Black Parade Era!Mikey & Blond!Pete
Mikey was an elusive student- he never was at school outside of class, and there was that goth-looking brother who was with him all the time- he never hung out with anyone else.
Pete will admit it- Mikey was pretty. He was really pretty, and there was that elegant air to him, that grace he carried himself with, that sort of silence around him that was both intimidating and really, really hot.
It was in the gym lockers when they were changing before P.E class that something dropped out of Mikey's bag. A pair of- Pete didn't believe it- dancing shoes. The ones that were soft and silky, kind of floppy, made out of pale pink almost-white fabric, with the long laces that criss-crossed up your ankles. Mikey's eyes grew wide, and he hurried to pick them up, but Pete got there first. 'You dance?' He blurted out, picking up the shoes.
Mikey narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, eyebrows knotting up slightly. 'Yes.' He said stiffly, choosing to look at the shoes instead of Pete.
Pete wondered for a moment why he was so high-strung. 'Oh,' He realized, 'I'm not trying to make fun of you or anything.' Mikey just glared down at him warily before reaching his hand out for the shoes, which Pete gave him.
'P.E is starting in a few minutes.' Mikey uttered. Pete was a little disappointed that he didn't say anything else, but he nodded anyways.
When he had finished changing, he turned to Mikey and asked, 'Can I see you dance?'
'Oh. Yes. Sure. I have a lesson after school.' Mikey answered after a moment of hesitation. Pete grinned before running over to the gymnasium.
--------
Instead of going straight to the studios like he usually would, Mikey waited at the school entrance for Pete. When the little bundle of excitement bounded up to him, Mikey walked off, gesturing for Pete to follow him. Almost immediately, Pete began to fire questions at him. 'How long have you been dancing?'
'Don't talk so loudly,' Mikey scolded, 'We're not off school grounds yet.' Pete only just realized the crowds of students still buzzing around.
'Sorry. My mouth is shut.' Pete motioned a finger across his lips, miming zipping it shut.
Mikey rolled his eyes. 'Three years. Well, I've been taking classes for three years; but ever since I was little I liked dancing.'
'Woah. That's amazing, Mikeyway.'
'Mikeyway?' Mikey repeated the way Pete slurred his name and surname together, like one word.
'Yeah. Mikeyway. It can be our thing, I'll be the only one who can call you Mikeyway.' He states proudly. 'And you can call me something only you can say.'
'Uh. Peterpan?' He jokes, but Pete grins and shouts a delighted, 'Yes!' Mikey smiled slightly, a miniscule quirk of his pale lips. 'Alright, Peterpan. We're almost there- take a left turn, down that street-' Mikey grabs Pete's wrist and walks off, dragging Pete behind him, and he thinks that yeah, this is a nice feeling.
--------
The inside of the dance studio was clean and neat, with clear directions and a numbered rooms. First, Mikey went to the change rooms, and instructed Pete to wait outside his changing cubicle. Then he came out, in a silky thin white shirt and black tights that hugged his legs in just the right way. 'You look great.' Was all Pete managed to say. What he wanted to say was, "Mikeyway, you look incredibly hot right now and I would very much like to kiss you," but he couldn't just say that to Mikey.
'Thank you. The room I usually practice in is down the corridor.' He took Pete's hand again like it was no big deal, but it was very much a big deal to Pete, who was also trying not to stare at Mikey's legs.
-------
Mikey walked into a room with a smooth wooden floor and posters of ballet productions plastered on all but one wall, which was a mirror wall. Pete stood near the door, watching Mikey intently. Mikey stretched next to the bar for a few minutes, making short small talk with Pete. Then he pushed the mirror to the side, revealing shelves of this and that, then reached into it, emerging with a stereo... thing, that was sprinkled in dust. Mikey dusted it off quickly, then set it down on the floor, fiddling with the buttons and dial. Soon, music bubbled out of the stereo, slightly staticky-sounding but mostly fine. He stood up, positioning his feet along the bright tape plastered on the floor, waiting for the beat.
It's a god-awful small affair, to the girl with the mousy hair...
Pete watched as Mikey weaved his way through the room, dancing with the fairies he could not see. He seemed to move like there were people around him- like he needed to move as smoothly as possible without anyone noticing. Pete wondered idly how people didn't notice him; he was simply breathtaking.
But her mommy is telling no, and her daddy has told her to go...
Mikey changed his style slightly as the music got closer to the chorus, movement becoming sharper and more urgent. Like he was fighting the invisible people.
But the film is a saddening bore, because she's lived it ten times or more...
His movements became big leaping jumps and cartwheels before he came to a stop in the centre of the room. He looked around warily, like the people were all staring at him, waiting for him to do something.
She could spit in the eyes of fools, as they ask her to focus on sailors fighting in the dance halls!
He moved again, almost sprinting around the room, as if confronting the crowd, dramatically swishing his arms and moving with a glare that made Pete feel chills in his bones. Then Mikey walked up to him.
Take a look at the Lawman, beating up the wrong guy;oh man, wonder if he'll ever know...
Mikey was inches away from Pete, staring at him intently, tilting his head. Then he smirked- he fucking smirked, his lips quirking up into a smooth upward curve before he jumped back and bowed at Pete, still smirking up at him. The grin seemed to be almost inviting him, daring him to do something. Pete focused on his breathing, trying not to instantaneously combust.
He's in the best-selling show...
Mikey straightened up, a ghost of a grin lingering. 'Well? How was it?'
'Uh.' Wow, real smooth. 'You did really good. And, Bowie?'
Mikey nodded. 'Thanks. I, um. I choreographed it myself.' He added, sounding embarassed.
'Wait, really? That's a whole 'nother level of talented. Mikeyway, you are amazing.'
He give him a sad smile. 'I'm really not.'
It's barely a whisper, and the echoes of how Mikey danced clicks a switch in Pete's brain.
'Hey. Hey,' Pete walks over to Mikey, looking up at him. 'You are. Trust me for once.' Mikey glared at him accusingly. 'Hey. I can prove it.' The words came out before Pete even realised what he meant himself. Pink dusted Pete's cheeks, and Mikey raised an eyebrow. 'Uh-'
'Prove it then.' He whispered. He tentatively took Pete's wrist, then looked up at him. His eyes were wide, looking at Pete with an unexplainable spark, provoking him.
Pete swallowed. The universe was teasing him. 'I- uh,' Okay, idiot, try actually making a coherent sentence? 'CanIkissyou?'
Mikey smiled, a coy little grin, and kissed Pete. Pete just about died on the spot, only just functioning enough to be able to kiss back. Mikey knew his lips were chapped, and that he was probably sweaty. Pete, however, had impossibly soft lips, and- 'Is that strawberry lip gloss?' Mikey pulled away, giggling. Oh, damn it.
'Uh. Yeah.' He mumbled, suddenly feeling very self conscious.
'It's nice.' Mikey replied, leaning in to kiss Pete again. This time, Pete was slightly more prepared for it.
They were only slightly aware of the Bowie trickling out of the stereo.
A/N
I'll spin for you like your favourite records used to..- Favourite Record, Fall Out Boy
