can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
High school AU (and when I say AU I really mean it...)
with Pete/Jeanae, Mikey/Alicia and hinted Gerard/Frank (wtf indeed.)
PG, ~1900 words, beta by turnyourankle
prompted by wingfoot, also inspired by this.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
Jeanae wakes up on the backseat of Pete’s car; arm numb and neck sore, cheek tingling where it rubs against rough upholstery. She is badly wrapped up in Pete’s denim jacket and it falls on the seat when she crawls out of the car. It’s dark: the sky a black blanket splattered with bright stars, moonlight painting the ground silver and accentuating flower petals in the grass. She thinks maybe Belleville isn’t as horrible as people make it out to be.
Pete’s sitting cross-legged on a table. It’s wooden gray and looks a little rickety, and she imagines it being blown away when it storms in the fall. She oftentimes thinks about storms, how it would feel like to get ripped from the ground, carried away someplace different. It’s not a Dorothy feeling though, more like a Twister kind.
Her mascara is a little smudged from sleep, soft smears on the tip of her cheekbone, the corners of her eyes, so Pete says “Come here for a while.” He pulls her close untangling his legs so that his knees bump against her thighs. He puts his hand around her waist, the other one on her face thumb running along skin until the smudges turn into fake shadows under her eyes. “Just bordering on a perfect disaster,” he murmurs quietly, smiles grimly, and she unwraps away from him. They hear sirens in the distance.
--
Jeanae White gets wheedled to join the high school cheerleading team on a Tuesday afternoon. She’s sitting on the carefully mowed lawn of the sports field, fingers pulling thick, wrinkly skin from an orange as she watches Pete play soccer with other seniors.
It’s a nice day: the grass tickles her naked ankles, she’s carelessly skipping over classes like dents in pavement, and when she looks up to the sky she has to fold her hand over her eyes owing to the sun.
Pete’s kicking the ball towards the goal as a shadow comes to cover her face. She looks up to see Alicia Simmons hovering over her in her heavy makeup and a dozen bracelets around her wrists, all pseudo-expensive fake diamonds. What catches Jeanae’s eye though, are the blue-white pleat skirt, knee socks and a polyester sweater that she has decided upon wearing. Cheerleader’s outfit, Jeanae thinks disappointedly.
“Not a word about the clothes,” Alicia sighs as she slumps down on the lawn pulling her skirt over her knees awkwardly like she isn’t used to wearing anything quite so blatantly girly. In all honesty, Jeanae doesn’t think she’s ever seen her in anything other than t-shirts and jeans.
“Um,” she says. “Okay.” She pulls apart a slice of her orange, and before starting to nip on it, she says, “Okay. But. No, I’m sorry, what the hell’s going on? I never imagined you being one into group spirit and shit.”
“I’m not,” Alicia says quickly, defensively. “I’m only doing this so I don’t fail gym. Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Miller said last time?”
Jeanae thinks for a while, smiles when she remembers. “I wasn’t there. It was Pete’s birthday so we…” she pauses, trying her best not to blush. “Uh, never mind, what did she say?”
Alicia shakes her head amusedly. “Those who have been absent for over twenty percent of the classes, they either automatically get an F or they have to do something for extra credit.” She sighs again. “Cheerleading sounded the most appealing alternative to choose from, so. That’s it, my tragic story. You should probably think about trying to get into the pompom team, too, considering I’ve hardly ever seen you in class.”
Jeanae blinks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Do I look like I am?”
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Jeanae mumbles into her hands. “That motherfucking bitch.”
“Language, dear,” Pete laughs jogging up to the girls on the lawn. His shorts are low on his hips and his t-shirt is wet on the collar and armpits. “What’s got you going all drama princess all of a sudden?” He asks, softly poking her ankle with the tip of his sneaker.
“Oh nothing much,” she says, her voice sounding a little hysterical against her palms.
“Your girlfriend’s just become one of the ‘’cool kids’’,” Alicia smirks making airquotes with her fingers.
****
Alicia Simmons picks up on bad habits.
She smokes when Mikey smokes, steals his cigarette every now and then blowing tarry clouds into his face.
When she and Mikey find Gerard passed out in a nearby park one evening, lying on his back next to an old wooden table and some flower bush with Frank Iero, the self-titled captain of the croquet team, she takes the remains of their liquor and goes to sit on the table smirking at Mikey’s flabbergasted face.
“Dude, what the- Uh, Gerard? Gee?” Mikey gets out, tries to wake Gerard up by kicking him on the shin. Gerard grunts and rolls his head so that it bumps against Frank’s.
“Leave ‘em alone, we’ll wake them up before you take me back home,” she says reaching for Mikey’s t-shirt trying to pull him next to her on the table.
“But. Jesus. Is that… That’s Frank Iero. I didn’t even know they were friends.”
She snorts. “Looks a lot like more than just friends from here,” she says and takes a swig from the whiskey bottle that she is sure once belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Way. It burns her throat and she makes a face at the taste.
“Don’t… just, shut up,” Mikey says a little alarmed. He runs his hand through his hair before he pulls his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans and dials 911. Alicia puts the bottle down and goes to touch the back of Mikey’s head while he talks to the operator.
****
Frank Iero tries to spend most of his free time anywhere but home. His parents are going through an exhausting divorce that results in loud arguments and her mother crying in the bedroom afterwards, his father locking up into the attic for hours to play his old acoustic guitar. It breaks Frank’s heart to see his parents so frustrated and angry at each other, so he chooses not to witness it.
He joins the croquet team for two reasons.
One, the practice hours are after school, and two, Mr. Grosse threatens to lower grades for everyone who doesn’t take part in some kind of sports club activity saying that everyone should follow the example of their high spirited football team.
There are five other seniors in the croquet team. One of them is Gerard Way, the quiet, black-haired boy whose fingers seem to always be dirty from ink. Frank doesn’t know anyone who people gossip about more than Gerard Way, and feels a little sorry for him.
Practice consists of him and Gerard sitting on the lawn watching as the four other members of the team try to flirt with the cheerleaders with varying results. Pete Wentz, whom Frank casually knows from a couple of shared classes, is doing the best job at it but it’s only because his girlfriend is one of the new cheerleaders. Alicia, the girl who sometimes plays guitar with Frank during music classes, being the other newbie in the cheering section.
“Hey, isn’t your brother dating her?” Frank asks Gerard gesturing at Alicia who is completely ignoring everyone in the team except for Pete’s girlfriend.
Gerard looks a little surprised. It’s the first thing Frank has ever directly said to him. “Uh, yeah,” he says; then more quietly, “I didn’t realize you knew my brother.” He is ripping tufts of grass from the ground looking like he wants to be anywhere else but there. His hair falls on his face when he lowers his head, but Frank doesn’t miss the downwards tug of his lower lip and the barely-there flush on his cheeks.
Frank shakes his head amusedly. “Are you kidding me? Everybody knows the-“ He shuts up when Gerard frowns. Good job you moron, he thinks.
“No, shit, I didn’t mean… It’s just, people tend to talk about the Way brothers,” Frank says but wishes he could keep his big mouth shut. It’s not really where he imagined his first conversation with Gerard to go to.
Gerard sniffs dryly and looks away. “I see,” he says.
Frank sighs. “I’m a motherfucking ass, I’m sorry. I don’t really listen to rumors anyway. The ones that tell them are idiots, so who cares, right?”
“Right, yeah, whatever,” Gerard says palm clenching around short grass.
Gerard’s hair is covering his face again, and Frank wishes the stupid practice hour would be over before his big fat mouth has a chance to do more damage.
Next day practice goes considerably better.
****
Gerard and Frank get out of the hospital fairly fast. Gerard would yell at Mikey for calling an ambulance in the first place, but the broken, helpless look that Mikey carries all the way from the waiting room to their dad’s car makes him hold his tongue. It reminds him of what Mikey looked like when their mom told them grandma Elena was gravely ill and would probably not make it, and he is sorry for making Mikey worry about him this way.
Pete and Jeanae, who Gerard thinks had given Mikey and Alicia a ride to the hospital, offer to take Alicia back home, so she says goodbye to Mikey at the parking lot squeezing his hand and kissing the corner of his mouth. Gerard feels a pang in his chest and it’s mixed with some guilt, a little bit of loneliness, but at the same time enormous gratitude for Alicia Simmons.
Frank gives Gerard a weak smile as he’s pushed into a metallic gray Volvo by Mrs. Iero. When the car door is slammed shut, Frank waves at him, the wave quickly morphing into a call me sign and then he’s gone.
****
After the hospital incident, Mikey considers not talking to Gerard for a few days, but curiosity gets the best of him.
“I didn’t know you knew Frank Iero,” he says lying on his bed facing Gerard’s side of the room. He watches as Gerard shrugs one shoulder, sitting on his bed, black hair falling on his face.
“I didn’t until a couple of days ago,” Gerard says raising his head to look at Mikey from behind lashes and half-mast lids.
“Okay,” Mikey says.
****
Pete parks his car in front of the Simmons’ house. It’s dull and dirty white just like all the houses in the area.
Jeanae moved from the backseat to sit next to him after she had hugged Alicia and waved her goodbye. She's giving him a look that Pete thinks mirrors his own.
“Well, that was something different,” she says and Pete has to laugh at that. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah it was.”
He pulls the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and kisses the corner of her eye, starts the car, and drives her home.
with Pete/Jeanae, Mikey/Alicia and hinted Gerard/Frank (wtf indeed.)
PG, ~1900 words, beta by turnyourankle
prompted by wingfoot, also inspired by this.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
Jeanae wakes up on the backseat of Pete’s car; arm numb and neck sore, cheek tingling where it rubs against rough upholstery. She is badly wrapped up in Pete’s denim jacket and it falls on the seat when she crawls out of the car. It’s dark: the sky a black blanket splattered with bright stars, moonlight painting the ground silver and accentuating flower petals in the grass. She thinks maybe Belleville isn’t as horrible as people make it out to be.
Pete’s sitting cross-legged on a table. It’s wooden gray and looks a little rickety, and she imagines it being blown away when it storms in the fall. She oftentimes thinks about storms, how it would feel like to get ripped from the ground, carried away someplace different. It’s not a Dorothy feeling though, more like a Twister kind.
Her mascara is a little smudged from sleep, soft smears on the tip of her cheekbone, the corners of her eyes, so Pete says “Come here for a while.” He pulls her close untangling his legs so that his knees bump against her thighs. He puts his hand around her waist, the other one on her face thumb running along skin until the smudges turn into fake shadows under her eyes. “Just bordering on a perfect disaster,” he murmurs quietly, smiles grimly, and she unwraps away from him. They hear sirens in the distance.
--
Jeanae White gets wheedled to join the high school cheerleading team on a Tuesday afternoon. She’s sitting on the carefully mowed lawn of the sports field, fingers pulling thick, wrinkly skin from an orange as she watches Pete play soccer with other seniors.
It’s a nice day: the grass tickles her naked ankles, she’s carelessly skipping over classes like dents in pavement, and when she looks up to the sky she has to fold her hand over her eyes owing to the sun.
Pete’s kicking the ball towards the goal as a shadow comes to cover her face. She looks up to see Alicia Simmons hovering over her in her heavy makeup and a dozen bracelets around her wrists, all pseudo-expensive fake diamonds. What catches Jeanae’s eye though, are the blue-white pleat skirt, knee socks and a polyester sweater that she has decided upon wearing. Cheerleader’s outfit, Jeanae thinks disappointedly.
“Not a word about the clothes,” Alicia sighs as she slumps down on the lawn pulling her skirt over her knees awkwardly like she isn’t used to wearing anything quite so blatantly girly. In all honesty, Jeanae doesn’t think she’s ever seen her in anything other than t-shirts and jeans.
“Um,” she says. “Okay.” She pulls apart a slice of her orange, and before starting to nip on it, she says, “Okay. But. No, I’m sorry, what the hell’s going on? I never imagined you being one into group spirit and shit.”
“I’m not,” Alicia says quickly, defensively. “I’m only doing this so I don’t fail gym. Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Miller said last time?”
Jeanae thinks for a while, smiles when she remembers. “I wasn’t there. It was Pete’s birthday so we…” she pauses, trying her best not to blush. “Uh, never mind, what did she say?”
Alicia shakes her head amusedly. “Those who have been absent for over twenty percent of the classes, they either automatically get an F or they have to do something for extra credit.” She sighs again. “Cheerleading sounded the most appealing alternative to choose from, so. That’s it, my tragic story. You should probably think about trying to get into the pompom team, too, considering I’ve hardly ever seen you in class.”
Jeanae blinks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Do I look like I am?”
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Jeanae mumbles into her hands. “That motherfucking bitch.”
“Language, dear,” Pete laughs jogging up to the girls on the lawn. His shorts are low on his hips and his t-shirt is wet on the collar and armpits. “What’s got you going all drama princess all of a sudden?” He asks, softly poking her ankle with the tip of his sneaker.
“Oh nothing much,” she says, her voice sounding a little hysterical against her palms.
“Your girlfriend’s just become one of the ‘’cool kids’’,” Alicia smirks making airquotes with her fingers.
****
Alicia Simmons picks up on bad habits.
She smokes when Mikey smokes, steals his cigarette every now and then blowing tarry clouds into his face.
When she and Mikey find Gerard passed out in a nearby park one evening, lying on his back next to an old wooden table and some flower bush with Frank Iero, the self-titled captain of the croquet team, she takes the remains of their liquor and goes to sit on the table smirking at Mikey’s flabbergasted face.
“Dude, what the- Uh, Gerard? Gee?” Mikey gets out, tries to wake Gerard up by kicking him on the shin. Gerard grunts and rolls his head so that it bumps against Frank’s.
“Leave ‘em alone, we’ll wake them up before you take me back home,” she says reaching for Mikey’s t-shirt trying to pull him next to her on the table.
“But. Jesus. Is that… That’s Frank Iero. I didn’t even know they were friends.”
She snorts. “Looks a lot like more than just friends from here,” she says and takes a swig from the whiskey bottle that she is sure once belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Way. It burns her throat and she makes a face at the taste.
“Don’t… just, shut up,” Mikey says a little alarmed. He runs his hand through his hair before he pulls his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans and dials 911. Alicia puts the bottle down and goes to touch the back of Mikey’s head while he talks to the operator.
****
Frank Iero tries to spend most of his free time anywhere but home. His parents are going through an exhausting divorce that results in loud arguments and her mother crying in the bedroom afterwards, his father locking up into the attic for hours to play his old acoustic guitar. It breaks Frank’s heart to see his parents so frustrated and angry at each other, so he chooses not to witness it.
He joins the croquet team for two reasons.
One, the practice hours are after school, and two, Mr. Grosse threatens to lower grades for everyone who doesn’t take part in some kind of sports club activity saying that everyone should follow the example of their high spirited football team.
There are five other seniors in the croquet team. One of them is Gerard Way, the quiet, black-haired boy whose fingers seem to always be dirty from ink. Frank doesn’t know anyone who people gossip about more than Gerard Way, and feels a little sorry for him.
Practice consists of him and Gerard sitting on the lawn watching as the four other members of the team try to flirt with the cheerleaders with varying results. Pete Wentz, whom Frank casually knows from a couple of shared classes, is doing the best job at it but it’s only because his girlfriend is one of the new cheerleaders. Alicia, the girl who sometimes plays guitar with Frank during music classes, being the other newbie in the cheering section.
“Hey, isn’t your brother dating her?” Frank asks Gerard gesturing at Alicia who is completely ignoring everyone in the team except for Pete’s girlfriend.
Gerard looks a little surprised. It’s the first thing Frank has ever directly said to him. “Uh, yeah,” he says; then more quietly, “I didn’t realize you knew my brother.” He is ripping tufts of grass from the ground looking like he wants to be anywhere else but there. His hair falls on his face when he lowers his head, but Frank doesn’t miss the downwards tug of his lower lip and the barely-there flush on his cheeks.
Frank shakes his head amusedly. “Are you kidding me? Everybody knows the-“ He shuts up when Gerard frowns. Good job you moron, he thinks.
“No, shit, I didn’t mean… It’s just, people tend to talk about the Way brothers,” Frank says but wishes he could keep his big mouth shut. It’s not really where he imagined his first conversation with Gerard to go to.
Gerard sniffs dryly and looks away. “I see,” he says.
Frank sighs. “I’m a motherfucking ass, I’m sorry. I don’t really listen to rumors anyway. The ones that tell them are idiots, so who cares, right?”
“Right, yeah, whatever,” Gerard says palm clenching around short grass.
Gerard’s hair is covering his face again, and Frank wishes the stupid practice hour would be over before his big fat mouth has a chance to do more damage.
Next day practice goes considerably better.
****
Gerard and Frank get out of the hospital fairly fast. Gerard would yell at Mikey for calling an ambulance in the first place, but the broken, helpless look that Mikey carries all the way from the waiting room to their dad’s car makes him hold his tongue. It reminds him of what Mikey looked like when their mom told them grandma Elena was gravely ill and would probably not make it, and he is sorry for making Mikey worry about him this way.
Pete and Jeanae, who Gerard thinks had given Mikey and Alicia a ride to the hospital, offer to take Alicia back home, so she says goodbye to Mikey at the parking lot squeezing his hand and kissing the corner of his mouth. Gerard feels a pang in his chest and it’s mixed with some guilt, a little bit of loneliness, but at the same time enormous gratitude for Alicia Simmons.
Frank gives Gerard a weak smile as he’s pushed into a metallic gray Volvo by Mrs. Iero. When the car door is slammed shut, Frank waves at him, the wave quickly morphing into a call me sign and then he’s gone.
****
After the hospital incident, Mikey considers not talking to Gerard for a few days, but curiosity gets the best of him.
“I didn’t know you knew Frank Iero,” he says lying on his bed facing Gerard’s side of the room. He watches as Gerard shrugs one shoulder, sitting on his bed, black hair falling on his face.
“I didn’t until a couple of days ago,” Gerard says raising his head to look at Mikey from behind lashes and half-mast lids.
“Okay,” Mikey says.
****
Pete parks his car in front of the Simmons’ house. It’s dull and dirty white just like all the houses in the area.
Jeanae moved from the backseat to sit next to him after she had hugged Alicia and waved her goodbye. She's giving him a look that Pete thinks mirrors his own.
“Well, that was something different,” she says and Pete has to laugh at that. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah it was.”
He pulls the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and kisses the corner of her eye, starts the car, and drives her home.