Shotgun II/II
Ray is already in Pete’s back room when Frank walks in; he’s wearing a dreamy little expression and Pete is alternating between snickering at him and chewing his fingernails to the quick. Pete smiles at him when he comes through the door and Ray blushes some more before Frank even opens his mouth. That doesn’t stop Frank from saying, “And how were the Bryar’s on this fine morning?” He laughs when Ray drops his head to hide behind his hair and mumbles an answer into his broad chest. Frank flops down into his chair and asks Pete, “So what have you been doing all day?”
Ray bursts out laughing and Pete throws a pen at him. “Shut up, Toro.”
Frank looks between them. “What? What is it?”
Ray grins at him. “Pete offered for that little strawberry blond.”
Franks mouth drops open. “You…Pete!”
“That’s me; I’m Pete,” Pete says and Frank flips him off.
“I can’t believe it man. I thought you were never going to marry, just hang around forever and have threesomes occasionally with Mikey and Alicia.”
Pete nodded. “I’m going to miss those threesomes, but, Frank, he has a voice like an angel and those thighs.” He sighs heartily. “I need him under me, right now.”
“Oh, God,” Ray groans, “spare me the details. I do not need to hear that.”
“I’m all for it.” Frank leans forward. “Seriously, how did it go? Did you go offer for Robert, Ray?"
“I did.”
“And?” Frank prompts him to continue.
“They accepted my proposal.”
Frank high-fives him. He says, “That’s great, man.” and “Alright, Pete, spill it,” even though he can tell from Pete’s Muppet grin that he must have been accepted as well.
Pete confirms it and says, “I guess we don’t even have to ask you. Like Mikey would refuse your offer.”
Frank shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. It was touch and go there for a minute. I don’t think Mikey really wants his brother to get married; they’re super close. I wasn’t the only one to offer for him, though, so Mikey decided it was going to happen regardless to his wishes.”
Pete’s eyebrows are nearly to his hairline. “Competition, huh? Wow. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that, but at least you have the inside track.”
Ray nods. “I can understand the way Mikey feels. When my brothers were going through Presentation, we always wanted to be absolutely sure that the match was going to be a good one for both them and the family.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t find a stool and climb up on it to strangle his skinny neck for acting like an overprotective freak.” That sets them all off to laughing again and that’s how Mikey finds them.
Mikey slinks in with a questioning expression. “What’s so funny?”
Pete says, “Nothing; we’ve all managed to lose our minds at the same time. That’s all.”
Mikey nods like that’s a totally acceptable answer…which it sort of is.
Ray says, “You’re the only one not petitioning to get married this Season.”
“I’m not getting married. I’m just going to continue to live on the edges of society and name one of Gerard’s kids as my heir.”
Pete frowns. “Has Alicia agreed to this?”
Mikey shrugs. “No children born out of wedlock can be named as heirs. The rules are the rules.”
Ray says, “The rules suck. Is there really no way that the two of you can get married?”
Frank shakes his head. “We’ve looked; I’ve looked and asked Schechter if there were any possible loopholes we could exploit. The only way is for one of them to forfeit their position as the heir apparent to their estate.” No one said anything after that because both Mikey and Alicia were the only heirs to their family fortunes and the window for adopting outside heirs had passed. The only acceptable way to name a new heir ten years after it became clear that a family could not produce a heir or after an heir was produced was for the current heir to die. Mikey and Alicia’s situation was really kind of tragic but they were making the best of it.
Frank says, “I would be honored for you to name a child of mine heir to the Way Estate.”
Mikey stares at him, expression blank. “If you are chosen for Gee, we will discuss it then.”
Pete says, “Harsh, Mikey Way,” and Ray nods in agreement.
Frank rolls his eyes, in his mind, Gerard is already his and sooner than later, Mikey will see the light.
Mikey calls him late the night of Gerard’s date with Lindsey with an apparent change of mind. He tells Frank over the phone that he has his work cut out for him, that Gerard was smiling and happy the whole day, relaxed and carefree. Mikey says, “She took him to the zoo and they played with puppies and made faces at monkeys and shit,” he pauses, “I’m not even supposed to be telling you this, but I’ve thought about it and if Gee has to get married, why not you? At least, I know you and your family.” Frank says, “You won’t regret this,” and Mikey says, “Make sure I don’t.” He asks, “Where are you thinking about taking him?” Frank tells him about his elaborate plans for dinner and sightseeing; Mikey lets him talk until he’s through and then he says, “Take him to the museum.”
Frank frowns at the phone. “The museum? This is one of the first times your brother is being let out the house and you want me to take him to the museum?”
Mikey says, “Trust me,” and hangs up the phone.
Frank stares at the receiver for a long minute before placing another call. He waits patiently for it to be answered and then he says, “This is Frank Anthony; I would like to arrange for a private showing.”
He spends the rest of the night thinking about what Mikey said about Gerard’s demeanor on his date with the enemy and the more he thinks about it, analyzes it, the happier he becomes. He has never had a date, went to an important event where he felt happy and carefree. When shit matters, he’s usually a bit tense, on his best behavior, wanting things to work out and Gerard definitely does not strike him as the laid back type. He can only come to one conclusion, Gerard wasn’t stressed about his date with Lindsey because he didn’t care how it turned out; he was just taking advantage of his chance to go out and play with baby animals. Frank falls asleep with a smile on his face.
The morning of his date with Gerard is bright and clear and Frank bounces out of bed, nervous and happy and downright excited about the time he’s going to spend with Gerard (and Mikey) today. He pauses with his hand on his hairbrush; he needs to figure out a way to distract Mikey. Chaperones are well and good and Frank would never think of breaking the rules, bending them so his will, sure. He needs to find a way to get as much alone time with Gerard as possible; he chews on his bottom lip as he thinks over the problem. He hits upon the solution on the third stroke of the brush through his hair. Alicia.
He wrinkles his nose at his hair and quickly yanks the knots out before practically lunging for his phone.
Alicia answers the phone with a lazy, “Iero.”
He smiles at the sound of her voice because he likes her almost as much as Mikey does but without the whole forbidden love thing. He says, “Alicia, how do you feel about the museum?”
She makes an amused sound and asks, “Is that where you’re taking Gerard?” and because she’s smart, she continues with, “Let me guess, you want me to come distract Mikey for you.”
Frank makes a face at the phone. “I’m not up to no good. I just want to make the best of my time and having Gerard’s brother peering over my shoulder the entire time isn’t going to be conducive to winning his heart.” He says, “Please, Alicia; I’ll owe you.”
“You don’t have to pay me to spend time with Mikey. I’ll be there.” Frank tells her the time and pats himself on the back. So far, so good.
Frank fidgets, waiting with Mikey at the bottom of the stairs like a boy waiting on his prom date in those far-fetched movies teenagers watch these days. Gerard is taking his time and Frank’s choosing to believe that’s because Gerard wants to look his best for their date. Mikey is looking bored and he taps his boots against the floor, almost ready to go drag his brother down the stairs, when Gerard appears. His hair is combed, black curls falling over his eyes and playing around his ears. He looks great and a tingle of heat spreads through Frank’s stomach. Gerard looks at him shyly from beneath his eyelashes before he seems to realize what he’s doing and a petulant look comes over his pale face.
Frank smiles at him anyway and holds out his hand for Gerard to take. Mikey rolls his eyes off to the side, but that doesn’t stop Frank from beaming when Gerard places his hand in his.
The ride to the museum is relatively quiet with Mikey sitting up front with the driver and Gerard mumbling soft answers to Frank’s questions. Gerard spends most of the time staring out of the window, peering at places he's only heard about second hand from Mikey. Name-bearers are rarely allowed out of the house past the age of sexual maturation because of the inherent dangers of their status and the Way family verges on the more protective side rather than less. After a while, Frank gives up on talking to Gerard and lets him stare out of the tinted window in peace and Frank watches at him.
When they pull up to the museum, Gerard’s eyes get really wide and he places a hand on the window and whispers, “Is that?”
Mikey turns around and gives Frank a look that clearly says, “I told you so,” and Frank gives a grudging nod to acknowledge that Mikey’s advice seems to have paid off before saying, “The National Museum.”
Gerard turns to him and gives him a smile that seems to take up his whole face and bounces a little in his seat. “I-I’ve always wanted to see it in person. Mikey used to bring me pictures of the new exhibits all the time and I take the virtual tours every other day.” Gerard waves his hands like he just can’t keep them still and scoots to the edge of his seat like he wants to jump out of the still moving car. Frank returns his smile because he can’t not and yeah, this was a good choice.
When the car is parked, Mikey climbs out and the driver holds open the door for Gerard and Frank. Gerard is shifting his weight from side to side, looking like he wants to tell everyone to hurry the hell up and Mikey is looking at his brother with an amused, indulgent expression. Frank holds out his arm and Gerard latches on immediately and Frank can practically feel the energy humming under his skin; Frank smiles at his eagerness and Gerard bites his lower lip and blushes faintly. Frank says, “I booked a private showing, so we don’t want to be late.”
Gerard gives him a small smile, bashful, and stays quiet as Mikey leads him through the glass paned front doors of the museum. Once the door closes behind them, Gerard comes to a complete stand still and his mouth drops open. A beat goes by, two, three, before Gerard drops Frank’s arm and spins around to jump into Mikey’s arms. Mikey catches him with the ease of a brother used to being jumped on happily. Gerard exclaims, “Mikey, Mikey, it looks just like you said. It’s so beautiful!”
Mikey hugs Gerard back and gently sets him on his feet; he whispers softly, “Don’t forget how you got here.”
Gerard pulls back slowly and makes his way back to Frank’s side, he dips his head shyly and looks up through his insanely long eyelashes. He licks his lip and says, “Thank you for bringing me.”
Frank says, “Don’t I get a hug?” Gerard shoots a look at Mikey and when Mikey nods slightly, Gerard steps forward and gives Frank a hug.
Frank slips his arms around Gerard’s waist and pulls him in closer; Gerard makes a soft surprised noise and Frank turns his head inward to say, “I would take you anywhere you wanted, give you everything in my power.” Gerard stiffens slightly and Frank lets him go, aware that Mikey has straightened up and looks like he’s about to open his mouth to say something. When Gerard steps back, Frank smiles and says, “All this excitement over the front lobby, let’s actually get started and see some art.”
At that statement, the guide who had arrived during all the hugging stepped forward. “Master Iero, My name is Jamie Marshall and I will be your guide for today.”
They all fall in to step behind the well dressed man and Frank listens with half an ear as he goes on about technique and oils and watercolors while Gerard listens raptly and asks hundreds of questions. Mikey hangs off to the side, unobtrusive and watchful. After about thirty minutes, another person that Frank assumes is another guide shows up with Alicia in tow. Mikey’s head whips around and a pleased expression settles over his face before comprehension dawns and he turns around to send Frank an unreadable look, but when Alicia stops beside him, he slips an arm around her tiny waist and squeezes.
Gerard has stopped asking the guide about the significance of the swirl in the upper left hand corner of the painting they had paused in front of and is watching Mikey and Alicia. Frank realizes that this is probably just Gerard’s second time seeing Alicia; the same rules that keep Gerard looked away from the outside world would have prevented him from getting to know his brother’s girlfriend.
Alicia says, “It’s nice to see you again, Gerard,” and her voice isn’t tentative so much as hopeful. Frank isn’t the only one in the room wanting to be in Gerard’s good graces, courting his approval. Alicia knows just as well as Frank, maybe more than Frank, the weight Gerard’s opinion carries with Mikey. Mikey hasn’t taken his arm away from Alicia’s waist but he’s holding himself slightly apart, waiting.
Gerard looks from Alicia to Mikey to the matching tattoos on their thin wrists and seems to come to a decision. Gerard’s smile flickers in and out but he says, “It’s nice to see you again, also,” he pauses, “I like your skirt; it’s pretty,” and Mikey relaxes, melts into Alicia’s side and she beams happily at Gerard and tips her face up for Mikey to kiss.
Frank works on not letting his jealousy at how easily she won Gerard’s approval show on his face. He knows that Gerard’s decision stems more from how much Mikey loves her and his wish to see his brother happy than anything else. He just has to work harder to get Mikey on his side, to get both of the Ways to accept that he doesn’t want anything more than to see Gerard happy; he just believes that Gerard can be happy with him rather than continuing to live shut away in his parents’ house.
The guide, Marshall, is watching all of this with curious eyes in a ruthlessly professional face, so Frank clears his throat to focus everyone’s attention on him before saying, “Shall we continue?” The guide picks up where he left off and Gerard turns his attention back to the paintings hanging on the walls and the sculptures lining the corridors, but when Frank takes his hand, Gerard curls his fingers around Frank’s and holds on tight.
Mikey and Alicia trail behind them, lost in their own little world, radiating a low key sort of happiness. They exchange words that Frank can’t make out because they’re too quiet and most of his energy is wrapped up in the feel of Gerard’s hand in his and listening to Gerard babble happily about brush strokes and heroes.
The rest of the date passes in a blur and Frank vaguely remembers the taste of a light wine on his tongue and crisp greens on his fork, listening to Mikey and Alicia talk business and Gerard moaning over a decadent slice of chocolate cake. When they all climb back into their respective cars and ride back to Way Manor, no one is more surprised than Frank when after they climb out the car and walk up the path to the door, Gerard darts forward and presses a kiss to Frank’s cheek. Gerard blurts out, “Thank you for taking me to the museum,” and his own cheeks are blazing red and he hurries into the house leaving Frank standing on the steps looking dazed.
Mikey drawls out, “Well, then,” and Alicia giggles in the background. Frank can’t even find it in himself to be upset, when Gerard just kissed him. He beams at Mikey and Alicia before practically floating back to his car. He settles into the seat cushions with a sigh and wonders how he’s going to make it through the time between now and his next date with Gerard. All he can do is wait for Mikey to call and tell him that Gerard has agreed to another date until then he’s sure that he’ll have some vivid dreams to keep him company.
There’s a buzz in the air when Frank arrives at the House Monday morning; people are standing around in little clumps, whispering excitedly and Ross is standing off to the side with another young Councilman, Brendon Urie, and Hurley. Ross’s shoulders are curled inward and Urie has a careful hand on his back, talking earnestly. Urie is a curious case, rarely does anyone get elected to the House with only one tattoo, but voters had been so charmed by the young man that they shrugged off his inexperience and humble background. Ross is nodding along to whatever Urie is saying and before the session is called to order, Hurley gives him an actual hug and whispers something in his ear.
Frank is wondering what the hell is going on; he’s been so wrapped up in pursuing Gerard that he hasn’t been talking to his usual contacts and he is most definitely out of the loop this fine morning. Schechter calls the place to order and as they march through the regular meeting order, Frank just can not shake the feeling that something is about to happen. When Schechter says, “The floor is now open,” and Travis raises his card and stands up after receiving approval, Frank thinks this is it.
Travis says, “I, Travis McCoy, would like to file a formal complaint against Ryan Ross and the Smith household. I move to have Spencer James Smith V removed from consideration this season and possibly forever pending the decision of this Council once they have looked into this grave matter.”
A hum like the sound of angry bees erupts in the chamber and Schechter bangs his gavel sharply to quiet the noise. He looks at McCoy’s serious face and he glances over at Ross to find him staring straight ahead, hands clenched in front of him. Schechter says, “These are very serious charges, Representative McCoy. You need to consider this complaint carefully. Do you realize that should the Council rule in your favor, you will have ruined the life of a young name-bearer and brought shame upon the venerable Smith name.”
McCoy nods. “I do understand.”
Schechter blinks but says, “Please, continue.”
McCoy turns his head to look at Ross. “It has come to my attention that Ross has requested the right to petition for Spencer’s hand in marriage. As we all are aware, Ross was adopted by the Smith’s when he was six years of age and all the years between then and now, he and Spencer have been allowed to live as brothers without any of the proper barriers or restrictions that would normally be placed between name-bearers and name-givers. You all may not know, that I, too, have petitioned for the Spencer’s hand and how can I, or any of his other suitors, be assured of his…innocence in the light of this situation. Why, with all the time he has spent with Ross, he could be as used as any common whore in a Graffiti House.”
“How dare you!” Ross shoots up out of his seat, despite the restraining hand Urie has placed on his arm; he shakes it off angrily. “Spencer is as pure as any other potential name-bearer. I would never do anything that might put him in such a position.”
Schechter bangs his gavel again as everyone watches on in amazement. Frank is feeling a bit shell shocked himself and he woke up this morning thinking he had problems on his hand. Schechter says, “Ross, you will contain yourself within this Hall.” Ross clamps his mouth shut. Schechter goes on. “Travis, are you quite through?”
McCoy says, “I am, Moderator.” He sits down and smugly looks over at Ross, comfortable on his moral high ground.
Schechter says, “Ryan Ross Smith, a charge has been brought against you in front of this assemblage that is beyond serious in nature. Travis McCoy has alleged that you have used the uniqueness of your position in the Smith household to compromise the virtue of one, Spencer James Smith V. How do you answer these allegations?”
Ross says, “They are completely false, Moderator, brought against me by a suitor that fears that he will not be able to win a potential name-bearers hand.”
McCoy snorts and Schechter shoots him a quelling look. “Very well. Please, be seated.” Ross takes his seat and nods when Urie leans over to whisper at him.” The moderator wipes a hand over his brow. “We will have to form a special committee to look into this obviously urgent matter. Until further notice, Spencer James Smith V is removed from contention this Season.” He bangs his gavel down.
Frank and no doubt countless others spend the rest of the session in a daze. It’s been years since anyone had filed a grievance before the Council and hardly ever had one so scandalous been brought forth. In many instances, young couples may have broken the rules, but such actions were usually swept under the carpet or smoothed over by a tidy sum of money. Frank glances over at McCoy and wonders about the power of young Spencer Smith, that he can force the hand of his brother and bring another man to destroy both him and his family before letting him go without a fight.
And he ignores the little voice that prods at him, asks him wouldn’t he do the same thing, do worse if it meant securing Gerard’s hand in marriage. Frank ponders that thought until Schechter finally releases them, understanding that getting any real work done for the day is pretty much impossible. Everyone is turning around and whispering to their neighbors about Ross, McCoy and pretty blue-eyed Spencer.
Ryan doesn’t wait around afterward or exchange any pleasantries; he heads straight to the apartment he moved into the day before he declared his intentions toward Spencer and Frank is again struck with just how serious the charges brought against Ryan are. If it came out that Ryan and Spencer had slept together or anything improper during the years they were living together, Spencer would be disowned and could never marry anyone respectable in society. In all likelihood, the young man would probably end up just where Travis said he would, in a Graffiti House serving as both blank slate and prostitute for men without name-bearers and some with.
Frank heads to his own house and a couple of hours later, Ray shows up unannounced for a visit. Frank waves off his butler and meets Ray at the door himself; Ray shakes some stray rain droplets from his impressive head of hair and grins down at him. “Hey, Frank.”
Frank replies amused, “Ray,” closes the door behind him and leads Ray into his sitting room where they take a seat.
Ray barely waits for his butt to find the cushion before asking, “Is it true that Travis has filed a grievance against the Smith family?” News sure does travel fast; he nods and Ray whistles. “It’s been at least eight seasons since anyone filled a grievance,” he muses, “and the Smiths seem like such fine upstanding people. I wonder what happened.”
Frank doubts that Ray’s the only one wondering and knows that in a few hours everyone will know exactly what happened because it will be a matter of public record.
Ray says, “I feel so badly for everyone involved.”
Frank starts giggling suddenly, inappropriately and Ray looks at him like he’s crazy. Frank shakes his head because he’s not laughing at Ryan’s situation; he’s laughing at their situation, sitting around talking about their feelings and their significant others. It’s just so crazy to him because when they were younger they all swore they would never be name-givers. He manages to tell Ray, “I’m not laughing at that; I’m laughing at us.” He waves his arms around and Ray is still looking at him funny but he’ll get over it.
Ray twists his fingers in his shirt. “I think it’s a done deal, Frank.”
Frank raises his eyebrows, laughter dying off as suddenly as it started. He sits up and asks, “For real? You really like him, huh? You’ve been on what, two dates?”
Ray shakes his head, curls swinging wildly. “Three. Frank,” he pauses, “there’s just no reason to put it off. I’m his only suitor and we, we just get on so well. We’ve had three dates because every time one ends, I’m ready for the next. I just want to get everything in order, so that we can start planning the ceremony and he can get his Final Seal.”
Frank nods. He understands wanting to get everything secured. If he could, he would whisk Gerard away in the next second, but unlike, Ray, he had to wait for Gerard to choose between him and Lindsey and go through all the proper steps of courtship. “I understand.” He smiles widely. “I can’t wait to get to know the man that has stolen your heart. He must be great.”
Ray beams. “He is.”
Frank asks, face serious, “Is his hair naturally blond?” and Ray throws a pillow at him.
Once they’ve both managed to pull themselves together enough to stop gasping for air and clutching their aching bellies, Ray asks, “How is it going with you and Gerard? I haven’t seen Mikey around lately.”
Frank sighs because lately has only been a day or two but Frank’s been on pins and needles since Saturday waiting for some sign or information about when he’ll be able to see Gerard. Once more, he’s hit with envy for Pete and Ray, both of them already having been on multiple dates with the object of their affections, not having to deal with another suitor and the Ways who have always done things in their own random time schedule. Frank says, “He’s probably trying to convince Gerard to leave the house again. He’s sort of reclusive, man.”
Ray nods. “Usually, name-bearers can’t wait to get out of the house, see some of the world. Bob tries to hide it but he totally looks forward to being out and about even though he doesn’t seem to be much of a fan of super crowded places.”
Frank leans back against his cushions and asks, curious, “Where did you take him?”
Ray blushes and says, “I took him to my favorite record stores and we listened to some tracks.” He grinned suddenly. “He plays the drums. Like it totally took me forever to get him to play something for me, but when he did, it was like he was a completely different person. He was so into it.”
“I bet you were thinking dirty thoughts, standing in the middle of the store, watching him bang on those drums and wanting to bang him right there in front of his chaperone and all.” Frank grins when Ray’s face flushes even more and he drops his head to hide behind his hair.
Ray groans. “God, shut up, Frank.” Then he whispers, “I so did,” and Frank cracks the hell up all over again.
He hangs out with Ray for much longer than he should considering that he has to go to work in the morning, but when the older man leaves for home Frank feels better than he has in the days since Gerard kissed him and his stomach muscles hurt from laughing so hard. He meant everything he said to Ray; he really wants to meet Bob and get to know him as more than the mythical creature that makes Ray’s eyes light up and can play the drums like he’s possessed. Frank picks things up around his living room and replaces them idly. He wonders what Gerard has been doing. If he’s been drawing, trying to capture the paintings he saw on his date, if he’s been thinking about Frank or, Frank frowns, if he’s been thinking about Lindsey. Thinking about Lindsey makes Frank speculate about whether or not Mikey has contacted her; if she’s been granted another date with Gerard because Gerard feels more comfortable in her presence.
He sighs. There’s really no use thinking about that because there’s no way he can know unless someone takes it upon themselves to let him know. He puts down the photo of him and his mom; she’s probably asleep right now, tired from frolicking in the sun with her new husband and Frank wishes intensely for one moment that she was here with him, helping him. But he’s long past the days when she could make everything alright for him with a wave of her hand. He makes his way to his bedroom, turning off the lights he comes in contact with and leaving the others for the maids to tend to. When his head settles on the pillow and his eyes close for the night, he dreams of his future and all he can see is Gerard’s smile and those amazing eyes twinkling back at him.
Mikey calls him two days later and when he says, “Frank,” Frank has to fight not to jump up and down and squeal even though there is no one around to see him look like a fool. Mikey says, “Gerard has decided that he would like to continue to see you and the family has agreed that this is acceptable,” and before Frank can open his mouth to even ask the question, Mikey continues with, “He will still be seeing Lindsey, of course. He didn’t feel that he knew either of you well enough to make an informed decision.”
Frank honestly doesn’t know if that sounds like something Gerard would say or not and he guesses that drives home the point, but he can’t help the slow curl of anger in his chest or the overlaying feeling of dismay. He says slowly, “Okay,” then more quickly, “Okay, then. When can I see him again?”
Mikey says, “We’re going to give you access to his direct line and you can talk to him yourself.” Frank wonders why Gerard even has a direct line. Who has he been taking to? Mikey, maybe, after he moved into his own house. Mikey says like he’s reading Frank’s mind and that is still damn eerie even after all these years, “We gave him his own line so that he could talk to the Matriarch when she was traveling and now, he uses it to talk to me when I’m not at the main house. Lindsey has been granted the same privilege and will continue to be granted the same privileges as you until Gerard decides that he likes one of you more than the other.”
Frank says, “Okay,” again. Mind already racing with the prospect of being able to talk to Gerard when he wants to, able to arrange as many dates as Mikey is willing to chaperone. He can do this; he’s been told many times by friend and colleague alike that he has a pleasing phone voice.
“I’m rooting for you, Frank, but in the end, this is about what will make Gerard happy.”
Frank snaps back into the conversation. Has Mikey been talking the whole time? Mikey rattles off a list of numbers and Frank scrambles to write them down and says thanks when Mikey wishes him luck. He hangs up the phone and stares at the numbers on the little scrap of paper he just managed to find. He wants to call immediately, wants to hear Gerard laugh in his ear, but he glances at the clock and it proclaims the time to be around seven and is that too late? He doesn’t know what hours Gerard keeps and he doesn’t want to appear overeager even though he is, he really is.
He calls in the end because he can’t help it and when the busy signal sounds off loud and aggravating in his ear he curses himself for waiting too long. Lindsey obviously didn’t have the same issues that he had with picking up the phone and dialing and God, could he be more of a pansy? He places the phone back down on the hook angrily and tells himself that he’ll call tomorrow after he gets back home from work.
He breaks around nine and calls Gerard’s private line while he’s lounging in his bed and almost swallows his tongue when the phone begins to ring. Gerard answers and Frank can hear the residual smile in his voice like whatever he’d been doing prior to answering the phone had made him happy and Frank’s immediately jealous. He takes a deep breath, rolls his eyes at himself and thinks calm the fuck down already and says, “Hi, this is Frank.”
Gerard says, “Hi, Frank,” and it almost sounds like singing; Frank can hear him moving around in the background.
Frank tries to imagine what Gerard’s room looks like, tries to place Gerard within the picture he comes up with. He says, “How have you been?” and admonishes himself when he skips right over trying to imagine the décor to trying to envision Gerard naked.
Absently, Gerard responds, “Fine,” and now, Frank can hear a steady scritch scritch scritch sound.
“Are you drawing?” Frank’s free hand tangles in the cord draping across his chest from the bedside table, the backs of his fingers brush against his bare skin causing him to shiver a little or maybe that’s just because he’s lying in bed with Gerard’s voice in his ear.
Gerard hums. “Yes, I was in the middle of something when Lindsey called.”
Frank gives a silent snarl. He is so tired of hearing that name and why the fuck will Gerard put down his pen for Lindsey and not him? He says, “Oh, how is Lindsey?”
“Fine.”
Frank waits but Gerard doesn’t volunteer any more information. “I’ve been thinking about you; have you been thinking about me?” he says and he can hear Gerard’s sharply indrawn breath; it’s not a question a good boy would ask, but Gerard makes Frank feel like being bad just by existing. Gerard says uncertainly, “Frank, I-“ and Frank cuts him off with something safe, something appropriate, “I really enjoyed our time together at the museum. I can’t wait to see you again.” There.
Gerard accepts the change of subject without issue, saying, “I had a good time, too,” and there’s a silence that seems more fraught than the ones that came earlier and Frank twitches with the need to break it, say something. Just as he’s about to open his mouth, Gerard says abruptly, “I remember you,” and Frank blinks.
His, “What?,” escapes before he can reel it back in because he is motherfucking off balance in this conversation. Gerard is throwing him, one moment barely listening, the next throwing conversational curve balls.
Gerard says clearly, “I remember you. From when I was younger and you used to come visit Mikey all the time,” and Frank can’t hear the scritch scritch scritch noise in the background in anymore.
He says, “I- I remember you, too.” His hand tightens around the phone in frustration at his stuttering starts and stops; way to impress Gerard with his awesome phone skills.
“You used to come by the house and Mikey would talk about you and what all you two did that day until he couldn’t anymore. I almost felt like you were my best friend as well as his.”
Frank breathes, slowly, carefully. “I could be your best friend now.”
Gerard says, “No,” and Frank imagines he can hear Gerard’s hair swishing as he shakes his head, “that’s not what you want from me. Lindsey, Lindsey could be my best friend. She doesn’t demand things.”
“That’s not what she wants from you either. I haven’t demanded anything from you.” Not yet.
Gerard ignores him and keeps talking like Frank never said anything. “She would let me do what I want. She wants me to be happy.”
“She might let you do what you want, but I want to do what’s best for you.”
Gerard muses, “What’s best for me? What is best for me, Frank?”
“I wouldn’t make you stop drawing. I’d let you be as creative as you were meant to be. I’ve seen your work and it’s excellent.”
Gerard asks, curious, “Where have you seen my work?”
Frank wonders if Gerard gave the painting to Mikey or if Mikey asked for it specifically for a friend. He thinks about what it means that Mikey can ask for a little piece of Gerard, feel comfortable giving it away and how Gerard never questioned it. “Mikey gave Pete a painting of yours. It’s beautiful.”
“Pete? Is he one of Mikey’s friends? Mikey never mentions names anymore. It’s not proper. He just says he’s going out; he talks about Alicia, though. He really likes Alicia.”
And sometimes, Frank forgets how sheltered name-bearers are. He says, “Yes, yes he is. I could introduce you to all of Mikey’s friends; they’re my friends too. Lindsey can’t do that for you, she doesn’t know the same people I know, that Mikey knows. She would take you away from Mikey, back to her home.” Frank’s fighting dirty, using every trick he has to stay ahead of the game.
Gerard whispers, “Sometimes, I wonder if that might be the best thing for Mikey.”
Frank blinks. “Mikey loves you.”
Gerard says, “I know,” and it’s hard for Frank to tell what he’s thinking and all the line transmits is soft breath sounds until Gerard says, “Did you call to ask me something?” The scritch scritch scritch is back.
Frank swallows his frustration like bitter medicine and says, “I wanted to ask you where you’d like to go on our second date.”
Gerard says, “You don’t already have it all planned out? Lindsey knows exactly what she wants to do.”
Frank decides to gamble but it doesn’t feel much like one when he says, “I wanted to know what you want to do, not tell you what I want to do.” He projects as much sincerity as he can over lines and wires.
Gerard says, “Only Mikey asks me what I want to do.” He sounds wary.
“Yeah,” Frank says, “Well, I want to know.”
“I’d like to go to the cemetery.”
“The cemetery?” Frank frowns. That wasn’t what he expected at, maybe a return trip to the museum, but the cemetery?
“I miss her and we only go to visit on her birthday.” Gerard’s voice is quiet. “There’s so much I have to tell her.”
Of course. Of course, Gerard misses his grandmother. Mikey had mentioned that they were very close; she’s the reason Gerard’s been able to avoid marriage for so long. Frank says, “Of course. That’s where we’ll go then and maybe lunch afterwards.”
Gerard says, “Yes, lunch.”
And Frank says, “It’s late; I guess I’ll take to you later, pick a day?”
“That sounds good,” and before Frank hangs up, Gerard says quickly, “Frank?” Frank says, “Yeah?” and Gerard says, “I’ve been thinking of you,” and hangs up the phone before Frank can say anything at all in response.
Frank jerks off that night to the memory of Gerard’s voice in his ear, but it doesn’t stop him from having to jerk off again in the morning after waking up hard and sweaty with fragments of dreams about pale, unmarked skin cling to his subconscious.
After their trip to the cemetery, Gerard is small and quiet. He sits with his head propped against Mikey’s shoulder while they wait for their table to get ready and Frank doesn’t say anything about it. Mikey looks a little like he needs to be close to Gerard too at the moment; his sharp angles somehow managing to take the weight of Gerard’s softer curves just right.
Frank takes the opportunity to study them side by side. Despite the screaming differences, they do actually look alike. The cheekbones, the chin, even the eyes are similar, but Frank can’t quite figure out what makes Gerard’s so captivating. Maybe it’s because Mikey has never been that wide-eyed not even when he was younger while Gerard seems to look at everything with almost childlike awe and delight and don’t let Frank get started on his eyelashes.
The waiter appears with a soft, “Master Iero,” and they follow obediently to their table. Mikey waits until Gerard is settled before excusing himself, claiming that he’s going to sit at the bar, get himself a drink and call Alicia.
Gerard orders something light, a salad and some bread, unconsciously mirroring Frank’s order unlike the first date when he ordered chicken and Frank hid his dismay while Mikey tried not to laugh. Frank eats his food because he’s starving and Gerard watches him in between tiny bites and making colorful arrangements on his own plate.
The atmosphere feels fragile like the wrong words might make Gerard break apart, so Frank doesn’t say anything, just waits. Finally, Gerard puts his fork down and says, “Thank you,” quietly.
Frank swallows and takes a sip of water before replying, “You’re welcome.” Gerard might be grateful but he looks sad, the corners of his lips are turned down, on more than the other and he’s not even looking at the expensive art reproductions on the restaurant’s walls. He’s just staring at the table cloth in front of him, hands twisting together in the fabric of his napkin. Frank puts down his fork and says, “Come here; sit next to me.”
Gerard slides out the opposite side of the private booth they were given and slips in next to Frank without a word. Once there, he wavers kind of hesitantly until Frank pulls him in close to his side; after another moment Gerard places his head on Frank’s shoulder like he was leaning against his brother earlier and the warmest feeling of happiness, accomplishment floods through Frank. He wraps his arm around Gerard’s waist and listens when Gerard begins to talk haltingly of his grandmother, about how she always wanted the best for him, wanted him to be happy, encouraged his talent.
Gerard says, “She didn’t want me to get married. She told Mama over and over again that there was no one suited for me.”
“Maybe she just meant those years in particular, that the right person hadn’t came along yet. She wanted the best for you.”
“Maybe,” Gerard says, “maybe.”
They both look up when Mikey clears his throat loudly. Mikey’s eyes are narrowed and his mouth looks tight, but Gerard doesn’t move away at all. He stays plastered next to Frank’s side and after a stare off, Mikey folds his long limbs into the spot Gerard had vacated earlier. Frank’s torn between smugness in the face of Mikey’s displeasure at having his brother so close to Frank and wariness, because he isn’t a fool and he isn’t so far gone as to not recognize that Gerard holds his brother’s opinion in the highest regard. If Mikey’s not happy with him, Gerard won’t be either, but Frank doesn’t move Gerard away for the sake of Mikey’s comfort; Gerard is close enough for Frank to feel his heartbeat and that’s where Frank wants him to stay.
Mikey doesn’t say anything in the restaurant but he most definitely does not forget his displeasure. At the end of the day, after Gerard has been seen safely inside the house, Mikey takes Frank aside and says, “You will do everything by the book, no overstepping any rules or boundaries. There’s already one case for impropriety before the Council, no one wants another.”
Frank shakes Mikey’s hand off his arm. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Hugging is clearly permitted in the rules.”
Mikey tips his head back, looking down his nose at Frank. “Mmmhmm. Don’t forget that I know you, Frank. There’s hardly a rule that you couldn’t wait to break.”
“It’s funny I’m getting this lecture from you,” Frank scowls; he isn’t the only one with a penchant for breaking rules.
“This is my family, we’re talking about, my only brother.”
Frank takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Are you planning to threaten me after every date, Mikey? Because if so, let me know so that I can pencil the time in,” he mimes taking out his calendar, “Be threatened by Michael James Way, 9:30 pm.”
Mikey doesn’t smile. He says, “Don’t fuck this up, Frank,” and Frank’s aware of the fact that while the Iero family once far outstripped the Way family in riches, power and prestige, those days are in the past and their respective fortunes are nearly equal all things considered. Mikey would make as formidable a foe as he does a great friend and neither one of them wants it to come to that.
Frank purses his lips and nods, shortly. He has this under control and if push comes to shove, well, Frank knows how to handle himself in a fight.
Frank arrives at Angels and Kings looking to get fucked up and it seems like he’s not the only one with that idea. Not twenty feet into the fucking door, he practically trips and falls into a threesome with Pete and some guy he’s not too familiar with. Pete just moans up at him, hands clenched in dirty blond hair; Pete goes to say something but the guy in front of him chooses that moment to bob his head down. Pete hisses. “Shit.” And uses his handfuls of hair to pull the guy's head back. Frank gets a full on look of Pete’s dick, shiny and flushed an angry red, before his focus switches to hooded blue eyes and a mouth that looks like it was made for the exact purpose of sucking cock; Pete’s always been able to spot talent. Pete says, “Frank, meet Tom,” and the guy, Tom, apparently, gives him a bit of a glare before Pete pushes his head back down.
Frank doesn’t bother with a greeting just sits down in the empty seat next to Pete and watches as Pete’s hips twitch off his chair and push his dick further into Tom’s mouth. He motions over a hovering waitress and grabs a drink off her tray. He swallows and says, “I thought you were in love, shit face.”
Pete gasps. “I am.” He pants a little, trying to gather his breath before continuing, “God, Frank. I have to sit across from him and watch him talk, eat and drink with that pretty pretty mouth and I’m not allowed to touch him,” he pushes his hips up and drags Tom’s head down and grunts. “I was about to explode; he makes me so hard.” His hips jerk and he lets Tom pull back to breathe. “Next best thing, man, next best thing,” and Pete is coming half in Tom’s mouth, half all over his lower face; Tom just closes his pretty eyes and takes it.
Pete sighs and melts back into the chair; he tips his head back and stares at the ceiling before turning a slow grin on Frank. “He’s Jon’s best friend, highly recommended.” He waves his hand. “I have him for the whole night. You can use him if you want.”
It’s tempting. Jesus, it’s tempting but Frank knows better, knows that word of it will get back to Mikey before the night is over and he’s already riding the edge of wanting Mikey’s approval and wanting the punch him the fucking face about Gerard. He’s not going to poke that hornet’s nest. He says, “I’ll pass, thanks,” and Pete lets Tom get off the floor and fastens his pants up.
Tom stands around awkwardly until Pete says, “Go mingle. Anyone with a blue wristband is allowed to fuck you. Yellow means blowjobs only.” Tom grimaces but walks off toward the bar. They both watch him sit down on stool with a sullen pout that only serves to accentuate his mouth. Pete breaks the silence. “So, how’re things going with you?
“I’m about to strangle Mikey dead.”
Pete laughs, a short burst of sound. “Dude, you knew what you were getting into. You know how Mikey is about things he considers his.”
Yeah, Frank thinks moodily. He knows; they all know. Everyone in the state has heard about the time Mikey broke some dipshit’s hand for reaching for Alicia. Frank was there to witness it and that shit wasn’t pretty. Of course, afterwards, Alicia had smacked Mikey and told him she could take care of herself; then the two of them had made out all night against every available surface of the club. Needless to say, people are careful about what they do or say around Alicia. Frank can only imagine the amount of shit Mikey might stir up about his beloved brother. He sighs. Pete slaps his leg and Frank wrinkles his nose up in disgust. “I don’t know where your hands have been.”
Pete laughs again and says, “It’ll work out; you all will be one big happy family. What are you on for tonight?”
Frank says, “Getting trashed.”
“Knock yourself out, man. I got to circulate.” Pete pushes himself out of his chair and sets off through the crowd carrying on conversations just like half the club hadn’t watched him get his dick sucked. Frank shakes his head and throws his drink back; he needs another one.
When Gerard picks up the phone with a sleepy, “Hello,” Frank knows this is a bad idea, almost as bad as if he would have let Tom suck his dick.
He slurs into the phone, “Gerard, where’s Mikey tonight?”
He can almost hear Gerard’s frown across the distance that separates them. “He’s not here.”
“Good, g-good.” Frank flops down on his back, not even bothering to take off his shoes before getting into bed. He’s pleasantly buzzed from Pete’s and he wants to be with Gerard. “What are you doing?”
“Sleeping?” Gerard sounds more disgruntled than sleepy though, so Frank keeps talking.
“I want to see you.”
“Now?” That’s surprise right there.
Frank nods and then remembers Gerard can’t see him. “Yeah, now. I miss you.” Gerard’s silent, breathing into the phone. Frank presses; he says, “I want to see you,” again.
Gerard says, “Frank…Mikey, you can’t-“
“Tut tut tut. What happened to your free spirit, doing what you want to do? Now, you want to play by the rules. I want to come see you.” Frank eases his hand underneath his waistband, adjusts his hard dick; Gerard’s going to give.
“I -
“You want to see me; I know. Have you been to the edge of the orchard? Do you know Mikey’s old treehouse?”
“It was my treehouse too.”
And yeah, Frank remembers seeing old drawings taped to the wall. He says, “Then you know where to meet me.”
“Meet you?” The words are faint.
Frank rolls off the bed, phone still in hand. “Give me thirty minutes and meet me there.” He hangs up the phone on whatever Gerard is saying. In the light of day with a couple less shots in him, Frank might concede that this is a bad idea, but at the moment he just wants to be in Gerard’s presence.
He pages his driver and the man’s face is impassive when Frank gives him directions to drop him off two blocks from the Way estate. Frank’s not concerned because he pays the man to keep his secrets and knowledge of this trip isn’t going any further than Frank wants it to. He walks briskly to the edge of the property then ducks around some hedges and finds the path he’s walked a thousand times with Mikey as children, as teenagers, as young men raising hell. He makes it to the treehouse without anyone spotting him without tripping any alarms and Gerard’s nowhere to be seen. He’s just about ready to curse the damn tree out and kick an innocent sapling when he hears, “Frank?” and Gerard is standing a few feet away from him, bundled up in a coat and a scarf but only wearing pajama pants. Frank smiles and beckons him closer.
Gerard shuffles closer and submits to a hug when Frank pulls him into an embrace. He tucks his face into Gerard’s neck and the ends of his hair are a little damp; Frank smiles. He whispers, “We should get you out of the cold wind.” He grabs Gerard’s hand and tugs him over to where the ladder to the treehouse rests. Gerard rolls his eyes but obligingly climbs up and it’s exactly like Frank remembers it except smaller. Gerard’s looking at all the pictures he left on the walls as a young boy when Frank embraces him from behind, tipping his hips forward. Gerard gasps and spins around to face him, eyes wide.
Frank smiles and raises a hand to cup Gerard’s jaw. “Hey,” Gerard whispers back, “Hey,” and Frank kisses him on his open mouth. Gerard freezes like a deer caught in headlights and Frank tilts his head, licks at the corner of his mouth and doesn’t let him go when he jerks back startled. He says, “Shh, shh, it’s okay,” and sucks at Gerard’s bottom lip until he opens his mouth wider and stops standing so stiffly within the circle of Frank’s arms.
Frank hums encouragingly and touches his tongue to Gerard’s. He tries to coax Gerard into playing with him and wraps his arms around Gerard’s waist when he tentatively moves his tongue against Frank’s and dips into his mouth. They make out slow and soft, Frank conscious of the fact that this is more than likely Gerard’s first time kissing anyone outside of his immediate family. The thought excites him, makes Frank push up against Gerard and he briefly feels him hard between their bodies before Gerard’s pushing out of the embrace, gasping, stumbling back a few steps.
Frank blinks, his hands grasping at the air and Gerard’s staring back at him, lips swollen and eyes bright in the darkness. His hair is sticking up all over his head and his right arm is angled in front of his body as if to shield him from Frank’s gaze. Frank says, “Gerard,” and reaches out for him but Gerard shakes his head quickly.
“I have to go back to the house.” His chest is rising and falling quickly and he looks like he might jump out of his skin if Frank grabbed him.
Frank takes a deep breath; he doesn’t want to scare Gerard enough to make him freeze Frank out totally. He says, “Yeah, let’s get you back to the house.” He doesn’t try to touch Gerard, lets him climb down by himself and waves at him when Gerard says good night and practically runs back across the distance separating him from the house. Frank stands there for a while, touching his mouth and remembering the press of Gerard against him. Then, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls his driver. “I’m on my way back. Have the car warm.” He weaves his way back along the path and the stars twinkle brightly in the clear winter sky.
Frank counts it as a win the next time he sees Mikey and doesn’t end up stabbed or with any broken limbs whatsoever. Gerard obviously hasn’t said anything about his little late night visit and that makes Frank want to do it again, push the motherfucking boundaries until they break. Frank wonders why Mikey is even in this store; he hates it. “Why are you even in this store?”
Mikey flicks the shirt Frank’s holding disdainfully. “Alicia wanted me to pick something up for her and I saw you and couldn’t resist saying, ‘Hi’,” and Mikey’s tone is dry enough to spark forest fires.
Frank grunts and moves the shirt out of reach of Mikey’s creepy ass long fingers.
“Gerard’s going out with Lindsey tomorrow.”
Frank looks up, startled to find Mikey watching his reaction. “I think Gerard really likes her. He always comes back from their dates smiling. He comes back from your dates quiet. I like to see him smile; he didn’t for a long time after our grandmother died.”
“Oh, really?” Frank grabs another shirt off the rack; he’s not going to try them on. If they don’t fit he’ll have them tailored or returned.
Mikey says, “You don’t seem concerned.”
Frank smiles at Mikey, teeth glinting in the overly bright light of the department store. “I’m not.”
A harried looking man scurries up to them. “Master Way, your package is ready.” Frank lifts an easy hand in farewell as Mikey turns on his heel and walks off. Frank has nothing to be concerned about.
When he gets back to the house, he’s surprised to find Pete on his couch. He can tell almost instantly that Pete is in one of his less than manic moods. He throws his bags on the side chair and sits and waits.
Pete asks, “Do you think Travis is really going to hold to his charges against Ryan?”
Frank blinks. He didn’t even realize Pete cared about that situation; this is the first time Pete’s mentioned it to him. He says slowly, “I think so, yeah.”
Pete sighs. “Ryan’s a good boy, a hard worker; I was going to invite him to join Angels in a year or two. He’s doubled the Smith’s fortunes and looks to continue his success, a rare talent. It’s a shame isn’t it?”
“What’s a shame?” How does Pete even collect all this information on people?
“That he’s going to be found guilty because there’s really no way to prove that he and Spence never had intimate contact. It’s going to come down to his word versus Travis’ word and despite the fact that they both dress in hundreds of layers, we all know the true amount of ink beneath Travis’ clothes.” Pete strokes the fabric of the couch beneath him. “A shame,” he says dreamily. “In a year or two, Ryan could have had a true fighting chance.” He looks over at Frank. “I almost hope he did fuck Spencer when he had the chance because he’s as good as gone now.”
Frank says, “If Ryan really loves Spencer as much as he claims, he would back down, giving Spencer up to Travis would be a much better fate than having him condemned to a Graffiti House.”
Pete hums. “Spencer would look so pretty on his knees in my club.” He pushes up off the couch in a sudden movement. “I think I’ll head back home. Nice visiting you, Frank,” and he wanders out just like he wandered in. Pete’s too important to stand on etiquette.
Frank watches him go and thinks about what he said about Ryan. How he hopes Ryan had taken that chance because now it’s gone.
Gerard’s seeing Lindsey tomorrow but Frank wants to see him tonight.
Frank’s heading up to his room, grabbing the phone and dialing before he can talk himself out of it. Gerard answers before the second ring even begins. He sounds breathless. Frank smiles and says, “Hey, beautiful.”
Gerard echoes him, “Hey.”
“So, I hear you have a date tomorrow.” Frank taps his hands against his knee, his heeled boot against the floor.
“I- I do.”
Frank decides he doesn’t want to talk about that after all. “What are you doing?”
Gerard laughs. “Sitting in my room, what I’m always doing.”
“I wish I could sit in your room with you. I wish you were sitting in my room.”
“Frank -“
“It felt good, right?” Gerard doesn’t say anything. “I want to make you feel like that all the time.”
Gerard says, “Frank,” again softly in the phone.
“Meet me tonight.”
“I don’t even know where Mikey’s going to be tonight,” and Frank knows a yes when he hears one.
“I’ll see you tonight, same time.” He hangs up before Gerard can change his mind.
This time Gerard’s waiting for him under the big tree, chewing on the fingernail of his index finger. Frank drags Gerard’s hand down from his mouth and kisses it before leaning up to kiss Gerard lightly on the mouth. When he pulls back, Gerard looks around warily and Frank says, “Let’s go on up,” and Gerard nods quickly.
Frank can’t even pretend that he wants to make small talk; he backs Gerard into a corner and smiles at him until Gerard returns his smile with a small uncertain one of his own. Gerard says, “What?”
“You’re beautiful.”
Frank can almost feel the heat from the blood that rushes to Gerard’s face. Gerard closes his eyes as if to hide from Frank and says, “Shut up; I’m not pretty like Mikey.” He sounds like he thinks Frank is making fun of him.
“You’re not,” and Gerard’s eyes open and Frank can see that he’s hurt, but Frank continues, “I said that you were beautiful,” and when he leans into Gerard, Gerard leans forward to meet him. Pete’s words flash in Frank’s mind when he drops his head to kiss along Gerard’s jaw line, lick at his collarbone.
Make it count.
He sets his teeth in the curve where neck meets shoulder and bites down.
Gerard throws his head back with a gasp and Frank groans. It’s nothing more than a rumble in his chest when he realizes that Gerard doesn’t even know enough about how this works to understand that Frank is leaving bruises on purpose, sucking Gerard’s pale skin and worrying it with more intent than just to please. He wraps his hand around Gerard’s wrist and squeezes hard, imagines the shape of his fingers taking hold; there is no way that Gerard’s going to be able to go anywhere tomorrow, he won’t even be able to show his face to Mikey.
Gerard hisses and jerks against him, practically helping Frank mark him in ways that can’t possibly be construed for anything but what they are. Frank wants to get him off, wants Gerard to associate this night with pleasure more than the shit storm that Frank knows is about to ensue. He worms a hand under Gerard’s coat and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Gerard’s pajama pants.
“Frank, Frank.” Gerard’s hands flutter between them and Frank sticks a hand down his pants. Gerard squeaks and his hands stop fluttering to turn into vice grips around Frank’s upper arms.
Frank wraps his hands around Gerard’s hard cock and whispers against his mouth, “I’m the first to touch you here,” and Gerard moans into the kiss. He runs his thumb over Gerard’s leaking cockhead and it’s not going to take long at all. Frank remembers the first time someone touched him, the rush, the intensity of the feeling and he crowds in closer so that he can experience everything with Gerard.
Gerard bites Frank’s bottom lip when he comes and it makes Frank want to stick his slick hand down his own pants and jerk off, because Gerard’s marked him, bit down hard enough to break the skin, mindless in orgasm. Gerard’s knees buckle and Frank pulls his hand free to catch him before he slides down the wall.
Gerard blinks up at him, eyes bright in the dim light. “Frank.”
Frank says, “I got you. I got you,” and he does.
Frank’s hard enough to drill a hole in his pants but he’s satisfied with himself, with the world. He helps Gerard pull himself back together, kisses him softly and sends him back across the field to the dark house. Frank whistles jauntily to himself as he strolls back to his car and when he gets home, he sleeps the sleep of the victorious, deep and replenishing.
He eats breakfast and calmly counts down the minutes; it’s 10:42 am when Mikey tries to break down his front door.
Frank licks the sting of orange juice away from the cut Gerard put on his lip and smiles.