, she was not doing anything, she had literally no social life, and she was 100% up for anything her boss wanted to do.

Unfortunately, awkwardness stole her words, and she ended up just saying, "Anything..." in a slightly breathless teenage girl voice. Grinning, Lindsey carried on talking. "Well, that's great! Tonight's the monthly teacher's night out, so I was hoping you'd join us this time!"
"Oh..."
"Come on, it'll be fun. You deserve a break after all the crazy stuff that's happened this week."
"Well..."
"Pretty please? It wouldn't be as good without you!"
Jamia hoped her boss didn't see the besotted smile on her face as she looked at her feet, pretending to consider the offer.
"Well, alright then, just as long as those police officers aren't invited..."
Lindsey burst out laughing. "No way are they invited. Though I do feel slightly bad about planning a party when there's a criminal on the loose..."
"It wasn't your fault. And you're the one that deserves a break." Jamia added quickly. "Do you need any help finding a replacement caretaker? I could advertise?"
"Well, I actually have found someone..."
Jamia raised an eyebrow. "Already??"
"Not a janitor, but someone to help with, um, security and road safety. It would be helpful if you advertised though!"
Before she could question her boss any further, Lindsey was out the door, high heels clicking as she walked away.
Jamia sighed, taking a deep breath and trying to contain her disappointment before getting back to trying to sort out her computer.

..................................................................................

It took a ridiculous amount of deep breathing and mentally scolding himself for his pathetic nervousness before Dr Way could finally knock on the door to the Languages Department office.
His slight burst of confidence faded to nothing when it swung open to reveal his least favourite colleague, Ms. Simmons.
They glared at each other in silence, mirroring each others' look of distaste. Then...
"What do you want, Michael?"
"Good afternoon to you too, Alicia," he sniffed, folding his arms. "I'm here to see Mr Saporta."
The French teacher put her hands on her hips, scowling at him. "I'm afraid your little lover-boy isn't here right now. Go away."
She made to close the door and he stopped her, placing his foot against it. "Well, where is he then?" He snapped.
"I will not hesitate to slam this door..." She warned, looking like she meant it. "And in answer to your question, I have no idea. He's not my pet, I don't keep tabs on him."
Mikey scoffed, "Very helpful. He could be anywhere..." She shrugged, continuing to glare at him. "Well, thanks a lot, Alicia."
"It was so nice to see you after so long." She replied, just as sarcastically.
He removed his foot, and she shut the door, looking like she really would have preferred to slam it on him.

Rolling his eyes, he stalked away down the corridor, his good mood from earlier all but gone.
Until, that is, he walked past the photocopier room and heard boisterous (and rather tuneless) singing from inside. Usually, any form of loud noise would give him a headache this early in the day, however, now his heart felt lighter and the morning's feeling of joy began to resurface. He pushed open the door to see Mr Saporta, bending over the photocopier, belting out 'All I Want For Christmas Is You'.
"It's not even December yet..." he said, amused. Mr Saporta shrieked in surprise, dropping his papers all over the place.
"Oh, Mikey!" he said, "You scared me!"
"I can tell... Do you need any help sorting out your photocopies?"
"No!!"
"No?" Dr Way was taken aback by the passion behind his answer. "But I helped make the mess, I should help clear it up..." He stooped down to pick up some of the papers, and stopped, staring at the one nearest to him.
"Don't look at that!" The Spanish teacher yelled, looking extremely flustered.
Dr Way looked from the piece of paper to Mr Saporta. "......Why do you have a collage of my holiday pictures?"
Mr Saporta rubbed his neck awkwardly, refusing to look at Dr Way. "Ah, well... Your sibling gave them to me..."
"But... why?"
"Uh... Well. You're a very pretty man. I like to look at you," Mr Saporta hurried on, "Not in a creepy way... I just..." He trailed off. "I'd better go. Sorry." He scooped up as many papers as he could, rushing past Dr Way and out of the door.
"Wait!" Dr Way yelled, speed walking after him. "I think you're pretty too!"

..................................................................................

"YOU HIRED A LOLLIPOP MAN??"
"I thought it'd be an improvement to our security!"
"A LOLLIPOP MAN?!"
"Yes! He'll help everyone cross the road safely."
"Okay. Okay." Jamia took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. "Who is it, then? This lollipop man."
She opened her eyes to see a beaming Lindsey.
"Well, an ex-student applied, he's a lovely boy, he'll do a great job!"
Jamia gritted her teeth, trying not to glare at her boss. "Yes, but who is it?"

..................................................................................

Outside the headmistress's office, Detective Cool spilled his coffee all over himself in shock as he heard a piercing shriek. "WILLIAM BECKETT?!"
His colleague, Officer Armstrong, tried and failed to stifle his giggles as he watched the detective try to wipe the hot liquid off his shirt, earning himself a glare.

Chapter Text

"Okay, okay, guys," Mr McCoy called over the noise of his senior class. "Look, I know no one likes math last period, but if you'd just settle down..."

The class paid no attention, if anything they got louder. Even his favourite students, Ryan and Patrick, who always shut up and listened, were busy talking, both seemingly being hit on by Pete Wentz and Brendon Urie. Patrick seemed to be taking it well, giving as good as he got. Unfortunately, Ryan was just growing rapidly redder and redder, eyes widening.

After a few more attempts to get them to quieten down, he gave up, sitting back down at his desk and checking his emails.
Most of them were just messages from youtube and amazon, but there was also an email from the English Department, challenging the Math Department to a slam poetry contest, and an email from the headmistress about the teachers' night out. "Aw, shit," he whispered under his breath. "I forgot about that..."

Suddenly; uproar.
"Travie swore!" Ashley screamed. "Oh my god, guys, Travie swore!!"
"It must be an emergency!" Brendon yelled.
"Do we call 911?" Sarah asked softly, looking concerned.
Mr McCoy tried to tell them firstly, to be quiet, secondly, to call him Mr McCoy, not Travie, and thirdly, not to call the fricking emergency services, however everyone was screaming so loudly he couldn't be heard. 
Patrick was trying to wrestle Pete away from the fire alarm, Brendon was trying to hide in Ryan's shirt, Hayley and Ashley were waving their arms around like crazy. The only quiet ones were Jenna, Andy, and Joe, who had fallen asleep during the lesson. Sarah looked like she was about to burst into tears, and the rest of the class were just carrying on talking.
"WOULD YOU SHUT UP AND HELP ME DECIDE WHAT TO WEAR FOR THIS STUPID TEACHER PARTY THING?"
There was a pause. The class stared up at him in silent surprise.
"Of course, Travie! Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" Hayley chirped.
"Yeah, we'd love to help!" Ashley added.

Mr McCoy sighed. "Go on then, figure out what I should wear." While the noisy ones were distracted, excitedly discussing fashion ideas, he made his way to the back of the class, to Sarah.
She looked up as he approached, eyes brimming with tears. Crouching down to her level, he asked, as gently as he could, if she was okay, and did she need some time out?
At her request, he got Jenna to take her out into the corridor for a few minutes so she could calm down.

Then he turned his attention to Pete and Ashley's suggestions, looking with some confusion at the diagram they'd drawn.
After studying it for a while, he looked at them apologetically. "Um... I think I might just wear what I've got on..." The class groaned. "Contrary to popular belief, I actually don't own a kilt..." He added, peering again at the drawing. "Or a beret. Thanks though."

...................................................................................

"You know, for this party thing..." Frank began, shifting his weight to lean up on his elbow. "I think I should wear that mermaid costume we have from Halloween last year, you know the one?"
"Okay, but you're too short to wear the mermaid outfit," Gerard pointed out, voice slightly muffled because they were cuddling into his chest.
"Hey!"
"It's true!"
Frank pouted sulkily, and Gerard grinned, leaning in to steal a kiss. Frank giggled and kissed them back enthusiastically, nuzzling their noses together. This distracted them for a good half hour, and Frank had almost forgotten about the teachers' thingy until Gee rolled out from underneath him and off the bed, swearing.
"Is it something I did?" He teased.
"No, babe, it's the party thing in less than an hour, I need to pick an outfit..."

Frank watched delightedly as they began to strip off, yanking off the band shirt they had worn so long that the logo was impossible to read, and the comfy yoga pants that they didn't actually do any exercise in, until they were just in their boxers and the bralette they liked to wear sometimes. "Mmm, yeah, you should definitely just wear that..." he commented, earning himself a middle finger salute.

Turning back to their shared closet (something that should've felt cringily coupley, but somehow didn't), Gee studied the row of haphazardly placed clothes. "What do you think, Frankie?"
"I think you'll look gorgeous whatever you wear," he murmured. "Is it a pretty day or a handsome day?" Gerard continued rummaging through the rack of clothes, screwing up their face in concentration. "Pretty, I think," they replied. "Help me pick something pretty?"

Frank got to his feet, and walked over to the closet; Gee kissed his cheek, moving over to search through their chest of drawers.
"How about this?" He held up a short black dress for inspection. Gee nodded, "Yeah, that's great, can you find me something to go on top?"
"Sure, baby."
Peering at the many jackets hanging up, he wasn't entirely sure what to pick... His partner owned so many fucking jackets... It was ridiculous.
He ended up just choosing one of his own hoodies, because Gee always looked adorable in his clothes.

"Okay, how's thi-- holy shit, you look fucking amazing..." Gee scowled, wrapping their arms around their chest. "Yeah, yeah. I'm not even dressed yet."
Frank could tell by the little smile they were trying to hide that they were actually very pleased by his reaction, and he wrapped his arms around their waist from behind. "Are you sure we can't just stay home? I mean, the bed's right there, and you, my dear, are looking delicious..."

For a second, he felt them melt against him, wanting to say yes. Then they straightened up, tucking a piece of hair behind their ear. "No, Frankie, I promised Lindsey we'd be there." Turning around, Gee put their arms around him, pulling him closer. "Besides," They continued. "It's just for an hour, baby... Then we can come home... and do stuff." They blushed, looking away shyly.
Frank smirked, leaning up to press a kiss to Gee's lips. "It's a deal, princess."

..................................................................................

When Dr Way arrived at the bar Lindsey had hijacked, the party was in full swing, and there were people everywhere.
"Hi, Michael!" A random guy shouted over the thumping music.
"Um... Hello, person. Do I know you?"
The man looked offended. "Dude, I work just across the hall from you... I'm Adam..."
Mikey squinted at him, trying to remember.
"Adam Siska? I'm in the career's room?" The guy continued. Mikey shrugged, trying to look apologetic -- he only remembered people that he had to interact with on a daily basis. "I think I hear someone calling me..." He said, cupping a hand to his ear. "Hark, I must go."
He rushed off quickly, leaving a very confused Mr Siska behind him.

Luckily, he soon spotted his sibling's boyfriend at the bar, and he made a beeline for him.
"Where's Gerard?" He said, by way of greetings.
Frank jumped. "Jesus, you scared me... Gee's in the bathroom." He took a sip from his drink, something fruity looking with a little umbrella.
"Gabe's been looking for you," he added casually.
Mikey stared very hard at the table, trying to fight a blush. "Ah."
Frank giggled, "Has someone got a cruuush?"
"Definitely not." He spluttered, then to the bartender: "I need a drink. Something manly. No umbrella for me."
One beer later, Gee had returned from the bathroom and was perched on Frank's lap, sipping a cherry cola and looking sceptically at their brother. "Mikes, I don't think you should drink any more... You've got work tomorrow, remember?"
"I can handle my liquor!" Mikey yelled indignantly, shoving his glass towards the bartender. "Another!"

...................................................................................

The only problem with Jamia's current situation was trying not to stare too much at the cleavage her boss's low-cut dress was revealing.
When she'd arrived (early), she'd felt underdressed in her casual t-shirt and jeans, and had awkwardly stood for a good portion of time, swaying slightly to the music. Lindsey had put a stop to that as soon as she'd spotted her, dragging her off to dance (for some reason, the Bob The Builder theme tune had been playing).

Somehow during the evening, they'd ended up sitting at a table together sharing cheesecake and some kind of crazy looking cocktail. Lindsey was all snuggled up against her shoulder and she kept trying to feed her bits of cake, which would have been cute in other circumstances, but seeing as she was (more than) slightly drunk, she kept missing Jamia's mouth, smearing cream cheese frosting all over her chin.
Jamia found herself really not minding too much, just letting herself relax for the first time in weeks.

.................................................................................

"Mikes, are you going to be okay?" Gerard asked their brother, looking a little concerned. "We're going home now... Frank's, um, tired..." Frank tugged on his partner's hand, giggling, "Yeah! I'm exhausted! Byeeee Mikey!"
Mikey, who was downing a bright pink drink, waved his hand dismissively in their direction.
"Use protection, you gross nerds," He called after them, pink liquid running down his chin, making him look like a bubblegum vampire.

After ordering another of the -- very manly, thank you very much -- extremely delicious pink drinks, he made his way onto the dance floor, only spilling a few drops, which was pretty good going.
Searching for a few minutes, he finally spotted the person he was looking for.
"Dallon!"
His assistant whirled around, looking startled. "Oh, hey, Dr Way, I was just talking to the new guy..."
The 'New Guy' waved cheerily, but Mikey ignored him. "Have you seen Mr Gabe?"
"Mr Gabe?" Dallon looked confused for a second. "Oh, yeah. He's DJ-ing at the moment." He gestured across the room, where the Spanish teacher (wearing sunglasses, a purple varsity jacket and the tightest pants in the history of tight pants) was jumping up and down, waving his arms enthusiastically.
"Mmm, that's a spicy meatball..." Mikey sighed happily, apparently unaware of the strange look Dallon was giving him.
"Um... are you drunk, sir?"
"Nooo! I'm not a lightweight, Gerard, how many times do I have to tell you?"
Still grumbling to himself, Mikey stomped onto the dance floor, heading in Gabe's direction. "Put on a really long song, I need to tell you something!" He shouted up at him. The Spanish teacher pulled off his ear protectors. "What?!"
"PUT ON A LONG SONG, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!"
"WHAT?!"
"FOR FUCK'S SAKE GET DOWN HERE!"
Luckily, Gabe had understood that last part, and he put on something by Pink Floyd and hopped off the DJ set. Mikey grabbed his arm, tugging him across the room, presumably to talk with him.

...................................................................................

After about ten minutes, Dallon was beginning to worry. He really hoped his boss wasn't beating up the Spanish teacher, or slicing him up for some kind of evil experiment.
He waited another anxious five minutes, before excusing himself from the company of the new guy, Bill something, and heading in the direction he'd seen Dr Way dragging Gabe.
(The song Gabe had put on was still playing.)

He searched every cubicle in the men's bathroom, earning himself a very odd look from one of the History teachers, however there was no sign of Gabe or his boss.
He was beginning to panic when he noticed a discreet door next to the disabled toilets.
If I were an evil genius, that's where I'd go to chop up my victim... he thought, heading towards it determinedly. He pressed his ear to the door, listening for any signs of distress.
Instead, he heard something else.
His panicked mind immediately jumped to conclusions, and he burst into the room, yelling.
"It's okay Gabe, I'm here to save y-- oh. Oh." Embarrassed, Dallon covered his eyes. "Sorry, sorry, sorry... I'm going..."
Gabe, shirtless and not looking in the slightest bit uncomfortable, shrugged at him happily.
Mikey, equally shirtless, looked like he was going to explode in fury. "Get out, you... you giraffe!" He yelped, before promptly passing out in Gabe's arms.

...................................................................................

The thing Jamia soon learned about her boss was that her pick up lines were even worse than Detective Cool's. She made a mental note to teach the both of them some better ones.
Lindsey's drunken flirting was amusing at first, with lines like, "Jamiaaa... If you were a nose, out of all the other noses, I'd pick you," but they got steadily more inappropriate, and Jamia soon found herself uncomfortably hot and bothered.
"Lindsey..." She said, as firmly as she could. "I think I need to take you home."
Her boss giggled, "Iss that a euph--euphemism?"
"No!" She protested. "You need to get some sleep, and seeing as I don't know where you live, you're going to have to come home with me. I don't want anyone taking advantage of you."
"I'd let you take advantage of mee~"
"Lindsey, stop it," Jamia blushed, flustered. "You don't mean that, you're drunk. Can you walk, or do you need a piggyback to my car?"
"Piggyback! Piggyback!!"
With a weary sigh, Jamia got up from her seat, helping Lindsey up onto her back. "Come on then..." She grumbled. "If you puke in my car, you have to clean it. I don't care if you're my boss."

Chapter Text

When Mikey woke up, the first thing he noticed was that there was something solid and warm pressed against his back, and he was being cuddled. He felt the urge to scream. No one had cuddled him in seven years.... apart from Gerard, but his sibling didn't really count.
His attention was drawn back to the mass of warm body gently cradling him. Where was he? His heart started beating faster, and he turned his head ever so slightly to try and see who might be spooning him. Upon seeing the thick dark hair and handsome face of his favourite Spanish teacher, he blanched, wriggling his way out of Gabe's grip and scrambling out onto the floor. This sudden movement, and the resulting lack of warmth in the bed caused Gabe to roll over, groaning Mikey's name sleepily.

Mikey realised he wasn't wearing a shirt, only boxers and his jeans from the night before, and grabbed the covers off the bed to cover his modesty. He soon realised his mistake and screeched, voice coming out higher than he'd like to admit was possible for his range. Unfortunately, this woke Gabe, and he sat up, yawning and stretching out his arms. Mikey squeaked, covering his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding the covers around himself.
"Morning, Mi-Mi..."
"Gabriel!! What did you do to me?"
"Huh?" The dark haired man looked confused for a second, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Oh, I took you home... You were drunk..."
"Oh god... Did you...?"
"Did I...?"
Mikey paused, taking a deep breath, "Did you... have your wicked way with me?"
Gabe promptly burst out laughing, and Mikey peeked through his fingers nervously to see the taller man bent over, almost howling with amusement. "It's not funny!"
"Ah... of course it's not..." The taller man spluttered, trying to control his giggles.
Mikey glared at him, folding his arms over the covers wrapped around him.
"Um, in answer to your question, no, I didn't. I wouldn't take advantage of you." He said, rather meekly. Then, smirking and raising an eyebrow, he added, "Besides, you wouldn't be able to walk if I had..." This earned him an indignant squawk, but Mikey looked suitably relieved, and came to perch on the end of the bed. "Okay, well that's good. But um..." He trailed off, staring over to where Gabe was scooting closer to him, smiling softly. He swallowed nervously. "Why are you naked then?"
The Spanish teacher snickered, wrapping his arms around Mikey and pulling him back into his chest. "I always sleep naked. It lets my body breathe!"
".....Right." Well, it wasn't like he was complaining...

...................................................................................

It was Saturday, and Tyler had finished all his chores, which meant that he could go out.
Josh said he was taking him out for a surprise, and because that could mean anything, he spent about an hour going through his closet for a suitable outfit. In the end, looking at the wreckage of clothes strewn about, he just texted Jenna.

12:07 pls help me pick an outfit. josh is taking me out!

Luckily, he didn't have to wait long for a reply.

12:08 AWW TY YOU HAVE TO TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT LATER

12:08 Wear your black skinny jeans and a band tee... Josh will love it ;)

Rolling his eyes fondly, he typed out a reply.

12:09 thanks jen xx

After pulling on his tightest pair of jeans and finding a non-creased band shirt, he studied his reflection in the mirror, wondering if his hair looked okay. He brushed it from one side to another, trying to see which way it looked best.
After a few minutes, he gave up, deciding Josh would just have to deal with it if he didn't like his hair. Besides, he was always fussing with it and petting it, so he probably didn't hate it...

Grabbing his wallet and the spare house keys, Tyler headed downstairs, fluttering with nerves. In the five minutes it took Josh to arrive, Tyler had put on and taken off every pair of shoes he owned. Unfortunately, when the doorbell rang, he was wearing his old red crocs, and as he opened the door Josh noticed immediately. "Nice shoes!" He said, beaming in a way that warmed the other boy to his core. "Um, nice shoes??" Tyler repeated, confused, and not really focusing on anything but the fact that Josh was standing outside his door, and he was wearing eyeliner. He looked unfairly good, and Tyler had no idea what to do with himself, so he just followed Josh, closing the door behind him.

As they walked down the street, Josh casually took ahold of Tyler's hand, swinging their joined hands together in a way that should have been silly and childish, but was actually unbearably adorable. Tyler struggled to keep up with what the other boy was saying, too busy staring down at their hands with a ridiculous smile curving over his face. Josh didn't seem to mind though. He was happily chatting, leading Tyler so he didn't bump into any lampposts or people with dogs.

They were soon in the city centre, and the red haired boy tugged his companion into a general store. "What are we getting?" Tyler asked, looking up into Josh's smiling face. "You'll see." Was the (really not that helpful) answer. Even more mysterious was the loaf of bread Josh bought, smiling cheerfully at the cashier. He hadn't let go of Tyler's hand the whole time.
"Where are we going, Josh?" Tyler asked for the millionth time. All he received in reply was a mischievous smile.

...................................................................................

Jamia had slept on the couch the night before, letting Lindsey sleep in her bed.
The other woman had been ridiculous to drive home, as she kept leaning over and trying to grope Jamia's thighs, giggling while she did so.
She'd nearly swerved into a tree the first time.
Luckily, the drunken woman had become easier to handle when she dozed off, apparently the trick was to hum AC/DC songs quietly, which Jamia had found herself doing, for some obscure reason.

When they'd got to her apartment, she'd lead Lindsey in, propping her up so she could make her way upstairs, help her take off her shoes, averting her eyes when she took off her dress. When the other woman was covered by the comforter, Jamia leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sleep well, Linds." She murmured softly. Then, taking a couple of blankets from her closet, she went downstairs, and found out first hand just how uncomfortable her lumpy old couch was. It was alright though, because she knew that Lindsey was safe, and hopefully she wouldn't be able to get herself into any trouble while she slept. 

When Jamia woke up, she went into the kitchen, bare feet curling up on the cold tiles, and washed a glass for Lindsey, pouring her some water, and fetching a couple of tablets from where she kept her medicines. Tiptoeing upstairs, she left the glass and pills on the bedside table, smiling at the sight of Lindsey still sleeping, sprawled out, looking like she'd had a fight with the covers.

She went back down, wondering what she could make Lindsey for breakfast. Everything felt oddly domestic, but instead of making Jamia uncomfortable, she felt all sort of... warm and content. She ended up just defrosting some waffles and putting them in the oven to heat up, busying herself with anything she could to take her mind off the woman upstairs -- in her bed-- while the food cooked.

Jesus christ, she was so screwed.

...................................................................................

Chapter Text

As they neared the end of semester, Mr Way was feeling damn fricking proud of his senior class. Not only had they rehearsed the play to perfection, but some of his students (Brendon Urie and Andy Hurley) had written music for the soundtrack, and designed and made beautiful costumes. This was incredibly welcome, because otherwise Gerard would have had to order costumes off eBay or something, because on further inspection, the Tudor era clothing the department owned were pretty much crumbling to dust.

The police were no closer to catching Bob -- or rather, Robert Bryar, bank robber supreme, however they'd stopped patrolling the school and interrogating students and staff alike.
This was a relief, as it meant that the blue haired detective would stop leaping out of cupboards threatening to handcuff everyone, and prevent the other two officers from drinking all the coffee in the staff room.

Also, he'd noticed that his class were steadily pairing off into couples without needing his matchmaking skills. So far, he was beating Frank's score of one couple, with three, perhaps even four of his own. Things had really never been better between them, and he was starting to wonder, where was this all going? Would his boyfriend want to stick around longer? They'd been together for nearly five years now, and as Mikey said, they already acted like a married couple... He swallowed nervously, thinking. Maybe he should start dropping hints to Frank? Or. Yknow. He could just go and buy a ring...

The door to his classroom swung open, clanging noisily against the wall. Gerard looked up, startled, to see none other than Gabe Saporta, looking like an angry mama bear, ready to kick ass and defend her cubs. "Giraffe!" He yelled.
Gerard sighed. He really did hate that nickname -- Gabe had lately begun referring to anyone shorter than him (which was most people) as 'Giraffe' for some peculiar reason. "Yes, Gabe?"
"Come with me now! It's urgent!" And then the 6'5 Spanish teacher charged out of the room and down the hall, leaving Gerard staring after him in confusion. After a few seconds, Gabe poked his head around the door again irritably, lumbering towards him and throwing the drama teacher over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, before running down the corridor again. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Sonic?!" Gerard screamed, beating his fists against the Spanish teacher's broad back.

Luckily, the ride from hell was soon over, and he found himself being plonked down on the floor... outside the medical room?
Gabe was already bursting in and surprising Mikey's secretary -- who was way more giraffe-like than he was, thank you very much -- but instead of just charging into Mikey's office, he knocked quietly. "Mikey, I brought your sibling... Can we please come in?"
There was a muffled honking noise that sounded like his little brother aggressively blowing his nose, which was odd because Mikey never got sick. Or cried. Or laughed. Not unless it was a special occasion, anyway. 

The door opened just enough for Mikey to poke his bony hand through and give them all the finger, before retreating back behind the door.
"Charming," the giraffe-like secretary muttered, pouring hot water into a cup of something from a tin labeled 'In Case Of Emergency!' and bustling past them with the drink, which left clouds of vanilla scented steam behind it.
"Dr. Way, stop being a drama queen and let me in." The normally quiet trainee nurse piped up in a no-nonsense tone, knocking on the door.
Gerard and Gabe stared open-mouthed at him. Was that sass they could detect?
"I've got your least favourite drink with me. You'll hate it I promise. Open the door."

To everyone's surprise, very hesitantly, Mikey pushed the door ajar. Gerard cautiously stuck his head around the door, only to see his brother, red eyed and obviously distressed, sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by CDs, used tissues, and a single can of sardines.
"Um, not to upset you any more, Mikes," He tried. "But are you trying to summon a demon? Like, a snot demon? That eats fish and... Bon Jovi albums??"
That earned him a scowl, and Mikey grumbled, "Fuck off, Gee," very softly, seemingly trying to glare a hole into the floor.

From the doorway, Gabe gazed unhappily at the object of his adoration, looking almost like he might also start bawling, which Gerard didn't think he could deal with on a Monday morning. Luckily, the secretary interrupted them, shoving the hot beverage underneath Dr Way's runny nose. "Drink it, you'll feel better." He instructed, retreating into his own office almost immediately.
Mikey took a sip.
His nose wrinkled at the taste, but he continued to drink the liquid, swallowing with a grimace.
"So what is the matter?" Gerard asked.
There was no response from Mikey.
"When I asked he said that Bon Jovi was gone..." Gabe filled in. "So I bought him all the albums, but he's still upset... It's not like my Mi-Mi at all..."
"Wait... You bought him ALL the albums?"
Gabe shrugged, gesturing towards the floor.
"Oh my god. I know what he means now. Wait here!" And in a flash of lemonbright hair, Gerard was gone.

"Fuckin drama queen," Mikey grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Now come over here. And--" He paused, looking embarrassed. "You know. Comfort me."
Gabe beamed wrapping his arms around the smaller man. "Like this?"
".....Fine."
"How about like this?"
".....I'll tolerate a few kisses if necessary."
"...What about this?"
"GABRIEL EDUARDO SAPORTA ARE YOU TAKING ADVANTAGE OF MY ENOTIONAL STATE?"
"...No... You just have cute nipples!"
"..."
"You do! They're all cute and pink and aaww!"
"I am not cute, I'm intimidating!"
"Liar, liar, pants on fire!"
"Stop it."
"Make me~"

From inside his office Dallon was wondering whether or not investing in some noise cancelling headphones would be worthwhile.

...................................................................................

Frank was actually making his class do some work when Gerard burst in, launching themself across the room and into his arms. "Baby?!" Frank asked, alarmed. His class looked up, eagerly anticipating the drama. They all had to wait as the drama teacher got their breath back, but it was worth the wait, as they certainly got their anticipated theatrics. "It's Mikey..." Gee gasped out. "Bon Jovi's disappeared..."
The English teacher paled. "Shit."
Then, without further ado, he scooped Gerard up in his arms, speedwalking out into the corridor.

The class stared after their teacher, wondering if they should continue working, or scope out the situation. Pete, Brendon, and Ashley leapt up to follow, ever thirsty for gossip.
Staring at each other across the room, Patrick and Ryan reluctantly decided to follow their respective idiot crushes.

...................................................................................

Meanwhile, Gabe was in the middle of calling a taxi to take his not-boyfriend home, after snuggling the life out of him, and making unhelpful shushing noises when Mikey tried to assure him that he was fine now, and he wasn't really crying over Jon Bon Jovi in the first place.

The ridiculously tall Spanish teacher had spent the last half hour acting like an overbearing mother with a sick child. No matter how much Mikey reminded him that he had both a doctorate and degree in surgery, and he knew karate, and he wouldn't hesitate to fucking break his fingers if he didn't stop fuckin playing fucking guitar (he was singing a lullaby version of Livin' On A Prayer at the time). His claims were all true apart from the karate bit. He'd attended three martial arts lessons aged 11, but he'd been kicked out for accidentally breaking someone's nose. 'Accidentally'.

When the taxi arrived, he was (affectionately) bundled into it -- Gabe had insisted on carrying him out bridal style, which had been incredibly humiliating, as both the headmistress, her secretary and the new security guy saw them and started laughing. The taxi driver, a dark haired young woman with a gap between her front teeth, looked a little worried at first, but when Mikey grumbled out his address, she must have assumed that he wasn't actually being kidnapped because, looking relieved, she began to drive.
Gabe saw an opportunity to make friends wherever he went, and this was no exception.

"So," He began, with a cheeky wink, "You're the prettiest taxi driver I've ever had!" She blushed, startled, and tried to stare at the road rather than at the possible kidnapper beside her. From the backseat, Mikey snorted in indignation. "Ignore him, he flirts with everyone."
"I wasn't flirting!!" The taller man protested. "I was being friendly." The kidnap victim rolled his eyes, evidently going back into sulking mode. Stupid Gabe with his stupid pretty mouth and eyes and...everything else.
To the amusement of the taller man, and the confusion of the driver, for the rest of the journey Mikey continued muttering about how fuckening(ly wonderful) Gabe was, while said annoying person continued to chat to the taxi driver until she pulled up outside their destination, looking wistful as she watched him climb out of the passenger side to help Mikey out of the car. Then when he came back to pay, she handed him a small piece of paper instead. "No charge!" She burst out, driving away with a dark blush on her face.

"Wow! That was nice of her!" Gabe remarked, as he half-carried, half-dragged Mikey up to his door. "See, when you make friends, you get free stuff! But mostly friendship..." He added hastily, receiving a glare from the smaller man.
With a huff, Mikey unlocked the door in the most passive aggressive way possible, stalking inside and almost trapping Gabe in the door as he slammed it. "Woah, woah, woah..." The taller man held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Mi-Mi, what did I do? This isn't just about...uh, Bon Jovi, is it?" Mikey scowled back at him, adjusting his glasses. "Is it because I embarrassed you?" The Spanish teacher looked genuinely confused and concerned, and with a sigh of annoyance, Mikey decided to put him out of his misery. "She gave you her number. You flirted with her." He accused.
Slowly realisation dawned on the other man's face. "You're... jealous, you mean?"
"Fuck off!"
"Hey, hey, look at me," Gabe cupped the smaller man's angular face in his hands, smiling sweetly at him in a way Mikey was 100% sure was cheating, "Why would I want a taxi driver half my age when I have an adorable tiny -- but very um, terrifying and badass -- little noodle?"
"Did you just call me a little noodle??"
"Um..."
Luckily for Gabe, Mikey was not in a murdering mood. "You're an idiot," he grumbled, grabbing the other man's face and yanking him down into a surprisingly gentle kiss.

...................................................................................

"Right, kiddos," Mr Iero said, standing on an upturned crate in order to feel superior. "First things first, we are looking for a tortoiseshell tabby cat, kind of chubby, with odd eyes, one blue and one green. She responds to 'Bon Jovi', 'My sweet precious darling' and 'Oi, Shitdick'."
"It is essential that we find her," Mr Way added, "Because my little brother will never admit it, but he loves her more than he loves correcting people when they mispronounce Boba Fett."
There was a gasp from their audience (consisting of Brendon, Ryan, Pete, Ashley and a very reluctant looking Patrick). Gerard talked enough about his baby brother for them all to know that this was a huge freaking deal.

"Right," Frank continued. "Brendon, Ryan; you search the park. Mikey used to take Bon Jovi for walks there, she likes to attack the fish in the pond and any stray children she can catch." The boys nodded back at him before heading off, Brendon looking determined in army gear and rollerblades, Ryan in tow with his favourite red bandana and Brendon's handmade scarf.
"Okay, Pete, Patrick; you can search in town, she's not very fast, so if you see her, just stuff her under your arm and try not to get bitten."
Patrick looked like he was about to complain, but Pete dragged him off before he could bitch about health and safety.
"Right. Ashley," The English teacher turned to his remaining student with a devilish grin. "Now, you're with me and Princess Sasspants over here. And trust me, we want to hear alllll the drama... What's going on between Basketball Tyler and his little punk toyboy?"
Ashley grinned. "Yessir! There's so much tension between them, and Jenna was saying how they went on the cutest date last week... I don't know if they're banging yet but----" Gerard interrupted quickly, staring pointedly at his boyfriend. "Frank, don't objectify the students. And our main job here is to find Mikey's cat." Still, he wasn't able to stop them gossiping together, he could only pretend they were innocently conversing about... pizza or something.
...................................................................................

Chapter Text

"Brendon... Have you got a torch?"
"Yeah, Ry, I'll use the one on my phone."
"Okay."
"But... um, you might have to let go of me so I can get it out of my pocket... unless you want to grab it?" Brendon replied distractedly, directing their joined hands onto the back pocket of his jeans.
"Um!" Ryan squeaked loudly, "That's your butt. Oh my. Oh my goodness. I am touching Brendon Boyd Urie's butt. Oh wow. Wowee."
Brendon let out an amused snort, "The phone's in the pocket, Ry. Go on, reach for it."
The words were said innocently, however Ryan was still very much aware of the possible innuendo behind them, and took the phone out as quickly as possible before someone saw him and thought he was having a sly grope.
When he handed the slim device over, Brendon looked almost disappointed that he hadn't had a cheeky feel, but in a split second, his face was back to beaming happily.
"Awesome sauce," he said, unlocking his phone quickly, so that Ryan wouldn't see his customised wallpaper (it was a blurry photo he'd sneakily taken of Ryan brooding in Music -- featuring Mr Toro's massive hair in the background, surrounded by clipart hearts and cherubs). "Right, if you were a cat, where would you be?"
Still recovering from his Near Grope Experience (NGE™), Ryan was unable to speak, so he made a sort of indecisive mumbling noise. "Yeah, sounds great!" Brendon replied, continuing to chatter excitedly as he pointed his torch at various places a cat was unlikely to be. Every time he thought he saw a cat, he squealed and grabbed Ryan's hand, before promptly chasing down whatever he'd seen happened to be (in most cases, this was either a squirrel or a plastic bag). This was incredibly distracting for Ryan, because every time Brendon touched him, he a) suddenly and unexpectedly began to blush and stutter like a fool, and b) he remembered the NGE™, and the firm warmth of his freaking butt.
Luckily, Brendon didn't seem to notice the effect his presence was causing, and whether for good or for ill, the next time he spotted a squirrel, he didn't let go of Ryan's hand.

Meanwhile, Patrick and Pete were having a great time. Well, Pete was, anyway. Apparently he was not embarrassed in the slightest by rollerblading through town screaming, "Bon Jovi, come to daddy!" at the top of his lungs, while dressed in a fluorescent crop top and baggy shorts. Patrick followed, a few feet behind, resisting the urge to throw himself into the path of the nearest vehicle, as he searched, considerably more quietly, for Mr Way's brother's asshole cat. Luckily, Pete seemed to run out of steam as they reached the street they'd passed at least three times before. "Pattyy..." He singsonged, "I have an idea..."
"No, Pete."
"But come on... He won't realise..."
"Pete, we are not buying Dr Way a new cat. Especially not to pretend it's the same one."
"He'll never notice!"
"Would you notice if it was your cat?"
"I don't like cats."
"But would you notice?"
"...Maybe."
Patrick sighed, exasperated. "Come on, let's just go back to where Mr Way said to meet."
At the wounded look on Pete's face, he took hold of his hand, adding, "On the way I'll buy you hot chocolate."
"With cream and sprinkles?"
Resisting the temptation to tell Pete he was 99% sprinkles anyway, he rolled his eyes instead. "Yeah, okay."
"It's a deal!"

...................................................................................

All was quiet in the Joseph household. Then an earsplitting sneeze almost blew the door off its hinges, which was soon followed up by a groan of despair, and sound of feeble nose blowing.
Thankfully, Tyler was alone, as his parents were working late, and his siblings were with their friends, otherwise he would have been told to "Quit being a drama queen!" by everyone excluding his mother.
Being alone meant that he could wallow alone in the misery of being ill, call Josh anytime he felt like it, and eat as much food as he wanted. Unfortunately, he didn't have much of an appetite, as his stomach threatened to heave up anything he might eat, but he did want to talk to Josh (his boyfriend of two weeks, unknown to anyone besides Jenna). Josh kept texting to see if he was okay; he was also at home sick, but he felt responsible for their joint illness, as that mildly failed date had been his idea, but as Tyler argued, if he hadn't gone and fallen in a lake, Josh wouldn't have had to jump in and rescue him. Besides, Josh was freaking adorable with wet hair, and Tyler didn't care that they both had the flu, the kisses he'd received from his relieved boyfriend had been enough to make up for a bit of coughing. And throwing up. And sweating. Yknow... At least he and his boyfriend were (no pun intended) both in the same boat.

...................................................................................

It turned out that Mikey had only searched the ground floor of his house for Bon Jovi; this was because she hadn't been in his bedroom when he'd woken up, and she didn't like going into any other rooms on the top floor, she preferred lazing about on the downstairs couch, or scratching particularly ugly shirts of his to pieces when they came out of the washing machine (she considered this doing him a favour). Gabe, in a weirdly adventurous bid to win himself further affection from Mikey, had decided to confront his cat allergies and take the plunge -- a.k.a. go upstairs, eyes and nose streaming, to look for the wretched creature. Unfortunately, Bon Jovi was nowhere to be seen, and by this point, thanks to his allergies, his nose and eyes were leaking a delicious mixture of snot and tears everywhere so he couldn't see.

"Miiiiiikey..." He whined.
"WHAT?!" Came the reply from downstairs.
"I couldn't find Bon Jovi, but I found a mysterious cupboard thing that she might possibly be in?"
"What are you talking about?!"
"I can't see anything, I'm too gross!"
"...the fuck? Hold still, I'm coming..."

Because of his ridiculously long spaghetti-like legs, Mikey was by his side in mere seconds. "Gabriel, I cannot believe you don't know what an airing cupboard is," he said in his snootiest voice. "And you're all covered in mucus. Here, have an antihistamine tablet, and a tissue."
Gabe was very grateful for the relief from the onslaught from his sinuses, but another feeling overcame his sense of gratitude. "What do you use an airing cupboard for?"
The calm that accompanied his answer was proof that his not-quite-boyfriend was not paying much attention to the way his words might be interpreted. "Seriously? You just use them to air your delicates, and make sure they dry nicely."
Gabe tried. He really did. But he couldn't help but to burst out laughing at the mental image of Mikey airing his, ahem, delicates.
"Not like that you lecherous filthy old pervert!"

The raised voices must have disturbed the occupant of the airing cupboard, because there was an angry feline yowling at Mikey's words.
"Bonnie! Oh, Bon Jovi, I've missed you so..." The spiky man opened the cupboard, looking the happiest Gabe had ever seen him. Then...
"I'M GOING TO KILL THAT FUCKING TOMCAT! I'LL RIP HIS BALLS OFF, SEEING AS HIS OWNERS WON'T!"

Confused, Gabe peered over his shoulder curiously, to see a large ginger cat... surrounded by seven tiny little balls of fluff. Seven tiny mewling moving balls of fluff.

...................................................................................

"Do you think we should get in touch with the kids?" Frank asked, fiddling with a bit of coffee splashed napkin. After about fifteen minutes of searching for Bon Jovi, he'd got bored, and demanded a hot beverage and pastries. Gerard, being more whipped than the cream his boyfriend had covered his disgustingly sweet caffeine concoction in, had agreed -- "but only for five minutes, Frankie, I don't want Mikey to be upset..."
Thirty-five minutes later, there they still were, covering the napkins in a plethora of noughts and crosses games and scribbled notes such as 'frnk lvs g' and 'love you too babyy ♡'. Gerard sighed, looking up to meet Frank's eyes, "Yeah, in a sec. I need to talk to you about something first?" His anxiety turned the statement into a question.
"What is it, princess?"
"You're happy with me, right?"
"...Yeah, what kind of question is that, babe? I love you. You know I do. Don't you?"
"Yeah. I just wanted to ask you something."
"Okay, go for it..."
"Frank... will you marry me?"

Chapter Text

Gerard sighed, looking up to meet Frank's eyes, "Yeah, in a sec. I need to talk to you about something first?" Their anxiety turned the statement into a question.
"What is it, princess?"
"You're happy with me, right?"
"...Yeah, what kind of question is that, babe? I love you. You know I do. Don't you?"
"Yeah. I just wanted to ask you something."
"Okay, go for it..."
"Frank... will you marry me?"

_______________________________________________

From the look on Frank's face, that had not been what he had been expecting. "...Say again?"
Gerard stared down at the coffee splashed tabletop determinedly. "I said, will you... I mean, like, it doesn't have to be immediately or whatever, but would you want to get married? To me?"
They cautiously raised their head, meeting Frank's eyes, and the shocked -- pleased? -- expression on his face. "You don't have to. Sorry..."
"Are you kidding me?!" Their boyfriend burst out. "I'd fucking love to marry you," Gerard looked up hopefully, a half moon smile beginning to light up their face. "It's just that I had this whole proposal thing planned out, yknow? I was going to surprise you. Make it all romantic and mushy and shit..." He rubbed the side of his face bashfully, as if that would rid his cheek of the scarlet blush adorning it.
Gerard was over the table and into his lap within seconds, their empty cups clattering to the ground unnoticed, and suddenly he couldn't focus on anything beside the warm pressure of their soft mouth on his, not even the applause of the baristas they had unknowingly been putting on a spectacle for.
When they finally parted, (although the distance between them could barely be classed as 'apart') foreheads resting together and arms wrapped tight around each other, Frank asked, rather breathlessly, "So does this mean you'll marry me?"
Nodding, Gerard kissed the tip of his nose, smile curving up and up across their face. "Yeah, I will. You can ask me again the way you were planning, and I can buy you a ring in the meantime..."
"God, I love you so much..." Frank groaned, pulling Gerard closer. Laughing, the pair began to kiss again, hands stroking over each others' faces as if to try and remember them purely by touch.

Unfortunately, the affectionate scene was disturbed when Pete and Patrick, on a mission ('from God', as Pete claimed) to get hot chocolate, walked into the café and spotted their teachers canoodling. Patrick, being sensible, or at least more sensible than his companion, decided to just get their drinks and go; however Pete had other ideas, rollerblading towards the couple, waving his arms excitedly and whooping.
Turning away, embarrassed, the shorter boy quickly ordered two hot chocolates, flushing dark pink and avoiding eye contact with the amused baristas, who seemed delighted to get so much entertainment in one evening, considering there were no other patrons, and there were less than ten minutes until closing time. When he turned around, Pete had embedded himself directly into Mr Iero's personal space and, going by the horrified look and faint blush on Mr Way's face, seemed to be interrogating the couple.
Patrick decided he certainly did not want to be in anyway subjected to any more embarrassment at Pete's hands, so ignoring the pleading look his teachers were sending him and mouthing a quiet 'sorry', he sat down at the table furthest from Pete and his victims, fingers curled loosely around the piping hot cups.

Thankfully, a few minutes later, Ryan and Brendon stumbled into the café, holding hands and covered in leaves and bits of twigs (Brendon had insisted on rolling down a hill singing 'Colors of the Wind' -- "You can be John Smith and I'll be Pocohontas, Ryan!").
This -- thankfully -- interrupted the Wentz Inquisition, giving the Drama and English teachers and excuse to escape while Pete was distracted.
"Oh, look, we're all here! No one got lost or murdered! Isn't that exciting?" Mr Way announced in their best small children's T.V. presenter voice, all false brightness and artificial sweetness, like that weird not-sugar shit Frank loved in his coffee. "Now, does anyone need a lift home? I don't want to get in trouble with your parents!"
"Um...what about Dr Way's cat?" Patrick asked, bewildered. "Did you find her?"
"Nah, he did." Mr Iero interrupted. "He called Gee screaming about fluffy menaces and airing cupboards, so I guess she's okay. So, lifts or nah?"
Ryan piped up that he would need a lift, which was expected because he hated exercise, and had decided he'd already exhausted himself for the evening; Brendon chipped in that he'd also like a ride home, because he lived on the other side of town. As Pete and Patrick both lived reasonably close, they decided to walk together, and declined the offer, something that much relieved Mr Iero, who was not up for round two of the Wentz Inquisition.

On the walk to the car, Frank and Gee walked in soft, affectionate silence, exchanging looks of a rather gooey romantic nature, while their two remaining students walked a little way behind them, bickering; Ryan waving his hands furiously, Brendon smiling teasingly. The premise of the debate was that Brendon had mentioned that he thought Spongebob The Musical was better than The Phantom of the Opera -- "I mean, the musical score alone is beautiful beyond words...". To put it mildly, Ryan did not agree.
The car ride itself was not the tranquil experience Frank had hoped for, but he drove on, one hand white-knuckled on the wheel, the other resting on Gerard's thigh, as his fiancé's -- holy shit, Gee was his fiancé now -- students continued their boisterous, uncomfortably flirtatious argument in the backseat. Luckily, it didn't take long to find Brendon's house, despite the shitty directions he was giving (presumably so that he could spend as much time with Ryan as possible), and once he was gone, Ryan stayed quiet, arms folded, staring out of the window wistfully.

...................................................................................

When Frank and Gerard finally got to Mikey's place and let themselves into the living room, they were greeted by the sight of the youngest Way, scowling and covered in kittens. Gerard soon joined in with Gabe -- squealing happily and gently petting the little balls of fluff.
Slouching down onto the couch, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth, Frank nodded in greeting to his grimacing soon to be brother in law/weird cat lady associate. Although they'd agreed to keep their engagement a secret for now from public knowledge, as he had plans to propose properly, they were going to tell Mikey together sometime later on because Gee couldn't bear keeping secrets from their baby brother, and besides he was pretty fucking pumped for the world to know that Gee was officially his, no backsies, til death do them part.
He found himself focusing back in on the conversation outside of his own thoughts when he heard the awful words "how about naming one of them Kanye Way?", not so innocently asked by Gabe, of course. The giraffe-like Spanish teacher was immediately shot down by three identical expressions of utmost disgust, and he held his hands up, palms front, in surrender -- kudos to him for backing down with grace, Frank mused.
So they were naming the kittens now, were they? Well, he had some fuckin sweet suggestions...

*spongebob French dude voice* 1 HOUR LATER...

"...no I am not naming her Frank Junior. One of you is enough. And besides," Mikey continued, ignoring Frank's indignant "hey!", "She looks like a 'Pink Floyd' to me." The tiny black kitten wriggled out of his hold and tumbled into his sibling's lap, her tiny paws scrabbling wildly for a grip, whilst Gerard cooed quietly, stroking her soft dark belly and beaming down at her while Frank took picture after picture, before selecting one with a particularly smiley Gerard and setting it as his lockscreen.

So far only four of the kittens had been named. Mikey had allowed each of his guests to name a kitten, plus one he'd named, and he was definitely not letting them name any more, considering he was now the owner of cats named Bon Jovi, Led Zeppelin, Dracula, Cobra Starship (seriously, what had Gabe been smoking), and Shrek. Fucking Shrek. The only reason Mikey hadn't thrown a full bitch fit (and possibly also a chair) at Frank was that Gerard was giving their boyfriend a really stupid sappy look, and they'd probably have been pissed off if he interrupted the love fest to whine.

Gabe had been suspiciously quiet for the past fifteen minutes; the reason for this became apparent when he began snoring softly, one of the kittens playing with his hair and another trying to burrow its way into one of his socks. Obviously this was a perfect photo opportunity, and Mikey gleefully snapped away, storing the pictures as 'potential blackmail' followed by the black heart emoji, because in his own words, "if he was going to be a sappy hoe, he was going to be a fuckin classy hoe".
Luckily, the Sasquatch of a Spanish teacher being asleep meant that no more kittens were going to be named anything weird born from glue fumes or whatever, although he had been writing a list of possible names before he'd fallen asleep... To be fair to him, Gabe's other name suggestions weren't actually that bad. 'Burnt Sienna' was quite pretty, as was 'Sunset Peach' and 'Salmon Pink'... Wait a second... "Gabe!!! Are these fucking crayon names?!"

Chapter Text

It was ten past eleven and Dr Michael Way was sitting up in bed, primly reading a newspaper and doing his best to ignore the bare chested Uruguayan sprawled out beside him, the pile of sleeping kittens gathered gently up into tanned arms and the sounds of Bon Jovi shredding a particularly ugly cardigan once gifted by an elderly relative.

Looking back, he wasn't entirely sure how he had come to be in this situation, aside from his shit-shirring sibling's boyfriend meddling in his affairs (truthfully, Frank hadn't even realised that if he and Gerard left, Mikey would be stuck with Gabe, he'd just wanted to get Gerard home and into bed). Either way (ha, ha), apparently this was his life now: sharing his bed with kittens and attractive men. Not that Gabe was attractive or anything. He was too toned and tall...and the fact that he was softly spoken and incredibly gentle with the kittens wasn't at all adorable -- the flutter in his stomach when he looked at the sleeping man for the hundredth time that minute was probably just indigestion. Yeah. Because Mikey Way didn't do crushes.

.....Okay maybe he was losing his grip on that one; the rise and fall of Gabe's chest was hypnotising, and the inexplicable urge to touch threw itself to the front of his brain. In retaliation, he scooted himself as far away from the other man as possible, thinking 'Can't catch me now, gay thoughts!!!' triumphantly. 
      
Unfortunately, a sleeping Gabe Saporta was just as good at ruining his plans and upsetting his delicate homosexual sensibilities as a conscious one. Mikey discovered this as his soul ejected itself directly into the atmosphere when Gabe rolled face first into his lap, proceeding to rub his face against the front of Mikey's pyjama pants, mumbling happily in a sleepy mix of English and Spanish. The kittens didn't seem to share his embarrassment; they simply mewled in annoyance at the loss of their source of warmth, and made a start on climbing back to the summit of Mt. Gabe.

There was an air raid siren wailing in his brain as the mental battle raged on. Team Let-Gabe-Cuddle-My-Dick-With-His-Face was delighted by this turn of events. Team Help!-What-The-Fuck-Is-Happening-Oh-My-God was currently suffering from a Gabe induced aneurysm, and was unable to comment on the situation. Bon Jovi was glaring at him from where she was perched on his dresser, surrounded by shredded bits of mould coloured wool. Mikey gulped; correctly interpreting the look as "Don't you fucking disturb my babies, suck it up and think unsexy thoughts," which was what he was going to have to do until Gabe moved. Great. Just great.

At least the view was good, he mused, hoping his thoughts came off as irony, and not a schoolgirl crush. The golden slope of Gabe's back gleamed in the spill of the desk lamp's light; the muscles loose and relaxed. He looked like a Greek hero, except instead being arrogant and saving damsels, he was silly, made him laugh, and was excellent with the cats.
In short, nothing less than perfect.
For some reason, admitting that maybe his feelings for Gabe were stronger than was acceptable by the usual Mikey Way standards was not the terrifying ordeal he'd expected, despite the fact that the object of his affections had named two of his kittens ridiculously. (Mikey had eventually relented to Gabe's crayon names, compromising with 'Sienna' and 'Peach'. Unfortunately, Frank disagreed, and refused to call them anything other than 'Dildo' and 'Dave Growl') Everything suddenly seemed perfectly reasonable -- from the hand loosely curled around his waist to the mound of kittens scattered around them. Taking care not to knock any of the little balls of fluff, Mikey edged under the covers, crawling out from underneath Gabe and tentatively returning his embrace.

                                      *     *     *

It was William Beckett's first day, and he was doing a wonderful job, even if he did say so himself. So far, the morning had consisted of him standing on the side of the road, dressed in neon colours and brandishing his fluorescent stop sign, leaping into the road shrieking at cars whenever anyone needed to cross over. The students always greeted him with wide eyes and slack jaws, which he delightedly assumed was a reaction to his impressiveness, and so he gave them a high five and a sucker -- cause if he was going to be the hecking lollipop man, he was gonna do it right.

Everything was going swimmingly until a tallish skinny boy decided to start a discussion with him in the middle of the road. William was ecstatic, of course, because no one had actually initiated any conversations with him yet, except for the nice secretary lady earlier on. However while they were debating which of the Beatles albums was best, William noticed another boy in a purple hoodie lurking in the bushes across the street. So he did what his Mom had always told him to do in bad situations. He yelled. Loudly. "STRANGER DANGER, STRANGER DANGER!!"
The boy he had been talking to -- Ryan, he said his name was -- just looked puzzled and vaguely amused instead of being terrified. William, deciding that he must not understand the severity of the situation, waved his arms wildly, pointing his stop sign at the mysterious bush dweller, as he cranked up the volume of his screeching: "STRANGER DANGER, STRANGER HECKING DANGER, STRANGER DAAAAANGER!"

Eventually, the purple hoodie guy came out of the hedge looking confused. William, taking a break from shrieking to gulp in a lungful of air, returned to yelling at full volume, "NO, NO, NO! STOP RIGHT THERE! WHO THE HECKING HECK IS THIS?"
Ryan, at a sensible volume, sighed, before grabbing the hand of and pulling the purple weirdo closer. "This is my boyfr-- um, acquaintance, Brendon. He likes to stalk me sometimes. Old habits die slowly and painfully, yknow?"
William did not know. But he didn't want to lose his new friend, so he nodded solemnly, offering his hand for the purple weirdo/Brendon to shake.
Then Mr Iero came speeding around the corner in his soccer mom van, enthusiastically singing along to the Footloose soundtrack and nearly running them all over.

             
                                    *     *     *

drama class, 11:27 am

                                    *     *     *

"Listen up, bitches," Mr Iero yelled, wobbling slightly from his position on top of the scaffolding that supported Juliet's balcony.
Amazingly enough, the class did, although it was probably less to do with the fact that a teacher was speaking and more to do with the fact that said teacher was wearing nothing but lederhosen and a tiara, and speaking through a megaphone that distorted his voice to the point of sounding like someone talking whilst pinching their nose and breathing in helium.
"Gee and I have some reaaaally important news for you, but you gotta keep it a secret for now, because the governing board are probs homophobic considering this is America," he continued, leaning dangerously close to the edge of the set, a manic glint in his eyes. "When my princess walks through that door, you gotta cheer and say 'congrats, mom'."
At the confused look from some of the kids he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Gee's having a 'she' day, and they look fuckin gorgeous so you better tell her you think so, unless you want to lose an eyeball via my classy new melon baller."
"What's the occasion?" Spencer yelled.
"Yeah, are you guys having a baby or something?" Ashley added, excitedly flipping her long (now silver) hair. Mr Iero nearly fell off the 'balcony'.
"What?! No! We're getting married!"

There was a roar of approval from the class. Hayley and Ashley began ballroom dancing from table to table, Josh picked up Tyler and kissed him full on the mouth, Spencer began crying happily, Pete pulled Patrick into a mildly threatening headlock, saying, "We're next," and Jon clapped his flipflops together in joy. Ryan asked Brendon, bewildered, since when had Mr Iero and Mr Way even been dating?
Luckily, his confusion was cleared up when the lady of the hour herself walked in, earning herself wolfwhistles from both Mr Iero and Brendon, who got a hard stare from Ryan in return. The drama teacher was looking beautiful in a simple dark green sundress, and Ashley (a known art hoe) nearly fainted at how impeccably their eyeliner was applied. Luckily, she didn't, because the nearest person to her -- and therefore the most likely to have to catch her -- was Ryan, whose biceps had the girth and strength of a ramen noodle.

Numerous shouts of "Congrats, mom!" were heard, which made Gerard turn self-consciously to see whether their students were talking to someone behind them. When it became apparent that this was not the case, they shone like a star, getting a little misty around the eyes and proudly showing off their ring (Frank had insisted on surprising them with breakfast in bed, the ring box acting as the centrepiece).
The class swarmed around, 'oohing' and 'aahing' over the sparkling band, and over the hubbub, Gee craned their neck to look up at Frank for the first time since they'd accidentally got their necklace attached to his shoelace -- it was a long story. "Frank, babe," they called, raising their eyebrows meaningfully. "I thought we were keeping this a secret?" Frank sighed, looking disappointed and then smirkingly thoughtful, which were never a good combination on anyone, and he was no exception. Finally, he clapped his hands together and brought the megaphone to his lips once more: "Okay guys, haha, guess what? April fools!"
Gee slowly hid their face in their hands.
Frank continued unperturbed, with what he thought was a subtle wink: "We're not actually engaged, pranked ya! #YOLO as the youth say!" While most of the students groaned at the use of such embarrassing and outdated slang, Ryan poked Brendon in the ribs smugly. "See! I knew they weren't actually dating..."

                                       *     *     *

Chapter Text

The harsh overhead lighting should have been unflattering, but it simply bounced off Ashley's cheekbones, illuminating her face and highlighting her hazel eyes. Hayley sat on the edge of the bathtub behind her, knees gripping her hips in order not to topple backwards as she teased the kinks out of her friend's hair with a widetoothed comb. Every so often Ashley would let out a pained grunt, and Hayley would apologise, gently working around the tangles with the comb. It was slow work, but Ashley didn't trust anyone else besides her parents to help look after her natural hair, and besides, after years of friendship and hair dyeing, Hayley was used to sitting in a bathroom for hours at a time.

Opening a bottle of coconut or tea tree oil to massage into her friend's scalp came as second nature to her now, and she always marvelled at how gorgeous Ashley's hair was, especially when she could feel the glossy ringlets underneath her fingers and the gentle vibrations against her knees when her friend sang softly under her breath. Sometimes, Ashley was solemnly silent for the whole process, other times so hyper she could barely sit still; today she was calm, but not low, and she was singing one of the songs they'd written together at two in the morning at a sleepover.

Hayley's hands were greasy from the coconut oil, but she didn't mind; she'd be able to wash her hands later, and besides, the scent was familiar and comforting. "Pink or blue?"
"Hmm?" She murmured, looking into her friend's face as she tipped her head back to look at her. Ashley huffed, not unkindly, and repeated herself. "I was asking you which wig I should wear tomorrow. The pink one - you know, the bisexual bob - or the long blue one?"
Hayley pushed a strand of her own (currently bleach blonde) hair behind her ear. "Um... I like the blue best, but it's your choice."
Ashley nodded her approval, before closing her eyes and beginning her song again. It's different this time -- "Did you add a new verse?"
"Mhm... You know I wanted to rhyme americana with 'piranha'? I thought that 'we are the new americana, I hope you get eaten by piranhas' wasn't as effective as 'high on legal marijuana', so I changed it."
"That's brilliant, Ash. I still like the piranha thing though... Can you tilt you head forward again? I need to get to the back, you know how tangly those curls get... Hold still..."    

Meanwhile, a few blocks over, one George Ryan Ross The Third is scouring Amazon.com for something he feels he desperately needs.
However, before this mystery purchase can be revealed, we have to go back in time to the last theatre class, where Mr Iero had trolled his students with his 'fake' engagement to Mr Way.

Andy (is it Andrew or Andrea? Ryan is unsure but does not want to appear foolish by asking) has revealed their final costume pieces for everyone and Mr Way is overjoyed, demanding that everyone gets changed into their outfits so Mr Iero can take a class photo of them in all their Shakespearean glory. Ryan feels a little stupid in his get-up, the little puffy Tudor shorts are doing nothing for his noodley legs and for some reason he had agreed to let Spencer cut his hair for him the previous night, so he is now sporting a very first year Ron Weasley-esque bowl cut.
        Brendon beams at him and tells him he looks "totes adorbs", which makes him feel a little better, but he is still going to stick to his plan of avoiding mirrors for the next week or so.
It's not until Brendon is dressed in his Mercutio outfit that the trouble begins.
The costume is made up of a loose black shirt patterned with delicate swirls of silver embroidery, black skinny leather trousers (Brendon's own) and knee high black boots. Of course, this sounds tame in description, but the boots, as they came from the local charity shop, were four inch heels, definitely designed in mind of terrifying businesswomen. And on Brendon they looked, in Pete's words, "Hot diggity dayuUMM!"

Ryan let out a distressed little "eep!" as he took in the sight, and Pete snapped photo after photo yelling that he'd send the pictures to the group chat. Looking helplessly at Josh, standing beside him in his Benvolio costume, his dark brown roots showing through the scarlet hair, he asked, "Since when was there a group chat?"
"Since last week? Don't worry though, I'll add you."

Now, Ryan is sitting at his laptop, the pictures of Brendon in his Mercutio outfit acting as both his home and lockscreen. He has just ordered a mug, a phonecase and a tapestry the size of the only wall in his bedroom not covered in Beatles posters. All of his online purchases feature his favourite photo Pete took: Brendon with one booted foot on a chair, tossing a flirty look at the camera. It makes his stomach go fluttery whenever he looks at it. He only hopes that his mom won't check the parcels when they arrive -- she knows Brendon as he goes to her zumba class, and she'd probably try and set them up or something equally mortifying.
His phone pings and he checks the group chat; Pete has sent them all a video of himself, Patrick and Brendon edited into an eighties aerobics video; Uptown Funk plays in the background.
For some reason, Ryan decides to save it. It's definitely nothing to do with the fact that the guy Brendon's face is on is wearing extremely tight leggings and has a similar build to him.

Coincidentally, while Ryan's attempt at a love life is failing miserably, Jenna's is not. She and Sarah have already progressed from sending cute selfies with snapchat filters to sending more candid ones -- Jenna's favourite being the one Sarah had sent of herself at a desk, without makeup, reading glasses perched on her nose. It was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen and she'd been forced to screenshot it immediately. Thankfully, Sarah did not comment on this.

Their texts have gone from painfully awkward 'what are you up to?'s to 'my dogs have hijacked my lap and they're too cute to wake up, help jennn' and 'im hungry, wanna go to denny's and steal all their napkins?'. Technically, as she boasts to Tyler, they've been on three dates already. But as friends, obviously. They haven't quite talked about anything else yet. Although... on their third not-date, they'd held hands and gone to a record store, and Jenna had bought Sarah a grand total of two of the records she wanted (she was pretty broke, okay?) and when she walked the other girl up to her door, she'd reached up kissed her on the cheek, saying "Thank you for a lovely day."

When she'd told him this, Tyler had just given her an annoyingly knowing look, refusing to comment on the situation, which was... helpful. Josh, on the other hand was happy to giggle over their texts with her, and he agreed that sending sword emojis was hot, and not murderous -- "Yeah, have you not seen sword-lesbian-opinions' tumblr? It explains all that stuff..." Tyler just tutted at them both from where he was doing homework or something equally nerdy.

Still, as soon as they'd had The Talk™ about their relationship, she'd make a move; she already knew that Sarah was pansexual, and Sarah knew that she was bi, so there wasn't much stopping them -- apart from the wrath of her ultra-traditional religious parents, of course.

No matter what his make out bud Patrick said on the matter, Pete saw himself as a damn good matchmaker and the most romantic person he knew. Ignoring the history of his own terrible love life -- kissing Joe that one time even though he always smelled of weed, dating Ashlee from Spanish class in order to get over Patrick, her throwing her orange squash over him in anger when she found out, that time he'd drunkenly blown Spencer -- never to be spoken of again... Okay maybe he wasn't the best person to be giving love advice, but he considered himself the best his target was going to get.

In his mind, breaking into Ryan's house was entirely sensible; that is, until the man himself was sitting up in bed pointing a McFreaking shotgun at him. "DON'T SHOOOT!" Pete squeaked, hands in the air while his pants rebelliously sank downwards -- his sister's jeans were really wide in the hips, and he wasn't wearing a belt, okay?
Sighing, Ryan dropped the gun, and unlike any action movie ever it didn't fire when it hit the ground. Pete stared at him, horrified, hands still raised in terror. "Why do you have a shotgun?!"
"It's..." The shotgun wielding maniac that was Ryan seemed to be struggling for words. "It's a civil war replica, okay? I LARP on the weekends."

After that fiasco, Pete was finally able to explain what he was doing breaking and entering at ungodly hours (it was only eleven thirty p.m., but Ryan was a firm believer in the philosophy of beauty sleep and went to bed at half past eight every night). "Ryan I-don't-know-your-middle-name  Ross," Pete declared, posing like he was Viktor Nikiforov buck naked in a hot spring, "From this day onwards, I will be your life coach." Ryan opened his mouth as if to complain and Pete shushed him in a way he believed to be maternal and caring. It wasn't. "You may refer to me as either 'the lovelord' or your dear wise and wonderful life guru. Sounds good? Great. We'll start with a makeover."

For some reason, Ryan didn't seem as enthused by his genius plan as Pete would have hoped. He kept asking difficult questions like: "Why do I even need a makeover? Disney's example of finding love is to be yourself," to which the reply was, "Fuck Disney! I'm getting you laid, not married," at which point Pete nearly lost his apprentice altogether, if Ryan's scandalised face was any clue of his feelings towards Disney being slandered.

Luckily, he was able to get back in his good books by slyly mentioning that Brendon always had had a thing for leather jackets, tight jeans, and guys who bought him multipacks of Capri Sun. Ryan perked up at this, getting out of bed in order to rummage through his wardrobe to find his leather jacket. "My dad left this to me in his will... I think it's the 'manliest' thing I own..." He said wistfully.
"Hey, those pjs are pretty damn manly!" Pete countered, wincing as he pointed towards Ryan's weird-ass long johns and pale pink frilly shirt. "And besides, fuck the patriarchy. What's it ever done for twinks like us, huh?" That brought a small smile to Ryan's face. "Thanks, Pete..."
"Whatever, dude. Let's plan your outfit for tomorrow, then I can get out of your hair..." He paused, grinning. "Speaking of, nice bowl cut."

"How do I look, oh wise and wonderful life guru?"
Pete looked up from the magazine he'd found under Ryan's pillow -- Crochet Patterns for the Modern Man -- and studied his apprentice. Ryan was wearing a pink sweater vest, skintight jeans and a cowboy hat. "Um..."

*cue montage of Ryan in different outfits of varying levels of social acceptability, including a kilt, embroidered overalls, tiny lime green cycling shorts and many pairs of knitted socks, courtesy of Brendon's, uh... skills.

Finally, they were able to decide on an outfit for each day of the week that Pete agreed with. "I'll come back at the end of the week and pick next week's Hot Looks™ for you, 'kayyy?" Then with a salute, Pete threw himself out of the window and onto the street below. It would have been exceptionally graceful and awe inspiring, had he not stumbled into the trash can straight after his landing. Rolling his eyes, Ryan closed his window, put his shotgun, Dottie, back on his bedside table and crawled back underneath his seven knit blankets, hoping for a decent night's rest after the interruption to his beauty sleep.

Chapter Text

For some reason the phone would not stop ringing. This was strange for many reasons, of course, but namely two main ones.
Firstly, because Mikey had a ninety-year-old's attitude to technology and therefore only had five contacts on his phone (his mom, his dad, Gerard, Frank and a random Spanish lady he'd met once on a plane. They'd bonded over a shared loathing of the screaming infant in the seat across the aisle from them, bitching about how irritating children were for the rest of the flight).
The second reason was because it was his day off, and everyone knew he did not ever take calls on his day off; the exception to that rule being his sibling, and Señora Tarragona-Vasquez, the forementioned lady met enroute home to New Jersey.

However, because he was at least a little bit caffeinated and he'd just stepped out of a shower that'd made him feel a little more human than the grimy mess he'd woken up as, courtesy of a nightmare involving Shrek -- the kitten, not the ogre -- growing to the size of a house and wreaking havoc on the city. The worst part was when he had to pick her up from the scene of her crimes, and say that yes this was his kitten, and then call out for her. Wandering around cooing, "Here, Shrekky, Shrekky, who's my beautiful girl now?" was probably the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened in his whole life, even though it technically hadn't actually physically happened.

When he checked his phone the caller ID informed him that the number was unknown, to which he then pondered putting the device on silent so that the caller wouldn't think he was ignoring them, just busy, and wouldn't be disturbed. Unfortunately while he was deciding upon a course of action, Dracula -- the kitten, not the vampire count -- leapt from the sink onto his keypad -- pressing the green 'accept call' button -- and onto his head. In the mirror, although his own expression was one of defeat, the little kitten looked extremely proud of himself.
"Hello?" The speakers crackled out. Mikey narrowed his eyes. That voice was familiar...  "Am I speaking with Dr Michael Way?"
"Yes, who am I speaking with?"
"My identity is the toppest of secrets," the caller paused. "I mean, the highest. The highest of secrets."
Mikey raised an eyebrow. "Really."
"Yes, really! Look, you've got to play along or this doesn't work, okay?"
"Fine. Go on, Mr Mystery."
"Hey, don't assume I'm a dude!" Pause. "I mean, I am a dude, but I might not have been! Uh, anyway. This message concerns your boyfriend! Literally. He's concerned right now." The caller sounded incredibly pleased with himself.
"...Put him on the phone, then."
There were several unidentifiable muffled clanging noises in the background of the call, and then a familiar voice piped up, sounding as optimistic as ever. "MI-MI!! I've missed you! A Batman cosplayer in a white van offered me candy, and you know I never say no to free candy!" Without pausing for breath, the voice continued merrily chatting away. "I know you're not supposed to take candy from strangers but he was dressed as Batman, Mi-Mi. Batman! He had Milky Way flavoured Batarangs and everything!"
The little colour that was in Mikey's face drained away. "Gabe?"

"I'd go straight for Sarah Orzechowski," Announced Brendon, at full volume, during lunch. Because his life, disappointingly - in his opinion, was not in fact a teenage rom-com, there wasn't a massive hush, and no one even looked up at him, except Spencer, but he was choking on a stray lettuce leaf and being thumped on the back by Jon, so he didn't really count.
He sighed melodramatically, ignoring his friends and staring into the distance wistfully. Highschool just wasn't like it was in Mean Girls... It was more like the one in Shrek The Third, except the Medieval costumes were only whipped out for theatre class, and jousting wasn't allowed. Pity, really. The milky white ass of one George Ryan Ross III would have looked particularly delectable in chainmail.....

As Brendon sighed happily and drifted off to his magical dreamland located approximately just left of a patch of mildew across the cafeteria, Spencer proceeded to hurl what appeared to be a mass of seaweed up onto the table, neatly dodging everyone's food but coating Jon's history homework in swamp green gloop. He then managed to croak, "Please don't let me eat anything your grandma cooks again. Especially not foods called Spinach Surprise™, or anything similar..." He then fainted away with a delicate sigh. Jon merely shook his head wearily, hoisting his nauseous friend up by the armpits. "You were a good man, Spencer Smith. Rest in peace, dear one."

Truly, thought Brendon, coming back to himself and staring sadly at his triple chocolate peppermint latte, life was dreadfully dull. Nothing exciting ever happened to him. Well. He was going to change that. Starting now.
Breathing in deeply, he grabbed his backpack, stuffed his knitting needles and wool in, and set off to the library. That, he thought, was the place to find the nerd of his dreams -- Ryan Ross.

When Pete and Ryan sauntered into Biology, late, with identical brooding pouty lipped expressions, leather jackets embellished with the words "petey" and "rydogg" respectively and black aviator sunglasses, Mr Weekes was predictably shook. Waiting for them to seat themselves next to their lab partners, he stared, horrified, before clearing his throat to speak to the class.

"Uh, hi, so some of you might know me from the medical room, I usually work there as junior nurse, so hopefully no one's going to need first aid today..." He laughed weakly.
The class stared back at him, bored and expectant. He quickly went on. "Anyway, so I'm Mr Weekes, covering for your usual teacher, Dr. Way, because it's his day off." He opened the folder his boss had left him that contained the lesson plan. "Okay, so today, we're going to study the topic of..." His face turned a furious pink, as he took in the words on the paper before him. "O-oh. Oh."

The students began to titter amongst each other, "What is it, Mr Weekes?" Ashley asked, with faux innocence, from the front row. She batted her hot pink false lashes at him. "Is it something... saucy?"
The lanky substitute teacher blushed tomato red from head to toe, resigning himself to his fate. "As a matter of fact, Miss...?"
"Frangipane," Ashley said, grinning.
"Miss Frangipane. As a matter of fact, you're right. We're studying, um, Sex and Reproduction." He ignored the class's cheers, glancing back at his notes to where Dr Way had scrawled: leaving this up to you, because you're good at talking to the reprobates, and I hate talking about other people's private squishy bits. Charming.
Ah well, he thought, grimacing. The show must go on.

Chapter Text

After thoroughly scouring the library - hiding behind bookshelves and desks, disguised in his "nerdy chic" camouflage outfit (red reading glasses, a zebra print bowtie and a badge with Bill Nye's grinning face on it pinned to his hoodie) - Brendon concluded that Ryan was not in the building. This was deeply suspicious, as after a year or so of tracking his crush and working out his schedule, there were only two options of where Ryan might be during the lunch break. Firstly, the library, and secondly, the drama studio.
The library was a no show, and when he'd popped into the drama room fifteen minutes earlier, Mr Iero and Mr Way had been busy doing something unusual with a tutu and a riding crop, which he personally would have liked to have stayed for, but Ryan would never disrespect anyone's privacy so there was no way he was in there.

There was only one thing for it: he'd have to seek help with his mission from a highly skilled professional -- "Que-ce que sup, ma petite baguette," he said, grabbing the nearest person, "You're coming with me!"
The person, who turned out to be Sarah Orzechowski, looked bewildered and slightly terrified, but allowed him to tug her along the hall. "Okay, so we're trying to find my main hoe, Ryro, d'ya know where he might be lurking?"
Sarah continued to stare in silence, eyes growing to epic proportions. "Ryro?" Brendon continued. "Ryan Ross? Hot piece of ass wrapped up in a beige monstrosity he calls a sweater?"
Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it, settling for a nervous nod. "Great! I'm glad you guys are such pals. By the way, your eyes are huge! Like... uh... a big thing.
"Ryan does poetry! He'd be better at describing your huge eyes. All I can think of is that they're big. Like the moon or something."
Finally finding her voice, she said, "That's nice, Brendon... I can't tell if it's supposed to be a compliment but I'll take it as one?"
"It was meant to be a good thing, but I'm all for rejecting western beauty standards. Now, come on, use those enormous eyes of yours to spot my boo!" He clutched her arm tightly, propelling them both down the corridor, past the Language Department, where Jon and Spencer were twerking happily by the photocopier, and down the Humanities corridor, where Joe Trohman was holding Andy Hurley's hands in his and speaking in a hushed, secretive tone. Strangely, none of them had seen Ryan.

Brendon was in the midst of going into an epic sulk when Sarah tugged on his sleeve, eyes wide.
"Leave me alone to die!" He bemoaned.
"Um. Yeah, you do that if you like, but I was just going to mention that we haven't checked the English Department yet... I think poetry club is on toda--" She was cut off abruptly by Brendon grabbing her face and planting a big smacking kiss on her nose. "You're an absolute peach! I owe you my firstborn child, or what's left of my virginity, whichever you prefer! Let's go!"
And dazed and confused, she was dragged off to English.

Pete was putting the finishing touches on an absolutely genius performance of his latest epic, a rock opera about a misunderstood playwright named Keith Vents who falls in love with an angel named Paddy Strump that has been sent to find his soulmate. So far, it was a hit; Ashley was clinging to Hayley's arm and sobbing, Josh kept wiping his eyes discreetly, and Madame "Call Me Courtney" Love was wringing her hands and pouting in flamboyant appreciation. Even the normally stony faced Tyler seemed to be enthralled by the story, leaning in to listen, one arm wrapped around his boyfriend's waist.

Paddy was doing all he could to save his human charge, but Keith was dying slowly and painfully from a broken heart when Brendon Urie burst in grinning like an idiot. "Hi guys, what's up?"
He was immediately pelted by several used tissues and a satsuma. Madame Love hurled a hairbrush in his direction, looking ready to draw blood. Squeaking in terror, he hid behind Sarah, "Don't hurt meeeeee, I've got so much to giiive!"
The poetry club kids glared at Brendon, before looking in Pete's direction as if to say, 'well your majesty, shall we kill the traitor?' Imperiously, Pete waved his hand: "Let him speak, the life of Keith Vents can wait."
After a long pause that was half for dramatic effect and half in pure terror, Brendon finally spoke: "Um, has anyone see my boo Ryan?"

Meanwhile, in a dark and dangerous secret location (a grimy flat above the local McDonald's), Bob was torturing information out of his prisoner.

Gabe lay on his back, hands tied tightly, wriggling away from Bob as best as he could as the agonising torture continued. "Just answer the question, and I'll stop," The infamous bank robber snarled, tickling the lanky Spanish teacher's feet even harder. With tears in his eyes, Gabe managed to splutter out out a brief, "I don't know!" before subsiding into giggles.

Continuing to tickle his captive until he farted, which made him giggle even more, Bob finally came to the conclusion that he'd kidnapped the wrong man, and untied his prisoner, reluctantly fetching him some water. Studying Gabe, as he blew bubbles into his drink through the straw Bob had foolishly offered, he decided that Gabe was essentially a very large perverted child, and there would be no getting any information out of him.
Grimacing, Bob wondered if there was any way of salvaging the situation. Perhaps there was another way of blackmailing Dr. Way...?

To Ryan's great distress, Brendon had showed up to Poetry Club with, horror of horrors -- a conventionally attractive female human. This in itself would not have been a problem, had Brendon not been clutching said Female's hand like a lifeline. That was a Problem deserving of a capital P. A capital P, and an exclamation mark!
He was so engrossed in jealousy that he completely missed the semantic value of the words coming from his love's mouth. In fact, he probably would have stayed slack-jawed and aghast had Brendon not spotted him and leapt forward, a beatific grin lighting up his face.
"Ryan!" His darling cooed happily.
He had half a mind to hide under the nearest table, but remembered what Pete had said about confidence being key, and held his ground. (In fact, Pete had gone on a long and disturbingly sexual rant about how confidence was the key that unlocked "ALL the holes, if you catch my drift," but that was the only part he'd decided to follow) "Hi, Brendon," he managed to say, coolly. "Who's your friend?"
This caused some confusion. "Uh... This is Sarah, Ryan... We're in lots of classes together..."
Shit, Operation Love Truck (or whatever Pete's latest name for it was) wasn't going to plan...
Luckily, the man himself stepped in. "Patrick and I are having another sleepover tomorrow night, Brendon, Ryan, wanna come?"
The emphasis Pete put on the last word was unappreciated, but Ryan was grateful for the distraction until he realised that accepting this proposal would result in spending overnight time in close proximity with Brendon Urie and his creamy, extremely lickable forehead, and let out an accidental squeak. Pete rather smoothly stepped on his toe, trying to shut him up, however this just made him shriek again and louder. Brendon stared, concerned. The poetry club attendees who weren't busy chatting amongst themselves stared, amused. Sarah stared, confused. Pete stared at his phone, unbothered. And Ryan? Ryan attempted to hide behind his bowlcut and prayed for the end.