A/N: I've had this idea cooking for a while, mainly while I waited for GertChase to be canon on the show, so this is just a one-shot that takes place before the first episode of the series. I've thought about expanding it, but the show gave us so much great G/C content towards the end that I'm not sure.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Enjoy!

WEDNESDAY

Gert Yorkes liked Chase Stein. And she hated that she did.

Ever since she was about ten, she knew she wasn't conventionally pretty, like blonde Karolina, or what people always called exotic and beautiful, like Nico or Amy. She was what Dale and Stacy called "different," and most of the time she was fine with that…except when she saw Chase hanging on the word of almost every pretty girl around him, then she thought "different" might as well be synonymous with "invisible".

But, as she grew older, she realized that she wasn't going to get any prettier—and frankly didn't want to—and her parents, as eccentric as they were, had helped her feel comfortable in her own skin. So, she leaned into the "different-ness" of herself, cutting off a foot of her hair and dying the rest bright purple, finding the funkiest pair of glasses she could find, and started wearing clothes that actually made her feel comfortable—mainly oversized jean jackets and anything army green—instead of what was trending. And her confidence soared because of it.

Besides, she wasn't going to let a man dictate her own sense of self-worth, no matter how chiseled his jaw was. Or that his eyes were so ridiculously blue it seemed unreal and that they made her stomach become a conservatory for dozens of different kinds of butterflies.

Gert told herself repeatedly, almost every day since she was fourteen, that she didn't like him as anything more than a friend, and they weren't even friends anymore, so why should she think about him? But then he would flash that dimpled smile in her direction, or they would argue like old times, and she would remember why she had liked him for seven years.

Walking into homeroom, at the beginning of senior year was like walking out of a time machine. Every. Single. Day. Ignoring the weird standing desks, and tablets at every station, her, Alex, Karolina, Nico, and (of course) Chase were all in the same class. She bit the inside of her cheek as she walked to her spot, only a row behind and diagonal to him, avoiding eye contact with her former friends. Gert kept her head down, disregarding the comments some of the muscle-headed jocks or stuck-up popular girls had about her wardrobe or her hair, just bending her head and finalizing the paperwork for her new club.

She still needed a faculty sponsor…and actual members. Considering most of the teachers at this overpriced prep school were the standard middle-aged white guys, she didn't think they would make the best sponsors for her feminist club. But, it Mrs. Romero, the homeroom teacher, was none of those things.

Taking a deep breath, Gert walked up to the teacher's podium. The movement during the normally sleepy homeroom period seemed to draw everyone's eyes, and even Mrs. Romero seemed surprised that one of her students wanted to talk to her.

"Gert," she started, "is there something I can help you with?"

"Uh, yeah, actually," Gert replied, trying not to focus on how loud her voice sounded in the quiet room. "I'm trying to start a club, like a feminist, social awareness kind-of thing. And I need a sponsor for the school, and I was wondering if you were interested?"

Mrs. Romero looked taken aback for a moment, even a bit reluctant, but eventually agreed. "Of course, I'll help you. What do you need me to do?"

"Oh, nothing," Gert beamed, glad that she already had everything filled out. "I just need you to sign here," she extracted the piece of paper from the mass in her arms for her teacher to sign. "I still need members, so I was hoping I could present something on Friday."

The homeroom teacher nodded, quickly signing, "I'm sure everyone would love to hear about it."

Gert couldn't hold in her scoff—she doubted many of her peers would care about her club, but she was hoping that there would be a couple people interested. If she could get through to one girl like her who felt underrepresented and willing to do something about it, then she would consider it a success. As she was walking back to her seat, however, one out of the assembly line of the pretty, popular girls, hissed, "Is she seriously wearing a jean jacket? In 2017? God, it doesn't even fit right."

But, of course, since homeroom was quieter than the grave, everyone heard the comment, and the chuckles and snickers followed her back to her seat. "Well at least I care about what's in my head, instead of what's on it." Gert raised her eyebrows and pursed her mouth in vindication when the girl's only response was to flip her hair over her shoulder and go back to gossiping with her friends.

Thankfully, the bell for first period rang a few seconds afterwards, and Gert scrambled to shove her papers and notebooks into her backpack. But, Miss Popular got her petty, attention-driven, revenge when she purposefully swung her purse into Gert's arm, knocking her to her knees, and spilling the contents of her backpack all over the floor. Miss Popular sent Gert a smug grin as she flounced out the door, leaving the latter to pick up all of her papers and then have to rush to first period.

"Well, at least when I dye my hair, I make it obvious!" Gert shouted at the girl in some attempt at a retort, but Miss Popular was already out of earshot.

"Comebacks like that only work if the other person can hear you," a familiar voice advised. Chase squatted down, handing her a couple papers for her club that had fallen underneath his desk.

Gert took the papers, fighting against her conflicting emotions—the butterflies in her stomach at the proximity between the two of them, and the mortification at him witnessing her daily bullying. "Yeah, well," she countered, trying to sound light-hearted, "maybe I was just trying out my witticisms beforehand."

Chase snorted, and she tried—and failed—to tamp down the grin that spread across her lips, but of course two of his lacrosse buddies called to him from the door before he could respond.

"Let's go Stein!" Muscle-Headed Jock #1—Gert thought his name was Brandon—called, looking like he was seconds away from actually tapping his foot in annoyance like some overbearing mother.

Chase seemed to pause briefly, a flash of confusion and annoyance crossed his face, but Gert couldn't let herself hope. "Go on, you don't want to tarnish your social status by being seen talking to me."

He clenched his jaw, but stood up and quickly sauntered back over to his new friends, leaving Gert to shove her papers back into her backpack and to rush out of the deserted classroom to her first period. Get a grip, she told herself, as she slid into her first period seat, just as the bell was ringing. You shouldn't care so much about what a man thinks of you.

But she did care, probably more than she was willing to admit, because although she had learned to love her less than Barbie-quality body, and her quirky personality…deep down, Gert cared about whether Chase even noticed, despite knowing that the answer was certainly "no."

And she hated that she cared about that.

Chase Stein was a lot of things. A star lacrosse player, one of the most desired bachelors at Atlas, a mediocre student, and surprisingly lonely.

Ever since he was old enough to remember, he always had friends to lean on. Whether those friends were the other kids he played with at Pride meetings or his lacrosse buddies or other kids that were just drawn to his popularity like a magnet. But other than the first group, he never felt like he really belonged to any of those categories. He was decent at lacrosse, but not as good as he was at math or physics. And although he could have the most perfect, gorgeous, popular girl as a girlfriend—or not even that level of commitment if he was being honest—he didn't particularly want them.

When he was in eighth grade, he realized that he would rather be friends with someone like Gert who stared at the stars from his Dad's observatory with fascination and wonderment than someone like Eiffel who only stared at guys she wanted to hook up with or new clothes with that kind of focus.

But then came Amy's death, and he realized that it would be easier to put his Pride friends behind him, and for a long time it worked. Until senior homeroom, when he was faced with nerdy Alex, who he couldn't help but resent for cracking apart their group, beautiful Karolina, who he could easily see himself dating if they hadn't been childhood friends first, angry Nico, whose new wardrobe seemed to match the darkness she had to be feeling after her sister's death, and then Gert.

With her purple hair, combat boots, and oversized jean jacket, she seemed to catch his eye whenever she was around. He was jealous of her confidence as she strode through the halls, not shying away from the girls that would mock her, but meeting their snide comments with a retort of her own.

As he headed from his last class of the day, to the locker rooms for lacrosse practice, he replayed their discussion from homeroom. Chase smiled as he remembered how she brushed off Carol's comment like it was nothing—she wasn't just book-smart, but witty as well, which was frankly refreshing.

After changing, he followed Lucas and Brandon onto the field, where a smudge of bright purple immediately grabbed his attention. Gert was standing at the edge of the drop-off circle, waiting for her parents or Molly, he didn't know. Shaking his head, Chase jogged over to the team huddle forming, focusing on how he was going to perfect the herring play Coach Alphona wanted him to run during their next game.

Practice was more grueling than usual, and not just because Coach wanted the whole team to run half a dozen more laps than necessary because they had screwed up a play, but because Chase was really only half paying attention to the drills. He seemed to keep one eye on the increasingly frustrated purple-haired girl that had begun pacing by the time practice was over.

"You coming, Stein?" Lucas slung an arm around Chase's shoulders, practically dragging him towards the locker room, chattering about…something, Chase wasn't really paying attention

"Sorry, what's that?" He had to ask, when Lucas paused, clearly asking his opinion about whatever he hadn't been listening to.

"Jesus, Stein," Brandon interjected, "are you okay? You've been kinda' checked out all practice."

"Yeah," Chase assured his teammates with a smile. Like he was going to admit he spent almost all of practice wondering what Gert Yorkes was up to. "I just have to go soon. A lot of homework, you know how it is."

Thankfully that seemed to placate Lucas and Brandon, as the two of them started to complain about the amount of homework one of their teachers gave them. Chase changed in record time, grabbed his backpack and lacrosse bag, before practically sprinting out the door and to the drop-off circle.

He slowed down to a leisurely strut, in the hopes that she hadn't noticed him staring at her for the past two hours. Gert had stopped her pacing and was just sitting on the curb, her backpack by her side and her chin rested in her hands. Chase most certainly did not to pay attention to how the setting sun shot streaks of dark purple, almost blue into her hair, and did clear his throat alerting her to his presence. "What'cha doing here so late? Did you have like a club meeting or something?"

Gert merely turned her head towards him, several emotions flickering behind her brown eyes before disappearing behind a veil of suspicion and cynicism. "No, I clearly stayed to wait for you," she scoffed, but answering seriously after a slight chuckle. "I was supposed to wait for Molly and my parents, but as it turns out, they're already home."

"Ouch," Chase replied, surprisingly thankful that his parents were so hands-off. He had the freedom of having his own car, so they wouldn't have to go out of their way for him. "How are you getting home then?"

She shot him another curious look, her nose scrunching for a quick moment before relaxing and holding up her phone. "I called a Lyft, but that won't be here for about fifteen minutes."

Looking out at the rapidly disappearing sun, and Gert's lone form, he tightened his grip on his lacrosse bag, as if bracing himself for her response. "I can give you a ride," he offered. Yet at her third questioning look of the conversation, he mentally slapped himself at his frankly horrible word choice. "I mean a ride to your house. My car's still here, and it's gonna' be dark soon and you shouldn't be alone here after dark."

"You're right, there might be some sketchy lacrosse players lurking around, asking me to get in the car with them," Gert replied, but she grabbed her backpack and smirked in agreement.

Chase grinned in response, shaking his head and staring at her out of the corner of his eyes. She looked quite pretty with the dying light seemingly dancing in her eyes, reflecting off her glasses, and Chase had to practically force himself to look away. He knew that she would certainly not appreciate him staring at her, and didn't want to blow his chances to simply be able to see her home safely. "Let's go," he nodded in the direction of his car, but freezing when he heard a familiar voice calling him.

"Chase!" Eiffel's voice sounded from behind him, and he barely suppressed a groan as he turned around, catching sight of the popular girl. How many people needed to talk to him right when tried to rebuild a bridge to Gert.

"Give me a sec," he said to Gert, trying not to notice her hurt expression. Chase walked over to Eiffel, giving her a strange look. She merely pulled on his arm, turning him so his back was to Gert, and with a swift yank, Eiffel had her mouth millimeters from his ear, her body pressed uncomfortably close to his.

"Are you okay?" She asked with mock concern, "You know you don't have to be nice to that weirdo just 'cause you were friends when you were little."

Chase opened his mouth, trying to form a response, but before he could, she had pressed a lingering kiss beneath his ear and had disappeared back into the building. He made his way back to where Gert was standing, pointedly looking anywhere but him and swiftly moving towards his car without another word.

He cursed Eiffel and her territorialism. So, they had made out a couple times at Brandon's house party last weekend, but that didn't mean they were a thing. And who knows what Gert thought Eiffel had said to him, since the two girls weren't exactly the best of friends. Yet as he drove to the Yorkes's house, the silence seemed to thicken the air between them, and one look at Gert's face showed that her defensive walls were raised high as she stared out the window, a vacant expression on her face. As she got out of the car, she mumbled her thanks for the ride, before walking into her house without a backwards glance.

Chase hit the steering wheel in frustration; he was a lot of things—a jock, a disappointing son—but at his core he was just a guy who couldn't believe that he had missed a chance to try and reconcile with one of his best friends.

Not to mention a boy, hopelessly head over heels for a girl he'd been crushing on since middle school.

A/N: So there's my contribution to the Runaways fandom! Please feel free to leave a comment, criticism, or to vent about how long there is until season 2!

Like I said I'm considering expanding this, but it would probably be more of connected one-shots, so let me know if that's something you would be interested in reading.