What happens when you lock Brian Schechter, Greta Salpeter, and Bob Bryar in a closet together?
Short answer = sexytimes.
Long answer, well, it was only supposed to be Bob and Brian in the closet. They've been arguing - fighting, really - a lot lately and certain people ::coughGerardcough:: decide Something Needs To Be Done.
So he puts Frank on it.
Who thinks locking angry Schechters and Bryars in enclosed spaces is a fantastic idea. For reals. As long as he's on the other side of the door.
And Greta is there because, okay. She loves her boys, really a lot, but sometimes a girl just wants to read horrible pornographic continuations of Pride and Prejudice without the book being ripped out of her hands and dramatic readings regarding Mr. Darcy's manhood happening. Normally they're not so bad, but with everyone EVER wandering around Pete and Ashlee's compound for the christening, well, they're for sure playing to the audience.
Plus, Darren's long-standing mancrush on Patrick is getting a little embarrassing. Greta loves a trainwreck as much as the next girl, but this is starting to get out of hand. The only saving grace is that Patrick seems completely oblivious to the little drummer boy following him around.
So, she needs a break and the gigantic, walk-in linen closet on the third floor seems perfect. She makes a little nest of blankets and sips at her froofy, girly drink as she settles in to read about the Darcy honeymoon shenanigans. She only gets about 50 pages in before the door slams open and Frank Iero shoves Bob Bryar and the little guy she thinks is their manager into the closet and shuts the door, obviously wedging something under the knob to keep them in because Bob immediately tries to open it again. When it doesn't open easily, he bumps it with his shoulder, but nothing happens.
"Oh, that's great, Caveman Bob to the rescue."
"Fuck off. It's not my fault you're a halfling."
( - "UST," Greta had said to her Bob just the other night as they watched them bicker over the comfy chair in the upstairs lounge and he totally agreed - )
And Frank obviously agrees too because he yells through the door, "Either kill each other or fuck, but just stop fucking fighting."
That stops them for a second, but then they're both yelling out the door at Frank who has obviously done the smart thing and run away. The shouting somehow becomes about who at the last burrito sometime in 2005 and Greta really has had enough. She clears her throat quietly and it's enough to catch both of their attention. They turn and she smiles brightly from her pile of blankets, "Gentlemen."
Bob immediately turns bright pink and stares down at his shoes. The other guy's flush is less obvious, but just as charming. Even with the regrettable bling and tattoos, he's truly adorable. He shuffles his feet a little, "Hi. You're Greta, right?"
"Indeed I am," Greta rolls up to her feet as gracefully as she can manage and holds out her hand. "Greta Salpeter. I know you manage My Chemical Romance, but I don't think we've been introduced."
"Brian Schechter," He shakes her hand and gestures towards Bob, "Have you met Bob?"
"Bob Bryar," He catches her hand in a firm grip and, oh my, those are very blue eyes. Greta was sure he'd been photoshopped in a couple of his promo shots, but apparently not.
She smiles her very best smile at both of them and pushes her hair back over her shoulders. She gestures towards comfy little nest she'd built and says, "Why don't the both of you step into my parlor?"