Tree Bros, Boyf Riends and Kleisen One Shots

Boyf Riends- Pastel & Punk

I'm a sucker for these

Michael closed his locker door gently, jumping back when he saw Jeremy leaning next to him.

"Oh! Uh, hey baby." Michael said, flustered.

"Hi sweet." Jeremy leaned in smirking, kissing Michael gently. Michael chuckled as he felt the cold metal ring from Jeremy's mouth met his lips.

"You're cold." Michael said almost as soon as they pulled away.

Jeremy laughed. "Well baby, I guess you'll have to warm me up, huh?"

"Oh yeah?" Michael asked, a smirk on his lips as he fixed his flower crown. "And what would you propose me doing?"

"Well, we could always fu-"

"Hey asshole!" Jeremy turned towards the voice, and his smile disappeared.

"Awe shit. It's those punks from the cafeteria." Jeremy mumbled under his breath. "Hey, baby, why don't you go to the car, okay? I'll be there soon." Jeremy handed his keys to Michael, who took them obediently.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Michael asked, catching a glimpse of the punks nearing them.

"I'll be fine. Just go." Jeremy practically pushed Michael out of the way before putting on a shit-eating grin. "Hey fellas! Long time no see. How's your mom? Still treating you like the little shit you are?"

Michael rushed out of the school and towards Jeremy's car, grabbing the medical supplies he always kept in the back. He mumbled curse words to himself as he got situated in the backseat, playing some of Jeremy's 'punk' music to make the car seem more pleasant when his boyfriend came back.

He didn't have to wait long to see Jeremy come back to the car. Jeremy now sported a bloody nose, several cuts, and what would soon be a black eye.

"Awe baby..." Michael let out a sigh as Jeremy climbed into the backseat with him.

The car was silent except for the steady beat of the music and Jeremy's silent hissing as Michael cleaned his wounds.

"I wish you wouldn't do things like this." Michael said, finally breaking the silence. "I just... I hate seeing you get hurt. I... I wish you'd stop getting into fights with the other punks. Why can't you guys just get along?"

"You know that's not how it works, baby." Jeremy started, carefully planning his words. "The punks at this school... aren't like the pastels. Pastels can work together. Punks can't. We get... possessive."

"Ugh. I hate it." Jeremy's eyes snapped up as Michael slammed the medical kit closed. "You guys think you rule the school, and that we are just your backup. We just tend to your wounds," Jeremy subconscious rubbed his arm, flinging when he reached newly wrapped bandages. "And stand back. You're always fighting! Always!" Michael turned away, rolling his eyes to try to eat the tears away. "God. It pisses me off."

Michael looked out the window, a tear rolling down his face. "We just.... I just... I don't want you to get hurt." Michael turned back to Jeremy, a hurt look on his face. "Do you even care? Don't you see how hurt we get when you... when you punks hurt each other?"

"I-"

"You probably hurt someone else's boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever, who's probably doing what I did for you. And it's just, it's just common now! Too common."

"I'm sorry." Jeremy said, cutting Michael off. "I'm sorry. But I can't control other punks. You know that."

"I know." Michael said, glancing back out the window. "I know. It just sucks."

"I know." Jeremy moved closer to Michael, pulling him close to his chest. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not angry at you." Michael mumbled. "I'm angry at the world we live in."

Jeremy didn't have anything else to say to his boyfriend. He just held him tight, vowing to never pick a fight again.