Losers Club fanfics

MikexStanley

"Never stop being a good person because of bad people." —
Post Malone

      "Somebody's here to see you," my Grammy told me.
     "Really? Who?" I asked, trying to hide the wobble in my voice.
     "Stany," Grammy replied.
     "Who- oh Stanley?" I asked excitedly.
     She nodded with a smile, and shooed me towards the house. "He's waiting inside for you baby, go get him."
     I took off running towards my grandparents house, skidding to a stop at the front door and walking in.
     "Stan?" I called out.
     He was in my arms before I could even process which direction he came bounding in from.
     "Mikey!" He whisper-yelled. "I've missed you a lot."
    I hugged him back. "I've missed you too."
     "Wanna go out to eat? Or to the movies?" He asked me, and I felt my smile falter.
     "I don't have any money..."
     "That's ok. I'll pay for you," he insisted quickly.
     I bit my lip. "A-are you sure? I don't wanna be a burden-"
     "You are not a burden. And I don't mind at all," he said.
     My smile returned, and Stanley took my hand in his. "Pip pip and tally ho!" He tried to impersonate Richie, but failed miserably as we walked out into the bright sunlight.
     I giggled at the blond haired boy, taking in his features in the dazzling sun. His eyes turned a striking honey-golden, while his hair looked almost bleached blond. His features were set off by high cheekbones, a slightly pointed chin, and a sharp jawline. He was perfect.
To say I was mesmerized was an understatement. I noticed we were still holding hands, and I wondered if my grandparents could see. I wondered what they thought of this... of me.
I shook the thought from my head as we reached our bikes.
"So, movies or food?" Stanley asked me.
I figured it would be cheaper to get grab a bite to eat, so I chose food. We rode in silence, and I began to think about the sheep again.
Was my grandfather right? Was life and death really that simple? Could this be on of the last moments of my life?
"Mike?!" Stan's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife. "Are you ok? You're crying!"
I touched my face and realized he was right.
"Oh yeah I'm fine. I'm fine," I reassured him.
     He looked at me with those big hazel eyes of his, but said nothing more. Finally, we reached the diner.
     I was used to dirty looks because of my skin color, but the completely disgusted look on the waitress's face when she saw me made me want to shrivel up and die on the spot.
     I kept my eyes on the ground as Stanley requested a table for two. The lady placed up near the back of the restaurant, out of view of the front door.
     She sighed and rolled her eyes as she asked for our drink order.
     "Coke please," Stanley said.
     "Just- just a water miss," I told her.
     We waited ten minutes for our drinks, even though there were only two other people in the dinner with us.
     Our waitress slammed our drinks down on the table, spilling my water all over me.
     "Oops," was all she said.
     I bit back a response. I'd learned at an early age that it was better not to talk back to white people, or anybody who looked at you differently.
      Stanley was glaring daggers at the woman as she took our orders.
     "Yeah, I'll take a spinach soufflé with a side of bacon," he muttered.
     "Just eggs and toast please," I told her.
     She walked away, muttering under her breath. I stared down at the plaid tablecloth, holding back tears.
     Stanley reached his hand across the table, taking mine. "Do- do people always treat you like this?" He asked me.
     I nodded my head.
     "Oh my god and they're fags too."
     Stanley and I both jerked our heads up, looking at our waitress and the cook looking at us from over the bar.
     "That's it. We're leaving!"
     "Stan we haven't paid!" I hissed, standing up with him.
     "Fuck that. We don't deserve to be treated like this; you don't deserve to be treated like this."
     I had never heard him cuss before, or even get mad before this, and I was absolutely terrified of the blond haired boy.
     Yet, I still followed him out of the dinner and back to our bikes.
     "Do you wanna spend the night at my place?" Stanley asked.
     "Yes," I responded immediately. "Well, I gotta call Grammy and Pops first and see if it's ok."
     Stanley nodded, and stopped at the nearest pay phone. I dug around in my pockets for some spare change, finding a quarter.
     "Hello?" Grammy's voice answered on the first ring.
      "Hey Grammy it's Mike. Do you mind if I stay at Stanley's tonight?"
     "Of course not sweetie, you just go have fun. Be a kid for once."
     I smiled at her words. "Thank you Grammy, I love you and I'll see you tomorrow."
     "I love you too baby, see you then."
     I grinned at Stan, flashing him a thumbs up. He smiled back happily.

     It was well past midnight and Stanley and I were both still up, just talking about life and other stuff. I laid stretched out across the foot of Stanley's bed while he sat cross legged at the headboard.
     I was shirtless and in a pair of Stanley's old sweatpants that were just a little too small; Stanley wore a light blue long sleeved shirt and shorts.
     I couldn't seem to stop staring at his legs, while his eyes seemed transfixed on my abs.
     "Hey Stan?" I whispered. "You're really pretty... I know that's weird but I've been thinking about it all day... and I-I think I like you."
     Stanley squealed. "Really? You like me too?"
     I grinned. "Yes. Honestly I have for a while... I just didn't say anything."
     We sat in silence for a moment before Stanley slid over to me and moved to where he straddled my waist. I could feel the blush rising in my cheeks, but said nothing.
     I watched as Stanley leaned down, placing his soft warm lips against my dry rough ones. It started out soft; his feathery lips started at my own before making their way down my jawline , up to my ear, and then down to my neck.
     I let out a shaky sigh, loving the feeling; it was his turn now.
     I flipped us over; I was now straddling him. I crushed our lips together, and he moaned into my mouth. I slipped in my tongue, tasting him. Stanley shivered at the pleasure.
     I removed my lips for just a moment, which caused Stanley to pout. I quickly reattached my lips to his neck, sucking and biting it.
     He grinded his hips underneath me; he was as hard as I was, if not more so. I began to palm him trough his shorts, enjoying the sound of his short, ragged gasps.
     "Mike, please," he moaned. "Stop teasing me..."
     I slid my hand down his pants, and began to pump him. He moaned louder; if he didn't quiet down, his parents would hear. I did the only thing I could think of; I placed my lips back over his, which quieted him down as I finished him off.
     His legs shook violently with his orgasm, and he moaned in complete euphoria. I paused for a moment to let him get his bearing, and see if he wanted to do anything else.
     "Y-you're turn," he gasped, still out of breath.
     He stood up, then kneeled down in front of me, wrapping his thin fingers around the waistband of my sweats.
     I grabbed his hands. "Are you ok with this?" I questioned. "You don't have to if you don't want to."
     He waved me off. "I do want to," he insisted.
     He pulled my pants down, showing off my already hard member. At first, Stanley looked scared by the size, but resolve soon took over his actions.
     He kissed my tip, and swirled his tongue over it. I bit my lip to repress my moans as he began to softly kiss down my shaft. Finally, he took me all in.
     To say I was impressed was an understatement; I had never imagined Stan being able to do things like this. He was an absolute natural.
     His teeth grazed my tip, and before I could warm him, my load was down his throat. To my amazement, he hardly gagged, and swallowed it all.
     He smiled up at me, a light blush spread over his cheeks. We both got back into our pajamas and laid down, snuggling next to each other. I placed my hand on his hip, while he placed his on my chest. It was comfortable, and soon the darkness washed over us.