fast times :: brendon/gabe :: nc-17 :: part 1/3
Brendon's goal going into high school was to make it by without being branded as a loser.
It's two months into his freshman year, and he can say with confidence that not one person on campus calls him any names, knocks over his books, talks about him behind his back, or even draws penis pictures on his backpack when he doesn't realize it.
Brendon tries to just focus on the fact that he's reached his goal instead of thinking about how the only reason no one thinks he's a loser is because no one really notices him at all.
-
Brendon almost jumps out of bed Monday morning. He usually likes to wake up to his iPod, but one of his brothers thought it would be cute to change his usual playlist to something more annoying. Brendon does not want to hear "Barbie Girl" so early in the morning.
He gets dressed, grumbling the whole time, and sorely not looking forward to another week of being invisible. Brendon hated middle school. He hated the kids, they way they made fun of his hair or his glasses or his braces. He loathed how they always seemed to get along with each other, but there was never any room for Brendon. No, Brendon's only purpose was for their amusement.
But at least in middle school, people knew Brendon's name. Now, no one knows who he is or gives a fuck, for that matter. The teachers never call on him; no one bothers to look at him when he walks into the cafeteria. Nothing.
Brendon's school is close enough to his home that sometimes he just walks there instead of waiting for his mom to take him in the morning or pick him up in the afternoon. Besides the fancy lights and glittery-ness of the Strip, Vegas is actually a pretty boring place, in Brendon's opinion. Nothing exciting happens. No one even tries to kidnap him on the way to school. Or maybe it's just because he's undesirable like that. Great, as if Brendon needed anything more to keep him depressed about the general failure that is his life.
-
First period, Brendon has math. He bypasses some of the other freshmen heading to algebra and joins the juniors and seniors waiting outside the classroom for pre-calculus. Brendon's always been a pretty smart kid, and one of the perks of having absolutely no social life whatsoever is being able to keep up with a class that's so hard. Brendon thinks he might even be doing better than most of the older students, and hey, at least he has something to be proud of.
He walks into the classroom with a small smile on his face, and makes his way around desks and students chatting lively to find his usual seat in the back of the room. He's almost there when he stops abruptly, causing the kid behind him to bump into Brendon's back.
Someone's already sitting there. Brendon swallows and fiddles with the textbook he's clutching in his arms. It's not a big deal; he'll just take the seat next to his usual spot.
He puts his things down and keeps his eyes locked on the desk. He tries not to flail so hard inside that he's sitting next to the most wanted and liked guy in school. Gabe Saporta is something of a legend at Summerlin High. He plays pretty much every sport imaginable, all the teachers love him, and he's charmed his way into the hearts of the school's most popular and beautiful boys and girls. Gabe can get whatever and whoever he wants, whenever he wants. Brendon feels his heart thud louder at their proximity and tries to lean a little closer. Maybe some of Gabe's awesome will rub off onto Brendon if Brendon can bask in the air around Gabe long enough.
All he manages to do, though, is lean too far over to the side and tip his entire desk and chair combo to the floor. It happens so fast that Brendon doesn't realize he should be embarrassed until Gabe gets up and completely lifts Brendon's desk back into its rightful position, with Brendon still stuck awkwardly in the attached chair. He hears Gabe chuckle and return to his seat, not saying a word to Brendon. Once he's back upright and he takes in all the faces staring at him and giggling, Brendon turns bright red and keeps his head down for the rest of class.
This is what he gets for wishing people would pay him a little more attention.
-
Brendon manages to avoid any more embarrassment for the rest of the day. He eats lunch by himself, sitting next to the trashcan and propping a book in front of him so it looks like he's actually sitting alone for a reason. He's eating the sandwich his mom made him, and he hates the way the bread sticks uncomfortably under the wire of his braces. He probably looks like an idiot trying to clean it out with his tongue, but whatever, it's not like anyone cares.
Lunch always drags on when Brendon has no one to talk to, but that's okay, because he has band class next, and he gets to talk to Spencer.
Spencer is Very Cool, Brendon decided on the first day that he met him. Spencer hangs out with a sophomore named Ryan and a junior named Jon, and that's pretty fucking awesome in Brendon's book. Generally when Brendon walks into the room, Spencer kind of looks like he's in pain, but Brendon thinks his face just defaults to that expression. He's not always so bitchy looking, especially when he smiles. It's not that often, but sometimes Brendon manages to crack a joke that’s actually funny, and Spencer breaks out this grin that makes Brendon smile back so wide, his cheeks hurt for minutes afterwards.
Despite being an exceptional student and excelling in nearly every subject, band class is the one place that Brendon actually feels like he's good. His parents forced piano lessons on him when he was younger, and when the other boys were out mud wrestling or building tree houses, Brendon was inside learning chromatic scales.
It sucked, in the beginning. But by the time Brendon was seven and could play the piano better than most of the 15-year-olds at the recitals his parents made him go to, he learned to appreciate the talent his parents helped nurture.
Now, Brendon takes advantage of every musical opportunity he gets. He signed up for band class before he tried getting into any of his other advanced academic classes, and Brendon's secretly confident that he's better than every other person in the room.
The teacher is a pretty cool guy. Most of the students are convinced that he's having a scandalous affair with the random security guard that the school hired to stand outside the gates and look menacing. It's pretty funny, and today, there's a small group discussion going on about what kind of ambiguous eyebrow waggle one student witnessed Mr. Iero giving to security guard Bob.
"Was it one eyebrow or two?"
"One, one, that's what I keep saying!"
"It only means something if it's two, dumbass"
"What the hell do you know!"
Brendon chuckles and sits down next to Spencer. Spencer is smiling to himself and texting furiously on his phone. He's always texting before class starts. "Who're you chatting with?"
The answer's always the same, too. "Ryan."
"Oh." Brendon scuffs his feet on the floor and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. Maybe Spencer would like to text him furiously sometimes. They could have mad texting battles, or something like that. They could even sit on the opposite side of the band room and have epic text conversations about video games, or girls, or whatever it is the cool kids talk about these days.
By the time Mr. Iero walks into the class, Brendon's imagined up a whole text conversation about the way security guard Bob stares at Mr. Iero's ass. He laughs lightly to himself.
-
"Extracurriculars."
Brendon stares blankly across the desk at his guidance counselor. It's Tuesday, and the worst day of Brendon's life.
"Extracurriculars," Brendon repeats.
His counselor's name is Mr. Toro. Usually when Brendon comes in to see him, it's on his own time, and he always comes in making some kind of bull joke at Mr. Toro's name. He usually indulges Brendon.
This time, Brendon was in the middle of figuring out the maximum area of some imaginary box with random dimensions when his math teacher got a phone call asking for Brendon in the counselor's office.
Now, Brendon's staring at Mr. Toro, sitting up straight with his hands folded on the desk in front of him. "Yes, Brendon, extracurriculars. You've got an impressive academic schedule going on, but if you don't manage to fit in some activities after school, you're going to be in bad shape for when college applications roll around."
Brendon blinks at him. He scrunches his nose, adjusting his glasses.
Mr. Toro seems to read his mind. "I know you're just barely a freshman, but you've got to start early, or else all the other kids will have impressive lists of activities to include on their applications and you'll have nothing but your grades. And frankly, that's not enough these days."
Brendon wants to sob. He's worked so hard to test into all these advanced classes, he's met with teachers and counselors to convince them that he's capable of handling them all, and now he's learning that it's not enough. He needs more. Brendon says, "I don't know what else to do."
Mr. Toro sighs and leans over his hands that are still folded and pressed flatly to the surface of his desk. "Brendon, you've got to sign up for something else. The school play, maybe. Or even a sport."
Brendon snorts and leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest and looking out the window to the football field. "I'm not good at any of that stuff."
"Look, Brendon, you have to step out of your comfort zone or else everything you've worked for will be for nothing. You'll be up against the brain dead girl who was involved in cheer and Make-A-Wish, and colleges will take her before they take you, and that's not going to be a fun feeling, alright?"
Brendon sniffs and keeps his gaze out the window. This is the first time in a long time that Brendon's felt truly angry. If he does some stupid extracurricular, then he won't have enough time to study. His grades will drop and he'll be just like everyone else.
-
When Brendon gets home that day, he bypasses grabbing a snack from the kitchen and rushes to his laptop, firing it up. He's distressed and high-strung and really needs to take a nap or something. Instead, he goes to the school website and pulls up a list of every club and organization on campus. He winces and opens another window, pulling up a list of every sport.
Brendon cracks his knuckles and starts looking. It's going to be a long night.
-
Brendon doesn't want to do any extra activities, but ideally, he would have liked to join the marching band. Of course, since his school is under-funded and band isn't even a popular class, they don't have one.
He spends hours looking and overanalyzing anything that might give Brendon some extra activities after school. At first, he thought that he could join a charity club or something, but they were all so exclusive, some of them being invitation only or requiring donations that Brendon doesn't have.
But it's fine. Brendon doesn't want to be a part of the shitty Knitting Society anyway.
He briefly considers joining the golf team, because seriously, how hard can that be? But then he notices the "Nevada's Number 1 High School Golf Team!" banner flashing proudly at the top of the website and decides against it.
Brendon looks into cooking clubs, drama performance opportunities, community service, but they either don't strike his interest or don't have any openings available. Brendon doesn't want to wait until next semester if he can get into something now. Brendon needs to get into college.
-
Wednesday morning, Brendon wakes up early to catch his dad before he heads off to work. He's nervous, walking slowly and deliberately toward his father sitting alone at the kitchen table, nibbling on some toast and checking his email.
"Dad?" Brendon tries not to let his voice waver.
His father looks up at him. "Yes, son?"
Brendon stops folding and unfolding the corner of the piece of paper he's holding. He puts it down on the table and slides it over to his father, doing his best to block out the top half of the page with his hand.
"I need you to sign this. It's a permission slip."
His father just looks at him and sips his coffee. "A permission slip?"
Brendon would really like this to be over as soon as possible. "Yeah, for, uh." Brendon winces and senses defeat. "For the cheer team," he says, chin pressed down and eyes focused on the white paper he printed out last night.
Maybe Brendon should be offended that his dad doesn't even flinch. He just says, "You wanna be a cheerleader?"
Brendon clears his throat and scratches at his messy hair. "Not really? I need an extracurricular activity."
"And you landed on cheer." It's not even a question.
Brendon hates this conversation with every fiber of his being. "All the other sports and clubs are either closed or completely embarrassing."
Brendon's father nods, raising his eyebrows a bit, and Brendon can swear he sees the corner of his mouth lift up in a smirk.
"Right, pass me a pen."
Brendon sighs in relief and hands his dad a black pen. He signs the form.
-
When the bell rings at the end of the day, Brendon doesn't gather his things and leave as soon as possible like he usually does. He actually has to stay, now. After school.
He walks past people in the hall smiling and chatting and feels like maybe they can all read it on his face how scared he is. If they bother to pay attention, that is.
Online, it had said that the cheer squad is still accepting people who want to try out. Brendon knows his school has a pretty decent team; he doesn't think he'll get a chance past just trying out, but if he actually does make it, it might get people to notice him more.
He could be Brendon Urie: That Freshman Dude On Cheer. It's a lot better than what the kids called him in middle school.
The team practices in the gym after school. Brendon has horrible images of walking through the door only to find all the girls throwing balls at him as he walks inside.
He stops just outside the huge double doors, closing his eyes and taking in several calming breaths. He opens his eyes and opens the doors.
-
Okay, so, Brendon knows he's flexible. He can touch his toes and all that shit. He can even do a back flip, and isn't that what cheer's all about? Except for how it's not, because when Brendon walks through those doors he sees girls everywhere, feet behind their ears, doing extremely bendy shit. Brendon might have overestimated himself, a little.
He spots the coach lingering in the corner of the gym, talking to a few of the girls. Brendon swallows, adjusts his backpack on his shoulder, and walks toward her. He sees all the other girls scattered about either stop what they're doing or slow down a bit as they stare at him walk across the floor. Brendon's cheeks heat up, and he tries his best not to look up unless he has to.
The coach is chatting lively, and he doesn’t want to interrupt her. Instead, he stands a few feet away and fishes the permission slip out of his backpack. The coach notices him and furrows her eyebrows. She stops her conversation and turns to Brendon. She says, "Can I help you?"
Brendon swallows about five times in the span of two seconds and tries to not sound like a nervous loser. "Yeah, um. Your website, it said people can still try out for the team?" He makes it a question and looks down at the ground. The coach is pretty and staring at him hard, too. He really doesn't want to see the laughter in her eyes.
"O-kay. Do you have any prior dance or cheer experience?" She doesn't sound condescending, but Brendon can tell she's confused by his presence.
"No, not really." He hears the coach hum and he adds quickly, "but I'm a fast learner." He looks up at her then, and the mocking amusement he expects to find in here eyes is nowhere to be seen. She's smiling slightly at him, and Brendon feels a small bit of tension melt away.
Brendon notices how the chatter in the gym has gone down, and all the girls who were scattered about and stretching have walked over to stand clumped around their coach. He doesn’t want to look at them because he's pretty sure they're all staring at him.
The coach smiles some more and bends down to rummage through her bag. She stands up with a clipboard and pen in hand. "So what's your name, then?"
"Brendon. I'm Brendon."
"Hi Brendon, my name's Keltie, and I'm so excited you're trying out for us today!" The girls who wandered over start to giggle, and Brendon really wishes they'd stop.
He cracks his knuckles and tries to keep his eyes glued to Keltie only, willing the view of girls pointing and smiling behind their hands away from his peripheral vision. "So what do I need to do?"
-
Brendon has never been so sore in his life. He hurts in places he didn't even know he had muscles. Keltie had one of the girls help Brendon warm up first before he was asked to try anything else. She was nice enough; her name was Victoria and she had warm eyes and an easy smile that helped Brendon relax. Brendon was glad Keltie paired him up with her instead of this one blonde girl who Brendon later learned was named Maja. She looked epically upset at the universe and had legs Brendon was sure could kill someone with just one kick.
The warming up part was easy. They stretched and jogged around the gym a couple of times. Victoria showed him how to stretch properly, and it was nice.
The after part? Not so nice. The first thing Keltie asked him was, "can you do the splits?"
Brendon cannot do the splits, not unless he wants to sustain tragic injury to special parts of his anatomy. All the girls looked at him expectantly, and he caught on what he was supposed to do. He at least tried, and when he was wincing pitifully in pain at the almost-split he managed to force his body into, Maja huffed out an impatient sigh and helped him down the rest of the way, with a forceful push to his shoulder.
Brendon might have squeaked in pain.
He spent an hour twisting his body in whichever way Keltie told him to. He was asked to hold some of the girls and catch them when someone threw them high in the air. Needless to say, that did not end so well for Brendon, the girl, and Brendon's sorry ass that took one too many landings on the hard wooden floor.
After Keltie asked him to try out all the fancy stuff, he was allowed to just show everyone what he could do on his own. That part was easy; Brendon mastered the back flip through many trials and failures with his old trampoline. He showed them how he could walk on his hands for a whole two seconds. He could even do a cartwheel. Brendon thinks they were pretty impressed by those skills.
But now, lying on his bed with ice bags taped to various parts of his body, Brendon wonders if cheer was the right decision. "Ow," he whimpers and tries to adjust to lie on his side, easing the pressure on his abused butt.
There's no way he's going to be getting any homework accomplished tonight. Day one of Official Academic Meltdown. Brendon grimaces and closes his eyes.
-
Brendon used logic, begged, tried to cut deals, and even cried to his parents in pathetic petition to let him stay home on Thursday. He is even more sore today then he was yesterday, and there's no way in hell he'll be able to handle a full school day without collapsing and dying.
"No, Brendon, absolutely not. I'm not going to call in any excuses for you, so you're going to class, and that's final."
Brendon huffs and doesn’t speak a word to his mother as she drives him to school. He turns his body away from her's in the driver's seat and he crosses his arms and furrows his brow in a truly impressive immature manner.
The only good thing about going to school today is that he can find out right away whether or not he made the team.
Classes all day are an absolute bitch. It seems like everyone finds the time to either bump into Brendon, swing their backpack so it hits him uncomfortable in the arm or face, or trip him by mistake while he walks to his desk.
He never paid much attention to who's in his classes before, but today, he can recognize some of the girls from the cheer team scattered about throughout his classes. None of them are in his pre-cal class, though. Brendon smiles to himself.
-
It feels like the longest school day of Brendon's life, and when the bell finally rings, Brendon grabs his things and rushes as fast as his aching body will take him to make it to the gym before the other girls get there.
Keltie's sitting by herself next to a stereo that's playing some annoying music. Her head is bent down, and she's scribbling fiercely across a piece of paper. She doesn’t notice Brendon approach her until she can see his shoes.
"Oh, hi, Brendon." She's smiling, and Brendon doesn’t know if he should take that as a good thing or if Keltie just always smiles, even in the face of letting down young teenage boys.
"Hey." He adjusts his backpack and tries not to flinch too hard when it smacks uncomfortably against his sore back. "I was wondering if you have a decision about my tryout?" It's easier to talk and not sound like a stuttering idiot when it's just him and Keltie and there isn't a highly stressful audience of bubbly girls listening.
Keltie taps her pen rhythmically against the clipboard and stares up blankly into Brendon's face. It's quite a few seconds before she finally speaks. Brendon starts to sweat. "Yeah, actually, I do." She stands up and arches her back. Brendon's just reminded of how badly his hurts. "I was curious about you, so I stopped by the counseling office yesterday, after you tried out. You have quite a busy schedule already. Are you sure you'd be ready to add the cheer commitment to that?"
Brendon tries not to grit his teeth. His counselor tells him he needs to do more things, his potential coach tells him he's already doing too much. He doesn't know what to say, so he just nods.
Keltie looks skeptical when she says, "well, if you think you can handle it, we'd love to have you on the team."
Brendon has to bite his lip to prevent himself from smiling too fast. He can't fucking believe he made it! Then it hits him so hard, that he's going to be a fucking cheerleader, holy shit, and he can't hold in the sharp laugh that bursts from his mouth.
Keltie smiles at that, big and wide, and the grin doesn’t drop from Brendon's face. He barely notices the other girls coming through the big doors and starting to stretch.
Keltie starts greeting girls as she notices them and says to Brendon, "if you go into the locker room, I'm sure you can find some sweats or something lying around. Change into them quickly, you need to learn this routine we're working on for next week's game."
This is not a good thing. Brendon's smile drops completely and his eyes widen in horror. He has to stay today. He has to stay today, with his sore muscles and general will to be at home, and at home only. Brendon grumbles and heads to the boys locker room, a place he never thought he'd visit.
_
His school keeps a locker stocked with plain tee shirts and PE shorts in case anyone forgets their own sweats. Brendon hopes they have some normal sizes and he won't be stuck drowning in a triple extra large outfit.
To Brendon's severe dismay, they don't have normal sizes.
He grabs what looks like a child's t-shirt and some booty shorts, holy shit, what kind of sick joke is this? Brendon tries to change quickly; no one else is in the locker room for the time being. He'd like it to remain that way while he's changing.
Brendon slips on the two-sizes-too-small shirt and winces when he gets a look at the even tinier athletic shorts. He was expecting to find some basketball shorts or something, not this humiliating shit. Brendon's positive these are for girls. That's probably the whole point - that the kids who are stupid enough to forget their uniforms at home or try out for cheer should be damned with ridiculous and embarrassing outfits.
Brendon makes the decision quickly and shucks off his boxers along with his pants. His underwear is longer than the damn shorts. He slips them on and tries to tuck his dick in so that it isn't peeking out.
Of course, when he has his hand down his shorts, trying to adjust himself, the entire football team has to stomp into the locker room.
They scatter about, some of them heading for the showers, others going for the lockers, and some pooling into the section Brendon is in. He pulls his hand out at the exact second four football guys wander to the lockers around Brendon. Brendon turns bright red when he notes that Gabe's one of them.
He's laughing, patting one of his teammates on the back and positively dripping with sweat. That should be gross, but Brendon can't deny how he feels weak in the knees at the sight of him.
So maybe Brendon has a little crush. It's practically expected. In fact, it would be weird if he didn't have a crush on the star quarterback. Isn't that the way high school is supposed to go?
Gabe and the others don't notice Brendon right away. He does a pretty good job of squeezing himself tightly into the corner, hunching over so he can stuff his clothes into his backpack. He feels like he's completely invisible, until he hears one of the players speak.
"Well, well, what have we here?" He's leering, Brendon can totally tell just from the sound of his voice, and it's making Brendon feel sick, every bottled up insecurity since middle school coming back to him in a rush, every nasty comment made, every fault pointed out.
Brendon fiddles some more with his bag before zipping everything up. He's just going to kindly push past them and go to the gym so he can play with some pom-poms. He keeps his head down as he starts to walk out, but it doesn’t stop the guys from blocking his way.
"Nice outfit, sweetheart," one of them sneers. Brendon hears them chuckle and feels his stomach sinking. He hates seniors. He hates everyone.
When he tries to step past them, they move with him, trapping him and laughing at him, and Brendon can feel his heart start to race. This isn't funny; he's embarrassed beyond belief and he just wants to fucking get out of here, but they're getting such a kick out of his discomfort.
Brendon tries again, keeping his head down but angling his body so he can squeeze between them. They don't let him. One of them chuckles and says, "Alright, guys, just let the kid go." Brendon's stomach whooshes when he realizes it's Gabe. He doesn't look up, just walks quickly past them and through the door, trying not to think of the way they're probably laughing at how he can fit himself into such tiny shorts and how they're riding up uncomfortably between his thighs.
Brendon doesn't meet anyone else on his way back to the gym. He tries to school his face into something happy so that no one will ask him what's wrong. He saw it happen the other day during his tryout. One of the girls got a depressing phone call, and the rest of them surrounded her in a way that was probably supposed to be reassuring and supporting, but looked pretty intimidating to Brendon. He doesn't need that right now.
In the gym, the girls are all warming up. Brendon feels self-conscious of the outfit as he makes his way over to where Victoria is standing. He sees her eyes linger a bit on his shorts, and she sort of looks like she might want to start laughing, but she doesn't, and Brendon is infinitely grateful.
Victoria bends down and touches her toes. She angles her head and looks expectantly up at Brendon. Brendon says, "Oh," and bends down as well. He struggles to get his fingers past his ankles.
She clears her throat and says, "So. Cheerleading."
Brendon nods reflexively but immediately stops at the feeling of blood pounding and rushing in his head. "Yeah."
Victoria straightens back up and twists her torso side to side. Brendon copies her, but stumbles a bit at the sudden dizziness he feels from getting up to fast. "You got family that cheers or something?"
Brendon shakes his head, says, "No, it's for my college application. Sports look good, apparently."
She smiles and raises her eyebrows. "You picked an interesting sport, then." She grabs her ankle and pulls it behind her, balancing perfectly on one leg. Brendon does the same, but he wobbles a lot more and needs to keep his arm out for balance. Victoria scrunches her eyebrows in concentration and then gives Brendon an appraising look. "I don't think I've seen you around before. You're a freshman, right?"
Of course she hasn't seen him around. No one's seen Brendon around because he practically doesn't exist. He gives a small nod and then loses his balance completely, arms flailing while he topples to the ground.
Victoria giggles and offers him her hand. Brendon tries not to look awkward and embarrassed, so he just asks her, "How about you?"
"I'm a junior," she says, lifting her hands high above her head and stretching her back.
When Brendon copies her, his shirt lifts up embarrassingly high at his belly. She looks at him and laughs playfully, and Brendon snaps his arms down by his side, turning pink and shaking his head.
Brendon spends the next two hours trying to keep up with the girls as they practice some new routine to try out at the next football game. The first hour is hell; Brendon's sore muscles do not want to move the way they're supposed to, and he can't remember the fucking choreography. By the end of practice, though, Brendon feels like he might actually remember what moves go in what order. Being able to execute them properly, however, is still an issue.
Brendon ducks into the locker room when practice finishes so he can change back into normal clothes and walk home. Keltie took down his size requests and he'll have his new uniform by the time the game rolls around.
It takes Brendon almost half an hour to limp pathetically back to his house. He's going to ice his entire body until he can't feel a thing.
-
As far as weeks go, this one is definitely not one of Brendon's finest. He practices with the team after school for the rest of the week, and his poor muscles barely adjust to all the aching. By Friday, Brendon's forgotten about three homework assignments, didn't prepare adequately for one of his quizzes, and did something he never thought he would sink so low to attempt - wrote an essay the morning it was due.
On Saturday, when Brendon's dying to sleep the entire day, he wakes up early to catch up on all the work he didn't do because of cheer practice.
He spends his entire weekend either catching up on schoolwork or relaxing. When Monday rolls around, Brendon's body feels marginally better and his stress levels are down. Brendon feels caught up in all his classes and significantly less worn-out than last week.
He still has practice every day, though. At least now Brendon has a proper uniform. After school on Monday, Keltie sends him to the locker room with shiny red pants and a royal blue shirt sporting his school's logo. He almost laughs at how absurd he's going to look in the outfit.
Since the incident with Gabe and other football guys, Brendon changes in a bathroom stall in the locker room. He can hear them come in and out, making lewd jokes and comments about whichever hot girl or the sexy teacher of the month. He tries not to be so noticeable when he leaves, but he still gets a few laughs out of whoever happens to see him walking out of the stall, dressed like a patriotic Popsicle.
When he gets back to the gym, he goes to warm up with Victoria. He can't help but smile to himself the entire practice at how he feels like he might be getting this. Brendon kicks on cue and his form's not that bad. Keltie congratulates him and Brendon's grinning for the rest of practice, while he changes back into his regular clothes, and for the entire walk back home.
-
This week is a little better. Brendon manages to find a good balance between cheer and homework, although he stays up later to study and isn't as alert in class like he's used to. He recognizes lots of girls in his classes now as members of his team, and some of them smile at him and wave to him in the hallways. It earns him a few baffled stares from whatever guys happen to be around at those moments, and it secretly makes Brendon's insides glow with pride.
At lunch, he sits with Spencer, which he sometimes does, but this week, Brendon tries to strike up conversation with Spencer and his friends. Ryan and Jon look at him weirdly at first, but they warm up to his questions and lame jokes eventually.
By the time Friday rolls around, Brendon's actually lost track of the number of conversations he's had with people outside of the classroom, which is a total record for him. He can't keep the small grin off his face wherever he goes. Tonight is one of the bigger football games of the season, and Brendon's nervous but excited to make his official cheerleading debut.
He doesn't tell his parents; after asking his dad to sign the permission slip, Brendon hasn't brought cheer up and no one's asked, something that Brendon's completely grateful for. They know what he's doing after school without needing Brendon to come out and say it.
Brendon tells his parents after school on Friday that he's going to the football game tonight. They raise a couple of eyebrows but otherwise don't say anything. Brendon's positive his brothers don't know or else they'd be teasing the shit out of him. He's never been so thankful to go to a different school than his brothers in his entire life.
Brendon's mom drops him off at school again in the evening, and he rushes to the locker room to change. The rest of the squad is warming up in the gym, and he's already running late.
He bursts through the locker room doors without thinking, and is met with most of the football team, shirtless, some of the pants-less, and all staring at Brendon. He sees Gabe out of the corner of his eye and he blushes a deep red, keeping his gaze down while he walks over to a bathroom stall and pulls the door closed.
Some of the guys chuckle, but mostly they get back to whatever they were doing. Brendon dresses in record speed. He really wishes they would all leave so he wouldn't have to hear the snickering remarks about his outfit, but he knows he's running too late to wait for them to go before he can make a run for the gym. Brendon musters up his courage, takes a deep breath, and opens the stall door, walking to the exit as quickly as possible.
Or course, things can't just be easy for him. Of course.
"Hold on a second," he hears one of the players call. He thinks it might be a guy named Ryland who sits near Brendon in his English class. He really doesn't want to turn around to check.
The locker room gets quiet, and some of the guys laugh. Brendon stops but doesn't turn around. "What," he says, hating the way his voice sounds small and intimidated.
"Come on, why don't you turn around for a minute?" the sneer in his voice is really getting to Brendon, and it takes all of his willpower not to just turn around and do something stupid, like hit the guy on his head with his bag.
Brendon turns slowly, keeping his head up, trying to look unaffected. The flaming red pants and cheer top might negate all that, though.
Everyone is smiling at him, and not in a good way. He hates how small he feels standing next to all of them towering over him, strong bodies and intimidating leers. Brendon clutches harder at the strap of his bag.
"What's with the outfit, seriously? You enjoy walking around looking like some kind of reject cheerleader?" They all laugh, loud and roaring. It's not that fucking funny, okay.
"For your information, douchebag, I am a cheerleader." He sounds strong and confident. They all stop laughing and stare at him with wide eyes. There's silence for one blissful second until they're all laughing again, harder this time. Brendon regrets opening his mouth. God, he is so fucking stupid. He sounds like such a kid. He's getting out of here.
Brendon's fuming as he turns to leave, but it doesn't escape his notice that Gabe isn't laughing with the others. He's smiling, sure, but he looks more contemplative. Brendon thinks it's a good look for him before chasing that thought away. He's just one of those jock dudes that preys on people like Brendon. And Brendon's fucking over it. He's here to cheer, dammit.
-
"You're late." Brendon winces, the shrill sound of Keltie's yell piercing his ears when he walks into the gym. She's on the other side, instructing the girls and watching them stretch and kick.
"Sorry," he mumbles.
"What's that?" she doesn't look too happy.
"I said I'm sorry." He won't even try to make up an excuse. He's too drained from dealing with idiot jocks.
"We don't have a tolerance for lateness, Brendon, especially on game nights. This is a team, one unit, and we all arrive at the right time, got it?"
"Yes." He runs over to Victoria and starts stretching. She's already working on her kicks and practicing her part of the routine in place. God, Brendon hates feeling unprepared.
-
He rushes through all his stretches and warm-up kicks, but he at least gets to practice the routine with the team a few times before they get ready to run out onto the field. Brendon feels like he's about to throw up. All the girls are excited, jumping and squealing and holding each other's hands, and Brendon's clutching his arms tightly around his body, a complete nervous and pathetic wreck.
Why on earth did he think this was an acceptable idea? Why didn't he think of the consequences of the idiocy that is joining the cheer team? As of now, none of his classmates know he joined the cheer squad. Spencer, who Brendon counts as his only semi-friend outside of the team, is completely in the dark about the whole cheer thing. Jon and Ryan, two older and cooler kids than Brendon ever imagined being able to talk to, would completely disown whatever lunches they had with Brendon once they see him make a fool out of himself tonight.
Keltie's circling around the group of girls and Brendon, wishing everyone luck, telling them all how they're going to do great. Brendon feels sick, and the only great thing he can think of right now is going home and doing something more Brendon-like, maybe messing around with his guitar or playing with his calculator. Anything but this.
He hears the crowd cheering and someone making announcements, and oh, shit, this is totally it. Brendon's big debut. Brendon totally wants to sob right now. But there's no time, because Keltie's saying, "Go, girls, go!" with such enthusiasm, and then she's ushering everyone out onto the field. They all run out, girls raising their hands in the air, some of the holding pom-poms and all of them cheering. Brendon just runs out with them and tries to look happy. He thinks he might be failing, though, but now is really not the time for negative thoughts.
He raises his arms and waves his hands in the air like the rest of them, and then the squad takes formation, everyone running to their prospective positions so they can start the opening chant. He takes his place by Victoria and gives a quick glance out of the corner of his eye at her. She smiles and winks at him, and he can do this. He can, he's done this in practice. He just has to ignore the huge crowd of people staring back at him.
He hears Maja call out, and the rest of the team chants back. Brendon missed that cue, but it's okay. He claps in time with everyone else and then after the squad does their chant, Brendon focuses on the routine, jumping around and clapping with everyone else, chanting when he knows he's supposed to, kicking on cue, and being a good backspot when they throw their flier into the air. He keeps a smile on his face when he's not wincing and grimacing at the mistakes he makes, but overall, Brendon does all right.
By the time the routine is over, Brendon's surprised to note how hard he's breathing. He's standing with his feet spread, one arm at his waist, the other pushing his fist up into the air. He's smiling for real now, noting the way the crowd is cheering and clapping, and god, Brendon has never felt this alive. When Brendon sees Keltie give them their cue, crouched down in the front of the bleachers, he helps the fliers step down and they all skip happily to the side of the field and sit down.
Brendon can't stop smiling, and he's laughing with Victoria, clapping and cheering with everyone else once their football team runs onto the field. Brendon sees Gabe running out in front, arms in the air and smiling handsomely. His heart flutters when Gabe turns specifically to the cheer team and winks suggestively at them all. I'm one of them now, Brendon thinks, and he gives himself a small smile.
-
When it's all over and his school finally stops cheering and yelling at their victory, Brendon breaks away from the girls he's been chatting with to head back to the locker room so he can change before his mom comes to get him.
He's running back to the school building when he hears Victoria yell out, "Brendon!"
He turns around, says, "Yeah?" and she's running toward him with a grin on her face.
"Why don't you stay with us? Everyone's meeting at Ryland's house for the after party." She's smiling so openly at him, her hand resting warmly on his shoulder, and for once in his entire life, Brendon actually feels sorry that he's going to be missing out on another party.
"Ah, I can't, Vicky. My mom's expecting me in front of the school. But maybe another time."
Victoria nods and smiles gain. "Okay, Brendon, yeah. Next time."
Brendon smiles back and continues his jog to the building. Once inside, Brendon grabs his bag from the gym and walks quickly to the locker room. It seems like all the football guys are still scattered about the field, talking to their friends and trying to charm some of Brendon's teammates. He's glad for the chance to be alone and not have to change in the cramped and smelly bathroom stall.
Brendon's humming to himself, something jazzy and upbeat, and he takes of his shirt, stuffs it in his bag. He's about to slip on his normal shirt when he suddenly freezes. Brendon blinks a couple of times before turning around. And there he is, Gabe standing just a few feet in front of Brendon, head tilted sideways and staring at Brendon's bare chest.
It makes Brendon flush, so he struggles to quickly slip his hands into the sleeves of the shirt. He puts the shirt on, still looking at Gabe, and the older boy chuckles. "Christ, dude, you look fucking scared. Relax."
Right, relax. As if it isn't Gabe and his friends who make Brendon feel awkward and uncomfortable with all their teasing.
Brendon debates the pros and cons of changing out of his red pants before meeting his mom. He'd hate for her to see him in even just half of his outfit, but at the same time, being here alone with Gabe is making his mind wander to places that just make Brendon blush and sweat. He'd really like to get out of here, now. Brendon zips up his bag hastily and says, "right. Well, I'm just gonna leave now," and pushes past Gabe.
He doesn't get very far.
He feels his shirt tug tightly around his neck and looks over his shoulder to see Gabe grabbing tightly to the back of the material. Brendon swallows and meets Gabe's eyes. They're so dark, and Brendon wonders if Gabe always stares at him like that. He thinks he'd certainly feel it if Gabe did. Gabe licks his lips and says, "So you're really a cheerleader. I saw you there with the rest of the team." He's still holding tightly to Brendon's shirt.
Brendon nods. He can't look away from Gabe's face, his gaze absolutely mesmerizing. Brendon wants to always remember the way it feels to have Gabe focus his compete attention on Brendon, like he's seeing something there that he might like. Brendon feels himself shudder and Gabe lets go of the shirt with a smirk.
Brendon nods and says, "Yeah, I just joined the other day." He's still turned toward the door, body facing away from Gabe's.
"That's really…cute." He's gone into full-blown smirk mode, and the hot look in his eyes completely vanishes, replaced by the familiar mocking stare Brendon's seen in all of Gabe's teammates. Brendon rolls his eyes and adjusts his bag over his shoulder. He walks out the door and heads to the front of the school. His mom is waiting for him.
-
On the drive home, his mom asks him how the game went. Brendon gives her brief, one-word answers to her questions. He stares out the window thinks about how it felt to run around in front of all those people, have all those people standing and clapping for something Brendon did. He remembers the feeling of all eyes on him, the crowd's, Victoria's, Gabe's.
He feels a hot flush course through his body, and try as he might not to let his mind wander, Brendon can't help but revisit the memory when he's in bed that night, thinking about what-if's and could-it-be's.
-
The weekend passes by in a blur of homework and sleeping. When Brendon gets to school on Monday, he sees Spencer standing next to his locker. Spencer never stands next to Brendon's locker because he could be standing next to Ryan's locker, or Jon's locker.
Brendon grabs his lock and starts to twirl in the combination. "Hi, Spencer." He sounds really cheery today, but whatever, he feels pretty good.
"You're a fucking cheerleader." Spencer, to Brendon's dismay, doesn't sound impressed. Brendon's shoulders slump and his face falls. He opens his locker and buries the upper portion of his body inside while he tries to fish for his book. This is the part where Spencer tells him he's a loser and that he's not allowed to sit with Spencer and his friends at lunch anymore. Or talk to Spencer in band class. Or be in Spencer's general presence.
Brendon braces himself for the news before shutting the locker door and looking Spencer in the eye. He rubs at the back of his neck. "Yeah, but it's because I need the extracurriculars." He tries not to sound too pleading.
Spencer's giving him this weird squinty-eyed look, and Brendon doesn't like it. "Ever heard of trying something normal and less gay?"
Brendon's chest tightens at that and he purses his lips, eyes turning harsh. "Fuck you," he says, and pushes past Spencer to walk into his pre-cal class. He doesn't need this shit right now. Actually, he doesn't need this shit, ever.
-
The walk home that day is miserable and lonely, giving Brendon enough time to reflect on how he really doesn't have any friends. Brendon can't stop replaying his conversation with Spencer and seeing the way Spencer looked weirded-out by Brendon's involvement in cheer. He shakes his head at the ground and makes a small promise to himself to somehow get Spencer to change his mind.
The only good thing about today is that Brendon gets his braces off, finally. As soon as he arrives in his house, his mom is ushering him into the car so they won't be late.
He spends an hour in the chair, eyes opened wide, mouth stretched even wider, as the doctor prods, pokes, and scrapes around Brendon's mouth until Brendon's teeth are smooth and metal-free. He runs his tongue over his teeth and breaks into a grin.
"They look great, honey." His mom's looking at him with a misty expression, and for once, Brendon thinks something about him looks good.
-
The next morning, it takes a little longer than usual for his math teacher to arrive, and the minutes of waiting are very awkward, especially since Gabe decides to sit right next to Brendon and continues to give him weird looks out of the corner of his eyes. It makes Brendon feel on guard and self-conscious. Does Gabe really have to irritate Brendon during school as well?
When his teacher finally does arrive, it's not to start the class of with a lecture like he normally does. Instead, he says, "Group projects, everyone!" The class gives a collective groan of frustration, but it doesn't shake his teacher's spirits. "I'm gonna separate you into teams of two or three for this assignment. I'll tell you who your partners are now and we'll work on this for the rest of class. Expect to spend some time outside of school on this project."
Brendon slumps down in his seat and grumbles to himself. He works so much better alone, without anyone stupid dragging him down. The last thing he needs right now with his unusually filled schedule is to try and meet with people outside of school to work on a project that he'll probably end up doing all by himself anyway, with other people getting the credit.
He's not paying attention to the names the teacher is calling, opting to draw doodles in his desktop instead. It's only when he hears some laughs and whistling that he looks up from his desk and realizes everyone is staring at him. "What?" he says.
His teacher lets out a huff and says, "You're partnered with Saporta." Brendon swears his stomach just fell out of his ass. He hears some of the girls giggling and a couple of guys making catcalls. Brendon's embarrassed beyond belief, and he knows his cheeks are turning red.
"How cliché-- the star quarterback and the sexy cheerleader," one of Gabe's teammates remarks. It earns quite a few laughs from the class and a cleverly disguised 'fuck you' mouthed from Gabe, but it just makes Brendon feel more embarrassed.
When the teacher goes back to pairing people off and the class quiets down for the most part, he can feel Gabe staring at him from where he's sitting right next to Brendon. Brendon pointedly looks out the window to his right until after his teacher gives out instructions for the project and he's told to begin working with his partner.
All around the classroom, the sound of desks being moved and people walking across the room fills the air. Brendon gives a tentative glance over to Gabe. Gabe smirks at him and reaches over to grab Brendon's desk-and-chair combo and pull forcefully so that Brendon's right next to Gabe, sharing the same space. Brendon blushes and taps his pencil nervously against the wood top.
"So, Brendon. Where do we start?"
-
Gabe's looking at Brendon expectantly and tapping his pencil against his desk. Brendon makes a frustrated sound and says, "No, the limit doesn't exist in this situation. Did you pay any attention to last week's lecture?"
Gabe doesn't reply to that. Instead, he lifts his head from where it was resting against his hand and says, "Urie, you got your braces off."
Brendon's mouth was open, ready to snap back at Gabe and prove him wrong about whatever reasoning he had regarding his answer to the math problem, but at Gabe's words he snaps it shut in surprise. Gabe smirks and wiggles his eyebrows. "Um, yeah. I got them off yesterday."
"They look really good," and with that, Gabe flashes Brendon his own smile. Brendon tries to calm his heart and quiet the voices in his head that are screaming, "he noticed! he noticed!" It surprises Brendon that Gabe would notice, because no one else has. Even his brothers didn't say anything to him when they saw him at dinner last night.
Brendon forgets about limit lines and smiles big and wide. Gabe said they looked good.
-
In all honesty, math class didn't go as badly as Brendon thought it would. Gabe wasn't making any snide jokes or acting like a douchebag. He didn't seem to be as interested in the assignment, though, as he was in asking Brendon questions. Why are you a cheerleader, how did you get into such a hard math class, can you really do a back flip? Needless to say, Brendon spent the majority of that class stuttering like an idiot and smiling hugely whenever Gabe gave him a grin. Brendon was so fucking obvious, and if he didn't get his act together, some dumb football player would point it out and humiliate him.
Brendon was all smiles and stomach butterflies after math class until he remembered that he'd be seeing Spencer again for band class. Like usual, Spencer was texting someone when he walked into the classroom, but Brendon chose to sit next to another guy, who Brendon knows is named Ian.
"Hey," Ian says. He's smiling, and Brendon can totally forget about mean people in the world and make nice with this guy. He's got an open face and a friendly smile and Brendon finds himself grinning right back.
Brendon pointedly does not look at Spencer the rest of the period. Even if he senses Spencer looking apologetically over in his direction.
Part Two