gala_apples

Title: Hazards of the Profession
Pairing: Mikey/Gerard/Bob
Rating: pg
Wordcount: 1427
Summary: It seems a bit early in their career to be causing a riot, but Bob can roll with it.
Prompt used: fingers for kiss bingo
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Author’s notes: Doing a thing where I write Waycest in each video 'verse. This is Teenagers.


Bob doesn’t know when the students in his high school all turned insane. All he can figure is it has to have been recently. People would have noticed everyone rushing a science teacher standing at the head of the class expecting a handful of assignments. If an entire class had flipped out during attendance, it would have gotten around.

Nor does he know how. When people do something weird you’re supposed to blame the drinking water, it’s like a thing. But it can’t be that because he had the jitters back stage and left the gymnasium four times to go to the water fountain. Mikey started smirking after the second time, but Bob didn’t mind. Drinking a lot of water was probably a better coping technique than Frank’s. He’d started up a volley of swears and dirty jokes, getting more and more obnoxious -albeit hilarious- until Mrs Sinclair overheard and gave him a detention. At least water fountains had no possible action that led to detention.

It was maybe a bit beneath them to be doing a talent show. My Chemical Romance had played around town, they had a regular every two week gig playing at the bowling alley. They got paid in free games and occasionally even money, it seemed a bit silly to be playing for free. On the other hand, if they could get some of the people in their school to like their stuff, maybe they could sell some of their burned CDs, or the shirts Gerard had stencilled. Which would lead to even more money, which would be nice.

They were allowed ten minutes, just like every other talent show participant. What that meant in practical terms was they could do three songs before Mrs Sinclair cut off their microphone and it was the next person’s turn. When they tried to continue with Sharpest Lives in rehearsal she had unplugged them, Bo had no doubt that she would do it again.

They start with Teenagers, because it’s ironic or something. Bob’s not always sure what his band’s reasoning is, he just shrugged when Frank suggested it and Gerard seemed over the moon seconding it. Bob had thought it probably wouldn’t fly with Sinclair, but Gerard was able to convince her from performing arts teacher to performing arts student that a song mentioning drugs, violence and several repeats of 'shit' was truly an artistically important song that would crumble and lose it’s meaning under censorship.

When the first guy rushes the stage, stands and runs forward and hauls himself up Bob just thinks ‘okay, whatever’. It doesn’t really bother him some class clown is about to twist his ankle doing a stage dive no one will catch him from. One guy being a dick doesn’t make up the minds of the entire student body, they’ve still got the chance to get fans. It also helps that he’s in the back. Gerard or Ray will have to deal with it, not him.

But then they keep coming. In what seems like seconds everyone is standing and running forward, folding chairs flying as people push their way to the front. Dozens of them start levering themselves onto the stage. People start grabbing their instruments, someone takes Gerard’s microphone and screams into it at the top of her lungs. The next thing Bob knows the school security is coming in and starting to drag people away, all of them with the walkie talkies pinned on their shoulders crackling like mad.

Ray makes an executive decision to flee for backstage, and Bob follows in his wake, Mikey and Gerard behind him. Frank is last, Gerard dragging on his arm as Ray takes them to the dressing rooms in the basement.

“It’s not like I haven’t been in moshes before but that was intense.” Frank says. It’s clear to everyone that if it wasn’t for Gerard’s still firm grip, Frank would be running back up on stage to witness the carnage.

“What the fuck was that? I mean, we were powerful, but not incite a riot powerful. Fuck.” It’s also clear to everyone that Gerard yearns to be that powerful. Bob thinks with a bit of a wince that they only need to give it time. He can feel in his soul that My Chem is going to get huge.

“That jock broke a string on my guitar!” Ray is a cross of desolation and rage. His guitar is for all intents and purposes his child.

“They broke my finger,” Bob say quietly.

All heads turn to look at him, all saying what in various tones and volumes. “Yeah. Someone tried to grab a drumstick, I had it in a show hold, twirling it as I watched everyone go batshit. They pulled it the wrong way. My finger’s broken, I’m pretty sure.”

They stare at him for a second, and Bob looks at his hand so he doesn’t have to look back. He’s got a bit of a habit, maybe, of not letting people know when he’s hurt, and it kind of pisses them off.

“I just texted your mom you needed to go to the hospital.”

“Texted? Seriously Mikey? She’s a mom, she’s not-”

Mikey’s smirk interrupts Ray. “She says she’ll be here in fifteen minutes. She wants you to be waiting outside. She also wants me to tell her if it’s something that she needs to slap you for. What do you think I should say?”

“Yes!” Frank says authoritatively.

“Fuck off, I told you guys.”

“Yeah, but not fuckin’ promptly.” Gerard replied.

“Dude, that should have been a ‘motherfucker just broke my finger’ shouting on stage moment. ‘Cause I would have knocked that bitch out. Plus I also think it’s funny when your mom smacks you. It’s like getting to watch my mom with me.” Frank explains.

Three hours later Bob looks like an idiot. Or more specifically his hand looks like an idiot, except that doesn’t really work, since hands don’t have personalities. But he’s got this big metal U with padding inside covering his ring finger.

“My hand looks like an idiot,” he complains as he walks into the music section at the store that Mikey and Gerard work at. Later he’ll visit Gerard, and he’ll probably end up sticking around for their break and eating subs with them. It’s a good expenditure of the night, being with both his boyfriends.

The first time he saw Gerard and Mikey kiss he didn’t know they were brothers. He was just trying out for their band, because his blew up, and apparently their old drummer decided that going on dates was more important than showing up to band practice. By the time he found out Frank didn’t drop them off at the same place so they could fuck, but because they lived in the same house, Bob had already called a hotline and asked their help to come to terms with the fact that he wanted to get out of the car with them and join in.

Their making out had seemed a bit frequent for just practicing on each other until they got a boyfriend, but he had ended up gathering his courage and asking them if he could date one of them regardless. They had proceeded to spend most of the Halloween marathon taking turns making out with him and each other. Bob had considered that a yes.

“Yeah but your mom bought you sticks because she felt bad you were in a riot instead of making you pay for them yourself. It’s a good deal.”

“A broken finger is worth thirty dollars?” Bob pauses for a second. “Yeah, I can see that. It still looks fuckin’ stupid.”

“Yeah, and if you weren’t wearing that it would never get better and you’d never be able to play again. So suck it up, princess.” Bob grins at Gerard’s voice before turning around to look at him. He’s not supposed to be in the section, he’s supposed to be over in children’s lit. And yet every time Bob visits them at work, Gerard spends at least half his shift with Mikey in music.

“Fuck off,” he answers good naturedly.

In retaliation, Gerard grabs Bob’s wrist and pulls him a step closer. Keeping his hand at face level, he kisses the tip of each finger, including the metal encased one. His lips leave a wet print. “You staying for awhile?”

“Like I’d leave a prince like you.” Mikey snorts over in the Christian rock section, and Bob settles in for a good evening.