(no subject)
Jul. 1st, 2011 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gala_applesTitle: I Get Knocked Down...
Pairing: Frank/Matt
Rating: pg13
Wordcount: 1758
Series: Slantverse
Summary: Other people see a problem in what he's doing. Other people can fuck off.
Prompt used: danger for kink_bingo
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
It’s not that it ends too quickly, because honestly Frank’s not sure he could have taken much more of a beating. It’s more that he doesn’t have a chance to drift back into reality at his own pace. Last time he floated through the afternoon, aided by the lax attitude of the adults around him. Contrary to Frank’s dire predictions, Schechter just spoke to them for a few minutes before handing them off to Mr Howard, who talked for about a minute before Mr Schechter sent them back to fifth period.
While it had been nice to not be in a shitstorm of trouble, it had prepared Frank in no way for how shit’s going down this time. Not that he would have not done it had he known, because fuck that. But as far as Frank can tell his dire predictions were right, and last time was just a fluke.
Principal Schechter meets them in the cafeteria. They're both being held by a staff member, arms pinned in a way that doesn't allow for struggling. It's not exactly a turn off. Schechter apparently holds a grudge about the way they didn’t talk last time; he doesn’t even bother to ask what the issue was, just asks the students still standing in a semi-circle around them what happened. They tell him about Frank calling Matt out on his band shirt, that they plagiarise their songs and the lead singer is a whore. Not that Schechter knows it, but it’s essentially a play by play of last week. Frank made a comment, Matt told him to fuck off and punched him in the shoulder, Frank shoved him. This week differs slightly in that last week Matt shoved him back and told him to fuck off again, and this week Matt skipped the preliminaries and just took a swing.
Like last week, they’re brought into the office and ordered to sit. The chairs are poorly padded vinyl and tiny metal legs, it would be fair to say they could be used in a torture scene. Unlike last week Schechter is on the phone to their parents in seconds, back of the spinny chair turned to face them. Frank obviously can’t hear both sides of the discussion, simple eavesdropping proves that their presence is being requested.
While they wait, he lectures them on the seriousness of violence or overtly sexual behaviour in a place of learning. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard a hundred times. Bullies that get caught are charged with assault, it happened to Chad Kroeger last year. No scening at school was just about the first lesson they learned in sex ed. Frank wants to yawn. Okay, no, Frank wants to flee the office and jerk off in the nearest bathroom. But he can’t do that, and he can’t yawn either; Schechter would probably pop a blood vessel.
The Cortezs arrive first to take Matt away. Matt doesn’t seem overly pleased to see them, but they don’t start shouting immediately so as far as Frank’s considering he’s getting off easy. When his grandpa finally arrives at school Frank doesn’t get the same kindness. Nor does it stop, it’s literally an entire afternoon of lecturing. Grandpa doesn’t let him out of his sight until his father gets home, and then it’s a tag team of have some respect and you’re wasting your life and this wouldn’t have happened if you had a dom. If the only way to get out was to shoot himself in the face, Frank would.
He’s not an idiot. He knows that going upstairs to use his closet is out of the question. As soon as they hear a single thump Dad will run up the stairs. In the mood he’s in it wouldn’t surprise Frank if he detached the doors. Even straight masturbation probably won’t happen. Whenever he gets in trouble he’s under a strict open bedroom door policy, and there is a difference between getting off because your peers are watching and judging, and having your grandpa walk past as you’re coming into a Kleenex.
Maybe another person would take today’s proceedings as a lesson. Frank Iero is Frank motherfuckin’ Iero though, and today’s bullshit only means one thing. The next time he provokes Matt he needs to do it in a way that’ll give him time to enjoy it.
The next day he waits until lunch, and until Matt goes outside for a smoke. Frank’s not a stalker, but he smelled the smoke on him yesterday, and when he stands his hand is curled around a square bulge in his pocket. There are only so many things it could be. Frank says something to Conrad about needing to take a shit in case someone notices he’s gone, then follows him.
This time he doesn’t even bother to say anything offensive, just sneaks behind him and shoves the heel of his palm into the back of Matt’s skull. Matt’s cigarette falls and sputters out. Frank only has a second to mourn the waste before Matt’s shoving him against the brick wall. The jagged clay bites into his scalp and Frank’s breath catches in his lungs before he punches Matt in the side. With Matt’s forearm against his throat it’s hard to see where he’s aiming, but judging by the grunt it lands somewhere decent.
There’s only a small number of people on the lawn. It’s October, it’s starting to get a bit cold for sitting on the grass to eat lunch or playing catch. None the less, when the first one notices and shouts ‘fiiiiiiight!’ it takes only seconds to get an audience. They get close enough for a good view, though far enough that no one gets accidentally hit. Between the witnesses and the way his nose is getting crushed against Matt’s chest in the sudden headlock, Frank’s counting the moments until he creams his jeans. God bless jocks and stoners that don’t see the need to fetch a teacher.
Of course all good things have to come to an end. He’s grabbing a spare pair of jeans from Mikey’s locker -they’ll be too long, and tight on the thighs, but he doesn’t have his own, and comestains are a dress code violation- when a hand comes down on his shoulder. Frank drives back his elbow automatically, but it’s caught before it hits flesh.
“Mr Iero, kindly refrain from trying to brawl with me.” Oh fuck, that’s Schechter’s voice. That’s not good at all.
*
“We wanna talk to you about your fighting.”
Frank scowls and crosses his arms tight over his chest. It hurts his ribs, a soothing counterpoint to everyone apparently ganging up on him to give him shit. He and Pete and Sisky haven’t even sat down yet. You’d think a fucking intervention could wait until he was on the couch.
“You need to stop,” Carden says bluntly.
“Why the fuck are you even here? You’re scared shitless of Ryan’s dad.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, witty argument. That’s the most eloquent thing I’ve heard in a while.”
Carden opens his mouth but Tom kicks him. The action is mirrored by Ray, who tells him in a low tone to focus. He is; on the bruise Ray unwittingly kicked, and the determined look on Matt’s face as he stood over Frank giving it.
“Carden’s right though, you need to stop fighting.”
“You realise how fucking offensive it is to tell someone they can’t enjoy their slant, right? You don’t see me giving Nate shit for wanting to be someone’s puppy, or Sisky for servicing a fucking sub, or Mikey for letting someone different do whatever they want to do each freakin’ night. And I was the only one that didn’t give Bob shit for dropping out to be housebound for Maureen. And you-”
Mike clamps his hand over his mouth to stop the rant, but Frank is not Gerard Way. Even in a headlock he can still stomp on Mike’s feet until he lets go. “Just fucking listen Iero. Shut up and listen. No one gives a shit if your slant is being publicly taken down. Half of us share some aspect or another. But we don’t do it at school! In the last week you’ve been in the office three times. You’re going to get suspended.”
Mikey speaks for the first time. “If you want rough and public I know a few people.”
Normally Frank would enjoy the sudden expression on Gerard’s face. Not now though, not when no one is listening to him. Some of these guys have been his friends for a decade, they should at least try to understand. “I like what I’ve got now!”
“Yeah, and you will until some time next week when you get suspended, and then you’ll come back in a few weeks, head straight for Matt, do it again, and Schechter will fucking expel you.”
“Fuck off, he will not.”
He pushes past Ray and Carden and sits beside Brendon, who is staring wide eyed. Sometimes you can really tell he’s new to the whole getting laid thing. He tosses an arm around Brendon’s shoulder and shoves a wheel into Brendon’s hand, not giving a shit when Spencer glares at him. If Spencer wants to have a go, they’ll have a go. “I’m going to kick your ass. I call Yoshi.”
*
Frank’s been looking for Matt between periods. Unfortunately he doesn’t know where his locker is, and the friends of his that would normally know that shit aren’t going to ‘enable him’. Fucking doucherags.
In the end, Matt finds him. The class bell rings and the hall quickly thins to almost empty, only the few skippers or those with legit spares left to wander to the caf or the library. In a matter of minutes it’s just them. Frank puts up his fists, ready for a few good punches before being crushed into the linoleum. It rained this morning and Jimmy is a lazy fuck, two periods and the floor hasn’t been mopped up yet. He’s wearing a red merch shirt. If he goes down it’ll be noticeable, even if no one watches the fight.
Frank’s expecting a perfunctory insult, some paper thin reason to start. Instead Matt opens his mouth and asks “are you, like, courting me, asshole?”
“Fuck off!”
Matt doesn’t take the easy bait. “Unless you say Rhode Island right now, I'm taking that as a yes.”
Frank doesn’t say anything, just continues to glare, fists ready. Matt smirks and kicks him hard as fuck in his shin. Frank goes to one knee.
Pairing: Frank/Matt
Rating: pg13
Wordcount: 1758
Series: Slantverse
Summary: Other people see a problem in what he's doing. Other people can fuck off.
Prompt used: danger for kink_bingo
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
It’s not that it ends too quickly, because honestly Frank’s not sure he could have taken much more of a beating. It’s more that he doesn’t have a chance to drift back into reality at his own pace. Last time he floated through the afternoon, aided by the lax attitude of the adults around him. Contrary to Frank’s dire predictions, Schechter just spoke to them for a few minutes before handing them off to Mr Howard, who talked for about a minute before Mr Schechter sent them back to fifth period.
While it had been nice to not be in a shitstorm of trouble, it had prepared Frank in no way for how shit’s going down this time. Not that he would have not done it had he known, because fuck that. But as far as Frank can tell his dire predictions were right, and last time was just a fluke.
Principal Schechter meets them in the cafeteria. They're both being held by a staff member, arms pinned in a way that doesn't allow for struggling. It's not exactly a turn off. Schechter apparently holds a grudge about the way they didn’t talk last time; he doesn’t even bother to ask what the issue was, just asks the students still standing in a semi-circle around them what happened. They tell him about Frank calling Matt out on his band shirt, that they plagiarise their songs and the lead singer is a whore. Not that Schechter knows it, but it’s essentially a play by play of last week. Frank made a comment, Matt told him to fuck off and punched him in the shoulder, Frank shoved him. This week differs slightly in that last week Matt shoved him back and told him to fuck off again, and this week Matt skipped the preliminaries and just took a swing.
Like last week, they’re brought into the office and ordered to sit. The chairs are poorly padded vinyl and tiny metal legs, it would be fair to say they could be used in a torture scene. Unlike last week Schechter is on the phone to their parents in seconds, back of the spinny chair turned to face them. Frank obviously can’t hear both sides of the discussion, simple eavesdropping proves that their presence is being requested.
While they wait, he lectures them on the seriousness of violence or overtly sexual behaviour in a place of learning. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard a hundred times. Bullies that get caught are charged with assault, it happened to Chad Kroeger last year. No scening at school was just about the first lesson they learned in sex ed. Frank wants to yawn. Okay, no, Frank wants to flee the office and jerk off in the nearest bathroom. But he can’t do that, and he can’t yawn either; Schechter would probably pop a blood vessel.
The Cortezs arrive first to take Matt away. Matt doesn’t seem overly pleased to see them, but they don’t start shouting immediately so as far as Frank’s considering he’s getting off easy. When his grandpa finally arrives at school Frank doesn’t get the same kindness. Nor does it stop, it’s literally an entire afternoon of lecturing. Grandpa doesn’t let him out of his sight until his father gets home, and then it’s a tag team of have some respect and you’re wasting your life and this wouldn’t have happened if you had a dom. If the only way to get out was to shoot himself in the face, Frank would.
He’s not an idiot. He knows that going upstairs to use his closet is out of the question. As soon as they hear a single thump Dad will run up the stairs. In the mood he’s in it wouldn’t surprise Frank if he detached the doors. Even straight masturbation probably won’t happen. Whenever he gets in trouble he’s under a strict open bedroom door policy, and there is a difference between getting off because your peers are watching and judging, and having your grandpa walk past as you’re coming into a Kleenex.
Maybe another person would take today’s proceedings as a lesson. Frank Iero is Frank motherfuckin’ Iero though, and today’s bullshit only means one thing. The next time he provokes Matt he needs to do it in a way that’ll give him time to enjoy it.
The next day he waits until lunch, and until Matt goes outside for a smoke. Frank’s not a stalker, but he smelled the smoke on him yesterday, and when he stands his hand is curled around a square bulge in his pocket. There are only so many things it could be. Frank says something to Conrad about needing to take a shit in case someone notices he’s gone, then follows him.
This time he doesn’t even bother to say anything offensive, just sneaks behind him and shoves the heel of his palm into the back of Matt’s skull. Matt’s cigarette falls and sputters out. Frank only has a second to mourn the waste before Matt’s shoving him against the brick wall. The jagged clay bites into his scalp and Frank’s breath catches in his lungs before he punches Matt in the side. With Matt’s forearm against his throat it’s hard to see where he’s aiming, but judging by the grunt it lands somewhere decent.
There’s only a small number of people on the lawn. It’s October, it’s starting to get a bit cold for sitting on the grass to eat lunch or playing catch. None the less, when the first one notices and shouts ‘fiiiiiiight!’ it takes only seconds to get an audience. They get close enough for a good view, though far enough that no one gets accidentally hit. Between the witnesses and the way his nose is getting crushed against Matt’s chest in the sudden headlock, Frank’s counting the moments until he creams his jeans. God bless jocks and stoners that don’t see the need to fetch a teacher.
Of course all good things have to come to an end. He’s grabbing a spare pair of jeans from Mikey’s locker -they’ll be too long, and tight on the thighs, but he doesn’t have his own, and comestains are a dress code violation- when a hand comes down on his shoulder. Frank drives back his elbow automatically, but it’s caught before it hits flesh.
“Mr Iero, kindly refrain from trying to brawl with me.” Oh fuck, that’s Schechter’s voice. That’s not good at all.
*
“We wanna talk to you about your fighting.”
Frank scowls and crosses his arms tight over his chest. It hurts his ribs, a soothing counterpoint to everyone apparently ganging up on him to give him shit. He and Pete and Sisky haven’t even sat down yet. You’d think a fucking intervention could wait until he was on the couch.
“You need to stop,” Carden says bluntly.
“Why the fuck are you even here? You’re scared shitless of Ryan’s dad.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, witty argument. That’s the most eloquent thing I’ve heard in a while.”
Carden opens his mouth but Tom kicks him. The action is mirrored by Ray, who tells him in a low tone to focus. He is; on the bruise Ray unwittingly kicked, and the determined look on Matt’s face as he stood over Frank giving it.
“Carden’s right though, you need to stop fighting.”
“You realise how fucking offensive it is to tell someone they can’t enjoy their slant, right? You don’t see me giving Nate shit for wanting to be someone’s puppy, or Sisky for servicing a fucking sub, or Mikey for letting someone different do whatever they want to do each freakin’ night. And I was the only one that didn’t give Bob shit for dropping out to be housebound for Maureen. And you-”
Mike clamps his hand over his mouth to stop the rant, but Frank is not Gerard Way. Even in a headlock he can still stomp on Mike’s feet until he lets go. “Just fucking listen Iero. Shut up and listen. No one gives a shit if your slant is being publicly taken down. Half of us share some aspect or another. But we don’t do it at school! In the last week you’ve been in the office three times. You’re going to get suspended.”
Mikey speaks for the first time. “If you want rough and public I know a few people.”
Normally Frank would enjoy the sudden expression on Gerard’s face. Not now though, not when no one is listening to him. Some of these guys have been his friends for a decade, they should at least try to understand. “I like what I’ve got now!”
“Yeah, and you will until some time next week when you get suspended, and then you’ll come back in a few weeks, head straight for Matt, do it again, and Schechter will fucking expel you.”
“Fuck off, he will not.”
He pushes past Ray and Carden and sits beside Brendon, who is staring wide eyed. Sometimes you can really tell he’s new to the whole getting laid thing. He tosses an arm around Brendon’s shoulder and shoves a wheel into Brendon’s hand, not giving a shit when Spencer glares at him. If Spencer wants to have a go, they’ll have a go. “I’m going to kick your ass. I call Yoshi.”
*
Frank’s been looking for Matt between periods. Unfortunately he doesn’t know where his locker is, and the friends of his that would normally know that shit aren’t going to ‘enable him’. Fucking doucherags.
In the end, Matt finds him. The class bell rings and the hall quickly thins to almost empty, only the few skippers or those with legit spares left to wander to the caf or the library. In a matter of minutes it’s just them. Frank puts up his fists, ready for a few good punches before being crushed into the linoleum. It rained this morning and Jimmy is a lazy fuck, two periods and the floor hasn’t been mopped up yet. He’s wearing a red merch shirt. If he goes down it’ll be noticeable, even if no one watches the fight.
Frank’s expecting a perfunctory insult, some paper thin reason to start. Instead Matt opens his mouth and asks “are you, like, courting me, asshole?”
“Fuck off!”
Matt doesn’t take the easy bait. “Unless you say Rhode Island right now, I'm taking that as a yes.”
Frank doesn’t say anything, just continues to glare, fists ready. Matt smirks and kicks him hard as fuck in his shin. Frank goes to one knee.
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