Bandom: 'music is my boyfriend' ficlets

Note: I had people pick random songs off my iTunes and request a pairing and prompt. Most of these were bandom, with a number of completely new pairings for me, resulting in 8 new ficlets. Despite being written on the fly, I like several of these quite well. Titles from the respective song's lyrics.

180: Paul Oakenfold - Starry Eyed Surprise. Pete/Patrick. Crossdressing. 300 words. PG-13.

Freaky deaky, star speckles and pink butterflies
It had started as a bet. A drunken bet made on Warped, of course. Pete had been stumbling around in the dark parking lot, the high heels making him wobble even more. A helpful hand had reached out to steady him, a familar voice had said: "Careful, you'll... Pete?!"

Pete had squinted at Patrick's shadowed face at the notable hitch in his voice, had seen the unexpected hunger behind those glasses. It had uncurled something deep in him, and he had leaned down, still very aware that he'd be falling on his face if Patrick's hand hadn't been warm against his side. Afterwards, most of Pete's sloppily applied lipstick had been all over Patrick's face and neck, and Pete had lost the pair of Alicia's underwear he'd "borrowed" from Mikey somewhere in the dark.

They didn't do it very often, but every now and then Pete would leave an address with a lipstick imprint on Patrick's bed or bunk, cheesy as hell but Patrick never mentioned it. He also never failed to show up at the location Pete had chosen. Even if it meant going to a club so obscure no paparazzi would ever find it, and although he hadn't expected anything else, Pete's breath still hitched when he saw Patrick pushing his way through the crowd. He swayed a bit in his high-heeled boots and had to adjust his leather skirt as anticipation washed through him. Then Patrick was there, possessive hands on Pete's hips, leaving marks, and Pete let himself be pulled against Patrick's body.

There would be lipstick on Patrick's crotch later, and Pete would leave stained lace panties on the dirty floor of a bathroom stall. But for now Pete met Patrick's hungry eyes and let the steady beat of the music carry them away.

12999: Thirteen Senses - Spirals. Pete/Patrick. Nightmare Before Christmas sing-along. 150 words. G.

All my little plans
Sometimes Pete thought he should tell Patrick to just go, go find himself someone not quite so broken, not quite so messed up. Someone who didn't need all the time, someone who could give back. The whole "if you love someone, set them free" shtick. But Pete had never been any good at lying to himself - he knew there was no way he was going to actually do it. He needed Patrick too much, that was the long and the short of it.

And sometimes, like now, when he looked up at Patrick next to him on the couch, watching 'Nightmare Before Christmas' for the thousandth time, singing along softly without even noticing, Pete thought that maybe, just maybe, he was not all bad for Patrick. Relaxing into Patrick's voice, into the soft touch of his fingers against his neck, he thought that maybe it was okay to keep him.

13: Alex Parks - Not Your Average Kind of Girl. Pete/Gerard. Imperfections. 300 words. PG. Warning: Adultery.

Something a little strange
It didn't make any sense at all. If it had been when Gerard was still messed up with drugs and drink, when Pete was just plain messed up, that would have been easy to explain. After all, Gerard was a gorgeous mess, and Pete had never had much in the way of impulse control. But now, now Gerard was sober and married and Pete was saner than he'd ever been and had Ashlee. So really, it didn't make any sense that Pete woke up with his nose buried in Gerard's hair, wrapped in his arms, in his smell, in some hotel bed.

They'd run into each other at a party neither one of them had wanted to go to. Gerard had seemed genuinely happy to see him, as he usually was, although Pete had never quite understood what someone like Gerard would see in someone like him. They made small talk, talked of touring and writing and all the friends they had in common. Except that neither one of them mentioned the women in their lives. They didn't talk about Warped, Mikey, or Patrick either, but it had not felt as if they were leaving anything out. It felt simple, easy, until Gerard decided he needed a cigarette. Pete followed him outside, watched him light up and inhale deeply. And somehow Pete ended up pressing Gerard against the wall and kissing him, the cigarette falling to the ground as Gerard tangled his hands in Pete's hair.

It didn't make any sense at all. They didn't make any sense. Everything would probably get messy and ugly and kind of broken just as soon as Gerard woke up. Or it might not, Pete really didn't know. But here they were, and Pete lay still for a while, just breathing in the moment.

1337: Danny Michel - Almost There. Mikey/Frank. Frank can't sleep. 350 words. G.

It would be enough
Usually Frank slept like a log. He'd always been like that, even before way too many nights on tourbuses with loud/drunk/just generally inconsiderate guys. But tonight was different. Tonight he had tossed and turned and tried his hardest to make his thoughts stop spinning.

In the end he gave up and crawled out of his bunk. They were driving somewhere, anywhere, and he sat on the window bench and stared outside. Everything was better than focusing on the hateful words that had come out of Gerard's mouth earlier, words meant to maim and torture. There was a reason why Gerard wrote the songs. The fact that Frank knew that this was not really Gerard, that it was just the drugs/the booze/depression speaking, did not really help right now. Frank pressed his forehead against the cool glass. And almost jumped out of his skin when a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Frankie? Can't sleep either, hm?" He looked up and met Mikey's rueful gaze. A reply was obviously unnecessary, so Frank just shrugged. Mikey took this as an invitation and sat down next to him, resting his head against Frank's shoulder. At the touch Frank felt something inside him relax. Yes, tonight had been ugly. But it didn't really change anything. They were still them - Gerard, Mikey, Ray, Matt, Frank, still the same people with the same goals. If Mikey had not given up, Mikey who always bore the brunt of Gerard's behavior, who was Frank to throw in the towel?

Frank scooted around, taking Mikey with him so they were lying on the bench, Mikey in the V of Frank's legs, Frank's arms around him. Mikey's breath was calm and steady against Frank's neck as he turned into Frank's embrace, his hands resting loosely on Frank's sides. It was utterly peaceful, and nothing had ever felt more natural than closing the gap between their mouths and kissing Mikey. Soft, gentle, breathing in each other as the bus carried them further through the night.

They nodded off soon after, and no dreams troubled Frank's sleep.

4444: P.J. Harvey - The Phone Song. Frank/Gerard. Romance novels. 450 words. PG. Warning: AU.

That's the loop
They were pining. Both of them, stuck in a pattern neither one of them knew how to break. Gerard had fallen for Frank a couple of weeks into their friendship, but there had been Jamia and Gerard's own problems with alcohol and drugs, and Gerard just didn't want to be that person, the one who wrecked a dear friend's life just because his stupid heart had decided that this was the one for him.

Frank, on the other hand, had taken a bit longer, but one night while they were watching a stupid zombie movie, after Gerard had been sober for six months, there had been a moment when Frank caught himself looking at Gerard instead of the movie and had thought oh. It took him a few more weeks until he admitted to himself that this was more than a silly crush and he broke things off with Jamia. He thought he would give it some time, see if Gerard felt the same - but that had been when Gerard had started talking about this cool girl he'd met at work. So Frank did not say a word and tried to be a supportive friend instead.

Gerard, who hadn't wanted to take advantage of Frank's vulnerability too soon after the break-up, started talking about Linz just to have something to talk about that wasn't work, that wasn't movies or music or his doomed love for his best friend. And apparently Frank was all in favor of Gerard dating a girl, dating someone else, someone who wasn't him, so Gerard just nodded and kept silent on what he actually wanted to say.

Their awkward dance around each other would probably have gone on forever if Frank had not tried to set Gerard and Linz up when he came to pick Gerard up from work one evening. He stopped at Linz' desk and tried to get her to ask Gerard out, because although Gerard seemed to really like her, he had not made any attempts at doing anything about it despite Frank's consistent nagging. Linz just looked at him as if he was crazy and started laughing. When she had calmed down a bit, she petted Frank's cheek fondly and -y'know he's crazy about you, has been since I've known him- walked away still chuckling. Frank was left staring after her like a moron, which was how Gerard found him.

Frank broke the pattern that very night, pressing Gerard against the couch and climbing him, ignoring the surprised expression on his face. Gerard flailed in shock for only a few seconds, then he grabbed Frank's shoulders and held on tightly. They both found that actions worked better for them than words.

13000: The Matches (as The Locals) - Nothing Gets Better. Brendon/Ryan. Walking Away. 500 words. PG.
[I couldn't find the lyrics to this song anywhere and I'm not sure at all I understood more than half of them. Oh well.]

Next time you know
It had seemed like such a good idea at first. Looking back, no one was quite sure who had started it. But one day they were making out on stage, part of their act, and then one day a line was crossed and Zach walked in on Brendon pushing up Ryan against a wall. Zach shook his head slightly but just adjusted his routine to include making sure that no one walked in on them from then on.

When Ryan curled up next to Spencer on the bus that evening, eyes shadowed, resting two fingers on Spencer's wrist in a silent question, Spencer had just given him a half-smile and put an arm around his shoulders. The only thing Jon ever said on the matter was one quiet evening, everyone lighting up behind a venue: "It'll be okay, guys, as long as both of you know what you're getting into." Brendon smiled widely and held Ryan's hand tightly, and Ryan shrugged and never mentioned that he, for one, had really no idea what he was doing. He just kind of hoped that Brendon did and mouthed silent prayers against Brendon's skin.

It was good, for a while. Curling up around each other Brendon relaxed slightly and Ryan smiled a little more. Nothing else changed, which was assumed to be a good sign. Until Brendon started to be everywhere at once while Ryan seemed to be nowhere. They still clung to each other, but their kisses tasted like desperation and unshed tears.

On the roof of the cabin Jon was the first one to say out loud that things couldn't go on like this when Brendon stopped attempting to write music for words Ryan couldn't write, and Spencer just nodded and rested his head on Jon's shoulder for a moment. Later all four of them piled onto the sofa, Brendon and Ryan on the outside but their legs crossing on Jon and Spencer's laps. At some point Jon said to no one in particular: "I think we should record at Abbey Road. That'd be awesome." Brendon poked Jon and started talking about the instruments they could use. Spencer reached over the back of the sofa and grabbed Ryan's notebook, pointing out some lyrics he thought could work, and Ryan listened.

They started writing the new album the very next day.

(6421: Natalie Imbruglia - Smoke.) Jon/girl!Spencer. Hands that smell of cigarettes, old t-shirts and a shiny thing. 500 words. PG. Warning: AU (girl!verse).
[I used the song only insofar as I listened to it while writing - I was in the mood for something a bit fluffier. I picked the title from the lyrics, though.]

You're hiding, underneath
Spencer had never had a thing for smokers. Yet here she was, her nose buried in Jon Walker's ratty old t-shirt, inhaling the scent of cold smoke greedily. It was such a girly thing to do, and Spencer was angry, at herself for being so weak and at Jon for being the cause of it. She was a hard-ass drummer, after all, and notorious for what she had heard fans call her "bitchface", a reputation she had at first found slightly insulting but had soon realized spared her all sorts of trouble.

Spencer didn't need anyone to protect her from the assholes, she could do it herself. That had been one of the first things Jon had had to learn after he joined them, and Spencer still remembered the look of terror on Brendon's face after Jon had attempted to protect Spencer's honor one time early on. However, Spencer might be a bit of a bitch as a matter of survival and pride, but she was not blind, and Jon Walker was one of the good ones. So she had just shaken her head and stomped off, letting Ryan explain the band policy regarding Spencer, aka Do Not Interfere, She Can Handle It.

After that, Jon had never butted in again, but he had offered a nice strong shoulder to lean against when Spencer was simply tired of it all and just wanted to let her guard down, have a good laugh. Which was what had led to her new reaction to cigarette smoke, especially when it came in combination with that musky smell that was uniquely Jon Walker.

With a grunt of annoyance Spencer threw the shirt back on Jon's bunk and decided to leave before anyone came looking and caught her indulging in this altogether embarrassing slip of judgment. So she turned - and ran straight into Jon's warm body. Of course. Spencer could feel her face start to burn and tried to squeeze past, avoiding Jon's eyes as if her life depended on it. But before she could escape, a strong hand caught her chin and stopped her short.

She could have broken free without effort, but the smell of cigarettes on the calloused fingers that were gently cradling her face and the sound of his voice saying her name softly, hopefully, made her look up into Jon's warm, wide smile, shining at her in a way she hadn't allowed herself to see before. Spencer felt herself melt and couldn't help but smile back. Because it was Jon, and Spencer might not be a girly girl, but she was no match for that look on his face in addition to the closeness of his body, its heat surrounding her.

She knew he was one of the good ones. Maybe even the best one. Therefore, because she really could take care of herself, Spencer Smith leaned in, closed her eyes and kissed Jon Walker right on the lips, tasting cigarettes, beer, and a whole lot of Jon.

66: Gym Class Heroes (feat. Patrick Stump) - Clothes Off!. Spencer/Ryan. First love. 600 words. PG.

Easily replace you
After Keltie broke up with Ryan, Ryan went on a bit of a bender. Spencer got used to getting calls so late at night it was almost morning to "Come pick me up, Spence", after which he had to take a cab to either a club or some girl's apartment, where Ryan would be standing on the curb waiting for Spencer to take him to his car and then home. Home usually meant Spencer's place, as Spencer preferred to have guaranteed running water and electricity when he was on Ryansitting duty. Ryan probably did, too, because he still didn't drink all that much and would have been completely capable of calling himself a cab.

Spencer never called him on that, although he reserved the right to bitch Ryan out mercilessly over his interrupted beauty sleep and his habit to steal Spencer's blanket when they finally fell into Spencer's nice, warm bed. Of course Spencer had a guest bedroom, two actually, but Ryan seemed to sleep better with Spencer around, had since the first time Ryan's mom had dropped him off after school "just until his dad's feeling better". Spencer certainly did.

Things continued like this for several weeks, a different club or bar every night, a different girl most nights, an no night of uninterrupted rest for Spencer. Brendon and Jon were worried, but 15 years gave Spencer the right to run interference, at least "For now, Spence - if he goes on like this, I'm flying down and smack some sense into him", sticking to phone calls from Chicago and movie nights that always ended with Ryan heading out on his own.

Until the night that Brendon announced "We're coming out with you tonight, Ry" and completely ignored both Ryan and Spencer's protests. And because he was Brendon and would not be denied, they ended up in a club Spencer had picked up Ryan from the week before, and Spencer could see why Ryan felt he needed this - the throbbing of the music, the crowd of people, the easy hook-ups, the anonymity of it all. He grinned at Brendon, who was making room for himself on the dancefloor by flailing incontrollably, and went to get himself a drink. Spencer passed a pretty girl in a sparkly top and short skirt and gave her an answering smile but kept on walking. Unlike Ryan, Spencer knew why he was here and why not.

At the bar he bumped into Ryan, who had disappeared as soon as they'd arrived, and smiled but didn't make any attempt to cramp Ryan's style. It was a surprise when Ryan didn't move away and instead leaned in, "I'm sorry, Spence", directly into Spencer's ear, his face confused and uncharacteristically apologetic. Spencer rested a hand lightly on Ryan's arm, "It's okay, Ry, she was your first real love", reassurance he hadn't thought Ryan needed. But the look of puzzlement did not disappear, and Ryan was shaking his head because "She wasn't. Only I didn't know."

Someone trying to order a drink jostled them and Spencer gripped Ryan's hip with his other hand to steady them both. Ryan lit up at the contact, and Spencer laughed "Good god, you're slow sometimes", suddenly realizing that Ryan was there with him now, when Spencer had been preprared to wait out the clubs, and the girls, and watch him sleep both off in his bed, until one day he looked up and saw, finally saw. Spencer had been prepared to wait, but Ryan was smiling, too, saying "I want you to take me home, Spence" into his mouth, and Spencer did.