Bandswap!
So I'm ridiculously fond of the requests that show up at Anon Lovefest, because sometimes people have the most brilliant ideas EVER. This comes from one of them, and I have to say that I had no idea this was going to get so huge... It's over 5K words and I'm only about halfway done, I think.
Title: Bandswap
Author: Bink
Rating: Oh, PG16+? Language and implied guys-digging-guys, plus one kiss. I never know what to rate anything if it doesn't have actual sex in it, so.
Standard Notes And Warnings: There's probably a special place in purgatory for me, where I'll have to make up stories for an entire roomful of Petes, all of whom have different ideas about what should happen next.
Specific Notes And Warnings:
- Written for a prompt over at anon_lovefest; the OP wanted Bandswap ala the "reality" show Wifeswap. The only thing I know about the show is that there was this crazy-eyed and deeply unattractive woman on it, once, who has become internet-infamous for her rant about... Something. Christianity? Demons? I don't know. Basically, I wrote this without looking into the show at all, because with the exception of The Amazing Race, I generally stay away from that end of the television spectrum. The OP wanted to see either Gerard and Patrick swapped, or Ray and Joe Troh. I decided that the Patrick/Gerard swap would be easier, and possibly funnier (coming from me, anyhow)
- Loooong. Also unfinished. Posted because I don't know how posting after the deadline passes works, and because if I don't finish it maybe someone else will?
- Also, there is not nearly enough Bob, Andy, Ray, and Joe in this, I know. I'm sorry.
So here we go:
It wasn't like he didn't know these guys; not like he hadn't spent weeks practically living in their back pockets during Warped. It was just... There was a difference between the screaming chaos that was a tour and this. Patrick took a deep breath, pulled his hat down, and knocked on the door of the bus.
No one opened it.
Patrick looked around, wondering if this was some kind of joke. He'd thought the whole thing was, when Pete first told them about it, his eyes bright and his words spilling out in half-finished sentences. "This is not a good idea." had not gotten through to him, and in fact it wasn't until the producers had told Pete who was getting switched that Pete really figured out that maybe his great idea wasn't that great after all.
It was too late to back out, by that point, which left Patrick standing next to the My Chem bus with a suitcase, his favorite guitar, and his laptop bag, trailing a film crew. And the door was still shut. He knocked again.
Ten minutes later, an annoyed, disheveled, half-dressed Frank was scowling down at him from the top step. "Oh, fuck. It's Stump."
"I love you, too, Frank," Patrick said, just as irritated. "You really are all vampires, aren't you?"
Frank actually laughed at that. "Just Gee and Mikey," he said. "C'mon in."
* * * *
Across the parking lot, another film crew was documenting the following:
"C'mon, lemme see," Pete said, leaning over Gerard's shoulder and reaching for the upper corner of the sketchbook.
"I said no." He hunched over, tucking the book more firmly between himself and the table. "Isn't the coffee ready yet?"
"No," Pete said, cheerfully. He poked Gerard a couple of times. "It's rude to draw at the breakfast table, dude. House rule."
"Just a couple of minutes," Andy said, tapping the coffee maker, as if it would help. He gave Pete a strange look. "The only house rules around here are... We don't have any house rules."
Gerard glowered at Pete, who missed it because he's too busy flailing in Andy's general direction. "Dude! You totally ruined it," Pete said.
"Okay, so there's one house rule," Andy said, unperturbed. "Don't lie to your bandmates, even the temporary ones." The coffee maker gurgled and spluttered beside him.
"How are you all so animated this early?" Gerard asked of no one in particular.
"I've already had a whole pot of coffee," Pete said, bouncing on his toes. "It was awesome. You totally missed out."
"It's noon," Andy said, calmly, watching the carafe fill.
"You're totally a vampire, aren't you? You're not gonna, like, turn us all into vampires too, right, like the rest of your band?" Pete blinked. "Shit, Patrick! I've got to go-"
"Pete?" Joe put his hands on Pete's shoulders, keeping him from bolting. "You know the whole vampire thing is a joke, right?"
"In keeping with the house rule of not lying," Gerard said, voice dry, "I can tell you that Patrick--along with the rest of you--is in no danger of being turned into a vampire. Because, as Joe said, it's a joke."
"Right." Pete nodded, though he still looked unhappy. "Joke, right. I probably started the whole thing, too. But still... I should go check on Patrick. Make sure Bob's not forcing him to polish cymbals or something."
Gerard exchanged glances with both Joe and Andy. "Yes," Joe said, "he's like this a lot."
"Who wants coffee?" Andy asked.
* * * *
"Hey, Patrick," Bob said. "How're you?"
"Fine," Patrick said. "A little..." He glanced at the camera that was whirring at him, then looked back at the drummer. "A little irritated with a certain bassist, but I'll live."
Bob laughed. "It's his loss," he said. "Maybe this will teach him to think before he acts."
Patrick shook his head and tugged at the brim of his cap. "I seriously doubt it."
* * * *
Video Diary, End Of Day One, Patrick Stump:
"Hi. Um. The guys are okay. Frank was a little surly 'cause we woke them up. Ray's a good cook. I'm still unhappy with Pete for this whole thing, but I think it'll be okay."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day One, Gerard Way:
"If I kill Pete, I'll go to jail, and You Know What They Do is as close to that as I'd like to get." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're going to need another coffee maker. At least one. I also need a small locking safe, one of those that really locks, because I'm pretty sure that Pete will go through my stuff if I don't keep an eye on him, and I have to sleep sometime. How long is this supposed to last again?"
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day One, Peter Wentz:
"This was an awesome idea, except for the whole trading Gerard for Patrick thing. Gerard's okay, even if he is kind of uptight. Hey, do you think he'd sing if I got him some really good coffee? Mikey said he's kind of addicted, so..."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day One, Frank Iero:
"Patrick's cool. Guy knows his shit, that's for sure. He's nice and quiet and not a lotta work. I kinda miss Gee, though."
* * * *
"I miss Patrick," Pete sighed.
"What else is new?" Gerard grumbled, drawing something with sharp movements and enough pressure to tear the page. "Dammit."
"Since Patrick's not here, you have to sing," Pete said, turning around on the couch so that he was upside down. Gerard didn't look any more like Patrick from this angle.
"Sing? Why?" He turned the page and scowled at the formerly-pointy end of his pencil.
"Because Patrick always sings to me," Pete said, reasonably. "I don't need any kind of mp3 player 'cause I've got Patrick."
"I am not Patrick," Gerard said, giving up and throwing his pencil at Pete. He closed the sketchbook and crossed his arms over it.
"Yeah, I know." Pete sighed. "Sing for me anyhow."
"Fine," Gerard said. "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream."
Pete groaned. "Sing something else," he said.
"Three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run, see how they run..." Gerard sang. Badly. On purpose.
"Forget it," Pete said, covering his eyes. "You coulda just said no, dude."
"And you would have continued to bother me about it," Gerard said. "This was faster."
"Jerk," Pete muttered.
"Shrimp," Gerard said.
"Taller than Frank," Pete said.
"Hardly," Gerard said.
"Fuck you, Way," Pete said, blandly. He sighed again. "I miss Patrick."
"No thank you," Gerard said, digging his cell out of his pocket. He poked at the buttons for a bit, then set it on his knee.
"Whatchya doin'?" Pete asked.
Gerard frowned at him. "Sending a text," he said, "not that it's any of your business."
"Hey!" Pete said, wriggling and flailing until he actually fell off the couch. "Patrick took his phone with him!" he found his own phone and pecked out a message.
Gerard's phone played the opening bars of La Marseilles. "Hello? Oh, hi, Frank. No, I haven't. I won't, I promise." He laughed. "Swear to God. Yeah. 'Bye."
"What are you promising not to do? Ravish me?" Pete asked, still on the floor. His phone vibrated and he kissed the screen. "Patrick!" he said.
"I wouldn't ravish you if you were the last fuckable person on the planet," Gerard said, voice sour.
"That's gonna get cut from the final show, isn't it," Pete said. "So I guess I won't bother trying to argue about it. Besides, I'm busy."
"Doing what?" Gerard asked, writing another message.
"Shh. Talking to Patrick. Patrick, Patrick, tricky-sticky Patrick," he sing-songed.
"That is disturbing," Gerard said, and shook his head.
* * * *
Frank stared at the screen of his phone for a minute, then looked around. He hid the phone under the edge of the table as he wrote up his reply, mouth working as he kept missing the letters he wanted.
Patrick, engrossed in his work on the other side of the table, ignored him.
Frank waited.
Patrick worked, occasionally humming to himself.
Ray wandered by, wearing a pair of headphones and carrying a guitar.
Frank twitched a little as his cell made a twinkling sound, grinning as he checks the screen. The grin faded into surprise, and he looked around again as if afraid someone else could read the message there.
Across the table, Patrick grumbled and retrieved his own phone. "Pete," he muttered.
* * * *
Video Diary, End of Day Three, Patrick Stump:
"This has actually been a pretty decent experience, so far. I've gotten a lot of work done, and I'm having a good time with the guys. Mikey and I spent two hours just being quiet this morning, which was heavenly. Bob has this funny squeaky voice he does when he's mimicking stupid girls in horror films, which I never knew he could do. Um. I maybe shouldn't have mentioned that?"
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day Three, Gerard Way:
"I don't understand how Stump does this all day, every day. Andy- Nothing fazes Andy. Joe's okay. Pete! God, Pete." He ran a hand through his hair. "He's a coffee-hogging bastard and he should never be allowed to have sugar ever. So maybe he gets a hell of a lot done, but he's never still and he's clingy and grabby and he doesn't have any focus, not even when he's playing, which is just... God. I'm borrowing one of your hats, Stump," he points at the pinstriped fedora jammed on his head, "just so I can take it off to you." Gerard removed the hat with a flourish.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day Three, Peter Wentz:
"Gerard's a cranky bastard. He thinks he's the only one that deserves coffee. 'Oh, I am an artiste, I suffer so!' It's all a big act, because he whines like a baby if he doesn't get his coffee. He's not nearly as comfortable as Patrick, either, and he looks terrible in hats. Not that he should be touching Patrick's hats, because they're Patrick's, and if I catch him doing it again I'll break his pencils. I miss you, Patrick Stump. I hope they're not being horrible to you over there."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day Three, Frank Iero:
"Hey. Uh, so, Patrick's been a great guest so far, but he's not Gerard. He, like, picks up after himself and doesn't demand coffee before anything else. He gets up at, like, eight in the morning. He's quiet about it, though, so that's cool. So, yeah, it's not really a problem except for the whole no-Gee thing."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day Three, Michael Way:
"...Patrick's cool."
* * * *
Pete wasn't really awake as he slithered under the curtain drawn across Patrick's bunk. "P'trick," he mumbled, crawling in and reaching for the warm body there. "Missed you. Stupid idea, sorry," he sighed and tried to fit himself against the contours of the other man.
"Get off, Wentz," Gerard said, shoving Pete's arm back, over his side. "Go sleep in your own bed."
"Oh, fuck," Pete groaned. "You're not Patrick!"
"Thanks for reconfirming that," Gerard said. "And you're not Frank. Get out before I push you out."
* * * *
"Frank," Ray said, setting a plate of pancakes in front of the man, "you're moping."
"I'm not moping," Frank said, scowling up at him. "It's just... Weird without Gee."
"Mm-hm," Ray said, glancing at Bob.
"You're moping, Iero," Bob said around a mouthful of pancakes. "No one has used the word 'goofball' to describe you in two days."
"Mikey called me a dork yesterday," Frank said, reaching for the syrup.
"Doesn't count," Mikey said, cutting his pancakes into neat pieces. "I miss him too," he added.
"If it makes you guys feel any better, I kinda miss my friends, too," Patrick said, helping himself to breakfast. "Not that I hate you or anything."
* * * *
Video Diary, Mid-Day Day Five, Frank Iero:
"Everyone's bugging me about being mopey, and okay, so maybe I am. A little. Patrick's great and all, but... He's not Gerard."
^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Mid-Day Day Five, Pete Wentz:
"Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick-" A deep breath. "Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick! I miss you Pa-tricky Stump. Miss you, want you, need you. Gerard's a jerk who won't sing and doesn't like to cuddle. Stump Stumpy Stump PATRICK STUMP I LOVE YOU AND I AM SO SORRY COME HOME! PATRICK-" [the video cuts off abruptly]
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Mid-Day Day Five, Gerard Way:
"If nothing else, I think I'll have an entire album of songs after this experience. I don't know that they'll be fit to air on commercial radio, but there's always the internet. Also, I do miss my bandmates."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Mid-Day Day Five, Patrick Stump:
"I can't say that I'm really 'fitting in', because, well, that's not what I do, at least not so quickly. But I don't hate it here at all. It's even been kind of nice. It has taken me a little bit to get used to not having someone hanging all over me all the time, though. I kind of...miss it, actually."
* * * *
[The following footage is edited together from both crews.]
"Is there a medication for what's wrong with you?" Gerard snapped, along with the point of his pencil. His eyes widened as his words sank in. "Shit, Wentz, I-"
Pete stared at him. "Fuck you, Way. Sideways." He turned on his heel and left.
"Shit," Gerard said, abandoning everything as he scrambled to get out from behind the table. "Wentz," he shouted, "get your ass back here!"
"No!" Pete yelled. The door slammed behind him.
"What's going on?" Andy asked, pulling his headphones off and looking up from his laptop.
"I'm an asshole, that's all," Gerard said as he went after the other man.
"Okay," Andy said, shrugging.
Outside, Pete was nowhere to be seen. Gerard looked around, then turned and made a beeline for his own bus. "Patrick," he said. "Because where else would he go?"
Pete wasn't there, either, and when he opened the door he was met by a grinning Frank.
"Dude, you gave up already?" Frank asked.
"No, sorry, Frank. Has Pete been here?" Gerard craned his neck, trying to look into the rest of the bus.
"Haven't seen him," Frank said, grin disappearing. "Is everything all right?"
"I kinda fucked up," Gerard said. "I need Patrick to come with me. Now."
"Okay," Frank said, confused. He turned and bellowed, "Stump!"
"Knock it off, Frank, Ray's trying to sleep," Bob's cranky voice said. "Pat's got his headphones on. Just a sec." The big man leaned over and tapped Patrick on the shoulder.
"What?" Patrick asked, pulling his headphones off of one ear and blinking up at Bob.
"Frank and Gerard want you," he said.
"Oh," Patrick said. He took off his headphones and set his computer aside, then got to his feet. "Is everything all right?" he asked, as he walked toward the two by the door.
"I said- Okay, I fucked up, I said something really shitty to Wentz and he took off." Gerard ran his hand through his hair. "So he's not gonna want to talk to me. He'll talk to you, though, and he'll probably listen to you, too. So we have to go find him."
"Right," Patrick said. Instead of finding his shoes, he pulled his cell out and sent a message.
"Come on, we have to- Oh, yeah," Gerard said, blinking at the phone. "That's gonna be faster than just wandering aimlessly."
"So what did you say?" Frank asked. "Pete's pretty hard to offend."
Gerard looked at the grungy carpet and took a deep breath. "I asked him if there was medication for whatever's wrong with him. Total shit move, I know. He was pissing me off and I shouldn't have said it; I didn't think about it at all. It just... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it and I feel like a complete asshole."
"Pete will forgive you," Mikey said, startling everyone. "Eventually."
Patrick's phone said, "Stump! New text!" in Pete's voice.
"Cute," Frank said.
"This is why I keep it on silent, most of the time," Patrick said, turning pink. He checked the message, frowned, and sent a reply. "Mikey's right, he'll get over it. You may have to make a peace offering, though."
"Peace offering? Like what?" Gerard looked pained. "Compromising photographs, probably."
"Stump! New text!"
Patrick read the message, blinked, read it again. "Pete," he said to the phone, "you are so... You." To Gerard, he said, "I don't think so. Maybe just show him your drawings or something? We'll figure it out. C'mon, I know where Pete is."
* * * *
Pete was in a tree. Specifically, he was almost at the top of a large blue spruce, seated on a branch with one arm looped around the trunk. His phone sang, "You have a new message, Pete," in Patrick's voice, followed by a self-conscious laugh. He checked the message, then leaned over and looked at the ground.
"Peter Wentz! Get your ass down here, now!" Patrick shouted.
"Stump! New text!" his phone burbled from his pocket. Patrick read the message and looked up. "I am yelling at my best friend on international television," he, well, yelled. "My best friend, who is sulking in a fucking tree. Come down right now."
"Stump! New text!"
Patrick glanced at Gerard. "He really doesn't want to see you, right now," he said, apologetically.
"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me at all," Gerard said. "Uh, lemme know if I should sleep under the bus or something tonight, okay?" He turned and started walking away.
"Right," Patrick said. He looked up at Pete, who was peering down at him.
"Stump! New text!"
"If you jump," Patrick yelled, "You'll land on me and kill me. Do you really want that? Also, yelling at you is bad for my voice, so..."
"Stump! New Text!"
"Because you're being an ass! Gerard is very sorry, and I want to talk to you like a reasonable human being!"
"Stump! New text!"
Patrick shook his head. "I don't climb trees, Pete! I can out-wait you, you know that!"
[Twenty minutes later:]
"I have lozenges," Pete said, reaching for Patrick's face. "Is your throat very sore from yelling? Open up, let me see," he said.
Patrick swatted at his hands. "I'm fine, Pete, knock it off. Now-"
Pete wrapped his singer up in a bear hug, cutting him off with a sloppy but enthusiastic kiss. Patrick struggled half-heartedly for a moment before he gave in and returned the embrace.
"I miss you, 'Trick. Gerard's an asshole and it's not the same without you," Pete said, chin on Patrick's shoulder.
"I miss you guys, too," Patrick said. "And yeah, you. Gerard's... He really is sorry, Pete. After spending time with everybody, especially Mikey, I'd say that Gerard probably regrets saying it more than he can tell you."
"Mikey talks to you? Cool," Pete said. An odd look crossed his face, and he turned his head to whisper into Patrick's ear.
Patrick turned bright red. "Pete!" he said, pushing the man away.
"C'mon, Patrick, it'll be fun!" Pete beamed at him. "Whattaya say?"
Patrick yanked the brim of his hat down and shifted from foot to foot. "I'll think about it."
"That's it? C'mon, Patty-Patty-Patrick, think of it as group therapy," Pete said, still grinning.
"You are quite possibly deranged," Patrick said, shaking his head. "Seriously."
"That's one of the few things that I can comfortably and without any difficulty deny," Pete said, hugging Patrick again. "I should probably go back to the bus and make sure Gerard's not coloring on the walls or something," he said. "Walk me home, Patrick."
"Fine," Patrick said. "I doubt he would, you know."
"Who, Gerard coloring on the walls or Mikey saying yes?"
"Gerard," Patrick said, "though I don't know either of them well enough to really predict their behaviors."
[The walk back is edited down to the arrival at the FOB bus.]
"Tell Mikey I said hey," Pete said.
"Yeah," Patrick said. "Hey, Gerard wanted me to let him know if he had to sleep under the bus tonight."
Pete laughed. "No. Tell him he has to get up early, by everyone's clock and not just his, and go get doughnuts and coffee for everybody. The good ones, too, not like palmiers and biscotti and shit."
Patrick smiled and shook his head. "I'll let him know. See you, Pete; tell Andy and Joe I said hi."
* * * *
Video Diary, Evening Of Day Five, Patrick Stump:
"Today has been one of the more memorable days of my life. It's not every day that I spend half an hour trying to get Pete out of a tree. At least he wasn't stuck, unlike the time we were in Canada and- Never mind. Anyhow. Everything ended up okay, so I'm not gonna worry too much about it."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Evening Of Day Five, Gerard Way:
"Pete pretty much ignored me the rest of the day, which is fine. I'll go get doughnuts and coffee in the morning, and I'm working on something else. I'm not trying to buy my way back into his good graces, but sometimes apologies need to be tangible. The moral of the story, kids, is that everybody says shit they don't mean and ends up making everybody unhappy for at least a little while. Also, Patrick? Once again, I take one of your borrowed hats off to you."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Evening Of Day Five, Peter Wentz:
"I could see all over from the top of the tree. It was pretty awesome! We should do something with trees for our next video. Uh, The Shipped Gold Standard's got a line about palm trees, so maybe we could do something with that? I should text Patrick and see what he thinks. And no, I'm not all that pissed at Gerard any more."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Evening Of Day Five, Ray Toro:
"Patrick's fine, even if his taste in music is a little questionable. He's awesome to just fuck around with guitars with, though. Him and me and Frank and Mike had a great time last night just messin' around. He did this crazy cover of Weird Science that had us laughing so hard we almost couldn't play. It was amazing."
* * * *
"Pete?" Gerard said, standing beside the table with his hands behind his back.
Pete looked up from his phone, blinking at the uncertainty on the other man's face. "You look like Mikey's brother," he said.
"That's... Why wouldn't I?" Gerard asked, his discomfort replaced by confusion.
"Mikey's the serious one," Pete said, as if that explained everything. "And there's the nose thing, too."
"Well, kind of, I guess," he said. He shook his head. "Anyhow, I, uh, have something for you. 'Cause I still feel like a shitheel, and maybe this'll kind of make up for it?" Gerard brought his hands out from behind himself and held out a grey hoodie.
"Thanks, I don't already have, like, fifty of these," Pete said.
Gerard waited ten seconds, then said, very carefully, "Not like this, you don't. Look at the back of it."
"Oh," Pete said, shaking it out and turning it over. He stared at it for a second, then started to laugh. "Oh my God, is that- Is that you?" he gasped between whoops.
"Yes," Gerard said, looking much more cheerful than he had a minute earlier.
"Oh my God," Pete said, again, before he turned the hoodie around to show the camera. "Gerard's right, I don't have one of these. Look, there's me and Patrick in the tree, and a bear eating Gerard down at the bottom!"
* * * *
Patrick blinked at his phone, then dialed a number. "Okay, explain. Where did the bear come from? Did you guys go to the zoo or something?"
"If they went to the zoo, Gee better have worn sunblock," Frank said, loudly. "Also, what about the bear?"
"No, Frank's worrying about Gerard," Patrick said. "I got the message, obviously, which is why I'm calling- No."
"I'm not worrying! I just know that he and Bryar burn like bacon after like two minutes in the sun, that's all." Frank said.
Patrick shook his head. "Pete, no, Frank's not accusing you of doing anything to Gerard- No, I just- Pete. All I want to know about is the part about Gerard getting eaten by a bear. Okay?"
"If that little fuck fed Gee to a bear and where the fuck do you even find a bear around here I will rip off his balls and feed them to him!" Frank shouted, standing on the couch and leaning toward Patrick.
"Nice image, Frank," Ray said, rolling his eyes at him.
"Oh," Patrick said, waving his free hand at Frank. "Oh, is that all? Okay, that makes a lot more sense. Yeah. No, it sounds cool. Kinda creepy, too, but... Yeah. That was nice of him. Yes, I'll tell him. I promise. Pete, I promise. Do you want to talk to him?"
Frank looked down at Patrick, who was looking up at him. His hand darted out and he grabbed the phone, yelling before it got anywhere near his face. "Wentz! What the hell did you do to my Gerard? You better not have killed him or broken him or anything! So help me God I will shove your bass so far up your ass that-" He stopped, abruptly, and actually blushed.
Patrick wished that Frank didn't have his phone, so that he could take a picture. The digitized sound of a camera shutter -- three of them, to be exact, though they overlapped significantly -- came from the other side of the room. He grinned at Bob, Ray, and Mikey, mouthing 'Send me a copy?'; Mikey gave him a wicked grin and mouthed back, 'Sending to Pete and Gee too!' Patrick laughed.
"Um, hi, Gee," Frank said, sounding subdued. "So you're fine? Uh-huh. So what was- What? That was- Fuckin' Wentz," he sighed. "The bear's not even real and- Yeah. I know. Yes."
Mikey left the table and sat down beside Patrick, leaning over and whispering to him. Patrick smiled and nodded at him, then murmured something in return, which made Mikey grin--happily, this time.
Frank sat down again, scowling at the floor. "I am an adult," he said. "I can say things like that if I want to. Gee..."
"Okay!" Patrick said, standing abruptly. "I think it's time we all went outside for some fresh air and sunshine!"
"It's raining," Ray pointed out.
Mikey stood up as well, tipping his head in Frank's direction as he made a show of stretching. "I think we should," he said.
Bob blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, c'mon, Ray, I wanna cigarette and I'm still keepin' my promise to Pete."
Frank watched the four of them go, faintly suspicious but mostly distracted by the voice in his ear. "Everybody just left me here all alone," he said. "Patrick said it was time for fresh air and sunshine." Frank smiled. "No, but Ray did," he said.
"No, because I still have a TV camera looking at me, and you're not alone either," Frank said. "No... No, but, uh, I found this book in the bottom of a suitcase a couple of days ago. No, poetry. Yes! What, I'm not allowed to be cultured just because I- Dude, you like comic books, guys in their underwear beating up other underwear perverts, so you can hardly claim the cultural high ground, here." Frank laughed. "I did say 'underwear perverts', and yes, I did. Not my fault it's set as the page that gets loaded when you open Firefox on your computer.
"Are you asking because you- No. I told you before, it doesn't have any sex in it at all." Frank sounded exasperated. "I don't see why you're so surprised, Gee. Would you- Look, if it was Ray telling you he'd bought a book of poetry, lost it, then found it again would you- Robert Service. Service, as in 'full-service', or- No, not the paths-less-traveled guy.
"Because I thought that was who he was and I asked Patrick to look him up. Yeah, that's Robert Frost. No, this guy wrote poems about the Yukon and the gold rush." Frank grinned and got up, heading for the back of the bus. "Some of them are really literate- Literary? I dunno. Yeah, anyhow, but some of 'em are just funny. I'm looking for it now. Here it is...
"Yeah. Lemme see, it was called... Uh, well, there's The Ballad Of Blasphemous Bill. No, it's about a dead guy. Swear to God, no preaching. Yeah. Kinda long, I guess. Just- Gee, just shut up and listen, okay?"
Frank read the poem out, standing and moving around the main room, sometimes tapping a foot and other times bouncing to the rhythm of the words. He was grinning at the end of it, but it seemed to have less to do with the final line of the poem and more the sound of whatever Gerard was saying.
"Told you," he said. "You wanna hear another one? This one's not funny, but it's... I read it and it made me, uh, think of you." Frank's face was serious, now, as he flipped through the book. "It's called The Spell Of The Yukon, and it's... Just listen."
* * * *
Gerard stopped pacing up and down in front of the table, a strange look on his face. He folds himself down and sits on the floor, his free hand covering the ear not occupied by Pete's phone. After a few minutes, he said, "Frank, that was... God. Um." He looked around, frowned at the camera, stared at a stain on the floor. "No," he said, "save some for later. Yeah, later-later. Uh-huh."
Pete came out of the back of the bus and frowned at Gerard, who was ignoring everyone but Frank. He walked over and stood beside the man.
"Pete's looming over me," Gerard said. "Well, okay, so I'm making it easy because I'm sitting on the floor, but... Yeah. We do have their phones," he said, then laughed. "And they're all outside, so, yes, we should."
"Who's outside?" Pete asked.
"Sh," Gerard said, glancing up at him.
"Who's outside? Is Patrick outside? Because if Frank kicked Patrick out in the rain without a coat and a hat and mittens and a scarf and galoshes and snowpants and rubber boots and an umbrella and-"
"Pete?" Andy said, looking up from his book.
"-a pair of long johns and electric socks and- What?" Pete blinked at him.
"Patrick always wears a hat, and it's not raining that hard. He'll be fine," Andy said, returning to his book.
Joe got up from the table, carrying his plate. He patted Pete on the shoulder as he passed. "Don't worry about it, dude," he said. "You know you catch colds from germs, right, and not being out in the rain?"
"But it can't be good for his voice! He might have strained something the day before yesterday and, y'know, compromised his immune system or something!" Pete poked Gerard's leg with with his toes, just enough to get his attention. "I wanna talk to Frank," he said.
"Pete," Joe said, putting his plate in the sink. "Andy, tell Pete that Patrick's gonna be fine."
"Already tried, dude," Andy said, not looking up.
Gerard scowled at Pete, but he did say, "Yeah, I know. I gotta go, Iero, Pete's getting antsy without his phone and he wants to talk to you anyhow. You can threaten him with his bass again if you'd like."
Pete glared right back, but he was also making grabby hands in the vicinity of Gerard's head. "Phone phone phone phone phone," he muttered.
"Yeah, I know you do. I'll talk to you in a minute," Gerard said to Frank. He handed Pete's phone back to him and said, "For God's sake, here. Yell at Frank, or whatever."
"Frank! Iero! Did you throw my Patrick Stump out into the cold pouring thunder and lightning of the rainstorm we're having?" A weak ray of sunlight found its way through the blinds and poked Pete in the eye. Pete turned away from the window in order to ignore it. "What do you mean he made everyone else leave? Really? Huh. Patrick might do that. What was Gerard saying about you and my guitar?"
Gerard got to his feet and joined Joe in the kitchen, making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
"Okay," Pete said, "I'll make you a deal: you make sure nothing happens to Patrick and I'll keep an eye on Gerard, okay?"
Gerard blinked and turned around. "Excuse me," he said, "if anyone's keeping an eye on someone, I'm looking after you."
Pete waved a dismissive hand and turned away from the kitchen. "No, he's fine, just complaining because he thinks I'm irresponsible. I can too be responsible! I do not sound like a little kid! I do not!"
There was a pause.
"Do not," Pete said.
"Do not," he said again.
"Do not do not do not and you suck, Iero," Pete said, then hung up on him. "Okay, so, Gerard?" Pete looked at the two in the kitchen again. "Don't do anything to yourself that would make Frank pissed at me okay? 'Cause I'm supposed to be looking after you."
Gerard shook his head and slapped the top slice of bread onto his sandwich. "Pete, I think I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he said, then took a bite.
"I mean it, Way," Pete said, gesturing at him with his phone. "You chew that at least thirty times before you swallow or else."
Gerard looked at Joe, who just shrugged and helped himself to the peanut butter.
"All the time, dude," Joe said.
Gerard sighed.
* * * *
The Ballad Of Blasphemous Bill; The Spell Of The Yukon.
Title: Bandswap
Author: Bink
Rating: Oh, PG16+? Language and implied guys-digging-guys, plus one kiss. I never know what to rate anything if it doesn't have actual sex in it, so.
Standard Notes And Warnings: There's probably a special place in purgatory for me, where I'll have to make up stories for an entire roomful of Petes, all of whom have different ideas about what should happen next.
Specific Notes And Warnings:
- Written for a prompt over at anon_lovefest; the OP wanted Bandswap ala the "reality" show Wifeswap. The only thing I know about the show is that there was this crazy-eyed and deeply unattractive woman on it, once, who has become internet-infamous for her rant about... Something. Christianity? Demons? I don't know. Basically, I wrote this without looking into the show at all, because with the exception of The Amazing Race, I generally stay away from that end of the television spectrum. The OP wanted to see either Gerard and Patrick swapped, or Ray and Joe Troh. I decided that the Patrick/Gerard swap would be easier, and possibly funnier (coming from me, anyhow)
- Loooong. Also unfinished. Posted because I don't know how posting after the deadline passes works, and because if I don't finish it maybe someone else will?
- Also, there is not nearly enough Bob, Andy, Ray, and Joe in this, I know. I'm sorry.
So here we go:
It wasn't like he didn't know these guys; not like he hadn't spent weeks practically living in their back pockets during Warped. It was just... There was a difference between the screaming chaos that was a tour and this. Patrick took a deep breath, pulled his hat down, and knocked on the door of the bus.
No one opened it.
Patrick looked around, wondering if this was some kind of joke. He'd thought the whole thing was, when Pete first told them about it, his eyes bright and his words spilling out in half-finished sentences. "This is not a good idea." had not gotten through to him, and in fact it wasn't until the producers had told Pete who was getting switched that Pete really figured out that maybe his great idea wasn't that great after all.
It was too late to back out, by that point, which left Patrick standing next to the My Chem bus with a suitcase, his favorite guitar, and his laptop bag, trailing a film crew. And the door was still shut. He knocked again.
Ten minutes later, an annoyed, disheveled, half-dressed Frank was scowling down at him from the top step. "Oh, fuck. It's Stump."
"I love you, too, Frank," Patrick said, just as irritated. "You really are all vampires, aren't you?"
Frank actually laughed at that. "Just Gee and Mikey," he said. "C'mon in."
* * * *
Across the parking lot, another film crew was documenting the following:
"C'mon, lemme see," Pete said, leaning over Gerard's shoulder and reaching for the upper corner of the sketchbook.
"I said no." He hunched over, tucking the book more firmly between himself and the table. "Isn't the coffee ready yet?"
"No," Pete said, cheerfully. He poked Gerard a couple of times. "It's rude to draw at the breakfast table, dude. House rule."
"Just a couple of minutes," Andy said, tapping the coffee maker, as if it would help. He gave Pete a strange look. "The only house rules around here are... We don't have any house rules."
Gerard glowered at Pete, who missed it because he's too busy flailing in Andy's general direction. "Dude! You totally ruined it," Pete said.
"Okay, so there's one house rule," Andy said, unperturbed. "Don't lie to your bandmates, even the temporary ones." The coffee maker gurgled and spluttered beside him.
"How are you all so animated this early?" Gerard asked of no one in particular.
"I've already had a whole pot of coffee," Pete said, bouncing on his toes. "It was awesome. You totally missed out."
"It's noon," Andy said, calmly, watching the carafe fill.
"You're totally a vampire, aren't you? You're not gonna, like, turn us all into vampires too, right, like the rest of your band?" Pete blinked. "Shit, Patrick! I've got to go-"
"Pete?" Joe put his hands on Pete's shoulders, keeping him from bolting. "You know the whole vampire thing is a joke, right?"
"In keeping with the house rule of not lying," Gerard said, voice dry, "I can tell you that Patrick--along with the rest of you--is in no danger of being turned into a vampire. Because, as Joe said, it's a joke."
"Right." Pete nodded, though he still looked unhappy. "Joke, right. I probably started the whole thing, too. But still... I should go check on Patrick. Make sure Bob's not forcing him to polish cymbals or something."
Gerard exchanged glances with both Joe and Andy. "Yes," Joe said, "he's like this a lot."
"Who wants coffee?" Andy asked.
* * * *
"Hey, Patrick," Bob said. "How're you?"
"Fine," Patrick said. "A little..." He glanced at the camera that was whirring at him, then looked back at the drummer. "A little irritated with a certain bassist, but I'll live."
Bob laughed. "It's his loss," he said. "Maybe this will teach him to think before he acts."
Patrick shook his head and tugged at the brim of his cap. "I seriously doubt it."
* * * *
Video Diary, End Of Day One, Patrick Stump:
"Hi. Um. The guys are okay. Frank was a little surly 'cause we woke them up. Ray's a good cook. I'm still unhappy with Pete for this whole thing, but I think it'll be okay."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day One, Gerard Way:
"If I kill Pete, I'll go to jail, and You Know What They Do is as close to that as I'd like to get." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're going to need another coffee maker. At least one. I also need a small locking safe, one of those that really locks, because I'm pretty sure that Pete will go through my stuff if I don't keep an eye on him, and I have to sleep sometime. How long is this supposed to last again?"
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day One, Peter Wentz:
"This was an awesome idea, except for the whole trading Gerard for Patrick thing. Gerard's okay, even if he is kind of uptight. Hey, do you think he'd sing if I got him some really good coffee? Mikey said he's kind of addicted, so..."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day One, Frank Iero:
"Patrick's cool. Guy knows his shit, that's for sure. He's nice and quiet and not a lotta work. I kinda miss Gee, though."
* * * *
"I miss Patrick," Pete sighed.
"What else is new?" Gerard grumbled, drawing something with sharp movements and enough pressure to tear the page. "Dammit."
"Since Patrick's not here, you have to sing," Pete said, turning around on the couch so that he was upside down. Gerard didn't look any more like Patrick from this angle.
"Sing? Why?" He turned the page and scowled at the formerly-pointy end of his pencil.
"Because Patrick always sings to me," Pete said, reasonably. "I don't need any kind of mp3 player 'cause I've got Patrick."
"I am not Patrick," Gerard said, giving up and throwing his pencil at Pete. He closed the sketchbook and crossed his arms over it.
"Yeah, I know." Pete sighed. "Sing for me anyhow."
"Fine," Gerard said. "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream."
Pete groaned. "Sing something else," he said.
"Three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run, see how they run..." Gerard sang. Badly. On purpose.
"Forget it," Pete said, covering his eyes. "You coulda just said no, dude."
"And you would have continued to bother me about it," Gerard said. "This was faster."
"Jerk," Pete muttered.
"Shrimp," Gerard said.
"Taller than Frank," Pete said.
"Hardly," Gerard said.
"Fuck you, Way," Pete said, blandly. He sighed again. "I miss Patrick."
"No thank you," Gerard said, digging his cell out of his pocket. He poked at the buttons for a bit, then set it on his knee.
"Whatchya doin'?" Pete asked.
Gerard frowned at him. "Sending a text," he said, "not that it's any of your business."
"Hey!" Pete said, wriggling and flailing until he actually fell off the couch. "Patrick took his phone with him!" he found his own phone and pecked out a message.
Gerard's phone played the opening bars of La Marseilles. "Hello? Oh, hi, Frank. No, I haven't. I won't, I promise." He laughed. "Swear to God. Yeah. 'Bye."
"What are you promising not to do? Ravish me?" Pete asked, still on the floor. His phone vibrated and he kissed the screen. "Patrick!" he said.
"I wouldn't ravish you if you were the last fuckable person on the planet," Gerard said, voice sour.
"That's gonna get cut from the final show, isn't it," Pete said. "So I guess I won't bother trying to argue about it. Besides, I'm busy."
"Doing what?" Gerard asked, writing another message.
"Shh. Talking to Patrick. Patrick, Patrick, tricky-sticky Patrick," he sing-songed.
"That is disturbing," Gerard said, and shook his head.
* * * *
Frank stared at the screen of his phone for a minute, then looked around. He hid the phone under the edge of the table as he wrote up his reply, mouth working as he kept missing the letters he wanted.
Patrick, engrossed in his work on the other side of the table, ignored him.
Frank waited.
Patrick worked, occasionally humming to himself.
Ray wandered by, wearing a pair of headphones and carrying a guitar.
Frank twitched a little as his cell made a twinkling sound, grinning as he checks the screen. The grin faded into surprise, and he looked around again as if afraid someone else could read the message there.
Across the table, Patrick grumbled and retrieved his own phone. "Pete," he muttered.
* * * *
Video Diary, End of Day Three, Patrick Stump:
"This has actually been a pretty decent experience, so far. I've gotten a lot of work done, and I'm having a good time with the guys. Mikey and I spent two hours just being quiet this morning, which was heavenly. Bob has this funny squeaky voice he does when he's mimicking stupid girls in horror films, which I never knew he could do. Um. I maybe shouldn't have mentioned that?"
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day Three, Gerard Way:
"I don't understand how Stump does this all day, every day. Andy- Nothing fazes Andy. Joe's okay. Pete! God, Pete." He ran a hand through his hair. "He's a coffee-hogging bastard and he should never be allowed to have sugar ever. So maybe he gets a hell of a lot done, but he's never still and he's clingy and grabby and he doesn't have any focus, not even when he's playing, which is just... God. I'm borrowing one of your hats, Stump," he points at the pinstriped fedora jammed on his head, "just so I can take it off to you." Gerard removed the hat with a flourish.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day Three, Peter Wentz:
"Gerard's a cranky bastard. He thinks he's the only one that deserves coffee. 'Oh, I am an artiste, I suffer so!' It's all a big act, because he whines like a baby if he doesn't get his coffee. He's not nearly as comfortable as Patrick, either, and he looks terrible in hats. Not that he should be touching Patrick's hats, because they're Patrick's, and if I catch him doing it again I'll break his pencils. I miss you, Patrick Stump. I hope they're not being horrible to you over there."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day Three, Frank Iero:
"Hey. Uh, so, Patrick's been a great guest so far, but he's not Gerard. He, like, picks up after himself and doesn't demand coffee before anything else. He gets up at, like, eight in the morning. He's quiet about it, though, so that's cool. So, yeah, it's not really a problem except for the whole no-Gee thing."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, End Of Day Three, Michael Way:
"...Patrick's cool."
* * * *
Pete wasn't really awake as he slithered under the curtain drawn across Patrick's bunk. "P'trick," he mumbled, crawling in and reaching for the warm body there. "Missed you. Stupid idea, sorry," he sighed and tried to fit himself against the contours of the other man.
"Get off, Wentz," Gerard said, shoving Pete's arm back, over his side. "Go sleep in your own bed."
"Oh, fuck," Pete groaned. "You're not Patrick!"
"Thanks for reconfirming that," Gerard said. "And you're not Frank. Get out before I push you out."
* * * *
"Frank," Ray said, setting a plate of pancakes in front of the man, "you're moping."
"I'm not moping," Frank said, scowling up at him. "It's just... Weird without Gee."
"Mm-hm," Ray said, glancing at Bob.
"You're moping, Iero," Bob said around a mouthful of pancakes. "No one has used the word 'goofball' to describe you in two days."
"Mikey called me a dork yesterday," Frank said, reaching for the syrup.
"Doesn't count," Mikey said, cutting his pancakes into neat pieces. "I miss him too," he added.
"If it makes you guys feel any better, I kinda miss my friends, too," Patrick said, helping himself to breakfast. "Not that I hate you or anything."
* * * *
Video Diary, Mid-Day Day Five, Frank Iero:
"Everyone's bugging me about being mopey, and okay, so maybe I am. A little. Patrick's great and all, but... He's not Gerard."
^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Mid-Day Day Five, Pete Wentz:
"Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick-" A deep breath. "Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick Patrick! I miss you Pa-tricky Stump. Miss you, want you, need you. Gerard's a jerk who won't sing and doesn't like to cuddle. Stump Stumpy Stump PATRICK STUMP I LOVE YOU AND I AM SO SORRY COME HOME! PATRICK-" [the video cuts off abruptly]
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Mid-Day Day Five, Gerard Way:
"If nothing else, I think I'll have an entire album of songs after this experience. I don't know that they'll be fit to air on commercial radio, but there's always the internet. Also, I do miss my bandmates."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Mid-Day Day Five, Patrick Stump:
"I can't say that I'm really 'fitting in', because, well, that's not what I do, at least not so quickly. But I don't hate it here at all. It's even been kind of nice. It has taken me a little bit to get used to not having someone hanging all over me all the time, though. I kind of...miss it, actually."
* * * *
[The following footage is edited together from both crews.]
"Is there a medication for what's wrong with you?" Gerard snapped, along with the point of his pencil. His eyes widened as his words sank in. "Shit, Wentz, I-"
Pete stared at him. "Fuck you, Way. Sideways." He turned on his heel and left.
"Shit," Gerard said, abandoning everything as he scrambled to get out from behind the table. "Wentz," he shouted, "get your ass back here!"
"No!" Pete yelled. The door slammed behind him.
"What's going on?" Andy asked, pulling his headphones off and looking up from his laptop.
"I'm an asshole, that's all," Gerard said as he went after the other man.
"Okay," Andy said, shrugging.
Outside, Pete was nowhere to be seen. Gerard looked around, then turned and made a beeline for his own bus. "Patrick," he said. "Because where else would he go?"
Pete wasn't there, either, and when he opened the door he was met by a grinning Frank.
"Dude, you gave up already?" Frank asked.
"No, sorry, Frank. Has Pete been here?" Gerard craned his neck, trying to look into the rest of the bus.
"Haven't seen him," Frank said, grin disappearing. "Is everything all right?"
"I kinda fucked up," Gerard said. "I need Patrick to come with me. Now."
"Okay," Frank said, confused. He turned and bellowed, "Stump!"
"Knock it off, Frank, Ray's trying to sleep," Bob's cranky voice said. "Pat's got his headphones on. Just a sec." The big man leaned over and tapped Patrick on the shoulder.
"What?" Patrick asked, pulling his headphones off of one ear and blinking up at Bob.
"Frank and Gerard want you," he said.
"Oh," Patrick said. He took off his headphones and set his computer aside, then got to his feet. "Is everything all right?" he asked, as he walked toward the two by the door.
"I said- Okay, I fucked up, I said something really shitty to Wentz and he took off." Gerard ran his hand through his hair. "So he's not gonna want to talk to me. He'll talk to you, though, and he'll probably listen to you, too. So we have to go find him."
"Right," Patrick said. Instead of finding his shoes, he pulled his cell out and sent a message.
"Come on, we have to- Oh, yeah," Gerard said, blinking at the phone. "That's gonna be faster than just wandering aimlessly."
"So what did you say?" Frank asked. "Pete's pretty hard to offend."
Gerard looked at the grungy carpet and took a deep breath. "I asked him if there was medication for whatever's wrong with him. Total shit move, I know. He was pissing me off and I shouldn't have said it; I didn't think about it at all. It just... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it and I feel like a complete asshole."
"Pete will forgive you," Mikey said, startling everyone. "Eventually."
Patrick's phone said, "Stump! New text!" in Pete's voice.
"Cute," Frank said.
"This is why I keep it on silent, most of the time," Patrick said, turning pink. He checked the message, frowned, and sent a reply. "Mikey's right, he'll get over it. You may have to make a peace offering, though."
"Peace offering? Like what?" Gerard looked pained. "Compromising photographs, probably."
"Stump! New text!"
Patrick read the message, blinked, read it again. "Pete," he said to the phone, "you are so... You." To Gerard, he said, "I don't think so. Maybe just show him your drawings or something? We'll figure it out. C'mon, I know where Pete is."
* * * *
Pete was in a tree. Specifically, he was almost at the top of a large blue spruce, seated on a branch with one arm looped around the trunk. His phone sang, "You have a new message, Pete," in Patrick's voice, followed by a self-conscious laugh. He checked the message, then leaned over and looked at the ground.
"Peter Wentz! Get your ass down here, now!" Patrick shouted.
"Stump! New text!" his phone burbled from his pocket. Patrick read the message and looked up. "I am yelling at my best friend on international television," he, well, yelled. "My best friend, who is sulking in a fucking tree. Come down right now."
"Stump! New text!"
Patrick glanced at Gerard. "He really doesn't want to see you, right now," he said, apologetically.
"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me at all," Gerard said. "Uh, lemme know if I should sleep under the bus or something tonight, okay?" He turned and started walking away.
"Right," Patrick said. He looked up at Pete, who was peering down at him.
"Stump! New text!"
"If you jump," Patrick yelled, "You'll land on me and kill me. Do you really want that? Also, yelling at you is bad for my voice, so..."
"Stump! New Text!"
"Because you're being an ass! Gerard is very sorry, and I want to talk to you like a reasonable human being!"
"Stump! New text!"
Patrick shook his head. "I don't climb trees, Pete! I can out-wait you, you know that!"
[Twenty minutes later:]
"I have lozenges," Pete said, reaching for Patrick's face. "Is your throat very sore from yelling? Open up, let me see," he said.
Patrick swatted at his hands. "I'm fine, Pete, knock it off. Now-"
Pete wrapped his singer up in a bear hug, cutting him off with a sloppy but enthusiastic kiss. Patrick struggled half-heartedly for a moment before he gave in and returned the embrace.
"I miss you, 'Trick. Gerard's an asshole and it's not the same without you," Pete said, chin on Patrick's shoulder.
"I miss you guys, too," Patrick said. "And yeah, you. Gerard's... He really is sorry, Pete. After spending time with everybody, especially Mikey, I'd say that Gerard probably regrets saying it more than he can tell you."
"Mikey talks to you? Cool," Pete said. An odd look crossed his face, and he turned his head to whisper into Patrick's ear.
Patrick turned bright red. "Pete!" he said, pushing the man away.
"C'mon, Patrick, it'll be fun!" Pete beamed at him. "Whattaya say?"
Patrick yanked the brim of his hat down and shifted from foot to foot. "I'll think about it."
"That's it? C'mon, Patty-Patty-Patrick, think of it as group therapy," Pete said, still grinning.
"You are quite possibly deranged," Patrick said, shaking his head. "Seriously."
"That's one of the few things that I can comfortably and without any difficulty deny," Pete said, hugging Patrick again. "I should probably go back to the bus and make sure Gerard's not coloring on the walls or something," he said. "Walk me home, Patrick."
"Fine," Patrick said. "I doubt he would, you know."
"Who, Gerard coloring on the walls or Mikey saying yes?"
"Gerard," Patrick said, "though I don't know either of them well enough to really predict their behaviors."
[The walk back is edited down to the arrival at the FOB bus.]
"Tell Mikey I said hey," Pete said.
"Yeah," Patrick said. "Hey, Gerard wanted me to let him know if he had to sleep under the bus tonight."
Pete laughed. "No. Tell him he has to get up early, by everyone's clock and not just his, and go get doughnuts and coffee for everybody. The good ones, too, not like palmiers and biscotti and shit."
Patrick smiled and shook his head. "I'll let him know. See you, Pete; tell Andy and Joe I said hi."
* * * *
Video Diary, Evening Of Day Five, Patrick Stump:
"Today has been one of the more memorable days of my life. It's not every day that I spend half an hour trying to get Pete out of a tree. At least he wasn't stuck, unlike the time we were in Canada and- Never mind. Anyhow. Everything ended up okay, so I'm not gonna worry too much about it."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Evening Of Day Five, Gerard Way:
"Pete pretty much ignored me the rest of the day, which is fine. I'll go get doughnuts and coffee in the morning, and I'm working on something else. I'm not trying to buy my way back into his good graces, but sometimes apologies need to be tangible. The moral of the story, kids, is that everybody says shit they don't mean and ends up making everybody unhappy for at least a little while. Also, Patrick? Once again, I take one of your borrowed hats off to you."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Evening Of Day Five, Peter Wentz:
"I could see all over from the top of the tree. It was pretty awesome! We should do something with trees for our next video. Uh, The Shipped Gold Standard's got a line about palm trees, so maybe we could do something with that? I should text Patrick and see what he thinks. And no, I'm not all that pissed at Gerard any more."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Video Diary, Evening Of Day Five, Ray Toro:
"Patrick's fine, even if his taste in music is a little questionable. He's awesome to just fuck around with guitars with, though. Him and me and Frank and Mike had a great time last night just messin' around. He did this crazy cover of Weird Science that had us laughing so hard we almost couldn't play. It was amazing."
* * * *
"Pete?" Gerard said, standing beside the table with his hands behind his back.
Pete looked up from his phone, blinking at the uncertainty on the other man's face. "You look like Mikey's brother," he said.
"That's... Why wouldn't I?" Gerard asked, his discomfort replaced by confusion.
"Mikey's the serious one," Pete said, as if that explained everything. "And there's the nose thing, too."
"Well, kind of, I guess," he said. He shook his head. "Anyhow, I, uh, have something for you. 'Cause I still feel like a shitheel, and maybe this'll kind of make up for it?" Gerard brought his hands out from behind himself and held out a grey hoodie.
"Thanks, I don't already have, like, fifty of these," Pete said.
Gerard waited ten seconds, then said, very carefully, "Not like this, you don't. Look at the back of it."
"Oh," Pete said, shaking it out and turning it over. He stared at it for a second, then started to laugh. "Oh my God, is that- Is that you?" he gasped between whoops.
"Yes," Gerard said, looking much more cheerful than he had a minute earlier.
"Oh my God," Pete said, again, before he turned the hoodie around to show the camera. "Gerard's right, I don't have one of these. Look, there's me and Patrick in the tree, and a bear eating Gerard down at the bottom!"
* * * *
Patrick blinked at his phone, then dialed a number. "Okay, explain. Where did the bear come from? Did you guys go to the zoo or something?"
"If they went to the zoo, Gee better have worn sunblock," Frank said, loudly. "Also, what about the bear?"
"No, Frank's worrying about Gerard," Patrick said. "I got the message, obviously, which is why I'm calling- No."
"I'm not worrying! I just know that he and Bryar burn like bacon after like two minutes in the sun, that's all." Frank said.
Patrick shook his head. "Pete, no, Frank's not accusing you of doing anything to Gerard- No, I just- Pete. All I want to know about is the part about Gerard getting eaten by a bear. Okay?"
"If that little fuck fed Gee to a bear and where the fuck do you even find a bear around here I will rip off his balls and feed them to him!" Frank shouted, standing on the couch and leaning toward Patrick.
"Nice image, Frank," Ray said, rolling his eyes at him.
"Oh," Patrick said, waving his free hand at Frank. "Oh, is that all? Okay, that makes a lot more sense. Yeah. No, it sounds cool. Kinda creepy, too, but... Yeah. That was nice of him. Yes, I'll tell him. I promise. Pete, I promise. Do you want to talk to him?"
Frank looked down at Patrick, who was looking up at him. His hand darted out and he grabbed the phone, yelling before it got anywhere near his face. "Wentz! What the hell did you do to my Gerard? You better not have killed him or broken him or anything! So help me God I will shove your bass so far up your ass that-" He stopped, abruptly, and actually blushed.
Patrick wished that Frank didn't have his phone, so that he could take a picture. The digitized sound of a camera shutter -- three of them, to be exact, though they overlapped significantly -- came from the other side of the room. He grinned at Bob, Ray, and Mikey, mouthing 'Send me a copy?'; Mikey gave him a wicked grin and mouthed back, 'Sending to Pete and Gee too!' Patrick laughed.
"Um, hi, Gee," Frank said, sounding subdued. "So you're fine? Uh-huh. So what was- What? That was- Fuckin' Wentz," he sighed. "The bear's not even real and- Yeah. I know. Yes."
Mikey left the table and sat down beside Patrick, leaning over and whispering to him. Patrick smiled and nodded at him, then murmured something in return, which made Mikey grin--happily, this time.
Frank sat down again, scowling at the floor. "I am an adult," he said. "I can say things like that if I want to. Gee..."
"Okay!" Patrick said, standing abruptly. "I think it's time we all went outside for some fresh air and sunshine!"
"It's raining," Ray pointed out.
Mikey stood up as well, tipping his head in Frank's direction as he made a show of stretching. "I think we should," he said.
Bob blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, c'mon, Ray, I wanna cigarette and I'm still keepin' my promise to Pete."
Frank watched the four of them go, faintly suspicious but mostly distracted by the voice in his ear. "Everybody just left me here all alone," he said. "Patrick said it was time for fresh air and sunshine." Frank smiled. "No, but Ray did," he said.
"No, because I still have a TV camera looking at me, and you're not alone either," Frank said. "No... No, but, uh, I found this book in the bottom of a suitcase a couple of days ago. No, poetry. Yes! What, I'm not allowed to be cultured just because I- Dude, you like comic books, guys in their underwear beating up other underwear perverts, so you can hardly claim the cultural high ground, here." Frank laughed. "I did say 'underwear perverts', and yes, I did. Not my fault it's set as the page that gets loaded when you open Firefox on your computer.
"Are you asking because you- No. I told you before, it doesn't have any sex in it at all." Frank sounded exasperated. "I don't see why you're so surprised, Gee. Would you- Look, if it was Ray telling you he'd bought a book of poetry, lost it, then found it again would you- Robert Service. Service, as in 'full-service', or- No, not the paths-less-traveled guy.
"Because I thought that was who he was and I asked Patrick to look him up. Yeah, that's Robert Frost. No, this guy wrote poems about the Yukon and the gold rush." Frank grinned and got up, heading for the back of the bus. "Some of them are really literate- Literary? I dunno. Yeah, anyhow, but some of 'em are just funny. I'm looking for it now. Here it is...
"Yeah. Lemme see, it was called... Uh, well, there's The Ballad Of Blasphemous Bill. No, it's about a dead guy. Swear to God, no preaching. Yeah. Kinda long, I guess. Just- Gee, just shut up and listen, okay?"
Frank read the poem out, standing and moving around the main room, sometimes tapping a foot and other times bouncing to the rhythm of the words. He was grinning at the end of it, but it seemed to have less to do with the final line of the poem and more the sound of whatever Gerard was saying.
"Told you," he said. "You wanna hear another one? This one's not funny, but it's... I read it and it made me, uh, think of you." Frank's face was serious, now, as he flipped through the book. "It's called The Spell Of The Yukon, and it's... Just listen."
* * * *
Gerard stopped pacing up and down in front of the table, a strange look on his face. He folds himself down and sits on the floor, his free hand covering the ear not occupied by Pete's phone. After a few minutes, he said, "Frank, that was... God. Um." He looked around, frowned at the camera, stared at a stain on the floor. "No," he said, "save some for later. Yeah, later-later. Uh-huh."
Pete came out of the back of the bus and frowned at Gerard, who was ignoring everyone but Frank. He walked over and stood beside the man.
"Pete's looming over me," Gerard said. "Well, okay, so I'm making it easy because I'm sitting on the floor, but... Yeah. We do have their phones," he said, then laughed. "And they're all outside, so, yes, we should."
"Who's outside?" Pete asked.
"Sh," Gerard said, glancing up at him.
"Who's outside? Is Patrick outside? Because if Frank kicked Patrick out in the rain without a coat and a hat and mittens and a scarf and galoshes and snowpants and rubber boots and an umbrella and-"
"Pete?" Andy said, looking up from his book.
"-a pair of long johns and electric socks and- What?" Pete blinked at him.
"Patrick always wears a hat, and it's not raining that hard. He'll be fine," Andy said, returning to his book.
Joe got up from the table, carrying his plate. He patted Pete on the shoulder as he passed. "Don't worry about it, dude," he said. "You know you catch colds from germs, right, and not being out in the rain?"
"But it can't be good for his voice! He might have strained something the day before yesterday and, y'know, compromised his immune system or something!" Pete poked Gerard's leg with with his toes, just enough to get his attention. "I wanna talk to Frank," he said.
"Pete," Joe said, putting his plate in the sink. "Andy, tell Pete that Patrick's gonna be fine."
"Already tried, dude," Andy said, not looking up.
Gerard scowled at Pete, but he did say, "Yeah, I know. I gotta go, Iero, Pete's getting antsy without his phone and he wants to talk to you anyhow. You can threaten him with his bass again if you'd like."
Pete glared right back, but he was also making grabby hands in the vicinity of Gerard's head. "Phone phone phone phone phone," he muttered.
"Yeah, I know you do. I'll talk to you in a minute," Gerard said to Frank. He handed Pete's phone back to him and said, "For God's sake, here. Yell at Frank, or whatever."
"Frank! Iero! Did you throw my Patrick Stump out into the cold pouring thunder and lightning of the rainstorm we're having?" A weak ray of sunlight found its way through the blinds and poked Pete in the eye. Pete turned away from the window in order to ignore it. "What do you mean he made everyone else leave? Really? Huh. Patrick might do that. What was Gerard saying about you and my guitar?"
Gerard got to his feet and joined Joe in the kitchen, making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
"Okay," Pete said, "I'll make you a deal: you make sure nothing happens to Patrick and I'll keep an eye on Gerard, okay?"
Gerard blinked and turned around. "Excuse me," he said, "if anyone's keeping an eye on someone, I'm looking after you."
Pete waved a dismissive hand and turned away from the kitchen. "No, he's fine, just complaining because he thinks I'm irresponsible. I can too be responsible! I do not sound like a little kid! I do not!"
There was a pause.
"Do not," Pete said.
"Do not," he said again.
"Do not do not do not and you suck, Iero," Pete said, then hung up on him. "Okay, so, Gerard?" Pete looked at the two in the kitchen again. "Don't do anything to yourself that would make Frank pissed at me okay? 'Cause I'm supposed to be looking after you."
Gerard shook his head and slapped the top slice of bread onto his sandwich. "Pete, I think I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he said, then took a bite.
"I mean it, Way," Pete said, gesturing at him with his phone. "You chew that at least thirty times before you swallow or else."
Gerard looked at Joe, who just shrugged and helped himself to the peanut butter.
"All the time, dude," Joe said.
Gerard sighed.
* * * *
The Ballad Of Blasphemous Bill; The Spell Of The Yukon.