Work Header

Pete Is No Longer Allowed To Set People Up On Blind Dates

Chapter Text

Brenna is absolutely never letting Pete set her up again. Never. Because his taste in men that might be appropriate for her is absolute shit. The guy he set her up with has a *forehead* tattoo.
And Brenna has absolutely no problem with tattoos as a life choice, she has several of her own, it's. It's on his fucking forehead and what. Even?
Also? Ronnie Radke is a Level Ten douchebag.
So Pete set their meetup at a show for Gabes latest clusterfuck of a band and that's fine, she would have been there pretty much regardless, but Ronnie has not. Shut. Up. About his band (they were apparently the opener??) and how they would have put on a much better show than Gabe currently is (not possible) and every time Brenna tries to actually watch the band perform, he insists on having her attention back on him.
She tries to find common ground by bringing up the guitarists technique, but not only does Ronnie vehemently disagree, he's completely patronizing about it, "well yeah but a full-sized fender plays differently than a short scale, so I doubt you'd have any experience with one sweetheart."

"Okay seriously?!" The guy on the other side of Ronnie at the bar bursts out, "you've been a Grade A Jackass all fucking night and now you've also gotta be patronizing and talk down to her about it, bro, really? Why is she with you?" He turns green eyes on Brenna, "why are you with him? Not only is he mixing up his guitar and his bass, but he's being a douche about it!"
Brenna snorts, "Believe it or not, this is a blind date."
His eyebrows shoot up and he stares, "Dude. Do your friends like... Hate you... Or something?" Because this?" He thumbs in Ronnies direction, "is not someone you want your friends to date."

Ronnie makes an indignant noise and shoves away from the bar, snarling that Brenna can find her own fucking ride.

When she turns back, the guy who defended her is sliding into Ronnie's vacates seat. He's got a beer in one hand, a leather jacket in the other and a cigarette hanging off his lip. He dumps the jacket on the empty barstool, pulls the cig out and holds it away, leans in and offers his hand, "Frank."

She reaches out and shakes it, "Brenna." He moves to pull away, but she twists his hand, not even subtle about wanting to know what the lettering on his knuckles says. When he figures out what she's after, he grins, pops his cigarette back in the corner of his mouth and holds up both hands, the lettering spells out 'HALLOWEEN' "'s my birthday." he explains.

Brenna takes a moment to take him in: holey black jeans, a t-shirt for a band she's never heard of and a flannel shirt on top, he's got dark hair that's flopping over one side of his head an the sides are shaved down, but it's not long enough to be a Mohawk.

He nods to her exposed forearm, "'t's yours say?" he asks about her tattoo. She offers up her arm: it looks like a scene from a horror movie, all shredded skin and heavy black stitches only half holding it together in a patchwork and on the inside of her forearm in writing that looks like blood drips, the word 'Alive' - it macabre and she's thoroughly aware of that fact. She considers lying like she does to most strangers and saying she's super into Mary Shelley, but something about Frank's earnestness makes her confess the truth, "When I was seventeen I told my dad I wanted to move to New York with my three best friends and get a record deal. He threw me through a plate glass window. All told I got 116 stitches, mostly in that arm. So the tattoo has all 116 stitches. The band didn't survive the journey to New York, but I did."

Frank grins at her, "that's hardcore." his face softens, and he squeezes her wrist, "must've been really hard. Thank you for telling me."

She and Frank have moved on to instruments and music when a blur in a purple sweatshirt launches itself at her. Pete crawls into her lap and whines, "Brennaaaaaa! Why did Ronnie just storm out the door? He's gonna make Scott hate me and now he'll never want to suck my dick whyyy would you do that to me?"

Brenna rolls her eyes so hard she thinks she strains something, "he was a patronizing douchebag" he informs him dryly.

Pete pauses, "yeah okay I can see that." He crawls out of her lap and looks at Frank.

Pete squints, "don't you hang out with MikeyWay?"

Frank laughs, "I dated his brother for two years, so yes, I hang with MikeyWay."

Brenna feels all the excitement that had been welling up in her disappear- of fucking course he's gay. Her luck.

She managed to hold out another few minutes while Pete and frank exchange MikeyWay stories (everybody has a couple) before she begs off, says she's gotta get home and sleep before work tomorrow.

She's a block down from Petes bar when the sound of running feet catches her and a voice yells at her to hold up.

She turns and waits for Frank to catch up, he pauses and shrugs on his jacket and shoves his hands into his pockets, "did I do something wrong? Cuz like I thought we were hitting it off and then you bailed, so." He shrugs.

Brenna frowns, "you said you had an ex boyfriend so I thought- "

Frank runs an irritated hand through his hair, "you don't know what I might have, right? I've been with dudes so naturally I'll give you AIDS or something fucked up like that is that it? Fucking. This is why I've only dated guys for like four years."

Brenna feels her face heat - that's not it at all, and now this might have stalled before it could start, "Frank wait-"

He shrugs off her hand and snaps, "Don't. I'm not going to be your token gay as some sort of fucked up consolation prize-"

"Frank!" She yells.


She stands on tiptoe and kisses him, just a quick brush of her lips to get her point across, "I got upset because this guy was flirting with me in a bar, and rescued me from a crappy date and then I found out he's got an ex-BOYfriend and all I could think was how embarrassed I was for getting my hopes up over another gay guy!"

He pauses, "... Oh."

She snorts, "yeah. 'oh.'"

One of his hands finds her waist and he grins down at her, "So if I asked for your number..."

Brenna grins back up at him, "you can definitely have it... In the morning."

Frank wrinkles his eyebrows, "breakfast date? I mean I'm cool with it but I was thinking coffee at that 24-hour place around the corner?"

Brenna kisses him more enthusiastically and hopes he gets the memo and when they pull apart he grins sheepishly at her, "I get where you're going with this. I do. But can we... Go slow? Like I said, I haven't dated a chick in like five years, and you seem cool as fuck, so. Coffee? Maybe dinner this week sometime?"

She grins up at him as pete, gabe and MikeyWay himself start catcalling and hooting from half a block down, "it's a date."