Fic: Get to Kiss That Twisted Mouth (Girl!Gerard/Lyn-Z, PG)
Title: Get to Kiss That Twisted Mouth
Summary: AU: Lyn-Z doesn't even really realize that the lead singer of My Chemical Romance, dressed in a black suit and red tie, is a woman until halfway through their first opening set.
Pairing: Girl!Gerard/Lyn-Z
Rating: PG
Word count: 1650
AN: pretty_paulie asked for girl!Gerard/Lyn-Z on last night’s love meme, and I wrote a little drabble, then woke up with the rest of the story in mind, so I wrote it out. This is unbeta’d fluffy schmoop. Title from Zombina and the Skeletones’ “I Wanna Be Your Ghoulfriend,” because I couldn’t resist.
Lyn-Z doesn't even really realize that the lead singer of My Chemical Romance, dressed in a black suit and red tie, is a woman until halfway through their first opening set, when she shoves a hand down her pants and lets out a very feminine and sexy as hell moan, fluttering her eyes and then jerking her hand out of her pants and flipping off the audience, snarling, "That ain't what I'm here for tonight, motherfuckers!" and launching into a song about zombie lovers in the apocalypse.
"Fuck me backwards," Lyn-Z says, and now that she realizes - yeah, she can make out the curve of a breast under the suit vest, though the round face and tangled chin-length hair and sharp eyes remain as casually androgynous as ever.
After the set ends, she hangs around side stage and steps up to the girl, sweaty and fucking glowing like she'd been ridden hard and put up wet, and sticks out her hand. "I'm Lyn-Z," she says. "You kick ass."
The grin that breaks across the girl's face is beautiful, tiny teeth and all. "Thanks. Gee. Um. My name is Gee. I didn't like, just channel the 50s or anything. Fuck." She glanced around, obviously looking for help from her band.
They just snicker and Lyn-Z sticks her tongue out at them, grabs Gee's hand and plants a kiss on it. "Charmed."
Gee turns pink.
"You gonna watch my show?" Lyn-Z asks, cocking her hip enough so that her skirt brushes against Gee's hand.
"Yeah, I'm a fan," she replies, turning pinker and looking up shyly through a tangled curtain of hair.
"I'll blow you a kiss," Lyn-Z promises, and only glances back once as she leaves.
*
Lyn-Z keeps catching sight of Gee standing offstage, arms folded awkwardly over her chest and still wearing her suit. Lyn-Z blows her the promised kiss, and launches into a backbend, cheeks hurting from the grin that breaks across her face at the sight of Gee's flushed face.
Afterwards, Lyn-Z ignores Jimmy's snark and Kitty's little shove and, "Give 'er hell," and hurries over to Gee.
"You were amazing," Gee says, pushing a tangled lock of hair out of her face. Lyn-Z can't help that she's staring at the way Gee's tie is loosened enough and enough buttons open to see a triangle of soft white skin, and kind of itches to loosen that tie more.
She just grins and invites Gee out for coffee.
Lyn-Z doesn't bother to change out of her stage clothes, either; it's not like she can really smell them anymore, and Gee clearly doesn't mind. Lyn-Z hasn't felt self-conscious in her outfit for ages - not since the first couple nights on stage, really, because fuck 'em if they don't like what they're seeing - but she feels strangely naked when she slides into the diner booth, bare thighs sticking to the cracked vinyl and the cold burst of AC sending shivers down her bare arms.
Gee's outfit covers her from neck to foot, and Lyn-Z finds the bits of skin visible all the more enticing for it. The glimpse of collarbone, the way her wrists protrude out of her jacket sleeves - Lyn-Z can almost understand the Victorians for a second.
"Here, you can wear my jacket," Gee says, motioning towards Lyn-Z's goosepimpled arm.
"Chivalrous of you," Lyn-Z grins, and laughs as Gee flips her off and then takes off her jacket anyway.
It smells and there are some spots still damp with sweat, but Lyn-Z shrugs it on happily.
It's surprisingly easy to talk to Gee - the conversation veers wildly from their favorite comics - "No fucking way is Grant Morrison the greatest thing to happen to the genre in the past twenty years. Goddamn Gaiman and Garth Ennis and Alan motherfucking Moore, baby, or did you forget about From Hell?" - to their favorite mediums to work in - "On the road it's just easier to sketch in pencil and ink, you know? Not like I'm gonna drag around a full set of paints." - to their respective bandmates.
"I'd totally sort Jimmy as a Hufflepuff, you know," Lyn-Z confides. "No matter how hard he wants to be Slytherin."
Gee laughs. "I'm in a fucking band of Gryffindors. Except maybe Mikey, he might be a secret Slytherin. He can be a sly motherfucker."
"So does that make you a Gryffindor, too?" Lyn-Z asks slyly, tapping her fingernail on the cheap saucer her coffee cup is resting on.
"Fuck, yeah," Gee says. "Gryffindors kick ass, and stand up for what's right."
"That's what you do?" Lyn-Z asks.
"Well, yeah," Gee says. "Music is... it can fucking save your life, and I just want to bring that to people, you know? Hope and all that shit."
"Yeah, and you're pretty fucking entertaining, too," Lyn-Z adds. She is so fucking close to leaping over this table, Gee has no idea. "I think that's important."
"Yeah," Gee says, a smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, I agree."
"Especially since, you know, there aren't a lot of us out there," Lyn-Z says. It's a total cult-leader move, but she reaches out and rests her hand over Gee's, stroking Gee's thumb with her own.
Gee kind of looks down, and then says shyly, "Yeah, my boyfriend keeps telling me I'm fucking revolutionary, but I just tell him to fuck off, there have been a lot of awesome women fronting bands."
Oh. That's... unexpected. Lyn-Z stills her hand. "Yeah. You've totally got it, though. That charisma. You're gonna make it."
Gee grins again and squeezes her hand. "That means a whole lot, coming from you."
The conversation turns back to safer territory - comics and movies and the respective shenanigans their bandmates (and they themselves) have gotten into - and Lyn-Z regrets that My Chemical Romance is only opening for them such a short time.
*
If Lyn-Z is completely honest with herself, she watched My Chem's rise to respective success with pride and a little stab of envy. She doesn't obsess or anything, but whenever she flips through a magazine and sees a tiny blurb singing Gee's praises for her balls-out attitude and penchant for theatrics, she grins to herself and remembers the feel of Gee's jacket on her shoulders and vinyl sticking to her thighs.
When both their bands end up playing Projekt Revolution, she sketches a picture of Gee stalking across the stage like the fucking lovechild of Freddie Mercury and Courtney Love and scrawls, "Apparently you are fucking revolutionary," across the bottom, only just resists drawing a winking face to accompany it.
She hangs around backstage and steps up to Gee as she comes bounding off stage, practically vibrating with adrenaline.
"Hi," she says, pressing the sketch into Gee's hand as she kisses her on the cheek. "Awesome show."
"Thanks," Gee manages to get out. Lyn-Z grins at her and hurries off to find her own band, because she has a fucking colony of butterflies in her stomach from handing over that drawing. She doesn't want to risk fucking things up this soon, especially if friendship is all she's gonna get.
*
"Lyn-Z, you have a stalker!" Steve crows at her one morning.
"Fuck off," Lyn-Z replies, hiding her head under her pillow and flailing an arm in the general direction Steve's voice came from.
"No, it's a secret admirer!" Kitty corrects, ticking the foot Lyn-Z had sticking out from under her blanket. She ignores Lyn-Z's kick and sings, "They left a present."
"Present?" Lyn-Z asks, peeking out from under the pillow. "Where?"
She definitely doesn't expect a rolled up drawing tied with a pink ribbon. She unties it and then gapes. She definitely hadn't expected a sketch of herself, wearing her stage clothes and a cape and wielding her bass like a fucking axe, sinking it into the head of a gross falling-apart zombie.
She ties the pink ribbon around one of her pigtails that afternoon, and spots Gee watching her perform from behind the amps.
*
She and Gee exchange three more drawings - of vampire, superhero and undead versions of themselves, the last one an image of themselves as zombies pecking each other on the lips, zombie Lyn-Z's half-rotted leg kicked up like an old-time starlet - before Lyn-Z corners her at food services during lunch rush.
"Let's take a walk," she suggests, leading Gee away from the crowd of techs and band members to the relative privacy and shade of the buses. Their respective buses are beside each other, and Lyn-Z leans against My Chem's and pulls the latest present out of her bag.
"I thought you had a boyfriend," Lyn-Z says, holding out the zombie drawing.
"That ended ages ago," Gee says, looking confused. "Messily."
Lyn-Z raises an eyebrow.
"Seriously," Gee says, and then suddenly says, "Oh! You thought... No! I like you! Lots!"
Lyn-Z thinks she probably looks Jokerized. "I like you lots, too."
Gee kind of shifts from foot to foot. Lyn-Z leans forward, grabs both her hands and kisses her carefully on the lips. "Wanna be my girlfriend?"
"Always," Gee replies, and wraps her arms around her and swoops Lyn-Z into a Hollywood kiss.
They break apart, laughing, to the sound of Jimmy and Frank cheering them on.
“Fuck off,” they both yell, then grin at each other.
“You make me sick,” Jimmy says as he sticks his head out the bus door, hair only half-spiked. “No lovey dovey crap on this bus. Unless I get to watch, that is.”
“Looks like it’s my bus then,” Gee offers.
Lyn-Z has been thinking about wrapping her legs around Gee’s hips for what feels like forever. “Sure,” she says.
“I have Bubba Ho-Tep to watch,” Gee says, kissing her again like she can’t quite believe this is happening.
Their hands fit together perfectly.
“There’s nothing I’d like more,” Lyn-Z says truthfully, and follows Gee onto the bus.
Summary: AU: Lyn-Z doesn't even really realize that the lead singer of My Chemical Romance, dressed in a black suit and red tie, is a woman until halfway through their first opening set.
Pairing: Girl!Gerard/Lyn-Z
Rating: PG
Word count: 1650
AN: pretty_paulie asked for girl!Gerard/Lyn-Z on last night’s love meme, and I wrote a little drabble, then woke up with the rest of the story in mind, so I wrote it out. This is unbeta’d fluffy schmoop. Title from Zombina and the Skeletones’ “I Wanna Be Your Ghoulfriend,” because I couldn’t resist.
Lyn-Z doesn't even really realize that the lead singer of My Chemical Romance, dressed in a black suit and red tie, is a woman until halfway through their first opening set, when she shoves a hand down her pants and lets out a very feminine and sexy as hell moan, fluttering her eyes and then jerking her hand out of her pants and flipping off the audience, snarling, "That ain't what I'm here for tonight, motherfuckers!" and launching into a song about zombie lovers in the apocalypse.
"Fuck me backwards," Lyn-Z says, and now that she realizes - yeah, she can make out the curve of a breast under the suit vest, though the round face and tangled chin-length hair and sharp eyes remain as casually androgynous as ever.
After the set ends, she hangs around side stage and steps up to the girl, sweaty and fucking glowing like she'd been ridden hard and put up wet, and sticks out her hand. "I'm Lyn-Z," she says. "You kick ass."
The grin that breaks across the girl's face is beautiful, tiny teeth and all. "Thanks. Gee. Um. My name is Gee. I didn't like, just channel the 50s or anything. Fuck." She glanced around, obviously looking for help from her band.
They just snicker and Lyn-Z sticks her tongue out at them, grabs Gee's hand and plants a kiss on it. "Charmed."
Gee turns pink.
"You gonna watch my show?" Lyn-Z asks, cocking her hip enough so that her skirt brushes against Gee's hand.
"Yeah, I'm a fan," she replies, turning pinker and looking up shyly through a tangled curtain of hair.
"I'll blow you a kiss," Lyn-Z promises, and only glances back once as she leaves.
*
Lyn-Z keeps catching sight of Gee standing offstage, arms folded awkwardly over her chest and still wearing her suit. Lyn-Z blows her the promised kiss, and launches into a backbend, cheeks hurting from the grin that breaks across her face at the sight of Gee's flushed face.
Afterwards, Lyn-Z ignores Jimmy's snark and Kitty's little shove and, "Give 'er hell," and hurries over to Gee.
"You were amazing," Gee says, pushing a tangled lock of hair out of her face. Lyn-Z can't help that she's staring at the way Gee's tie is loosened enough and enough buttons open to see a triangle of soft white skin, and kind of itches to loosen that tie more.
She just grins and invites Gee out for coffee.
Lyn-Z doesn't bother to change out of her stage clothes, either; it's not like she can really smell them anymore, and Gee clearly doesn't mind. Lyn-Z hasn't felt self-conscious in her outfit for ages - not since the first couple nights on stage, really, because fuck 'em if they don't like what they're seeing - but she feels strangely naked when she slides into the diner booth, bare thighs sticking to the cracked vinyl and the cold burst of AC sending shivers down her bare arms.
Gee's outfit covers her from neck to foot, and Lyn-Z finds the bits of skin visible all the more enticing for it. The glimpse of collarbone, the way her wrists protrude out of her jacket sleeves - Lyn-Z can almost understand the Victorians for a second.
"Here, you can wear my jacket," Gee says, motioning towards Lyn-Z's goosepimpled arm.
"Chivalrous of you," Lyn-Z grins, and laughs as Gee flips her off and then takes off her jacket anyway.
It smells and there are some spots still damp with sweat, but Lyn-Z shrugs it on happily.
It's surprisingly easy to talk to Gee - the conversation veers wildly from their favorite comics - "No fucking way is Grant Morrison the greatest thing to happen to the genre in the past twenty years. Goddamn Gaiman and Garth Ennis and Alan motherfucking Moore, baby, or did you forget about From Hell?" - to their favorite mediums to work in - "On the road it's just easier to sketch in pencil and ink, you know? Not like I'm gonna drag around a full set of paints." - to their respective bandmates.
"I'd totally sort Jimmy as a Hufflepuff, you know," Lyn-Z confides. "No matter how hard he wants to be Slytherin."
Gee laughs. "I'm in a fucking band of Gryffindors. Except maybe Mikey, he might be a secret Slytherin. He can be a sly motherfucker."
"So does that make you a Gryffindor, too?" Lyn-Z asks slyly, tapping her fingernail on the cheap saucer her coffee cup is resting on.
"Fuck, yeah," Gee says. "Gryffindors kick ass, and stand up for what's right."
"That's what you do?" Lyn-Z asks.
"Well, yeah," Gee says. "Music is... it can fucking save your life, and I just want to bring that to people, you know? Hope and all that shit."
"Yeah, and you're pretty fucking entertaining, too," Lyn-Z adds. She is so fucking close to leaping over this table, Gee has no idea. "I think that's important."
"Yeah," Gee says, a smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, I agree."
"Especially since, you know, there aren't a lot of us out there," Lyn-Z says. It's a total cult-leader move, but she reaches out and rests her hand over Gee's, stroking Gee's thumb with her own.
Gee kind of looks down, and then says shyly, "Yeah, my boyfriend keeps telling me I'm fucking revolutionary, but I just tell him to fuck off, there have been a lot of awesome women fronting bands."
Oh. That's... unexpected. Lyn-Z stills her hand. "Yeah. You've totally got it, though. That charisma. You're gonna make it."
Gee grins again and squeezes her hand. "That means a whole lot, coming from you."
The conversation turns back to safer territory - comics and movies and the respective shenanigans their bandmates (and they themselves) have gotten into - and Lyn-Z regrets that My Chemical Romance is only opening for them such a short time.
*
If Lyn-Z is completely honest with herself, she watched My Chem's rise to respective success with pride and a little stab of envy. She doesn't obsess or anything, but whenever she flips through a magazine and sees a tiny blurb singing Gee's praises for her balls-out attitude and penchant for theatrics, she grins to herself and remembers the feel of Gee's jacket on her shoulders and vinyl sticking to her thighs.
When both their bands end up playing Projekt Revolution, she sketches a picture of Gee stalking across the stage like the fucking lovechild of Freddie Mercury and Courtney Love and scrawls, "Apparently you are fucking revolutionary," across the bottom, only just resists drawing a winking face to accompany it.
She hangs around backstage and steps up to Gee as she comes bounding off stage, practically vibrating with adrenaline.
"Hi," she says, pressing the sketch into Gee's hand as she kisses her on the cheek. "Awesome show."
"Thanks," Gee manages to get out. Lyn-Z grins at her and hurries off to find her own band, because she has a fucking colony of butterflies in her stomach from handing over that drawing. She doesn't want to risk fucking things up this soon, especially if friendship is all she's gonna get.
*
"Lyn-Z, you have a stalker!" Steve crows at her one morning.
"Fuck off," Lyn-Z replies, hiding her head under her pillow and flailing an arm in the general direction Steve's voice came from.
"No, it's a secret admirer!" Kitty corrects, ticking the foot Lyn-Z had sticking out from under her blanket. She ignores Lyn-Z's kick and sings, "They left a present."
"Present?" Lyn-Z asks, peeking out from under the pillow. "Where?"
She definitely doesn't expect a rolled up drawing tied with a pink ribbon. She unties it and then gapes. She definitely hadn't expected a sketch of herself, wearing her stage clothes and a cape and wielding her bass like a fucking axe, sinking it into the head of a gross falling-apart zombie.
She ties the pink ribbon around one of her pigtails that afternoon, and spots Gee watching her perform from behind the amps.
*
She and Gee exchange three more drawings - of vampire, superhero and undead versions of themselves, the last one an image of themselves as zombies pecking each other on the lips, zombie Lyn-Z's half-rotted leg kicked up like an old-time starlet - before Lyn-Z corners her at food services during lunch rush.
"Let's take a walk," she suggests, leading Gee away from the crowd of techs and band members to the relative privacy and shade of the buses. Their respective buses are beside each other, and Lyn-Z leans against My Chem's and pulls the latest present out of her bag.
"I thought you had a boyfriend," Lyn-Z says, holding out the zombie drawing.
"That ended ages ago," Gee says, looking confused. "Messily."
Lyn-Z raises an eyebrow.
"Seriously," Gee says, and then suddenly says, "Oh! You thought... No! I like you! Lots!"
Lyn-Z thinks she probably looks Jokerized. "I like you lots, too."
Gee kind of shifts from foot to foot. Lyn-Z leans forward, grabs both her hands and kisses her carefully on the lips. "Wanna be my girlfriend?"
"Always," Gee replies, and wraps her arms around her and swoops Lyn-Z into a Hollywood kiss.
They break apart, laughing, to the sound of Jimmy and Frank cheering them on.
“Fuck off,” they both yell, then grin at each other.
“You make me sick,” Jimmy says as he sticks his head out the bus door, hair only half-spiked. “No lovey dovey crap on this bus. Unless I get to watch, that is.”
“Looks like it’s my bus then,” Gee offers.
Lyn-Z has been thinking about wrapping her legs around Gee’s hips for what feels like forever. “Sure,” she says.
“I have Bubba Ho-Tep to watch,” Gee says, kissing her again like she can’t quite believe this is happening.
Their hands fit together perfectly.
“There’s nothing I’d like more,” Lyn-Z says truthfully, and follows Gee onto the bus.