Fic Post: Got That Crazy Rhythm (Happy Birthday Torakowalski!)

[harborshore]

So it's torakowalski's birthday. Most of you don't know this, but Tora was basically my second friend on livejournal, or something like that (we met because I started telling her a story about Bob kidnapping his poor, stressed manager and taking him on a road trip to the Grand Canyon--yes, that story), and she was the third one I met in real life. You guys, she is so wonderful. Hilarious (and she has the best smile) and tiny and great and we spent an afternoon at Foyle's talking about Bob/Brian porn and scandalizing the poor gentleman next to us--and soon I will see her again! I am of the excitement.

This is my poor, paltry offering for her birthday--it is so silly, so silly, but you know how ridiculous I am, darling, and I hope you like it. It's been--you are a good part of why my life is just a little better these days. All the love ever, yeah? ♥


Title: Got That Crazy Rhythm
Rating: PG-13
Summary: High School AU. Bob hates Brian Schechter. No, she really does.
Pairing: Bob/Brian. Background Z/Tennessee and Brendon/Jepha.
Warnings: None, really. Teenagers and mucking about with everyone's ages, that's about it.
Word Count: 1750
Disclaimer: Bob Bryar is not a girl, nor did he go to high school with Brian Schechter or Z Berg.
Author's Notes: For torakowalski on her birthday. ♥, darling, this is the silliest thing, but I do hope you like it just a little bit. The title is from Dylan's "Had a Dream About You, Baby."




Bob had only talked to Brian Schechter once before she decided that once was plenty, thank you.

Or as she told Jepha, "If I never have to see that tattooed motherfucker--no, not you--smirk at me again, I will die a happy woman."

Jepha snickered. "Too bad you have trig together, huh."

"Tune your bass and shut up," said Bob, and went back to fiddling with her new pedal.

There was a Battle of the Bands in a month, and if they could get Z Berg to sing with them like she'd promised (Bert had to work; getting kicked out meant spending significantly less time doing music and significantly more time trying to make enough money to get by), they might have something. They wouldn't win; but they might have something.

--

She did indeed have trigonometry with Schechter.

Bob thought about throwing a pencil at the irritating head of that annoying idiot who kept on defying the expectations of every teacher in the school by answering questions and getting them right. She'd probably enjoy the looks on their faces if he hadn't asked her the goddamned girlfriend question when he walked into the music room they rehearsed in three days ago; now she mostly just felt like even this was a show to demonstrate how awesome Brian Schechter was. Bob had met a lot of guys who were out to prove their awesomeness to the world, and he wasn't really all that different.

She did throw a pencil at him. Wicked accurate, too; her hand-eye coordination was the stuff of dreams according to Greta Salpeter, who'd tried to get her to join the softball team.

(Bob didn't do teams, she did bands. And not in that way. Rumors said differently, but Bob didn't really give a fuck. She'd had exactly one girlfriend and she'd gone on dates twice with the dude from the football team who knew Pete--sweet but dull--and she'd had sex, yeah, but it was hilarious how much everyone assumed any girl who didn't fit the girly bill had to be a dyke or a nymphomaniac. Not that any of those were wrong, but seriously. People either had too much imagination or not enough.)

Anyway, at least she made Brian Schecther fall off his chair. That was entertaining.

No one noticed, either, or if they noticed they must've decided they were mistaken, because surely that blond chick didn't throw pencils?

It was like they didn't know her or something.

Oh wait, that was true. It sucked being in AP classes: most of her friends were not in those (Bert would be, but again, getting kicked out was getting in the way of school big time--she was kind of worried about him these days), and so she was stuck in a room with people she didn't know, didn't like, and had no desire to ever talk to. Senior year had only gone on for a week, and already she was over it.

--

Lunch was better. Jepha grinned at her over his--oh, he was having a vegan week—tofu something-or-other.

"So?" he intoned.

"What?" she said, wiping off the Pepsi she'd spilled on her hand.

"What'd you do to Brian Schecther? He's staring, man."

"I don't know," Bob said. It was only half a lie: she knew what she'd done but not why he was staring.

"Uh-huh," Jepha said, clearly not convinced. "Whatever, tell me how to answer Brendon Urie."

"Answer what?" Really, seriously, why was Schechter staring at her? Now that Jepha had mentioned it, she could almost feel him looking.

"He asked me out," Jepha said, and that got Bob's attention.

"Uh, what? Seriously?" Brendon was definitely not--"I thought Brendon was mormon."

"He is, yeah. But apparently he got--I don't know, he has an apartment now, he doesn't live at home anymore."

"You're actually interested," said Bob, a little incredulously.

Jepha shrugged. "He's a sweet kid."

"Talented, too." Jepha gave her a look. "Oh, shut up, I didn't mean it that way. He's a musician."

"Yeah," Jepha said. She knew that look.

Bob grinned. "Maybe I did mean it that way. Good hands, huh?"

Jepha bit his lip, which was really all that Bob needed.

"Say yes, then. You didn't really need my advice."

"Say yes to what?" Bob knew that voice.

Bob turned, and sure enough, that was Brian Fucking Schechter.

"None of your business," she said pleasantly.

Jepha shrugged. "I have a date," he said. Nice and not too obvious.

"Cool," Brian said, hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth a little, like he had too much energy to stand still. "Hey, speaking of asking out--" he trailed off, looking kind of unsure.

Jepha looked interested. "Yeah?"

"Uh, Bob? The--the Welcome Back Dance? Would you, like--are you going with anybody?"

"No," she said, then realized her mistake. "I don't want to go with you, either."

"…oh." There was a flash of something on his face, but it was too fast to tell what it was.

Jepha shook his head a little. "Bob doesn't do dances," he explained, and that was true, but it's not like she'd be going with Brian Schechter even if she did. "Also we have a gig. A shitty, shitty one, but a gig."

Momentarily forgetting that she was trying to avoid going on a date with an asshole, Bob grinned. "Z can do it? Kickass."

"I know, right?" Jepha said, and Brian was looking between them like he wasn't sure what was going on, exactly.

"You guys are in a band?" he said.

"Yup," Jepha said. "But you know that, don’t you? Didn't you run into Bob right before our practice the other day?" Said so innocently that no one would ever suspect he knew exactly what had gone down; shit, Jepha would take over the world if she didn't keep him in line.

"Right," Brian said, and he looked totally embarrassed. "Right, I knew that. Drums, yeah?" he asked Bob, who nodded.

"I'm the drummer, that is the truth."

"Uh, where's the gig? I'd like to see you play."

Ugh. She crossed her arms. "I'm still not going out with you."

Brian shrugged. "If you don't do dances, there's not much I can do about that. But I fucking love good music."

She narrowed her eyes at him. Selective listening much? "We're alright, and I guess you can come. As long as you don't ask our singer whether she's fucking Jepha."

Brian looked frustrated. "I didn't ask you if you were someone's girlfriend because I thought you weren't in a band, I asked you that because I wanted to know if you had a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, I don't know."

"Next time try asking what instrument I play first," she said, getting up and picking up her tray. "I hear the flirting thing works sometimes."

She didn't look back as she walked away. He probably wasn't going to come to the gig, either.

--

He definitely came. Bob saw him in the crowd as soon as she walked on stage and almost walked off again. (Where did that fucker get off making her this nervous?)

"Good evening, Chicago," Z said into the mic, putting her guitar on, and Bob got behind her kit, immediately feeling better about the whole thing. Jepha waved at the audience, Bob started their first song, and then they were off.

Fuck, was it ever a good show. They'd only rehearsed with Z three times, but they clicked real well. She'd brought a couple of her own songs to practice and she was an awesome singer, all scratchy voice and bright grin, and Bob and Jepha had been playing together forever. All in all, a good mix.

This might work, she thought, shook her hair out of her eyes and played as hard as she could.

Afterwards she was drinking water and trying to shake off Jepha who was hanging on her shoulder, when Brian found them. He had a weird look on his face.

"Hey," she said, refusing to give him more than that.

"Hey," he replied, and then took a breath. "You guys were awesome, I mean, you guys were really awesome." His eyes were bright.

"Thanks!" said Jepha, and stole Bob's glass.

She sighed at him and shrugged at Brian. "Thanks, I guess."

Z joined them at that point, towing her tall girlfriend. Also a drummer, actually--the two of them were putting together a band, but Z had told Bob earnestly before the show that she was totally open to singing with Bob and Jepha for as long as Bert couldn't.

"It's a new style for me, see?" she'd said, and Bob knew what she meant. She liked doing jazz band at school for similar reasons.

"Look, it's our fantastic singer!" Jepha said.

Z laughed. "We're all pretty fantastic, I'd say."

"You absolutely were," her girlfriend chimed in. She was named after a state, Bob remembered. Georgia? No. "I'm going to sit you down and make you tell me all about what you do in that cover, I definitely am."

Bob grinned. "I'm open to that, as long as you teach me something in return."

"I will," she said. Tennessee, that was it.

"Fuck, I love how many musicians there are in this school," Brian said to no one in particular, and Bob relented enough to smile at him.

"It makes it easier," she said, and Brian nodded.

"Look, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, voice low.

Bob didn't know what to say, but Jepha must have heard Brian because it took him about ten seconds to drag Z and Tennessee over to meet Brendon, who was definitely hiding in a corner. It might be just the local youth center, but Bob supposed Brendon wasn't all that used to going to gigs yet.

So then they were alone. Relatively, anyway. In a crowded room.

"Listen," he said. "I'm sorry about the misunderstanding the other day."

"No big deal," she said. "I get that question a lot as it is, it's just usually because someone thinks girls don't do music."

"That's fucking stupid," Brian said, "and also, they've clearly never seen you play."

And it was really dumb, but he was looking up at her, eyes dark and serious, and Bob just--she had to kiss him, okay? She had to.

So dumb.

She felt him smiling against her mouth.

"Shut up," she said. "Shut up shut up shut up."

He nodded, lips moving against hers. "For as long as you need me to," he said, and she just wasn't going to think about anything for a little while. Only--

She moved away and looked at him. "I'm still not going to the fucking dance with you."

He laughed at that, then tilted his head. "I'd wear the dress if you wanted," he offered, and when she blinked at him in pure surprise, he kissed her again. And again.

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