fic: i constantly thank god for bob bryar (these bunks are numbered, kid.)
title: i constantly thank god for bob bryar (these bunks are numbered, kid.)
rating: nc.17
prompt: 17. bob/mcr pheromone & 37. bob/frank/gerard- tag teamed bob
author's note: special thanks to o4fuxache & lovelypoet for the awesome read throughs and the beta-ing! all other mistakes and follies are mine!
i constantly thank god for bob bryar (these bunks are numbered, kid.)
It started off as a joke.
Frank wasn’t really sure when it stopped being that.
It was probably the moment when Pete Wentz leaned around Mikey and leered. “Man, your drummer? Fucking hot. Emphasis on fucking, please.”
He apologized to Mikey later about smacking his “not boyfriend” in the mouth with his water bottle.
He never apologized to Pete.
Frank was sure Pete was used to that, at least.
+++
Frank wasn’t really aware that he was making a joke when he made it, but he did. Or he was.
Things got hazy after a while about what exactly was done.
“I swear to God. You’ve got some kind of booty call, uh, caller thing.” Frank said watching Bob pocket his phone and walk away from the leggy crew member.
“Shut it. I met her on Proj Rev couple of years ago.” Bob said fishing for his smokes and coming up with the crumpled pack. “She’s cool. Just wants to have drinks.” Frank had gotten pretty good at reading Bob smiles. This one Frank had seen before and it didn’t just mean drinks.
Frank had seen the Just Drinks smiles. He’d been on the receiving end of Just Drinks. Then again the drinks were CapriSuns and a game of Halo. Frank wasn’t sure if that counted for or against him.
In any case, it needed further study.
“Boo. Tay. Call.” Frank said and neatly avoided the flick of Bob’s fingers to his ear.
Bob settled for blowing a mouthful of smoke right into Frank’s face.
+++
Bob showed up the next morning with handful of hickeys on his neck (and surprisingly on his chest-Frank peeked when Bob was changing) and smelling like sex.
“Don’t say it.” Bob growled and stomped to his bunk.
Frank shut his mouth and laughed at his own joke.
+++
“Your drummer,” the tech said shaking his head.
Frank fiddled with his guitar strap and looked up. “Yeah?”
“Hot. Really fucking hot.” The guy mumbled and then blushed realizing what he’d said.
Frank smirked. He really had no fucking clue what Bob had that made people fall all over themselves to drop their pants for him.
Not that he didn’t understand the sentiment.
+++
“So, maybe he’s magic or something.” Mikey said as he passed the box of cereal over to Frank.
They were stuck in the middle of the country, somewhere with a lot of cows and not a whole lot of anything else.
“Like he’s got sex magic? We’re moths to his booty call flame?” Frank asked resting his head back against the couch.
Mikey laughed and nearly choked on his Lucky Charms. “Something like that.”
+++
Bob walked off stage and Frank caught sight of an arm, heavily tattooed and definitely male, tug him behind the stage.
Frank would have stepped in, but he caught sight of the edge of Bob’s smile.
Bright, secret, and definitely not Just Drinks.
+++
Frank didn’t say anything when Bob rode in with the crew bus and not their own.
Gerard did.
“Where’s Bob?” Gerard pushed the curtain back to Bob’s bunk and wandered out, barefoot and hungry.
Frank shrugged.
“And why do you look all sulky?” Gerard asked popping a handful of hearts, stars, and rainbows.
Frank glared at him.
“Well, do you want a blowjob?” Gerard asked grinning.
Frank stopped sulking and pushed Gerard back toward the bunks, crushing clovers and blue moons between them in his haste.
+++
“So, it’s like this.”
Frank’s head was sloshing. Really sloshy sloshing. “What is what like?”
That’s what it was supposed to be, but all Frank could manage was a, “Mmmphgheer?”
Bob chuckled and patted Frank’s face. It was a face that was currently taking up real estate against Bob’s thigh. “It’s like this.” The words were slurred.
Either Frank was drunk or Bob was. Or they both were and Frank’s ears were translating all of Bob’s words into inebriated.
That was supposed to make sense.
Bob was still talking so Frank tried to listen. Tried to listen and drink his beer. He thanked whoever it was that put a straw in it for him. Maybe it was Bob. Bendy and purple. The straw not Bob. Frank giggled thinking of Bob bendy and purple.
“…And my dad’s family. Rubus smilax and that’s where we come from. Nature or God or both thought that they’d even it out for us. So, I can. I mean, people just kind of want me. My cousin’s researching it. She thinks it’s body chemistry. So like pheromones. It’s to offset our prickly personalities. Leastways that’s what my mom says.” Bob said and Frank felt the spatter of beer on his face as Bob waved his bottle at the heavens or his mother or just the ceiling.
Frank wasn’t sure of much anymore.
“So… you’ve got booty call cologne?” Frank asked and Bob couldn’t answer.
Frank couldn’t fault him. There was lots of beer left to be had. And they were only two guys with a mouth a-piece.
It was a tough job. But Frank and Bob had goals.
Important goals, man.
+++
Frank had, to everyone’s surprise, a relatively accurate memory even when drunk.
(There was this one time in Hartford where Frank bet Lazarra that he totally could chug Jager. “It’s cinnamon-y shit. It’s like drinking Big Red.” That had not gone over well. It was the one time that Frank had no idea what happened after the sixth shot. Frank woke up with no pants and a very dry face. Sticky and dry. Jamia had pictures, but would never show Frank.
He loved his girl. And he trusted that she wouldn’t let anything too untoward happen to him.
Mostly.)
The next morning after the beer sloshing head thing, Frank sat in the kitchenette sipping coffee and wearing sunglasses. He possibly could have passed it off for being a rockstar, but mostly it was because apparently the wrath of God was coming in through the windows and drilling directly into his brain via his eye sockets.
“How’re you doing?” Gerard asked sipping his own cup of coffee, sunglasses in place.
Gerard, Frank knew, was just being a rockstar and definitely not hung over.
“Murghle.” Frank muttered from the depths of his mug. He thought Gerard should be able to translate Frank-speak through French Roast. Frank had known Gerard for more than four years.
“Better than bad but not great.” Gerard leaned back, stretching in a not stretch and reaching over. He let his fingers slide through Frank’s hair. “So, what’re we doing while Jamia’s away?” He asked fingers twitching a little against the back of Frank’s neck.
It was the nicotine twitch that Frank knew well.
“Hmm, said to have fun. Said she put fresh lube and condoms in my bunk. She hates the strawberry crap you like.” Frank said leaning into the touch sighing when Gerard tapped out a little rhythm. Frank realized it was the beginning to Blood.
Frank felt Gerard slide his fingers over further, finding without having to see, to rest on the two mouth shaped bruises blending with ink. “Tell her that it makes rimming both of you nicer for me.”
Frank snorted and nearly ended up with a nose and lungful of coffee. “You can tell her tonight. She wants a call before bed.”
Gerard laughed and shook his head, hair nearly falling into his cup as he sipped in more of the dark roast. “If Brian only knew what the reason was for the huge ass cell bills were for.”
Frank wagered that Brian had a fair clue.
They sat there together in silence, the rhythm and roll of the bus’ tires mimicking the in and out of their breaths. Or maybe it was the other way around.
“So, Mikes tells me that you think that Bob has sex powers.”
Frank grunted and tipped his head back draining his mug. “It’s hereditary.”
“Huh. Well, that explains most of it.”
“Yeah.” Frank nodded.
Gerard grinned and poured a little more of his coffee into Frank’s cup. “Yeah.”
+++
Bob slept with Ray on accident.
Or at least that’s what Ray told Frank.
“Man, I don’t know what happened. One minute we were working on the new songs and then. Then. Well.” Ray waved a hand.
Frank blinked and he rubbed the back of his neck. “So… how was it?”
Ray blushed so far up into his hairline Frank was surprised his hair didn’t turn strawberry.
“Huh. Interesting.” Frank muttered and went out for a smoke.
+++
Frank watched Bob move around the room. There was an easy grace to Bob, something that Frank could meter. He walked the perimeter of groups and no less than three would look up, watch and then shake themselves wondering exactly what it was they were looking at, looking for.
Bob never looked up or around. He kept his pace, as far as Frank could see.
Frank watched as Bob bumped his shoulder to Patrick’s side, jostling the liquid in his glass. Patrick made a show of glaring and then Bob tilted in, mouth slanting in a half shadowed smile. Patrick colored brightly and nodded.
Frank didn’t miss the way Patrick turned his head, mouth opening like he was tasting the air around Bob.
Bob just glanced away, meeting Frank’s eyes for a moment then hooking his hand around Patrick. The crush of people moved, a wave of bright sounds and bodies, and blocked Frank from Bob and Patrick.
When Frank looked back, Bob and Patrick were gone.
+++
Three weeks, two days, and more than a dozen other pieces of ass that Frank saw Bob pick up, Frank found himself in a small room in Pittsburgh naked and pressed against Bob’s back.
Gerard laughed and Frank thought that this would be odd, weirder than it was.
Bob licked his lips and stared at Frank.
It was odd being on the other end of that look.
“You really are fucking magic,” Gerard muttered and leaned over, swiping his tongue over a particularly tempting spot of skin. Bob growled or groaned or both and twisted away from Frank to press Gerard back against the bed.
“You two planned this,” Bob said and pinned Gerard’s hands above his head, wrists pressed against the wrecked sheets.
Frank laughed and moved closer, hand sliding down to that spot where Gerard’s mouth had been. “Sort of.” He hadn’t thought it out, but he’d wanted. He wanted to know what it would be like between them.
Gerard squirmed and Bob bent down, Frank thought for a kiss, but it was a little more savage. Gerard hissed and Frank groaned watching Bob’s teeth sink into the tender give of Gerard’s shoulder.
Bob hissed out a breath through his nose, hair heavy and sweat lank against his forehead and over his eyes. Frank let Bob listen, to hear and know what was happening. The crackle and crinkle of plastic and foil sounded loud. Gerard licked his dry lips- used looking from both Bob’s kisses and his cock. “Come on,” Bob ordered and Frank got a bit back for Gerard, biting the back of Bob’s shoulder, mirror opposites, the muscle tight against his teeth and salt tinged against his tongue. “Fuck, Frank,” he growled trying to turn his head and glare at Frank.
Frank grinned, impish and eager. “If you want.” His hand slid around Bob’s waist, expertly rolling the condom onto Bob’s cock. “Wait,” he said and almost whistled when Bob bucked into his hand as he slicked him up. “Now, be nice to him.”
Gerard’s leg slid up, over his hip and begged with his body for Bob.
Frank loved this part. Frank loved this about Gerard. It was different and the same. Frank knew Gerard's body as well as he knew Jamia's now.
Frank loved the newness of Bob, but at the same time, Bob was familiar.
"You two do this a lot?" Bob grunted.
Frank shook his head. The dynamic was complicated, but it worked for the three of them.
Now, maybe. Frank shook his head and licked his lips, tasting Bob in the heavy air. Maybe now it wouldn't just be two, sometimes three, but now four.
"Good," Bob said and twisted away with a smile, for both Frank and Gerard. Frank knew it was there even if he couldn't see it.
Frank watched the way that Gerard just wanted and was unashamed for it. He smirked watching Bob’s face crease in concentration, head bowing and Gerard tensed for another bite, but he got a kiss instead. Gerard made a strangled sound, wanting and needy between breaths. Bob sank into Gerard and Frank knew the reason for the groan. Frank knew the hot, heady clutch of Gerard’s body.
“He loves this. He’ll come from this,” Frank murmured his hand moving and pressing two fingers into Bob. Bob muttered something against Gerard’s neck.
“God, do it, Frankie. He’s begging for it,” Gerard said, fingers twining and twisting around themselves, still pinned under Bob’s hand.
Bob looked back, eyes steady and Frank bit back his own groan. “Yeah, fuck. Yeah,” he was a little less graceful this time. The condom was on and slicked and soon, not soon enough and too soon, he was in, his cock pressing into the tight heat of Bob’s body.
Frank petted down the tense line of Bob’s spine, feeling him hold a breath in his lungs and then out. “With us,” Frank said against the wet hair curled against the back of Bob’s neck.
Bob gave a small nod and started to move between them.
“Yeah.” Frank said and he could feel them all share the next breath. And then the next. And then the next.
+++
Frank sat on the couch, watching the rolling plains. He watched them, well, roll by and on, and on again. He frowned into his mug of coffee. He felt the cushion dip and the press of a warm body against his. Frank looked at Bob, knowing by scent that it was him.
They sat there, watching green and brown and green and brown again. Hills, plains and black ribbons of asphalt rolled by the window unceasing and going as far as he could see. That they could see.
Bob shifted, laughed a little when he couldn’t lever himself out of and off of the couch.
Frank smiled and touched the back of Bob’s neck. “I’ll get it.”
Bob leaned into the touch. “Thanks.” There was a smile there, soft and secret.
Frank took that smile that he was given and kept it.
fin
rating: nc.17
prompt: 17. bob/mcr pheromone & 37. bob/frank/gerard- tag teamed bob
author's note: special thanks to o4fuxache & lovelypoet for the awesome read throughs and the beta-ing! all other mistakes and follies are mine!
i constantly thank god for bob bryar (these bunks are numbered, kid.)
It started off as a joke.
Frank wasn’t really sure when it stopped being that.
It was probably the moment when Pete Wentz leaned around Mikey and leered. “Man, your drummer? Fucking hot. Emphasis on fucking, please.”
He apologized to Mikey later about smacking his “not boyfriend” in the mouth with his water bottle.
He never apologized to Pete.
Frank was sure Pete was used to that, at least.
+++
Frank wasn’t really aware that he was making a joke when he made it, but he did. Or he was.
Things got hazy after a while about what exactly was done.
“I swear to God. You’ve got some kind of booty call, uh, caller thing.” Frank said watching Bob pocket his phone and walk away from the leggy crew member.
“Shut it. I met her on Proj Rev couple of years ago.” Bob said fishing for his smokes and coming up with the crumpled pack. “She’s cool. Just wants to have drinks.” Frank had gotten pretty good at reading Bob smiles. This one Frank had seen before and it didn’t just mean drinks.
Frank had seen the Just Drinks smiles. He’d been on the receiving end of Just Drinks. Then again the drinks were CapriSuns and a game of Halo. Frank wasn’t sure if that counted for or against him.
In any case, it needed further study.
“Boo. Tay. Call.” Frank said and neatly avoided the flick of Bob’s fingers to his ear.
Bob settled for blowing a mouthful of smoke right into Frank’s face.
+++
Bob showed up the next morning with handful of hickeys on his neck (and surprisingly on his chest-Frank peeked when Bob was changing) and smelling like sex.
“Don’t say it.” Bob growled and stomped to his bunk.
Frank shut his mouth and laughed at his own joke.
+++
“Your drummer,” the tech said shaking his head.
Frank fiddled with his guitar strap and looked up. “Yeah?”
“Hot. Really fucking hot.” The guy mumbled and then blushed realizing what he’d said.
Frank smirked. He really had no fucking clue what Bob had that made people fall all over themselves to drop their pants for him.
Not that he didn’t understand the sentiment.
+++
“So, maybe he’s magic or something.” Mikey said as he passed the box of cereal over to Frank.
They were stuck in the middle of the country, somewhere with a lot of cows and not a whole lot of anything else.
“Like he’s got sex magic? We’re moths to his booty call flame?” Frank asked resting his head back against the couch.
Mikey laughed and nearly choked on his Lucky Charms. “Something like that.”
+++
Bob walked off stage and Frank caught sight of an arm, heavily tattooed and definitely male, tug him behind the stage.
Frank would have stepped in, but he caught sight of the edge of Bob’s smile.
Bright, secret, and definitely not Just Drinks.
+++
Frank didn’t say anything when Bob rode in with the crew bus and not their own.
Gerard did.
“Where’s Bob?” Gerard pushed the curtain back to Bob’s bunk and wandered out, barefoot and hungry.
Frank shrugged.
“And why do you look all sulky?” Gerard asked popping a handful of hearts, stars, and rainbows.
Frank glared at him.
“Well, do you want a blowjob?” Gerard asked grinning.
Frank stopped sulking and pushed Gerard back toward the bunks, crushing clovers and blue moons between them in his haste.
+++
“So, it’s like this.”
Frank’s head was sloshing. Really sloshy sloshing. “What is what like?”
That’s what it was supposed to be, but all Frank could manage was a, “Mmmphgheer?”
Bob chuckled and patted Frank’s face. It was a face that was currently taking up real estate against Bob’s thigh. “It’s like this.” The words were slurred.
Either Frank was drunk or Bob was. Or they both were and Frank’s ears were translating all of Bob’s words into inebriated.
That was supposed to make sense.
Bob was still talking so Frank tried to listen. Tried to listen and drink his beer. He thanked whoever it was that put a straw in it for him. Maybe it was Bob. Bendy and purple. The straw not Bob. Frank giggled thinking of Bob bendy and purple.
“…And my dad’s family. Rubus smilax and that’s where we come from. Nature or God or both thought that they’d even it out for us. So, I can. I mean, people just kind of want me. My cousin’s researching it. She thinks it’s body chemistry. So like pheromones. It’s to offset our prickly personalities. Leastways that’s what my mom says.” Bob said and Frank felt the spatter of beer on his face as Bob waved his bottle at the heavens or his mother or just the ceiling.
Frank wasn’t sure of much anymore.
“So… you’ve got booty call cologne?” Frank asked and Bob couldn’t answer.
Frank couldn’t fault him. There was lots of beer left to be had. And they were only two guys with a mouth a-piece.
It was a tough job. But Frank and Bob had goals.
Important goals, man.
+++
Frank had, to everyone’s surprise, a relatively accurate memory even when drunk.
(There was this one time in Hartford where Frank bet Lazarra that he totally could chug Jager. “It’s cinnamon-y shit. It’s like drinking Big Red.” That had not gone over well. It was the one time that Frank had no idea what happened after the sixth shot. Frank woke up with no pants and a very dry face. Sticky and dry. Jamia had pictures, but would never show Frank.
He loved his girl. And he trusted that she wouldn’t let anything too untoward happen to him.
Mostly.)
The next morning after the beer sloshing head thing, Frank sat in the kitchenette sipping coffee and wearing sunglasses. He possibly could have passed it off for being a rockstar, but mostly it was because apparently the wrath of God was coming in through the windows and drilling directly into his brain via his eye sockets.
“How’re you doing?” Gerard asked sipping his own cup of coffee, sunglasses in place.
Gerard, Frank knew, was just being a rockstar and definitely not hung over.
“Murghle.” Frank muttered from the depths of his mug. He thought Gerard should be able to translate Frank-speak through French Roast. Frank had known Gerard for more than four years.
“Better than bad but not great.” Gerard leaned back, stretching in a not stretch and reaching over. He let his fingers slide through Frank’s hair. “So, what’re we doing while Jamia’s away?” He asked fingers twitching a little against the back of Frank’s neck.
It was the nicotine twitch that Frank knew well.
“Hmm, said to have fun. Said she put fresh lube and condoms in my bunk. She hates the strawberry crap you like.” Frank said leaning into the touch sighing when Gerard tapped out a little rhythm. Frank realized it was the beginning to Blood.
Frank felt Gerard slide his fingers over further, finding without having to see, to rest on the two mouth shaped bruises blending with ink. “Tell her that it makes rimming both of you nicer for me.”
Frank snorted and nearly ended up with a nose and lungful of coffee. “You can tell her tonight. She wants a call before bed.”
Gerard laughed and shook his head, hair nearly falling into his cup as he sipped in more of the dark roast. “If Brian only knew what the reason was for the huge ass cell bills were for.”
Frank wagered that Brian had a fair clue.
They sat there together in silence, the rhythm and roll of the bus’ tires mimicking the in and out of their breaths. Or maybe it was the other way around.
“So, Mikes tells me that you think that Bob has sex powers.”
Frank grunted and tipped his head back draining his mug. “It’s hereditary.”
“Huh. Well, that explains most of it.”
“Yeah.” Frank nodded.
Gerard grinned and poured a little more of his coffee into Frank’s cup. “Yeah.”
+++
Bob slept with Ray on accident.
Or at least that’s what Ray told Frank.
“Man, I don’t know what happened. One minute we were working on the new songs and then. Then. Well.” Ray waved a hand.
Frank blinked and he rubbed the back of his neck. “So… how was it?”
Ray blushed so far up into his hairline Frank was surprised his hair didn’t turn strawberry.
“Huh. Interesting.” Frank muttered and went out for a smoke.
+++
Frank watched Bob move around the room. There was an easy grace to Bob, something that Frank could meter. He walked the perimeter of groups and no less than three would look up, watch and then shake themselves wondering exactly what it was they were looking at, looking for.
Bob never looked up or around. He kept his pace, as far as Frank could see.
Frank watched as Bob bumped his shoulder to Patrick’s side, jostling the liquid in his glass. Patrick made a show of glaring and then Bob tilted in, mouth slanting in a half shadowed smile. Patrick colored brightly and nodded.
Frank didn’t miss the way Patrick turned his head, mouth opening like he was tasting the air around Bob.
Bob just glanced away, meeting Frank’s eyes for a moment then hooking his hand around Patrick. The crush of people moved, a wave of bright sounds and bodies, and blocked Frank from Bob and Patrick.
When Frank looked back, Bob and Patrick were gone.
+++
Three weeks, two days, and more than a dozen other pieces of ass that Frank saw Bob pick up, Frank found himself in a small room in Pittsburgh naked and pressed against Bob’s back.
Gerard laughed and Frank thought that this would be odd, weirder than it was.
Bob licked his lips and stared at Frank.
It was odd being on the other end of that look.
“You really are fucking magic,” Gerard muttered and leaned over, swiping his tongue over a particularly tempting spot of skin. Bob growled or groaned or both and twisted away from Frank to press Gerard back against the bed.
“You two planned this,” Bob said and pinned Gerard’s hands above his head, wrists pressed against the wrecked sheets.
Frank laughed and moved closer, hand sliding down to that spot where Gerard’s mouth had been. “Sort of.” He hadn’t thought it out, but he’d wanted. He wanted to know what it would be like between them.
Gerard squirmed and Bob bent down, Frank thought for a kiss, but it was a little more savage. Gerard hissed and Frank groaned watching Bob’s teeth sink into the tender give of Gerard’s shoulder.
Bob hissed out a breath through his nose, hair heavy and sweat lank against his forehead and over his eyes. Frank let Bob listen, to hear and know what was happening. The crackle and crinkle of plastic and foil sounded loud. Gerard licked his dry lips- used looking from both Bob’s kisses and his cock. “Come on,” Bob ordered and Frank got a bit back for Gerard, biting the back of Bob’s shoulder, mirror opposites, the muscle tight against his teeth and salt tinged against his tongue. “Fuck, Frank,” he growled trying to turn his head and glare at Frank.
Frank grinned, impish and eager. “If you want.” His hand slid around Bob’s waist, expertly rolling the condom onto Bob’s cock. “Wait,” he said and almost whistled when Bob bucked into his hand as he slicked him up. “Now, be nice to him.”
Gerard’s leg slid up, over his hip and begged with his body for Bob.
Frank loved this part. Frank loved this about Gerard. It was different and the same. Frank knew Gerard's body as well as he knew Jamia's now.
Frank loved the newness of Bob, but at the same time, Bob was familiar.
"You two do this a lot?" Bob grunted.
Frank shook his head. The dynamic was complicated, but it worked for the three of them.
Now, maybe. Frank shook his head and licked his lips, tasting Bob in the heavy air. Maybe now it wouldn't just be two, sometimes three, but now four.
"Good," Bob said and twisted away with a smile, for both Frank and Gerard. Frank knew it was there even if he couldn't see it.
Frank watched the way that Gerard just wanted and was unashamed for it. He smirked watching Bob’s face crease in concentration, head bowing and Gerard tensed for another bite, but he got a kiss instead. Gerard made a strangled sound, wanting and needy between breaths. Bob sank into Gerard and Frank knew the reason for the groan. Frank knew the hot, heady clutch of Gerard’s body.
“He loves this. He’ll come from this,” Frank murmured his hand moving and pressing two fingers into Bob. Bob muttered something against Gerard’s neck.
“God, do it, Frankie. He’s begging for it,” Gerard said, fingers twining and twisting around themselves, still pinned under Bob’s hand.
Bob looked back, eyes steady and Frank bit back his own groan. “Yeah, fuck. Yeah,” he was a little less graceful this time. The condom was on and slicked and soon, not soon enough and too soon, he was in, his cock pressing into the tight heat of Bob’s body.
Frank petted down the tense line of Bob’s spine, feeling him hold a breath in his lungs and then out. “With us,” Frank said against the wet hair curled against the back of Bob’s neck.
Bob gave a small nod and started to move between them.
“Yeah.” Frank said and he could feel them all share the next breath. And then the next. And then the next.
+++
Frank sat on the couch, watching the rolling plains. He watched them, well, roll by and on, and on again. He frowned into his mug of coffee. He felt the cushion dip and the press of a warm body against his. Frank looked at Bob, knowing by scent that it was him.
They sat there, watching green and brown and green and brown again. Hills, plains and black ribbons of asphalt rolled by the window unceasing and going as far as he could see. That they could see.
Bob shifted, laughed a little when he couldn’t lever himself out of and off of the couch.
Frank smiled and touched the back of Bob’s neck. “I’ll get it.”
Bob leaned into the touch. “Thanks.” There was a smile there, soft and secret.
Frank took that smile that he was given and kept it.
fin