The Best Damn Dress I Own
Title: The Best Damn Dress I Own
Words: 1,438
Fandom: TAI, MCR (sorta?)
A/N: Written for schmoop_bingo square love song, and hs_bingo square best friends. Whew. Alrighty then. Mike, Bill, and Sisky go to a My Chem concert. Sorta.
"Could you switch with Sisky?" Bill asks as they take their places in line against the brick wall of the venue. "It's going to be really hard pretending not to know you if you're standing right next to me."
"What?" Mike looks at Bill, then back at Sisky, who's standing on his other side. He just shrugs though, so Mike turns back to Bill. "Seriously, what'd I do?"
"Your shirt," Bill says while inspecting the tickets. "You're wearing a My Chem shirt to the My Chem concert."
Mike glances down. "What's wrong with my shirt?"
"You're not supposed to wear a band's shirt to their show," Sisky nods.
"Why not?"
"Because Bill has very strong feelings about these things, and he gets all weird and funky about it."
"It's just-" Bill waves vaguely, crossing his arms over his chest, currently covered in an Alkaline Trio t-shirt. "It's just lame, okay?"
"Right," Sisky nods. "And how many times have you gone to hang out with Pete in your Fall Out Boy jacket or some shit?"
Bill turns slightly red as Mike barks out a laugh and Sisky snickers behind him. "...that's different, okay?"
"Right."
"That's supporting local music-"
"My Chen's playing right here in Chicago tonight, how much more local do you want them to get?"
"You know what, fuck you both, you can take the bus home or something."
"Yeah, fuck that," Mike snorts, leaning back against the bricks. "I drove your asses down here to see Midtown that one time, I didn't even have a ticket. You still owe me for that."
Bill crosses his arms with a huff. "I totally bought you gas and lunch the next day."
"So doesn't count, I drove then too."
"How else was I going to get you gas, genius?"
Sisky sighs, sinking down to sit on the sidewalk. "Why did I suggest we get here this early?"
---
"We wanna get up front, right?" Mike yells to be heard over the music as they walk in. Before he can even point toward the stage though, Bill's shaking his head. "What?"
Bill jerks his chin in Sisky's direction. "He'll be crushed!"
"I'll be fine!"
"Shut up, you weigh like, a hundred pounds!"
"We'll be watching out for him!" Mike nods, cupping his hands around Bill's ear. "Come on, it's gonna be epic up there!"
"Mike-"
"Bill! Please?" Mike clasps his hands in front of him. It’s My Chem, he reasons, he is not too proud to beg right now. "Why the fuck did we get here three hours before doors if we're just gonna stand on the sides?"
Bill's eyes narrow, but he shrugs finally. "Fine!" Pointing at Sisky, he adds, "You stay with us! Got it?"
"Sure thing!" Sisky nods, already dragging them toward the barriers at the edge of the stage.
They squeeze into the last sort-of choice spot up front as the floor fills up around them. By the time the first openers come on, the air is humid and Mike's hair is sticking to his forehead. He looks over at Bill, chewing on his lip anxiously, and follows Bill’s gaze down to Sisky, who's pushed up between them a bit, a group of guys separating him from the barrier. Sisky isn't moving (mainly because they're packed in so tightly all of a sudden, as the second band takes the stage) but Mike can see the side of his face, watches the edge of his smile creeping up toward his ear.
At the end of the second opener's set, the house system comes back on, and the crowd shoves forward suddenly. Mike can't move his arms, Sisky's face is pressing against a redheaded guy's back, and Bill is plastered up against Sisky.
He thinks he hears Sisky say, "Uh-dude?" but suddenly the lights go down, the crowd presses closer, and a scream rips through the entire place as a shadowy figure heads toward the drum kit in back. Almost immediately a beat starts coming through, cutting through the noise.
As the beat picks up so do the screams and the clapping, only getting louder as two more join the drummer. Mike feels his heart start racing as he recognizes the silhouette of a fro. He leans forward to yell at Sisky but Sisky's already staring at the far left, toward the smaller shadow creeping up from behind an amp. By the time he looks back at the stage, Gerard Way is standing at the microphone, watching them all as the stage lights go up, and the entire-the whole-
Mike's brain cuts out a little as he takes in My Chemical Romance standing in front of him, in the flesh, in real life. Without even thinking about it he grabs Sisky's wrist, barely notices as Sisky twists his arm around to lace their fingers together. He squeezes tightly and Mike squeezes back, grinning just as wide. He starts to look at Bill, to see what he's doing, but Gerard opens his mouth and Mike just stares instead.
"Hello Chicago!" Gerard screams into the microphone. He looks out over them, and Mike's breath catches in his throat as Gerard's eyes sweep over him. Gerard leans forward on the mike stand, both hands clamped around it. Leaning in even closer, he asks, "Are you mother fuckers ready-to fucking-ROCK?"
Mike can't hear the rest of the audience over the blood rushing through his ears. He's kind of aware that Sisky's bouncing in place, that in his periphery Bill's mouthing something silently in answer to Gerard's question. Bill stops mid-sentence, and Mike realizes Gerard's talking again.
"Yeah, that was pretty-okay that was shitty," Gerard grins, biting his bottom lip like he's considering each and every one of them. "Alright Chicago! You get one more chance, and when I say one more I fucking mean one more-you better make it count this time because I'm not gonna ask you again. Are-you-ready-to-"
He holds out the mike stand to them suddenly, and Mike's screaming before he even realizes it, as the crowd explodes into sound behind him. They're all still yelling when Gerard pulls the mike back, yanking it off of the stand.
"Good enough," he grins, pointing out at the audience with his free hand. "Alright then, kids, let's kick this shit! GO!"
Ray leans back, the intro to "Give 'Em Hell Kid" rips out of his guitar, and it's the last thing Mike sees before he gets side-tackled by a girl in a black t-shirt.
---
“You’re still bleeding.”
“Get off me,” Mike sighs, pushing Bill away. It only serves as a distraction, though, and Sisky sneaks in from the other side, pressing another napkin against Mike’s forehead. “Jeez, dudes, seriously? You both had to ‘escort’ me back to the car?”
“It’s called ‘caring,’ asshole, and don’t worry,” Bill rolls his eyes, grabbing Mike’s wrist and pinning it down against his chest. He swabs at the cut despite Mike’s grumbling. “We’ll make sure not to do it again.”
“Yeah, what, next time we’re in the front row at a My Chem show and Mike smashes his head into the barrier five minutes in?” Sisky snorts.
“I didn’t hit my head, that crazy-ass girl did.”
“She hit you, you hit the barrier,” Bill waves one hand. “Semantics, really.”
“More like physics.”
“Hey Laurel, Hardy, shut it,” Mike sighs, shrugging them both off and leaning forward, chin in his hands and elbows on his knees. “God dammit, biggest concert ever and I ruin it for all of us.”
From his angle, he has a perfect view of the rear view mirror, and the look Sisky and Bill share behind his back. Mike barely has time to wonder if he was supposed to see that or not before they close in on either side of him.
“I wouldn’t say it was ruined,” Bill says, rubbing small circles on Mike’s back until Mike shrugs him off. “This is possibly going to end up a better story than Sisky getting punched in the nuts at Midtown last summer.”
“Hey,” Sisky pipes up, sounding offended. “That story is a classic.”
“Yeah, but this-“ Bill pulls on Mike’s shoulder, Sisky joining in until they’ve got him sitting up again. Bill gestures at his forehead. “-this is going to be a truly brutal wound.”
Mike shrugs before Sisky can open his mouth again. “I don’t know dudes, what with the Florence Nightingale brothers taking care of me…”
With that he leans back and closes his eyes with a smile, letting Bill and Sisky’s bickering blend in with the throbbing in his temple and the barely-there bass from the venue behind them.
Words: 1,438
Fandom: TAI, MCR (sorta?)
A/N: Written for schmoop_bingo square love song, and hs_bingo square best friends. Whew. Alrighty then. Mike, Bill, and Sisky go to a My Chem concert. Sorta.
"Could you switch with Sisky?" Bill asks as they take their places in line against the brick wall of the venue. "It's going to be really hard pretending not to know you if you're standing right next to me."
"What?" Mike looks at Bill, then back at Sisky, who's standing on his other side. He just shrugs though, so Mike turns back to Bill. "Seriously, what'd I do?"
"Your shirt," Bill says while inspecting the tickets. "You're wearing a My Chem shirt to the My Chem concert."
Mike glances down. "What's wrong with my shirt?"
"You're not supposed to wear a band's shirt to their show," Sisky nods.
"Why not?"
"Because Bill has very strong feelings about these things, and he gets all weird and funky about it."
"It's just-" Bill waves vaguely, crossing his arms over his chest, currently covered in an Alkaline Trio t-shirt. "It's just lame, okay?"
"Right," Sisky nods. "And how many times have you gone to hang out with Pete in your Fall Out Boy jacket or some shit?"
Bill turns slightly red as Mike barks out a laugh and Sisky snickers behind him. "...that's different, okay?"
"Right."
"That's supporting local music-"
"My Chen's playing right here in Chicago tonight, how much more local do you want them to get?"
"You know what, fuck you both, you can take the bus home or something."
"Yeah, fuck that," Mike snorts, leaning back against the bricks. "I drove your asses down here to see Midtown that one time, I didn't even have a ticket. You still owe me for that."
Bill crosses his arms with a huff. "I totally bought you gas and lunch the next day."
"So doesn't count, I drove then too."
"How else was I going to get you gas, genius?"
Sisky sighs, sinking down to sit on the sidewalk. "Why did I suggest we get here this early?"
---
"We wanna get up front, right?" Mike yells to be heard over the music as they walk in. Before he can even point toward the stage though, Bill's shaking his head. "What?"
Bill jerks his chin in Sisky's direction. "He'll be crushed!"
"I'll be fine!"
"Shut up, you weigh like, a hundred pounds!"
"We'll be watching out for him!" Mike nods, cupping his hands around Bill's ear. "Come on, it's gonna be epic up there!"
"Mike-"
"Bill! Please?" Mike clasps his hands in front of him. It’s My Chem, he reasons, he is not too proud to beg right now. "Why the fuck did we get here three hours before doors if we're just gonna stand on the sides?"
Bill's eyes narrow, but he shrugs finally. "Fine!" Pointing at Sisky, he adds, "You stay with us! Got it?"
"Sure thing!" Sisky nods, already dragging them toward the barriers at the edge of the stage.
They squeeze into the last sort-of choice spot up front as the floor fills up around them. By the time the first openers come on, the air is humid and Mike's hair is sticking to his forehead. He looks over at Bill, chewing on his lip anxiously, and follows Bill’s gaze down to Sisky, who's pushed up between them a bit, a group of guys separating him from the barrier. Sisky isn't moving (mainly because they're packed in so tightly all of a sudden, as the second band takes the stage) but Mike can see the side of his face, watches the edge of his smile creeping up toward his ear.
At the end of the second opener's set, the house system comes back on, and the crowd shoves forward suddenly. Mike can't move his arms, Sisky's face is pressing against a redheaded guy's back, and Bill is plastered up against Sisky.
He thinks he hears Sisky say, "Uh-dude?" but suddenly the lights go down, the crowd presses closer, and a scream rips through the entire place as a shadowy figure heads toward the drum kit in back. Almost immediately a beat starts coming through, cutting through the noise.
As the beat picks up so do the screams and the clapping, only getting louder as two more join the drummer. Mike feels his heart start racing as he recognizes the silhouette of a fro. He leans forward to yell at Sisky but Sisky's already staring at the far left, toward the smaller shadow creeping up from behind an amp. By the time he looks back at the stage, Gerard Way is standing at the microphone, watching them all as the stage lights go up, and the entire-the whole-
Mike's brain cuts out a little as he takes in My Chemical Romance standing in front of him, in the flesh, in real life. Without even thinking about it he grabs Sisky's wrist, barely notices as Sisky twists his arm around to lace their fingers together. He squeezes tightly and Mike squeezes back, grinning just as wide. He starts to look at Bill, to see what he's doing, but Gerard opens his mouth and Mike just stares instead.
"Hello Chicago!" Gerard screams into the microphone. He looks out over them, and Mike's breath catches in his throat as Gerard's eyes sweep over him. Gerard leans forward on the mike stand, both hands clamped around it. Leaning in even closer, he asks, "Are you mother fuckers ready-to fucking-ROCK?"
Mike can't hear the rest of the audience over the blood rushing through his ears. He's kind of aware that Sisky's bouncing in place, that in his periphery Bill's mouthing something silently in answer to Gerard's question. Bill stops mid-sentence, and Mike realizes Gerard's talking again.
"Yeah, that was pretty-okay that was shitty," Gerard grins, biting his bottom lip like he's considering each and every one of them. "Alright Chicago! You get one more chance, and when I say one more I fucking mean one more-you better make it count this time because I'm not gonna ask you again. Are-you-ready-to-"
He holds out the mike stand to them suddenly, and Mike's screaming before he even realizes it, as the crowd explodes into sound behind him. They're all still yelling when Gerard pulls the mike back, yanking it off of the stand.
"Good enough," he grins, pointing out at the audience with his free hand. "Alright then, kids, let's kick this shit! GO!"
Ray leans back, the intro to "Give 'Em Hell Kid" rips out of his guitar, and it's the last thing Mike sees before he gets side-tackled by a girl in a black t-shirt.
---
“You’re still bleeding.”
“Get off me,” Mike sighs, pushing Bill away. It only serves as a distraction, though, and Sisky sneaks in from the other side, pressing another napkin against Mike’s forehead. “Jeez, dudes, seriously? You both had to ‘escort’ me back to the car?”
“It’s called ‘caring,’ asshole, and don’t worry,” Bill rolls his eyes, grabbing Mike’s wrist and pinning it down against his chest. He swabs at the cut despite Mike’s grumbling. “We’ll make sure not to do it again.”
“Yeah, what, next time we’re in the front row at a My Chem show and Mike smashes his head into the barrier five minutes in?” Sisky snorts.
“I didn’t hit my head, that crazy-ass girl did.”
“She hit you, you hit the barrier,” Bill waves one hand. “Semantics, really.”
“More like physics.”
“Hey Laurel, Hardy, shut it,” Mike sighs, shrugging them both off and leaning forward, chin in his hands and elbows on his knees. “God dammit, biggest concert ever and I ruin it for all of us.”
From his angle, he has a perfect view of the rear view mirror, and the look Sisky and Bill share behind his back. Mike barely has time to wonder if he was supposed to see that or not before they close in on either side of him.
“I wouldn’t say it was ruined,” Bill says, rubbing small circles on Mike’s back until Mike shrugs him off. “This is possibly going to end up a better story than Sisky getting punched in the nuts at Midtown last summer.”
“Hey,” Sisky pipes up, sounding offended. “That story is a classic.”
“Yeah, but this-“ Bill pulls on Mike’s shoulder, Sisky joining in until they’ve got him sitting up again. Bill gestures at his forehead. “-this is going to be a truly brutal wound.”
Mike shrugs before Sisky can open his mouth again. “I don’t know dudes, what with the Florence Nightingale brothers taking care of me…”
With that he leans back and closes his eyes with a smile, letting Bill and Sisky’s bickering blend in with the throbbing in his temple and the barely-there bass from the venue behind them.