MJ's Not the Only One With a Man In the Mirror, Part 4
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Gerard hurried home from the store, silently cursing the late browsers they’d had. They hadn’t even bought anything good - a few trades of Spiderman and a Bizarro World issue of Superman - and now Gerard was late on the day Bert got home from touring. He knew Bert was already there; he’d gotten the text about an hour ago. He just hoped his boyfriend wasn’t fast asleep by the time Gerard got to the apartment.
“Bert?” he called as he flung open the door.
“Hey.” Bert came out from the bedroom, grinning, and Gerard slammed the door shut and threw himself at him. “Miss me?” Bert asked, laughing.
“Yes.” Gerard kissed him, wrapping himself around him as best he could.
“I missed you too,” Bert said between kisses, and Gerard couldn’t help but grin. At the sight of it, Bert added, “You big pussy sap.”
“Shut up.”
“I got you something,” Bert said later as they lay in bed, his cigarette ashing into Gerard’s hair. Bert ran his fingers through the black strands. “Sorry. You wanna see?”
“Yeah.” Gerard rolled away as Bert heaved himself up, and reached over the edge of the mattress for his underwear. He pulled them on as Bert rifled through the huge duffel bag he always used on tours, then added some pyjama pants and a t-shirt.
“Here!” Bert held it up against his chest, and Gerard’s eyes went wide.
“You bought me a jacket?” he asked. It looked like a really nice one too. Leather, well cut, good stitching. He reached out and took it from Bert, slipping it on and almost having another orgasm.
“Jacket slut,” Bert said fondly.
“Not even going to deny it. Jesus. This is nice.” Gerard checked the sleeves for tags, but they’d been taken off already. “How much was it?”
“Relax, okay? It’s a present. For you. From me. I didn’t touch the account.”
“Really?” Bert didn’t have any income of his own, other than what the band got for gigs and merch. But most of that went straight back into the band’s coffers, paying for things like the rehearsal space, new equipment, and recording.
“We did really well in merch. And, you know. I wanted you to have it.”
Gerard grinned and moved to stand in front of the mirror. It looked fucking good on him. Reflection Gerard stared back at him, obviously happy, his grin only widening when Bert’s reflection stepped up and wrapped his arms around him, leaving a kiss on his neck.
The upside to Gerard having no life was that he managed to get a lot of work done. He’d finished his proposal for The Umbrella Academy, including the prototype comic, his outline for the full story arc, and the letter to introduce it all. He hadn’t had the guts to actually send any of it out, but that was okay, because Alicia and Mikey had conspired to do it for him, sneaking the copies away and mailing them out to DC, Marvel, Dark Horse, Image, and IDW.
So now he was waiting, hoping for a publisher to contact him and freaking out every time he checked his email; asking after the mail every day, wondering if would perhaps be in a registered letter; and, of course, checking his phone every thirty seconds to make sure he hadn’t missed a call somehow. He was already doing that one anyway though. He honestly wasn’t sure which he wanted more, a call from a publisher or a call from Frank. He also wasn’t sure which was more unlikely.
So when his phone rang at three o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon and the caller display didn’t read Mikey (or Ray or Alicia or Mom and Dad) he almost missed the call just by staring at the display too long.
Frank.
After recovering from his mild heart attack and nearly dropping the phone into his coffee, he actually managed to answer it. “Hello?”
“Gerard?”
“Frank?” he asked, and felt stupid for sounding so breathless and hopeful. Playing it cool had never been his strong suit.
“Yeah. Hey.”
“Um. Hey.”
“So, um, we’re in Chicago now. My stint is up tomorrow, Eddie’s ready to play again. I’m flying back home on Friday. Did you . . . Do you maybe want to have dinner or something?”
Gerard wasn’t sure what to think. Yes, he absolutely wanted to have dinner. But Frank hadn’t called. Not once in nearly three weeks. Though he maybe couldn’t blame him. It was kind of a big deal, this tour, and Gerard could understand how Frank might have been preoccupied with other things.
“Gerard?”
“Um. Yeah. But. I mean, yes. Yeah, I want to have dinner. I just. You didn’t call.” He squeezed his eyes shut and cursed his stupid, stupid brain.
“Yeah. I think- There was kind of a misunderstanding? I’m sorry. I should have called and asked you about it.” Music filtered in through the speaker, loud bursts before it cut out, followed by people shouting instructions and requests.
“Asked me about what?”
“The thing with- Gee, I’m sorry. Can we maybe talk about this on Friday? There’s soundchecking going on here, and a crazy man in the greenroom, and nowhere to go outside that isn’t teeming with people. And I kind of want to really talk to you, you know?”
Gerard nodded before remembering to speak. “Okay. Yeah. We can talk about it on Friday.” He hated the idea though, because that meant he had two full days to freak out over this supposed misunderstanding, and whether or not Frank still wanted him.
“Okay. Good. I’ll make something at home, okay? I am so sick of eating out. I’ll text you the details later.”
“Sure.”
“Awesome. Hey, and Gee?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m kind of stupidly excited to see your face.”
“Oh,” Gerard said, but by that time Frank had already said his goodbyes and hung up. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it again, trying to play back the entire conversation in his head to figure out what, exactly, had just happened.
Gerard let himself into the apartment, worn out from another long day. He just wanted to get something to eat, watch some TV or a DVD, and not have to worry about anything. That wasn’t going to be easy though, because their cupboards were pretty bare, he was down to his last non-stinky shirt and two pairs of underwear, and he had to make sure the electric bill was paid by midnight, which meant he might as well do his phone and the gas too.
“Hey,” he called into the apartment, rubbing at one eye while he threw his keys onto the counter and headed for the pantry. “I’m fucking starving, do we have any-”
There was food in the pantry. There was fucking food in the fucking pantry. Gerard grinned and grabbed the bread and the bag of Doritos. He checked the refrigerator next, and wanted to fall to his knees when he saw it was fully stocked too. He grabbed the mayo, mustard, lettuce, and ham, and took it all to the counter to make himself a masterpiece of a sandwich.
“Dude,” he said when Bert came into the kitchen and greeted him with a kiss. “You went shopping!”
“Yeah. I had some time after rehearsal, so. Did a load of laundry too.”
“Fucking Christ, I love you. My stuff too?”
“Yep. Should be good for at least a week now.”
Gerard rewarded Bert with a sloppy kiss and a slice of ham. He didn’t even bother trying to think about Bert’s sudden industriousness, despite the fact that he usually slept for about a week straight after a tour. Some mysteries were better left unsolved.
Gerard got to Frank’s apartment a little early. He hadn’t wanted to chance a subway derailment or some kind of pedestrian jam, like only one sidewalk being open during construction or something. But now he didn’t want to buzz Frank early, cut into the guy’s prep time. Of course he also didn’t want to be the crazy guy loitering on the street, talking to himself and constantly running his hand over his hair like a total whacko nutjob.
He killed time and calmed his nerves at least a little by having a cigarette, and when one of the curtains on the ground floor kept twitching, he decided it was time to go in. Finding the right buzzer in the vestibule, he pressed it, waiting with his heart in his throat. He still wasn’t sure what tonight was going to be, even though Alicia had rolled her eyes at him and explained very patiently that an invitation to dinner in an apartment was almost a guarantee of sex. He still thought there was a chance Frank was going to tell him it had all been a mistake and maybe they could just be friends.
“Yo,” a voice that wasn’t Frank’s said from the speaker, and Gerard nearly had a heart attack. Had he gotten the address wrong?
“Um. It’s Gerard?”
“Come on up.” Only then did Gerard remember Bob, and he nearly missed the unlocking of the inner door, so great was his relief. Except he was pretty sure Alicia was wrong about the sex thing, if Bob was going to be there. He caught the door just in time, and took the elevator to the sixth floor. He found 6D easily enough, and the door opened before he could even knock.
“Hey,” Bob said as he stepped out. “He’s been making lasagna all day and that shit smells good. You better leave me some for after my shift.”
Gerard nodded. “Sure.”
“See you, Gerard. Have fun. Play safe.”
Gerard blushed, but Bob was already moving down the hallway, so he knocked on the doorframe to announce his presence. “Frank?”
“Dude, come on in.”
Gerard followed the voice, closing the door behind him and looking around the apartment. It was pretty nice, for a New York City apartment housing two single guys in their twenties. Well-kept, clean, and not too tiny, except for the kitchen, where Frank was currently standing, washing his hands with a smile. “Hi.”
“Um. Hi.” Gerard took another couple of steps in, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. “Aren’t you exhausted?” he asked, surprised by the way Frank was bouncing on his toes as he dried his hands.
“Not really. I had a hotel last night after the show, and the guys had to hit the road right after, so we didn’t party or anything. My flight got in at ten, and I had a nap and everything.” Frank moved out of the kitchen and over to Gerard. “Why?” he asked, smiling up at him. “You worried about my delicate health or something?”
Gerard blushed again. “Bert always-” He bit his lip, realizing that that probably wasn’t the best of subjects. “I know tours can wear you out,” he said instead.
“I can take it. Besides, I wanted to see you.” Frank’s hand reached for Gerard’s wrist, then slid down to his fingers, taking them gently.
“Oh,” Gerard said, somewhat stupidly, as he looked down at their hands.
“Oh?”
“I, um. I wasn’t sure what- I didn’t know if you still wanted.”
“I want. I told you that, remember?”
This time Gerard’s cheeks heated with pleasure in equal amounts to the embarrassment. “I do too,” he admitted. “I just. You didn’t call.”
Frank sighed and turned away, tugging on Gerard’s hand and leading the way to the couch. “Okay, clearly this is something you’re not going to get over easily. Though I’d like to point out that you didn’t call either,” he said as they sat. “It’s okay. I get that you had a lot of stuff going on. Which was why I didn’t call you. I thought you still had to deal with your . . . situation.”
“My situation?”
“Yeah. I mean, he showed up at the concert and you guys talked and all, and then Bob said that Jepha mentioned he was going to rehab or AA or something, and you were going with him. So I thought maybe it was best if I kind of stayed out of your way while you did that.”
“Bert,” Gerard said, finally catching on. “Bert is why you didn’t call.”
“Yeah. I thought maybe you guys might patch it up, since he was getting clean, and if that’s what you wanted I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”
Gerard shook his head. “You should have asked.”
“I know. I almost did. A lot. I have so many saved drafts of texts I never sent. I even, you know, did that thing where I called you but hung up before the calls connected. If things were going well for you I didn’t want to screw it up.”
“They weren’t,” Gerard admitted.
“Yeah. Word gets around. That Pete guy showed up backstage in Chicago. Told me I needed to call Mikey Way’s brother. I told him it wasn’t his business and that Mikey Way’s brother was probably happily and soberly canoodling with his boyfriend.”
“Canoodling?” Gerard interrupted with a disbelieving grin.
“I may have used a different word. I wasn’t really in the best of moods, especially not when some freak with freakishly large teeth starts getting in my face about my personal business. Anyway. He told me that Mikey said that Bert turned out to be a giant loser, which we already knew, but that now you knew it too. And I guess Ray told Bob who told Patrick who told Pete that you’d basically walked out on Bert for good.”
“Wait. Why didn’t Bob just tell you himself?” Gerard asked, his head reeling from the number of people who seemed to be involved in his love life.
Frank gave a little snort of disdain. “Bob likes to pretend he stays out of people’s business, but really he’s just a lot sneakier about it. So then Pete basically threatened to kick my ass if I didn’t call you right then and there, and he’s not a hell of a lot bigger than me or anything, but the dude looks like he might be a little crazy, you know? I mean, I can go nuts as good as the next guy, but he just might be the for real kind of crazy. Besides, once I knew about you and Bert, I didn’t really need to be threatened anymore. Did you really tell him to go fuck himself in the middle of an AA meeting?”
“What?” Gerard asked, agape. He really couldn’t keep up with everything Frank was saying.
“Bert. Did you tell him off during AA?”
“It was NA, and it wasn’t during, it was after, at Starbucks. I didn’t exactly tell him to go fuck himself. I just . . . He was basically trying to manipulate me into staying by holding his sobriety over my head. Then I found out he and Quinn had been going at it for eight months. Then he lied to me about Quinn calling him. So I called him a sad sack jackass and left.”
“So I guess that part of the story got pretty mangled,” Frank said around a grin, his fingers squeezing Gerard’s. “But I would have loved to have seen that.”
“Well apparently everyone in Chicago heard about it,” Gerard said, but he was kind of distracted by how warm Frank’s hand was.
“Not everyone. Just Pete and Patrick. Well, and the Sunday guys. And I guess some people who work at the venue? Pete was pretty loud.”
“Pete’s obnoxious,” Gerard said, but he didn’t know why they were talking about Pete, of all people. So he used the hand that wasn’t currently already on Frank to reach across and cup the side of Frank’s neck, his thumb sweeping up along his jaw.
“So, uh. I’ve been on the road for three weeks,” Frank said then, his voice a little quieter. “The long, lonely road.”
“Please. You probably had your own groupies two days after you set out.” Gerard’s own voice had dropped, and his thumb played along Frank’s bottom lip, catching on the lip-ring and pulling at it a little.
Frank shook his head. “Not for me. I had to be good, you know. I had-”
Gerard didn’t know who had reached for whom, but in the end it didn’t matter because they were each kissing the other and Frank never got to finish his sentence. “You had what?” Gerard asked eventually, lightheaded and giddy, his lips still lightly pressed against Frank’s.
“I have a lasagna in the oven,” Frank replied.
“How long till it’s done?”
“About ten minutes. But I can turn it down, let it sit for longer.” Frank pulled back then, meeting Gerard’s eyes. “If you want me to.”
“I want you to.”
Frank jumped up and practically ran to the kitchen, Gerard laughing on the couch behind him. He stood up once Frank finished at the oven, and let Frank lead him down the hallway and into his bedroom. It was a little small, but with enough room for a queen bed, a dresser with a TV on top, and even a corner desk by the window. Gerard looked around, curious, noting the lack of clothing on the floor, the guitars in a rack against one wall, and the framed pictures around the room, various people in Frank’s life. Gerard had time to see people he assumed were parents, an older guy behind a drum set, a dark-haired girl that might have been a sister or a cousin, and Bob with a lip-ring and a Frank hanging off his shoulders and down his back. But then Frank was there, his hands running up Gerard’s arms and to his shoulders, and Gerard ducked his head to kiss him, forgetting all about the decor.
The kiss was warm, wet, and it sent an immediate thread of desire through Gerard’s body. He breathed into Frank’s mouth, not quite a moan. Once again Frank got him out of his jacket, and Gerard pulled at Frank’s shirt, sweeping it up and off in one smooth motion. He forgot about his own as he pulled Frank to him, the skin of Frank’s back heating under his hands.
“Off,” Frank commanded between kisses, tugging on the hem of Gerard’s shirt, and Gerard obeyed. Frank’s fingers worked at Gerard’s belt and pants, even as his mouth worked at Gerard’s neck, and then he turned Gerard around and walked him back to the edge of the bed. “Wanted you,” he whispered, his breath hot at Gerard’s ear. “The whole time I was gone, whenever I wasn’t playing, I was thinking about you. About this.”
Gerard shivered, the force of it practically taking his knees out from under him, and he sat on the bed, his head tilted up to look at Frank, his hands running up and down Frank’s tattooed skin. “Me too. God, Frank.”
Frank climbed onto the bed, straddling Gerard’s lap as they kissed some more. Hot, messy, open-mouthed kisses, hips and groins rubbing together. Gerard kept his hands on Frank’s lower back, steadying him, until Frank pressed his chest into Gerard’s, coaxing him down to the mattress. Gerard went easily, shifting so they were more fully on the bed and moving his legs to cradle Frank, who settled in neatly between them as Gerard nipped at his throat.
“Oh, fuck,” Frank said suddenly, a note of annoyance in his tone. “Hang on.” He was up and off Gerard before Gerard could even think to protest, crawling across to the other side of the bed. He stretched an arm out, reaching to close the blinds, his entire torso elongated by the move.
Gerard rolled onto his side to get a better view, the tattoos he’d seen only briefly weeks ago on full display, and was easily captivated. He rolled further, all the way onto his hands and knees, and crawled over to get to Frank. He moved over him and wrapped one arm around Frank’s waist, pulling him back slightly so he could kiss every spot of ink without Frank being in danger of toppling off the bed.
“Gee, what?” Frank asked, but his back arched as Gerard pressed an open, hot kiss where the guns crossed, and Gerard figured he got the point. He moved up Frank’s spine then, licking, tasting. He scraped his teeth down the middle of the jack o’ lantern, then kissed his way back up again, tasting the sweat gathering on the nape of his neck, on the “Keep” of “Keep the Faith.” Frank moaned beneath him, his neck stretched as his head hung down, and one arm reached up and back, fingers grasping desperately at Gerard’s shoulder.
He moved his lips around then, to the side of Frank’s neck, and licked at the scorpion there. “Been wanting to do that since the train,” Gerard said, and then did it again for good measure. He felt Frank’s fingers dig into his upper back and Gerard’s hips moved suddenly, rocking forward into Frank’s ass.
“Jesus,” Frank groaned, his head coming up and back to rest against Gerard’s, his throat exposed. “You gonna fuck me, Gee?”
Gerard’s breath left him harshly; he had to drop his forehead down to Frank’s shoulder to steady himself. He hadn’t had a chance to do that in so long. Almost four years. He hadn’t been asking for it, hadn’t even thought to ask for it. After so long of being the automatic bottom, he’d reverted to the role easily. The only reason they were in the suggestive position they were in was because of Frank’s tattoos. Those beautiful, gorgeous, fuck-me tattoos.
“Is that what you want?” he finally managed to ask, his lips pressed to Frank’s jaw.
“I want,” Frank panted, rocking back into Gerard even harder. “I want everything.”
Gerard groaned and put all his front weight on one hand, using the other to tilt Frank’s head back even further and turn it towards his. The kiss was sloppy at that angle, but he really didn’t care. “Everything. Yes. Fuck.”
He let go of Frank then, rising to his knees so he could reach around and undo Frank’s belt and button. Frank squirmed against him for a moment before rolling over onto his back to get the zipper himself and shimmy out of the jeans. Gerard enjoyed the show, forgetting all about his own pants, until Frank reminded him by reaching over and giving a sharp tug at the waistband, pulling them down an inch or two. “Come on, slow poke.”
Gerard threw himself into motion, rolling off the bed to toe off his shoes and socks and to tug his jeans off, followed by his underwear. He was back on the bed in less than thirty seconds, covering Frank with his body again, but this time face to face. He swooped in for more kisses, moaning as Frank’s rough fingernails scratched through his short hair and down the back of his neck. He put his hand on Frank’s hip, feeling it roll with Frank’s movements, their bodies coming together again and again for that intense friction. That alone was going to do him in, so he moved, making his way down slowly, kissing at Frank’s skin as he went, licking over the flame on his chest before finding and biting at one nipple.
Frank gasped and arched up into him, one hand holding Gerard’s head down and one leg wrapping loosely around Gerard’s thighs. It was a fucking gorgeous reaction, so Gerard stayed there for a while, teasing and licking, before moving to the other side and clamping down, sucking on the hard flesh between his teeth.
“Fuck,” Frank hissed. “Oh fuck, Gee.”
Gerard laughed a little as he let go, then flattened his tongue against the nub, soothing. He nosed his way further down, his thumbs sweeping along the birds. He kissed his way across the “And,” then just beneath it, tasting a hint of male muskiness coming off Frank’s skin. He moved lower to follow the scent, ignoring Frank’s groans and pleas, and took the head of Frank’s hard cock in his mouth.
Frank’s hips tried to rise up off the bed a little, but Gerard was enjoying his new power, and he held Frank firmly down. He teased him for a little while, working only the tip and just below it, but then he relaxed his throat and swallowed Frank down. Frank’s hands flew to Gerard’s head, his fingers scratching over his hair for a few moments before latching onto the space behind his ears. Gerard groaned around the dick in his mouth and Frank managed to break loose to buck up once before he was pulling away, scrambling against the bed sheets.
“Wasn’t gonna make it,” he panted when Gerard looked at him quizzically.
Gerard grinned, sharp and feral, and bent back down to work his mouth along Frank’s inner thighs. “You got supplies?” he asked, then nipped at the skin above the words high on Frank’s leg.
“The fuck kind of question is that?” Frank ground out, and when Gerard looked up from his task, he saw Frank reaching towards the night stand. Frank tossed the bottle down Gerard’s way, and Gerard fumbled it against the mattress for a moment before getting it in his hands and open. He slicked his fingers up liberally, took a few moments to tease and spread some wetness around Frank’s entrance, and enjoyed the show he received for his efforts.
Frank moved his feet, planting them on the mattress and letting gravity pull his knees apart. His head was thrown back against the pillows, but as Gerard hesitated, he moved, looking down, eyes dark and lip-ring caught between his teeth. “Fucker. Don’t wait. And start with two.”
Gerard huffed a breath of a laugh, kissed the inside of Frank’s left knee, and did as requested, sliding the tips of two fingers in before stopping to give Frank time to adjust. Frank dropped his head back and shoved his hips forward, forcing Gerard’s fingers further inside and making a keening sound deep in his throat.
“Holy shit,” Gerard whispered, amazed at the sight before him. He ran his free hand up Frank’s leg, settling it on his hip, and murmured calming words. He gave Frank time to still a bit, then worked his fingers in and out, spreading them to ease Frank open as they moved. But Frank didn’t seem to need a lot of easing. He pulled away to sit up less than a minute later, already ripping open the condom wrapper and reaching for Gerard.
Gerard grunted a little as Frank stroked him, and groaned when Frank’s expert hands left him, condom on and slicked up. He repositioned himself as Frank lay back down, then grabbed Frank’s hips and pulled him down the bed a little, getting the angle just right. He felt Frank’s legs wrap around his ribs, feet crossed, his heels digging into Gerard’s back already. Gerard lined himself up, still on his knees, and, taking his cue from the minimal prep Frank required and the way Frank was insistently pulling Gerard in with his legs, he pushed his way in with one long, hard stroke.
Frank made that keening sound again, this time with a little growl in it, and Gerard let himself fall forward over Frank, catching himself on the mattress with his hands. He couldn’t breathe for a very long moment, couldn’t move, couldn’t fathom the deliciousness of it all. He buried his face in the crook of Frank’s neck, desperately trying to get a grip on himself and the situation.
Frank recovered first, because the first thing Gerard felt when he could actually think and breathe and do anything again was Frank, moving against him as best his position allowed, his hips making small rocking motions on Gerard. So he followed Frank’s lead, pulling out a little before thrusting back in, putting a little bit of upswing in the motion. Frank made a “gah” sort of noise, and Gerard grinned against his neck and counted that as a win.
Gerard took his time. He was so enraptured by the heat surrounding his cock, and the pressure that pushed against him as he moved, that he knew he’d blow it if he sped up. If he gave in to the harder-faster-now his body was already calling for, he’d lose control of himself too quickly for it to do either of them much good. Frank, too, seemed to want it faster, rougher, his fingers digging into the flesh above Gerard’s shoulder blades, literally trying to pull Gerard into him by force.
“Harder,” Frank commanded eventually, once their bodies were slick with sweat, his voice wavering between annoyance and desperation. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back, his mouth open as little sounds escaped. His tongue licked out into the air every so often, as if to taste the heavy scent of sex and pleasure all around them. “Oh, fuck. Gee, come on, fuck me harder.”
Gerard raised himself up a little, taking his weight off Frank so he could more fully thrust it in to Frank. Frank moved too, his hands went above his head, wrapping around the slats in the headboard, and he pushed himself forward onto Gerard. Gerard pushed back, meeting him halfway with the steady slap of skin on skin. The bed rocked beneath them as Frank got louder, his groans and half-formed words giving way to high-pitched grunts in rhythm with Gerard’s thrusts. The coiled springs of the mattress joined the symphony, and Gerard spared a second’s thought for the neighbors that might be on the other side of the wall. He leaned down to nip at Frank’s throat, then his jaw, and Frank got the hint and angled his face towards Gerard’s, allowing their lips to meet.
Gerard tongued over Frank’s lip-ring for a moment before biting down on his lip, which earned him a pleased groan as their hips came together yet again. The kiss was messy and careless, their attention too focused on other things to manage anything more. Pretty soon they were just panting into each other’s mouths as Gerard moved even faster, Frank’s heels skidding an inch or two down his back. Frank had gone nearly silent now, his breath hitching each time Gerard thrust in, and Gerard could tell it was almost over.
He pulled back to watch, shifting his weight to one arm so that he could stroke Frank’s cock, but Frank used one hand to bat Gerard’s away. “Don’t. Jesus, fuck. If you lose your rhythm now I’ll fucking kill you,” he said, then arched his back as he braced himself with his head on the mattress, his hand back to the headboard, holding himself steady as Gerard dropped back down and started pounding into him again.
Gerard would have laughed, but the sight before him was far too distracting. Frank had been right, Gerard had faltered; it had been far too long since he’d topped for him to have any kind of finesse. But he needed more, he needed something else, because he was fucking close as hell, and he needed to take Frank with him. So he moved, going up on his knees, sitting on his heels, and dragged Frank forward by the hips, pulling him onto his cock and driving into him.
Frank’s eyes snapped open and he pushed himself down harder, his hands braced on the mattress now, causing Gerard to give a long, low moan. Their gazes caught, but Gerard couldn’t help but follow the movement of Frank’s hand as it slithered down from above Frank’s head to his chest, down past his navel, past the ink below it. Frank hissed as his fingers wrapped around his flushed dick, and Gerard’s eyes snapped back up to Frank’s face. He wanted to see fucking everything.
“Frank,” he pleaded, knowing he didn’t have much longer at all. “Come on, Frankie. This has to be it.” His hips did the impossible and sped up even more and he pushed a little harder in time with his words, his fingers digging into Frank’s skin as he pulled. “This. Is. It.”
“Fuck,” Frank agreed, practically shouting it. And that really was it for Frank, his body seizing up off the mattress as he came; thick, white, liquid pieces of himself pulsing out high onto his stomach.
The sight was enough to tip Gerard over, but add to that the sounds and sensations, and he was lost before Frank was even done. He thrust in deeply twice more, his hips in spasm at the apex of his last push, his lungs refusing to draw oxygen, and his mind whiting out in bliss.
He came back to reality to find himself collapsed on top of Frank, who didn’t seem to mind if the kisses to his neck and behind his ear were any indication. Gerard hummed a little in satisfaction, then turned his head to meet Frank for a proper kiss, which turned into three proper kisses, before Frank finally unhooked his ankles and slowly brought his legs down.
“Ow, fuck. I’m going to feel that tomorrow.”
Gerard laughed. “Good.”
“Asshole,” Frank said, smiling. “Get up, you’re heavy.”
“Am not. Just because you’re the runt of the litter- Hey, ow!” Gerard laughed and rubbed at the abused skin under his ribs. “No pinching allowed.”
“No name calling then. Fucker.”
Gerard smiled and set a lingering kiss to Frank’s skin, right at the base of his throat, then carefully pulled out and away, making sure the condom stayed where it was supposed to until he rolled it off. He looked around and Frank pointed to the garbage can by the desk, so Gerard heaved himself off the bed with a sigh and dropped the condom in neatly. Frank kissed him quietly when he came back, then handed him a lit cigarette. Gerard smiled in thanks and stretched out on the bed with Frank, not quite sure how he got so lucky.
“New jacket?” Alicia asked, standing in the doorway.
Gerard nodded as she stepped back to let him in. “Bert bought it in Dallas for me.”
“It’s nice.” She closed the door and went back to the couch as Gerard wandered into the kitchen. “What was the occasion?”
Shrugging, Gerard grabbed his favorite mug from the cupboard. “Nothing. He just thought I’d like it.”
There was a moment of weighted silence, but Gerard refused to notice it. He filled his mug and added a lot of cream and sugar, only looking up when Mikey said, “He knows you well.”
Gerard hesitated for a moment, taking a sip to cover. Deciding to play dumb, he just nodded and moved into the living room. “Yeah, it’s a perfect fit, right? And totally my style.” One of Mikey’s eyebrows went up, but Gerard busied himself with sitting in the armchair and not spilling his coffee.
“So things are good,” Alicia said, just shy of phrasing it as a question.
Gerard glared at Mikey for a second, because any doubts he’d had about his relationship with Bert had been told to his brother, not his brother’s girlfriend. But if they were willing to see that he’d been wrong about all his suspicions, then he was willing to overlook the lapse in confidence. “Yeah. Really good, actually. I told you the tour would do us some good.”
Mikey hummed a little around his own cup of coffee. “He still helping out with the apartment stuff?”
Gerard rolled his eyes. “Yes. Jesus, you guys. Seriously, things are great. He’s been really good since he got home. He’s done laundry, shopped, made dinner, cleaned. He hasn’t had any parties, and he’s usually awake and waiting for me when I get home from work.” Not always entirely sober, but Gerard wasn’t going to mention that. Anyway, it was a marked improvement from before. “He even bought new sheets the other day. Which was kind of expensive, but we really needed them. Our old ones were getting pretty worn.”
Mikey huffed a little laugh and Gerard pouted at him. So he hadn’t really noticed the wear and tear on their old sheets, but they were old. Three and a half years, at least, and Bert had probably had them for a few years before that.
“Anyway, they’re nice. He did a good job picking them out.”
“That’s quite a turnaround,” Alicia noted. “What do you think prompted it?”
Gerard shrugged, really wishing they’d drop it already. “I dunno. The tour, I guess.” It didn’t need to be anything other than that. Bert had used their time apart to really think about the things that had happened recently, and he’d finally realized how hard Gerard had been working, and how his attitude and addictions hadn’t been helping. So now he was making an effort. That was all.
“He’s gone on tours before,” Mikey pointed out, his usual calm voice grating on Gerard’s nerves.
“Yeah, well. This was different, I guess.” Gerard couldn’t ignore their shared look this time, and his annoyance finally exploded out of him. “What?”
“Okay,” Alicia said. “Honey, don’t get mad, but we’re a little concerned.”
“About what? There’s nothing going on! It’s fine. Everything’s fine. We’re good.”
“What about before? All the things you were worried about?” Mikey asked.
“I was wrong.” Gerard’s fingers tightened around his mug. “It wasn’t anything. I was just being paranoid.”
Alicia leaned forward a little, Mikey’s hand on her knee. “Gee, you know that’s a classic sign, right? The boyfriend who suddenly starts being more attentive or starts helping out at home? The husband who buys his wife pretty little trinkets? He feels guilty about an affair. Or he thinks he’s about to get caught, so he becomes the model partner.”
“It’s not like that,” Gerard objected, his shoulders curving in a little. “He’s just- He knows I’ve been working hard. And maybe he missed me and stuff on tour. It might just be that. Right?”
“It could be,” Mikey said. “But come on, Gee. You know Bert’s not like that. He’s always been pretty self-absorbed. Why the fuck would he actually start thinking about what you need now?”
“Because,” Gerard said, knowing it made him sound like a petulant child even as he said it. “Because he knows I’ve had a really shitty couple of months. Maybe he actually appreciates how hard I’ve been working. Anyway, you just don’t want to like him because he didn’t get sober with me. I told you it doesn’t work like that. He has to decide when it’s right for him.”
“And all these wonderful things he’s doing now? Is not drinking one of them?”
Gerard put his coffee down on the coffee table and stood. He was done listening to them. There was nothing wrong in his relationship. Everything was going better than it had in years, and who knew? Bert’s sobriety might just be the next step.
“Gerard,” Alicia pleaded as he moved past them towards the door.
“You don’t know,” he cried, turning to look at them. “You don’t know how this feels, so you don’t get to question me, okay? Bert is the only thing going right for me right now, and you don’t get to take that away from me.”
Mikey stood, facing Gerard across the back of the couch. “He is not the only thing you have going for you,” he said, and Gerard flinched a little.
“I know. I know I have you, Mikes. I do know that. That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s not what I meant either. You had a tough two months, and you’re still standing, Gee. You’re sober and you’re working. You stood up and took care of yourself. And I hate it when you don’t see that.”
Gerard deflated. He hated fighting with Mikey. “I love him.”
“I know.” Mikey rounded the couch and pulled Gerard in for a hug. “But you don’t need him, is my point.”
“I want him though.”
Mikey sighed. “I know you do. And I hope we’re wrong about this. I really do. I don’t want to be right. I just hope you’re not closing your eyes because you don’t think you can handle whatever’s going on. You can handle a lot more than you think you can.”
Finally bringing his own arms up to hug his brother in return, Gerard nodded against Mikey’s shoulder. “Yeah. I just think . . . If me and Bert can keep going like this, we’ll be okay, you know? I’m not ready for- I’m not ready.”
“Okay, Gee. Okay.”
Gerard was having a really good fucking week. He’d only been able to see Frank twice more since he’d returned home from the tour, but that was okay. The rest of the time had been spent sending absurd text messages back and forth, ranging in topics from the pros and cons of spicy mustard to whether or not the new Underworld movie was going to be any good to whether or not guitar callouses made somebody’s hands more sexy or not. Gerard very firmly came down on the side of spicy, Wiseman, and more sexy.
He wished he was able to see Frank more, but Frank was getting a lot of work off the back of that tour, and Gerard wasn’t about to get in the way. Between learning new songs for several different bands, rehearsing, and recording, most of Frank’s days and nights were booked solid. The one night Gerard did get to see him had been very happily spent in his room at Mikey’s. Canoodling, as Frank had said with a grin. He’d also been able to spend an hour or so with him in a studio, watching fondly as Frank lay some tracks down for an up-and-coming pop punk band. Sadly, no canoodling had been had, as Frank had deemed it Hands Off Day, at least until he’d walked Gerard out and kissed him goodbye.
Frank was scheduled to finish with that same band later on Friday, so Gerard didn’t think twice before picking up his ringing phone mid-afternoon and answering with a cheeky, “Vampire Willow would so not be a part of Angelus’s crew. She wouldn’t have the patience for his long-term plans. She’d just get her own posse together and kick ass her own way.”
“Um. I’m sorry, I’m trying to get a hold of Gerard Way?”
Gerard felt his blush shoot straight to his cheeks. “Oh, um. Sorry. I’m- I mean, I’m speaking. Gerard, I mean.” He took a deep breath and tried again. “This is Gerard.”
“Gerard, my name is Kim Hutchins, I’m an assistant in the development department at Dark Horse Comics. I’ve been asked to arrange a meeting with you to discuss the future of The Umbrella Academy.”
Gerard had lost the ability to breathe somewhere around the mention of Dark Horse Comics. He was pretty sure he was going into shock. Or maybe just about to faint. “Uh. Yes,” he squeaked. “I could- I mean, I’m not doing- Um. I’d love to set up a time for whenever you'd like.”
The details were hashed out as Gerard’s head swam, and he grabbed the nearest piece of paper he could find to scribble frantically the date, time, and address of the meeting. He thanked the lady on the other end profusely and she finally dropped the professional demeanor and giggled a little as she prepared to hang up. “Oh, and for the record, I agree with your take on Vampire Willow. Plus she’d hate all the sexual competition Angelus would provide.”
Gerard was still trying to remember how to get oxygen into his lungs, and didn’t have a chance to reply before she’d hung up. He stared down at his phone for a long minute before finally figuring out how to get his fingers to work, frantically pushing buttons in order to get Mikey on the phone. “Mikey. Mikey,” he said, hearing his own heartbeat in his ears and not even caring that it was a voicemail he was talking to. “They want me. Dark Horse wants me! I have a meeting next week to talk about its future and development or whatever but oh my God! Mikey, Dark Horse Comics called me! Call me back!”
His next immediate instinct was to call Frank, but Frank didn’t pick up. But that was all right, because Gerard remembered where the studio was and he flagged a cab down, not even caring about the expense. He kept checking his phone, waiting for someone to call and go nuts with him, but it remained stubbornly blank. So instead he kept looking at his call log, seeing that the call had come in at 2:17, that it had come from the five-oh-three area code in Oregon, and had lasted exactly six minutes and twenty-three seconds. Then he stared at his dark reflection in the barrier between driver and passenger and found he looked like a complete nutjob with his unstoppable grin and bleached hair. He didn’t even care.
Reflection Gerard grinned back at him maniacally, and Gerard gave him a subtle thumbs-up.
He walked quickly into the building and down the short corridor, high as a kite on nothing but his life and accomplishments. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit of love. None of this, after all, would have happened without Frank’s encouragement. Knocking politely on the door even as he swung it open, he looked around the room for Frank.
“Hey. Gerard, right?” one of the guys asked. The really tall one. The singer, if Gerard remembered correctly.
“Yeah. Hey, I’m sorry, but I’m looking for Frank? I got some really good news earlier and I just wanted to-” He cut himself off by biting his lip. Not that he thought that Frank was closeted or anything, but they hadn’t been affectionate at all in the short time Gerard had been there, and he didn’t really know where Frank stood on the issue of work and personal life. “Um. Is he here?”
“Dude, you missed him by a couple hours. His dog got hit by a fucking car, man.”
“Frank doesn’t have a dog.” It was one of the things they’d discussed, how badly he wanted a whole family of dogs, but how his building wouldn’t allow it.
“Oh, well, his fiancee’s dog,” the guy amended, waving it off as no big deal. “She called him up, really upset. He was pretty much done here, so we let him go.”
Gerard said again, “He doesn’t have a dog,” because saying Frank didn’t have a fiancee would have sounded pretty ridiculous. Because obviously Frank didn’t have a fiancee. Frank had a Gerard.
“Dude, I don’t know what to tell you. He has a dog. Or they have a dog. The dog got run over or whatever. He looked pretty fucking upset when he left.”
“But-”
“Hey, whoa. You okay? You look a little pale there.”
“I- I have to go.” He went, fleeing back out onto the street, the harsh sunlight blinding him as he tried to figure out where exactly he was going.
Part 5