(no subject)
marcy playground ain't got nothin' on us
frank iero x matt cortez
nc17
an: porn for anon_lovefest. there will be a hotel!sex addition at some point tomorrow. i don't even know, you guys, porn is so easy for me to write. i'm sexually frustrated, stfu. funny that i can't finish my actual fic, eh?
It isn't that Frank is glad that Mikey's gone. Of course he's a little bummed, the dude's his best friend for fuck's sake! But he knows that the gleam that's suddenly appeared in Mikey's eye is true happiness, and he knows that Mikey seems so much stronger now that Alicia's beside him, so much steadier and real, the polar opposite of the wisp he turned into at the Paramour, and he's glad that Mikey finally found that.
So, yeah, he's not like, thrilled that Mikey's on his honeymoon, but he isn't moping around like a big melodramatic dork - see also: Gerard Way - either.
And really, if he thinks the replacement bassist is more than a little bit smokin', then who's business is it but his?
*
Frank noticed Matt Cortez when he was just a tech, but it was in that aloof 'don't know the dude but I'd happily add his arms to the faceless figure I occasionally masturbate to' sort of way.
That was before Frank reached out and shook Matt's hand and Matt smirked and said, "Cortez," in this husky tone since he'd just taken a drag off his cigarette.
Frank had grinned back, "Iero," and leaned back against the bus, taking a deep breath of his own Marlboro.
At a loss for what to say Frank was going to launch into a diatribe about the surprisingly mild weather when Matt suddenly asked, "So, I know you guys like campy horror movies, but what about campy Asian horror movies?"
Since then it's been more like Frank wrapping his fist around himself in the quiet of the bunks and spitting out a groan that could be, "Matt," when he comes harder than he ever has before in his life.
*
"Cortez," Frank whines from his position on the lounge floor. He toes at Matt's bare ankle with his foot and Matt smirks that tiny, private grin that makes Frank's heartbeat speed up.
"What do you want, lazyass?" Matt responds lightly, kicking at Frank's foot with his own. Frank blames the rush of pink to his cheeks on the heat, not the fact that somewhere in his mind - which is apparently timeshared between himself and a twelve year old girl, who knew? - he's painfully aware of the fact that they're playing footsie, the essential physical flirting game.
"Gummy bear," Frank says, pointing at the windowsill off to Matt's right. Matt glances over at the half-full bag of Haribo Gummy Bears sitting there and wrinkles his nose.
"Dude, they're all melted and shit," he complains. Frank rolls his eyes.
"Okay, princess," he answers in a low, dopey voice. He kicks Matt's ankle again and Matt laughs this time - at the action or the statement is anybody's guess. "C'mon man, don't be afraid to get a little dirty."
"Oh, I'm not," Matt fires back, and Frank's cheeks go even pinker. He tilts his head back, half so Matt can't see, half to look through the open doorway - albeit upside down - to see if the guys are back from their Starbucks run yet.
"Bob called," Matt states suddenly. "He said that Ray'd wandered into a record store and that Gee found a comic shop. They'll probably be awhile."
"Huh," Frank says, and is so proud of how completely nonchalant and unimpressed he sounds, "cool."
He kicks Matt's ankle again. "C'mon, man," he pleads. "I'm begging you here!"
"Get them yourself," Matt states happily, and then changes the channel. Frank makes small frustrated noises to himself and flops down on the side of the couch closest to the gummy bears, Matt politely scooting over to make room for him as he does so. Frank reaches haphazardly into the bag and comes back with his knuckles covered in multi-colored goo, a few shapeless gummy bears in his hand. He pops them into his mouth and reaches back for a second handful when he notices Matt's eyes on him.
"What?" Frank demands, pointedly ignoring the fact that the entire length of his thigh is pressed flush against Matt's, and their shoulders keep bumping.
Matt chuckles. "Nothing," he lies, shaking his head and returning his gaze to the television. Frank glances over and, totally unimpressed by some special on European banking fraud, slides another few gummy bears into his mouth, making faces like he's a giant monster devouring the city even though the gummy bears' own faces - and consequently, their imaginary expressions of terror - are gone.
Frank freezes when the toe of Matt's black sock slips casually up under the hem of Frank's jeans, absently brushing against the skin there.
A split second later it stops, though, so Frank shrugs it off as an accident and goes back to fulfilling his daily sugar craving.
And then, out of nowhere, in the middle of some stupid commercial, Matt does it again, easy as you please. This time Frank sneaks a look at Matt's face while Matt's foot ghosts over his lower calf. If it weren't for the tiny quirk in Matt's mouth, Frank would think all his attention was on the screen.
Matt looks over and catches Frank's eye, and even though he's not the one playing fucking footsie now, Frank feels himself blush a little. It's emasculating and totally awesome.
"What?" he demands, voice a tad too low to play it off like he hasn't noticed anything.
"Gummy bear," Matt smirks. It takes Frank a second to realize what he's talking about, but when he does he shakes his head and grabs a gummy bear at random, holding it out.
Matt smiles, bright and happy, and opens his mouth, quirking his eyebrows.
Frank rolls his eyes and mutters, "Seriously, you are such a fucking princess," before dropping it into Matt's mouth, carefully not paying attention to the proximity between it and his hand.
Matt, however, seems to be paying very close attention because his lips close around Frank's fingers, the tip of his tongue briefly slipping across the pads where Frank's fingerprints are, and then he's leaning back against the couch, chewing happily, Frank sitting there staring like and idiot with his hand poised in the air.
Trying not to feel like he's too out of the loop, and certain his face must be brilliant red by this point, Frank grabs another gummy bear and is about to violently ingest it to try and make himself feel better, when Matt leans over and steals it, popping it into his own mouth.
Frank glares and says hotly, "I wanted that, jerk," in an attempt to cover his embarrassment.
He's barely done talking when Matt smirks again - fucking infuriating and sexy at the same time - and then presses his mouth against Frank's.
It's nothing and everything like Frank expected. Matt's lips aren't soft, exactly, but they're comfortable, and when they move against Frank's it's like little sparks of electricity dancing down his spine. Almost before he realizes it, Frank is making a pleased noise and opening his mouth under Matt's, reaching up to wrap a sticky hand around Matt's bicep. Matt runs his tongue along Frank's bottom lip, and whatever resolve Frank might have had to stop this is completely gone.
He shifts back a bit to make himself more comfortable, and Matt takes that as the go ahead, pushing forward until he's leaning over Frank, Frank's legs spread while Matt's sort of halfway on his knees. Carefully, Matt lays completely down so that their bodies are touching from head to toe, legs automatically intertwining while Matt not-so-subtly slips his hand under Frank's shirt, thumb brushing at his hip.
Frank wraps the hand that isn't covered in sugar around Matt's neck, almost immediately abandoning that placement to tangle loosely in Matt's shaggy hair. He tugs Matt even closer to him, and he can fucking feel Matt smiling.
They pull apart after a moment, both breathing heavily, just searching one another's faces.
"The fuck Cortez?" Frank asks, but he sounds too breathless to be really angry.
Matt grins and slips his thumb under the waistband of Frank's boxers. Frank's already half-hard from just making out, which hasn't happened since high school, and that is totally not helping at all.
"You're so loud at night, sometimes," Matt murmurs, and he's close enough that Frank can feel the warmth of the statement on his cheek, at the corner of his mouth. "And I half wanted to come over and help you out."
Frank swallows thickly and crushes his mouth to Matt's again, their teeth knocking together this time. He giggles into the kiss and Matt tugs questioningly at the hem of Frank's jeans.
"I want these off," he whispers, and bites gently at Frank's lower lip.
"So do I," Frank agrees, and then Matt is undoing the button and pulling and shifting until Frank's jeans are on the middle of the lounge floor.
Matt runs his palm up Frank's thigh and Frank shivers, biting back a soft moan, before Matt's leaning in to kiss him again - it may or not be almost a million times better now that there's only Frank's boxers between Matt's jeans.
Frank doesn't even bother trying to hide the fact that he's yanking Matt's shirt off. They don't stop kissing until they have to, and then Matt chucks the shirt somewhere behind him and leans back down immediately. Frank runs his fingertips up the smooth plane of Matt's back and Matt shivers.
"Fuck," Frank moans, and pushes his hips up against Matt's. Matt whines and grabs Frank's forearm, meeting Frank thrust for thrust. Frottage has never felt this good before, like Frank could come just from enough of it.
"Frankie," Matt murmurs, trailing his lips down Frank's neck, tugging at his shirt so he can bite at one collar bone. Frank grunts a bit and grabs Matt's hips, pulling them down against him. He knows they're in the back lounge, and that it's a horrible idea - and honestly, if the bunks were any bigger he'd drag Matt into his and pull the curtain back for a little privacy - but Frank can't help it when he reaches between them to undo the button of Matt's jeans.
Matt grins and stands up to kick them off, his socks following suit almost immediately, and then he climbs back on top of Frank. When he thrusts downward Frank almost yelps at the friction. His cheek brushes Matt's and he clutches at the other man's shoulders their pacing turning more and more erratic the longer they push and nuzzle and grind.
Matt makes an unintelligible noise into Frank's shoulder and bites down, hard. Frank thrusts up once more and then comes in his boxers, Matt's name spilling over his lips.
They lay there for a long moment. Until Frank is sticky and a little cold and worried that someone's going to walk in and catch them any minute and it's just like being a teenager all over again.
*
For weeks they don't have time for anything except a few tentative kisses in the darkness of the bunks when the adrenaline from the show is still making them feel invincible. As far as Frank knows, none of the other guys have caught on yet, although Bob keeps rolling his eyes when Frank knocks his knees against Matt's under the table and Matt smiles, so maybe he's wrong.
Either way, it feels like something special and private and so fucking awesome that Frank smiles so much that his face starts to cramp.
*
They've just finished sound check and are waiting around for the few hours it'll take the opening bands to get through their sets when Matt suddenly announces, "I need a cigarette. Frank?"
Frank nods and grabs his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder. He figures now is as a good a time for a cigarette as any, even if Gee politely declines because smoking so soon before a stage call will fuck up his voice.
Bob just shakes his head and waves them off, paying extreme attention to his iPod.
Frank follows Matt toward the door at the end of the hall, just a little bit surprised when Matt suddenly grabs his wrist and pulls him into a darkened room. An office if the gentle bump against the back of Frank's legs is anything to go by.
"Matt, what - " Frank starts to say, but he's cut off when Matt's tongue suddenly materializes in his mouth.
Matt hums into the kiss and although the fact that this is a venue is screaming in Frank's mind, he turns to complete and total putty in Matt's hands.
"Mmm," Frank says, and tries not to shiver when Matt reaches down and slips one hand into his back pocket, the other sliding up into Frank's hair.
They keep kissing while Matt casually undoes Frank's jeans, and Frank wiggles so that they fall to the floor. Matt leans down to lick at the hollow of Frank's throat briefly before diving in for more serious kissing, and then slips his hand into Frank's boxers without warning, fingers wrapping gently around Frank's dick.
Frank groans into Matt's mouth and tries not to feel like too much of a moron when he automatically thrusts forward into Matt's warm grip. It's not his fault that they haven't had time to get this far yet.
Matt pumps his hand up and down a few times, slow and maddening, and then he kisses Frank once, chaste and light, and drops to his knees, dragging Frank's boxers down to the floor with him. Frank stares down in confusion for a second, comprehension dawning as Matt mouths the head of his cock, holding Frank's hips back as he moves forward to take it down as far as he can.
Frank closes his eyes and sucks a shuddery breath, palms flat against the surface of the death because if he sits and watches - Matt's mouth, and those lips, God - he's going to be eternally ashamed of how fast he comes.
As it is, it doesn't take long for Frank to feel that familiar tingle building at the base of his spine. He reaches down to thread his fingers through Matt's hair and warns, "I'm - Matt, I -" before he's coming and Matt is a fucking deity or some shit because he swallows like a champ.
Frank stares, jaw slack, and then Matt shimmies up his body and kisses him, filthy-dirty, and steps back.
"I -" Frank starts, reaching toward Matt's pants, and it's only then that he realizes he's fucking shaking, Christ. But Matt just shakes his head and kisses Frank again.
"I'll get mine later," he says cheerily and then disappears with a wink.
It's only after Frank's pulls up his boxers and re-buttoned his pants that he realizes that tonight's a hotel night.
He's smiling giddily to himself and doesn't even bother trying not to look sated when Ray points out, "Frank, dude, weren't you out of cigarettes?"
Matt snorts and says, "He borrowed one of mine."
Right before they get called for stage Frank texts Matt: u r a fucking evil genius and Matt just laughs and strides out of the room calling, "I know, right?" over his shoulder.
****
TBC...
frank iero x matt cortez
nc17
an: porn for anon_lovefest. there will be a hotel!sex addition at some point tomorrow. i don't even know, you guys, porn is so easy for me to write. i'm sexually frustrated, stfu. funny that i can't finish my actual fic, eh?
It isn't that Frank is glad that Mikey's gone. Of course he's a little bummed, the dude's his best friend for fuck's sake! But he knows that the gleam that's suddenly appeared in Mikey's eye is true happiness, and he knows that Mikey seems so much stronger now that Alicia's beside him, so much steadier and real, the polar opposite of the wisp he turned into at the Paramour, and he's glad that Mikey finally found that.
So, yeah, he's not like, thrilled that Mikey's on his honeymoon, but he isn't moping around like a big melodramatic dork - see also: Gerard Way - either.
And really, if he thinks the replacement bassist is more than a little bit smokin', then who's business is it but his?
*
Frank noticed Matt Cortez when he was just a tech, but it was in that aloof 'don't know the dude but I'd happily add his arms to the faceless figure I occasionally masturbate to' sort of way.
That was before Frank reached out and shook Matt's hand and Matt smirked and said, "Cortez," in this husky tone since he'd just taken a drag off his cigarette.
Frank had grinned back, "Iero," and leaned back against the bus, taking a deep breath of his own Marlboro.
At a loss for what to say Frank was going to launch into a diatribe about the surprisingly mild weather when Matt suddenly asked, "So, I know you guys like campy horror movies, but what about campy Asian horror movies?"
Since then it's been more like Frank wrapping his fist around himself in the quiet of the bunks and spitting out a groan that could be, "Matt," when he comes harder than he ever has before in his life.
*
"Cortez," Frank whines from his position on the lounge floor. He toes at Matt's bare ankle with his foot and Matt smirks that tiny, private grin that makes Frank's heartbeat speed up.
"What do you want, lazyass?" Matt responds lightly, kicking at Frank's foot with his own. Frank blames the rush of pink to his cheeks on the heat, not the fact that somewhere in his mind - which is apparently timeshared between himself and a twelve year old girl, who knew? - he's painfully aware of the fact that they're playing footsie, the essential physical flirting game.
"Gummy bear," Frank says, pointing at the windowsill off to Matt's right. Matt glances over at the half-full bag of Haribo Gummy Bears sitting there and wrinkles his nose.
"Dude, they're all melted and shit," he complains. Frank rolls his eyes.
"Okay, princess," he answers in a low, dopey voice. He kicks Matt's ankle again and Matt laughs this time - at the action or the statement is anybody's guess. "C'mon man, don't be afraid to get a little dirty."
"Oh, I'm not," Matt fires back, and Frank's cheeks go even pinker. He tilts his head back, half so Matt can't see, half to look through the open doorway - albeit upside down - to see if the guys are back from their Starbucks run yet.
"Bob called," Matt states suddenly. "He said that Ray'd wandered into a record store and that Gee found a comic shop. They'll probably be awhile."
"Huh," Frank says, and is so proud of how completely nonchalant and unimpressed he sounds, "cool."
He kicks Matt's ankle again. "C'mon, man," he pleads. "I'm begging you here!"
"Get them yourself," Matt states happily, and then changes the channel. Frank makes small frustrated noises to himself and flops down on the side of the couch closest to the gummy bears, Matt politely scooting over to make room for him as he does so. Frank reaches haphazardly into the bag and comes back with his knuckles covered in multi-colored goo, a few shapeless gummy bears in his hand. He pops them into his mouth and reaches back for a second handful when he notices Matt's eyes on him.
"What?" Frank demands, pointedly ignoring the fact that the entire length of his thigh is pressed flush against Matt's, and their shoulders keep bumping.
Matt chuckles. "Nothing," he lies, shaking his head and returning his gaze to the television. Frank glances over and, totally unimpressed by some special on European banking fraud, slides another few gummy bears into his mouth, making faces like he's a giant monster devouring the city even though the gummy bears' own faces - and consequently, their imaginary expressions of terror - are gone.
Frank freezes when the toe of Matt's black sock slips casually up under the hem of Frank's jeans, absently brushing against the skin there.
A split second later it stops, though, so Frank shrugs it off as an accident and goes back to fulfilling his daily sugar craving.
And then, out of nowhere, in the middle of some stupid commercial, Matt does it again, easy as you please. This time Frank sneaks a look at Matt's face while Matt's foot ghosts over his lower calf. If it weren't for the tiny quirk in Matt's mouth, Frank would think all his attention was on the screen.
Matt looks over and catches Frank's eye, and even though he's not the one playing fucking footsie now, Frank feels himself blush a little. It's emasculating and totally awesome.
"What?" he demands, voice a tad too low to play it off like he hasn't noticed anything.
"Gummy bear," Matt smirks. It takes Frank a second to realize what he's talking about, but when he does he shakes his head and grabs a gummy bear at random, holding it out.
Matt smiles, bright and happy, and opens his mouth, quirking his eyebrows.
Frank rolls his eyes and mutters, "Seriously, you are such a fucking princess," before dropping it into Matt's mouth, carefully not paying attention to the proximity between it and his hand.
Matt, however, seems to be paying very close attention because his lips close around Frank's fingers, the tip of his tongue briefly slipping across the pads where Frank's fingerprints are, and then he's leaning back against the couch, chewing happily, Frank sitting there staring like and idiot with his hand poised in the air.
Trying not to feel like he's too out of the loop, and certain his face must be brilliant red by this point, Frank grabs another gummy bear and is about to violently ingest it to try and make himself feel better, when Matt leans over and steals it, popping it into his own mouth.
Frank glares and says hotly, "I wanted that, jerk," in an attempt to cover his embarrassment.
He's barely done talking when Matt smirks again - fucking infuriating and sexy at the same time - and then presses his mouth against Frank's.
It's nothing and everything like Frank expected. Matt's lips aren't soft, exactly, but they're comfortable, and when they move against Frank's it's like little sparks of electricity dancing down his spine. Almost before he realizes it, Frank is making a pleased noise and opening his mouth under Matt's, reaching up to wrap a sticky hand around Matt's bicep. Matt runs his tongue along Frank's bottom lip, and whatever resolve Frank might have had to stop this is completely gone.
He shifts back a bit to make himself more comfortable, and Matt takes that as the go ahead, pushing forward until he's leaning over Frank, Frank's legs spread while Matt's sort of halfway on his knees. Carefully, Matt lays completely down so that their bodies are touching from head to toe, legs automatically intertwining while Matt not-so-subtly slips his hand under Frank's shirt, thumb brushing at his hip.
Frank wraps the hand that isn't covered in sugar around Matt's neck, almost immediately abandoning that placement to tangle loosely in Matt's shaggy hair. He tugs Matt even closer to him, and he can fucking feel Matt smiling.
They pull apart after a moment, both breathing heavily, just searching one another's faces.
"The fuck Cortez?" Frank asks, but he sounds too breathless to be really angry.
Matt grins and slips his thumb under the waistband of Frank's boxers. Frank's already half-hard from just making out, which hasn't happened since high school, and that is totally not helping at all.
"You're so loud at night, sometimes," Matt murmurs, and he's close enough that Frank can feel the warmth of the statement on his cheek, at the corner of his mouth. "And I half wanted to come over and help you out."
Frank swallows thickly and crushes his mouth to Matt's again, their teeth knocking together this time. He giggles into the kiss and Matt tugs questioningly at the hem of Frank's jeans.
"I want these off," he whispers, and bites gently at Frank's lower lip.
"So do I," Frank agrees, and then Matt is undoing the button and pulling and shifting until Frank's jeans are on the middle of the lounge floor.
Matt runs his palm up Frank's thigh and Frank shivers, biting back a soft moan, before Matt's leaning in to kiss him again - it may or not be almost a million times better now that there's only Frank's boxers between Matt's jeans.
Frank doesn't even bother trying to hide the fact that he's yanking Matt's shirt off. They don't stop kissing until they have to, and then Matt chucks the shirt somewhere behind him and leans back down immediately. Frank runs his fingertips up the smooth plane of Matt's back and Matt shivers.
"Fuck," Frank moans, and pushes his hips up against Matt's. Matt whines and grabs Frank's forearm, meeting Frank thrust for thrust. Frottage has never felt this good before, like Frank could come just from enough of it.
"Frankie," Matt murmurs, trailing his lips down Frank's neck, tugging at his shirt so he can bite at one collar bone. Frank grunts a bit and grabs Matt's hips, pulling them down against him. He knows they're in the back lounge, and that it's a horrible idea - and honestly, if the bunks were any bigger he'd drag Matt into his and pull the curtain back for a little privacy - but Frank can't help it when he reaches between them to undo the button of Matt's jeans.
Matt grins and stands up to kick them off, his socks following suit almost immediately, and then he climbs back on top of Frank. When he thrusts downward Frank almost yelps at the friction. His cheek brushes Matt's and he clutches at the other man's shoulders their pacing turning more and more erratic the longer they push and nuzzle and grind.
Matt makes an unintelligible noise into Frank's shoulder and bites down, hard. Frank thrusts up once more and then comes in his boxers, Matt's name spilling over his lips.
They lay there for a long moment. Until Frank is sticky and a little cold and worried that someone's going to walk in and catch them any minute and it's just like being a teenager all over again.
*
For weeks they don't have time for anything except a few tentative kisses in the darkness of the bunks when the adrenaline from the show is still making them feel invincible. As far as Frank knows, none of the other guys have caught on yet, although Bob keeps rolling his eyes when Frank knocks his knees against Matt's under the table and Matt smiles, so maybe he's wrong.
Either way, it feels like something special and private and so fucking awesome that Frank smiles so much that his face starts to cramp.
*
They've just finished sound check and are waiting around for the few hours it'll take the opening bands to get through their sets when Matt suddenly announces, "I need a cigarette. Frank?"
Frank nods and grabs his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder. He figures now is as a good a time for a cigarette as any, even if Gee politely declines because smoking so soon before a stage call will fuck up his voice.
Bob just shakes his head and waves them off, paying extreme attention to his iPod.
Frank follows Matt toward the door at the end of the hall, just a little bit surprised when Matt suddenly grabs his wrist and pulls him into a darkened room. An office if the gentle bump against the back of Frank's legs is anything to go by.
"Matt, what - " Frank starts to say, but he's cut off when Matt's tongue suddenly materializes in his mouth.
Matt hums into the kiss and although the fact that this is a venue is screaming in Frank's mind, he turns to complete and total putty in Matt's hands.
"Mmm," Frank says, and tries not to shiver when Matt reaches down and slips one hand into his back pocket, the other sliding up into Frank's hair.
They keep kissing while Matt casually undoes Frank's jeans, and Frank wiggles so that they fall to the floor. Matt leans down to lick at the hollow of Frank's throat briefly before diving in for more serious kissing, and then slips his hand into Frank's boxers without warning, fingers wrapping gently around Frank's dick.
Frank groans into Matt's mouth and tries not to feel like too much of a moron when he automatically thrusts forward into Matt's warm grip. It's not his fault that they haven't had time to get this far yet.
Matt pumps his hand up and down a few times, slow and maddening, and then he kisses Frank once, chaste and light, and drops to his knees, dragging Frank's boxers down to the floor with him. Frank stares down in confusion for a second, comprehension dawning as Matt mouths the head of his cock, holding Frank's hips back as he moves forward to take it down as far as he can.
Frank closes his eyes and sucks a shuddery breath, palms flat against the surface of the death because if he sits and watches - Matt's mouth, and those lips, God - he's going to be eternally ashamed of how fast he comes.
As it is, it doesn't take long for Frank to feel that familiar tingle building at the base of his spine. He reaches down to thread his fingers through Matt's hair and warns, "I'm - Matt, I -" before he's coming and Matt is a fucking deity or some shit because he swallows like a champ.
Frank stares, jaw slack, and then Matt shimmies up his body and kisses him, filthy-dirty, and steps back.
"I -" Frank starts, reaching toward Matt's pants, and it's only then that he realizes he's fucking shaking, Christ. But Matt just shakes his head and kisses Frank again.
"I'll get mine later," he says cheerily and then disappears with a wink.
It's only after Frank's pulls up his boxers and re-buttoned his pants that he realizes that tonight's a hotel night.
He's smiling giddily to himself and doesn't even bother trying not to look sated when Ray points out, "Frank, dude, weren't you out of cigarettes?"
Matt snorts and says, "He borrowed one of mine."
Right before they get called for stage Frank texts Matt: u r a fucking evil genius and Matt just laughs and strides out of the room calling, "I know, right?" over his shoulder.
****
TBC...