Leather Jacket
[A/N: Okay, fangirls/boys, don't shoot me for bringing in a female. Females exist, you know, and I thought it would be nice to have a fight that a normal couple would have between the two of 'em. Petey and Gary, that is, not Gary and Lola. She's just an easy little plot device. Hah, get it? Easy?]
Lola smelled like what Gary would have assumed a prostitute smelled like. Vanilla and strawberries, only the cheap, sickly-sweet kind of smell, like candy. She slipped into his room quietly, wearing a mischievous grin, a much-too-tight t-shirt, and shorts that didn't make sense with the lingering chill of early spring. She pulled her leather jacket from her shoulders and Gary watched as she rocked her hips in a lurid way, biting her bottom lip.
Gary ran his hand through his hair and sat up with a kind of pseudo-sleepiness, beckoning the girl towards him nonchalantly. Glancing at the locked door, she giggled gently and pressed her front against the sadist, trailing her hands down his neck and to his bare chest. The glint in her eyes made Gary hate her, the thick smell of the perfume she must have bathed in filling his lungs with suffocating tightness.
He pulled her supple hips towards him and ran his mouth over her exposed collarbone, another giggle escaping thick lips. They looked sticky, like she had been eating something greasy and pink, shimmering in the dim light strangely. Lola made a noise that was too high pitched when his hand cupped a breast, the other hand slipping up her shirt, and she had manicured fingers on his chin, pulling it upwards.
The auburn-haired female brushed her thick, sticky lips fleetingly against his, and Gary's half-lidded eyes snapped open. He grabbed her arms and pushed her away from him, the gentle taste of fake cherry flooding his senses, so unlike the flavor of blood and sweat and fear that he was accustomed to. His dark eyes glared at the floor, and she wrenched her arms away from the scarred teen, rubbing her wrists with an offended look.
"What the Hell was that?" She snapped, and he turned his gaze back to hers.
There was something so dangerous in the way he glared, something that made the scar across his forehead look even more menacing, that made his body seem to grow. She gasped aloud, stepping backwards in ridiculously painful-looking heels, and almost stumbled on the desk behind her. He was like power incarnate, looking at the locked door and sighing with something sarcastic behind the exasperation.
"On second thought, I don't think I want herpes." Gary said, and there was a palm propelled at his face.
She fumed at him, the slap echoing in the room and making Gary chuckle gently. She stormed to the door, tugging on it with bitter rage, gasping with embarrassed horror when it jiggled in her grasp. Looking over her shoulder at the sharp smirk she was getting, she finally managed to turn the lock, stomping away with the clip-clop of heels on tile.
Lola had forgotten her jacket. It was leaving the unpleasant, hooker-like smell in Gary's room, so he stood, grabbed it up, and left his living space. As he stalked after the manic noise of the retreating female, he stopped suddenly at a desperate, choked-back noise. He was right next to Peter's room, looking through the gap and into darkness.
Pete was crying, rocking on his bed with a childish kind of hiccup, sucking in air too quickly and holding onto his arms with the semblance of a comforting hug. Gary slid silently into the room, leaning coldly against the wall as the dainty male hyperventilated before him. The sadist glanced down at the jacket in his grasp, having almost completely forgotten that it was in his possession, then stepped towards Pete, who had his back to the doorway.
Gary's hands, one on the inside of each shoulder of the jacket, pulled it over the shivering teen's shoulders, Peter gasping and snapping his head up. He looked at the leather jacket that he vaguely recognized, then over his shoulder at the sadist, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Pete's hand grabbed onto the collar of the coat, keeping it from falling off of his form, and wiped his tears away on his arm.
"What is this?" Pete eyed the jacket again, then shuffled to look at Gary less awkwardly.
"I decided against it." The older teen was leaning against the wall again.
"W-what?"
"The girl. I didn't screw her."
Peter was silent, eyebrows furrowed.
"You can stop crying." Gary spoke as though things really worked that way.
"W-who was it?"
"Lola."
"You need to get tested." Pete threw the jacket at the scarred male like it was poisonous.
"We didn't do anything!" Gary proclaimed with a growl, catching the jacket.
"You know what, fine, wallow in your self-pity. Just know that I refused her because of you." He snapped, letting the leather fall to the floor and slipping away.