Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance

Boys Will Be Boys

by AlteredStateOfMind 3 reviews

Gerard doesn't take responsibility for any collateral damage him and his friends may cause while taking part in their daily antics. *FRERARD* Along with possible secondary parings. (Pikey, Bay, etc.)

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor,Romance - Characters: Bob Bryar,Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Published: 2012-07-07 - Updated: 2012-07-07 - 1315 words

Hello kiddies, how are all your beautiful faces today? Good? Peachy.
(Don't mind me, I'm in a really strange mood)
So, after much contemplation I have decided to start a new fic.
Before you all laugh in my face and start to throw metaphorical tomatoes at the metaphorical stage, hear me out.
I've been extremely depressed lately and I kinda had an epiphany. A majority of the fics I write are depressing and angsty as shit, so maybe if I tried writing some upbeat stuff every once in a while it would cheer me up. 
Here is my attempt.
I am not putting "I Think I'll Blow My Brains Against The Ceiling" on hiatus or anything, that's still my main focus, I'm just gonna be writing this on the side when I need some cheering up. Which is very often.
So let me know what you all think, this kinda thing is new to me :)
(ridiculously long A/N over)


A group of normal, every day teenagers would be trapped inside a classroom on a monday morning in the middle of February. A group of delinquents that think they're "too cool for school" would at least be huddled up in a friend's living room, away from the icy air and frost that has been lingering around New Jersey since last night. This particular group of teenagers have never been described as neither "normal" or "cool" by any means, so that's probably why the five boys are currently sat around a jungle gym at the local park, arguing over what to do with their day.

"Swear to God, Bob, if you throw one more fucking snowball at the back of my head I'm breaking into your house in the middle of the night and smashing up your drum set."

Ray Toro is usually the peacemaker of the group, the only level headed person who can think of a rational escape plan when Frank decides to set their chemistry teacher's car on fire. But the minute you mess with his impeccable 'fro, shit gets personal.

"You wouldn't", Bob argues, trying to sound sure of himself but wavering when he sees the fiery look in Ray's eyes. 

"Wanna bet?"

Ray drives his point home by grabbing one of the drum sticks Bob had been using to make random beats on the monkey bars and snapping it in half. With one hand.

"Lucy!" Bob squeaks and dives towards the shattered stick, cradling it in his arms like a baby.

"You name your drumsticks?" Mikey Way just rolls his eyes at Bob's typical behavior and continues to click away at the keys of his Sidekick.

"Yes. And now, thanks to Toro, little Jessie will have to survive without her big sister by her side" Bob turns to Ray before finishing, "I hope you're happy."

Ray ignores Bob's glare and attempts to change the subject.

"Where's Gerard and Frank?" 

Mikey's the one to answer, eyes drifting towards the small hill a few yards away. 

"I don't know, probably off making out some where!" Mikey yells the last half of the sentence, knowing they'll be able to hear him in the distance.

The joint "SHUT THE FUCK UP, MIKEY!" that travels back towards them a moment later makes all three boys double over in laughter.

On top of the man made hill, Gerard and Frank take a moment from their heated argument to blush and shuffle their feet awkwardly at Mikey's out burst.

Gerard can't wait to get home and take back all the Xmen comics he lent his ungrateful little brother. No matter how many times he tries to explain to Mikey that he doesn't like Frankie in that way, that'd be weird, it just won't get through that thick, over-moused head of his. So what if Gerard and Frank tend to cuddle while watching movie marathons on the sci-fi channel? The air conditioning is always turned up too high and there's never enough blankets. They're just trying to be innovative.

Frank mumbles something under his breath but Gerard had been so lost in his inner monologue they he misses what it is.


Frank tears his eyes away from his beat up converse that had suddenly become extremely interesting and looks up at Gerard, arms crossed tightly against his chest. There may be a significant number of inches separating the two boys, but Frank can still lift up his chin and hold his ground. No way is Gerard making him do this.

"I said," cue puffed up, turkey chest, "I am not fucking doing it. It's freezing! Do you really want your best friend to die from frost bite, all over some stupid bet?"

Frank watches as Gerard's inner sass is revealed, hand on his hip, eyebrow arched towards the sky, lips in a stubborn pout. He means business.

"We had a deal. If you fell asleep before I did, you had to go streaking through the park." Staying up for nearly 48 hours straight wasn't fun by any means, but it'll be worth it once Gerard watches Frank make an idiot out of himself as per usual.

"Besides," Gerard adds, "if it was the other way around, you would have made me go through with my side of the bet, to spend the day dressed in drag, no matter what I said." 

Frank can't argue with that point. The only reason he even agreed to the ridiculous bet in the first place was to have the possibility of seeing Gerard prance around in fish net stockings and high heels. Frank's not usually attracted to that kinda thing, but the thought of Gerard dressed that way makes his already tight jeans that much tighter. Not that he'd ever admit to it.

"But it's not fair!" Frank whines, "You're practically part vampire and you drink so much coffee I wouldn't be surprised if it was permanently encrypted into your DNA."

"Should have thought about that before you spit-shook on it." Gerard shivers slightly at the memory of the gross hand shake Frank made him do in order to seal the bet.

Frank sighs in defeat. Breaking a spit-shake is bad karma for sure, and he's already on the brink of failing algebra.

"Fine" he huffs, "but I'm keeping my underwear on."

"But-" Gerard tries to argue, but the raised fist Frank has aimed at his face makes him change his mind.

"Okay, fine."

A few moments later, Bob is distracted from his attempt at repairing his precious drum stick when he spots a figure coming towards the jungle gym in the distance.

"Is that...Frank?"

All three boys look up, even Mikey stops texting Pete once he hears Gerard's high pitched laughter, to see Frank running at full speed, in nothing but his tight, black boxer shorts.

They all yell out cat calls and whistles as Frank rushes by. Mikey even snaps some pretty hilarious shots on his phone. Frank just flips them off without so much as glancing in their direction, eager to get this over with and get back into his warm clothes.

Thank fully, the park is mostly deserted at this hour apart from the occasional elderly couple, that whisper indignantly to each other when they catch sight of Frank, or mother that covers her toddler's eyes when they ask if they can run around naked too.

Frank must run the course of the park faster than Gerard thought possible, because he doesn't expect it when Frank sneaks up behind him and tackles him to the ground. Gerard struggles to get up before his clothes are completely soaked through in the snow, but gives up when Frank doesn't loosen the monkey-like grip from around his waist.

Gerard might catch a pretty nasty cold, but it's worth it to have Frankie pressed up against him like this. The fact that he's only in his boxers is an added bonus.
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