Bandom AU; 'Love and Sparks and Crazy' - Frank/Gerard, PG
Title: Love and Sparks and Crazy
Fandom: Bandom
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, background Ray/Mikey
Rating: PG
Warnings: High School AU.
Word count: 7,900
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just have fun playing in other people's sandboxes.
Summary: Frank Iero has never been a fan of first days of school or of school in general and Bob can just shove his optimistic bullshit where the sun never shines. School is always shitty, and senior high is not going to be any different. Right?
Notes: This is the should've-been-a-follow-up-ficlet-but-turned-out-to-be-a-monster-fic for my lovely slashxyouxup, which goes with the doodle she requested of Frank and Gerard sharing a locker in high school. I hope you like it bb! ♥
Thanks a million to my darling bergann for performing a super beta. Any remaining fuck-ups are my own.
This can also be found on my AO3 account here.
Title from 'Come As You Were' by The Bird & The Bee.
Frank has never been a fan of first days of school. On the first day of pre-school, his mom left him and Frank spent the rest of the day crying. On the first day of elementary school, he got told off for not being able to sit still on his chair. On the first day of middle school, he had moved to a different part of town and didn’t know anyone in his class and ended up being on his own the entire day. On his first day of junior high, someone shoved him inside a locker.
So yeah, not a fan of first days. Even if this is senior high, Frank isn’t exactly holding his breath for it to be amazing. It always sucks. Sure, he’s got Bob and Bob’s friend Ray this time and that at least eliminates the risk of being locker-shoved, but it’s still the first day of school. And so per definition, it’s going to suck. That’s just how things work.
Frank’s already sulking when his mom drops him off, but at least she doesn’t say anything, just pecks him on the cheek before driving off to work. Frank sighs and hefts his bag further onto his shoulder and texts Bob to find out where the fuck he’s at.
--
“Cheer the fuck up, Iero. You look like someone killed your dog.” Bob looks as mellow as fucking ever, and Frank just grunts in response.
“Yeah, this is senior high after all!” Ray’s hair acts just as excited as Ray himself, and Frank will probably always be a little in awe of the fro. It’s kinda incredible. Ray is one big smile, and Frank is finding it increasingly hard to remain grumpy. Damn it.
“But it’s the first day of school, and those are always horrible,” Frank mutters and kicks at the chair in front of him, earning himself a glare from the girl sitting on it. Whatever.
Bob rolls his eyes. “Motherfucker, nothing has happened yet, has it? Be positive for once. Who the fuck knows, this year might be the one where everything changes.”
Frank snorts and gives Bob the finger. “Yeah sure. You gonna tell me the glass is always half full next?”
“Of course it is,” Bob states calmly and Frank just shakes his head. Optimistic fucker.
The principal is droning on about adulthood and responsibilities and other kinds of bullshit that Frank really does not give a flying fuck about, but it’s mandatory to show up to the welcoming speech or whatever, and they need to be here in order to get all their papers with class schedules and shit, so.
Frank just leans his head on Bob’s shoulder and closes his eyes.
“Drool on me and die, bitch,” Bob says and Frank giggles.
--
He’s only been nodding off for a couple of seconds, tops, when Bob pushes him off his shoulder, almost making Frank tumble off his chair.
“Ow, asshole. What the fuck?”
“She’s done, dude. Time to get the info sheets, and then I suggest we go smoke up in your basement.”
“Dude, no. My mom could smell it last time, I had to convince her it was incense or some shit. It’s not gonna roll a second time.” Frank follows Ray and Bob to the line of students, picking absently at a hole in his red t-shirt. He really should throw this thing out, but he likes the color, so.
“Well, where the fuck else are we gonna go, Iero? Ray and I ain’t got basements to smoke up in.” Bob just raises both eyebrows and Ray nods his head vigorously to back him up. Frank shrugs.
“Uhm, I’ve got a basement?”
They all turn around to look at the guy behind them. He reminds Frank of a beanpole, tall and freakishly skinny, in jeans that might as well have been painted on him. His glasses are kinda unfortunate and he’s wearing a fucking beanie indoors, but he’s also wearing a The Smiths t-shirt, and that’s always a massive plus in Frank’s book. Plus, he just offered up his basement. He could look like the creature from the black lagoon, for all Frank cares.
They’re all just standing there, staring at each other when someone shoves at the beanpole guy and says, “dude, line is moving, get going!” making them all shuffle forward.
“I’m Mikey, by the way,” he offers and does a lame half-wave, which is mostly just wriggling his fingers a little, and oh jesus, he’s wearing fingerless gloves. It’s only fucking September man, and yeah it’s Jersey, but it’s not that cold yet.
“I’m Ray.” Ray offers his hand and smiles widely, which makes Mikey blink for a second before tentatively taking his hand, shaking it limply and then letting it go. Frank has to suppress a giggle at Ray’s bemused look.
“’sup, I’m Frank and this is Bob,” Frank cuts in and motions in Bob’s direction, who just nods his head in hello. Mikey nods back, seemingly more at ease with this than a handshake.
“So, what’s this about a basement we can use?”
“Oh, well, technically it’s my brother’s, but I really don’t think he’d care. He normally just smokes on his own, but if you share your weed, I’m pretty sure he’ll share his basement.” Mikey doesn’t look like he’s too bothered by basically renting out his brother’s room for weed, and Frank can’t really figure out if it’s because this Mikey guy is actually that laid-back or if he doesn’t give a shit about his brother. Not that he really cares because hey, basement to smoke up in.
They finally reach the table where the info sheets are being handed out and after a couple of minutes of teachers frantically flipping through small mountains of papers, Frank, Bob and Ray walk out into the sunlight, now with Mikey in tow and info sheets in hand.
“You got a car or do you need a lift?” Frank asks and turns to look at Mikey. Bob raises an eyebrow at Frank, which is fair, because it’s Bob’s car after all, but still. No Mikey, no basement, no weed, so.
“Uh, I don’t have a license yet, and my brother owns the car anyway, so.”
Frank is about to ask whether or not his brother goes to school here too, but his question is answered when a guy in a leather jacket and jeans that are possibly tighter than Mikey’s (and how the fuck does that even work, jesus christ) walks up to them.
“Mikes, I told you to wait for me outside the assembly hall!”
He’s got wild, black hair and he’s attempting to light a fag dangling from the corner of his mouth, whilst talking to Mikey about keeping to arrangements and shit. Frank can’t help it, the first thing that enters his mind is, ‘cool’.
“Gee, can we borrow the basement?”
Mikey’s brother, Gee or whatever, blinks and stops fumbling with his cigarette for a second and looks over at Frank, Bob and Ray, apparently only just noticing them.
“What?”
Mikey shrugs. “This is Frank, Bob and Ray. They’ve got weed but nowhere to smoke, and you’ve got the basement but no weed. It seemed like a good match. Oh, by the way guys, this is my brother Gerard.”
They all nod at each other in greeting and Gerard, not Gee apparently, finally succeeds in lighting his cigarette.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Mom and dad are at aunt Isabella’s tonight anyway, so sure. You’re sharing, right?” Gerard asks and looks at Frank. It takes Frank a second to answer, simply because he’s not used to being the center of attention. People usually direct stuff at Bob, for some reason. Frank figures he gives off a leadership vibe or something.
“Of course,” he finally manages. Gerard nods, eyes squinting as he takes a deep drag of his fag, and smiles widely, smoke blowing out through his teeth.
“Awesome. Let’s go then!” he says and wanders off in direction of the parking lot. No one needs to be told twice.
--
Mikey and Gerard’s house looks like something out of a horror movie, old and kinda worn down and with a complete wilderness passing for a yard. Frank fucking loves it. He’s also really jealous that Gerard has an entire basement to himself, as well as his own entrance. If only Frank could convince his mom to let him have that.
The basement is a total dump, with clothes and comics and DVD cases scattered across the floor, but Frank still think it’s the most awesome thing ever. His basement is kinda small compared to this one, and all that’s in it is a sofa bed and a wobbly coffee table.
Gerard has a TV, a DVD player, millions of comics (Frank’s hands itches with the urge to flick through them all), horror movie posters and shitloads of nerdy memorabilia. Frank pretty much thinks this is what heaven should be like. Only less smelly.
Gerard shrugs his leather jacket off onto the bed on top of a pile of duvets and blankets and flaps his hands around. “Take a seat wherever, man.”
There are only two actual chairs in the room, and Bob and Ray look at each other and then race to sit down in them. Mikey just looks back and forth between the two, then shrugs and sits down on Ray’s lap. Frank’s stomach actually hurts with contained laughter when he sees the shade of red on Ray’s face.
And then he realizes that he hasn’t got anywhere to sit, unless he wants to sit in Bob’s lap, and yeah, Frank doesn’t really have a death wish.
He considers the floor for a nanosecond but then, no. Ew. Frank isn’t a neat freak by any streak, but that shit just looks unsanitary, and Frank likes not being ill for a change, thanks.
And that leaves the bed. Gerard’s bed. Where Gerard is currently sitting. Bob is smirking now, and okay, fuck that, Frank is not actually a thirteen year old girl, so he takes a couple of determined steps and then sits down next to Gerard who just smiles at him and rakes a hand through his messy black hair. He’s got really pretty eyes, too. Shit, maybe Frank is a thirteen year old girl.
“So, weed?” Gerard says and Frank starts, earning him a bemused look.
“Yeah, yeah, just a second,” Frank blabbers and then has to get up from the bed in order to snake his hand into his back pocket to get the weed bag out. Skinny jeans should be illegal, Frank thinks, even though he loves them. And anyway, that would mean not getting to see them on Gerard, and that would just be a fucking travesty. Frank sits back down and wishes he hadn’t allowed his brain to take that route. Fuck.
He passes the bag to Gerard who digs out a crack pipe from somewhere underneath the mess on his night stand. Frank has a moment of apprehension as he thinks about the cleanliness of the pipe as Gerard lights it up, but then Gerard passes it to Frank, and well, it’s weed. You can’t really pass that up, no matter if the pipe is clean or not.
They pass the pipe back and forth, smoking in silence for a little while. It’s like weed has the opposite effect on Frank than it does on most others he knows. He’s chatty and hyper as fuck normally, but when he smokes up, he just relaxes and goes quiet. He gets as mellow as Bob, which is a pretty big feat. Bob on the other hand loses his stone face and goes smiley. And Ray… well, Ray gets giggly. And he seems to be reaching the right point of baked now, if the noises are anything to go by.
“You alright, Toro?” Frank asks and lets himself fall back on Gerard’s bed, smiling as Ray just keeps giggling. He lands on top of the leather jacket. It smells like cigarettes and something else Frank can’t define. He decides it smells like Gerard, even if Frank has no actual fucking clue what Gerard smells like.
There’s only one way to remedy that, so Frank reaches out and flaps his hand around until it closes around Gerard’s bicep and Frank pulls him down. Gerard squeaks and flails and lands halfway on top of Frank, who inhales deeply.
“Dude, the fuck?” Gerard mumbles into Frank’s hair, but he’s not making any attempt to get back into an upright position, so Frank’s not too worried. Everything is good, everything is great. And yeah, Gerard smells just like the jacket. Or, maybe the jacket smells like Gerard. Frank doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care.
“Needed to check something,” Frank mumbles in reply against Gerard’s neck where his head is currently resting.
“Okay.”
They don’t move, not even when Mikey asks if they should pop on a movie. Gerard just flaps his hand at him, which apparently is some sort of affirmation, because Mikey picks a random case off the floor and pop it into the DVD player and then returns to sit in Ray’s lap. Ray doesn’t look embarrassed when Frank cranes his neck to look, he just smiles widely and giggles and pets Mikey on the head. Frank turns his head back into Gerard’s neck and grins and then shivers when Gerard’s fingers start playing with the short hair at his nape. That feels… surprisingly good and Frank has to bite his lip to avoid making embarrassing sounds.
He blinks, only just realizing then exactly the situation he’s in. Snuggled up close against some dude he doesn’t even know. Yeah sure, he seems cool and he’s stupidly hot, but still. Also, they’re not exactly alone here. Frank can feel himself coming down from his high, and he disentangles himself as smoothly as possible from Gerard and sits up.
“Frank?” Gerard doesn’t move, only turns his head slightly to look at Frank with confusion.
“Curfew,” he says and gives an apologetic half-smile. That’s technically not a lie, but seeing as it’s only like, four in the fucking afternoon, it’s still a pathetic excuse.
“Already?” Gerard frowns and Frank shrugs and grabs his bag off the floor.
“Yeah, dinner duty. Sorry,” he adds, and Gerard just tilts his head a little and says, “’is cool. See ya.”
“Sure,” Frank nods and waves at the rest of the guys, before all but running out the door and up the stairs.
It’s not till he’s standing on the street he realizes he now has to walk home. Damn it.
--
“You fucked off early yesterday,” Bob greets him the next morning in the parking lot. Frank just shrugs.
“Had to make dinner.”
“Like fuck you did. Bad snuggling or what?”
“Shut up,” Frank says and ignores the way he can feel himself going red. Bob smirks.
“So, good snuggling. Why the fuck did you leave then?”
Frank rolls his eyes. “Come on, I’d known the dude for what, three hours at that point? A little early for that sort of thing.”
“’s not like there are any rules for that stuff, man. Those only apply for chicks, and even though you look like one-” Frank gives him the finger, “- I’m pretty sure you’re actually a dude,” Bob says and punches Frank in the shoulder. Frank kicks him in the shin and almost makes him fall up the stairs to the school entrance.
The jostle each other through the hallways until Frank walks face-first into Ray and ends up on his ass. Bob laughs while Frank just blinks up at the human tower in front of him.
Ray extends a hand and pulls Frank up. “Sorry, man.”
“No worries.”
“You guys found your lockers yet?” Ray asks and drags out his folded info sheet from his front pocket. Frank skims his own paper over.
“Nope. I’ve got 708 according to this, and I’m apparently sharing it with someone else. Aw, fuck that.”
“Better hope it’s not one of the jocks, then. It fucking reeks when they leave their gym bags in there,” Mikey says as he pops out of seemingly thin air. The dude is fucking ninja and Frank stares in awe.
“Right. Where’s your locker?” Frank asks.
“707,” Ray replies. “We’re sharing. What about you Bob?”
“715.”
“Dude, what? How come you’re not next to us?” Frank says and Bob shrugs.
“Fuck if I know, Iero. I don’t know how the inner workings of senior high functions or whatever. At least I’m not sharing with anyone,” he adds with a smirk. Frank gives him the finger. Dickhead.
“Come on, let’s hunt down some lockers,” Frank says and sets off.
--
As it turns out, it’s not really that hard to find. Their lockers are on the second floor, right next to the cafeteria and it only takes Frank and the others about ten minutes to locate the right ones. Frank checks the locker combination on his paper, and after a bit of fiddling, the door swings open easily enough. There’s already a stack of books in there, as well as what looks like some sketchbooks and random paint brushes, stained with a variety of colors. Frank shrugs, stuffs his own bag in there and grabs his class schedule before closing the locker shut again.
Frank’s locker has Mikey and Ray’s on the left side and some dude named Pete’s on the other, if the huge, black Sharpie-painted letters are anything to go by. Classy.
Most of the lockers have names on them though, but they’re mostly nicer looking than the Pete one.
Next to Frank, Mikey is writing his and Ray’s names on their locker. At least he’s using different colored Sharpies.
“Wanna borrow?” Mikey asks and holds out a purple Sharpie. Frank shakes his head.
“Naw man, but thanks. I think I’ll wait till I see who I’m sharing with.”
Mikey just nods in response and starts drawing tiny stars around his and Ray’s names, and Frank can’t help but smile.
He looks up and down the hallway, hoping to see someone coming his way, but it seems to be clearing out as everyone heads off to classes and with only five minutes to go, Frank figures he should probably get going too. He nods at Ray and Mikey and waves at Bob who’s talking to some dude in a trucker cap and glasses before setting off for his first taste of Psych 101.
--
After Psych, Frank heads straight off to American History, which he spends most of drawing crude stick figures on his note paper, giggling to himself. The teacher either doesn’t hear or he doesn’t care, and after what feels like the longest while in all of time, Frank is finally allowed to leave for lunch.
He’s busy stuffing his note papers into his new load of books when he walks into someone, again, but this time he drops all of his books and can only watch while his drawings go flying across the floor. When he looks up though, he’s staring into a familiar pair of hazel eyes.
“Oh,” is all Frank says. Gerard just smiles and crouches down, picking up books and papers. Frank snaps out of it and starts to help.
“Nice drawings,” Gerard says with a snicker and Frank can feel himself blush. Great, apparently still a thirteen year old girl, then. Wonder-fucking-ful.
“History was boring,” he says with a shrug and picks up the stack as he rises.
“You got Matthews?” Gerard asks and brushes his hands on his jeans. Frank nods. “Yeah, he’s as boring as drying mud.”
“I thought it was paint?” Frank asks and starts walking towards the lockers. Gerard just grins and shakes his head as he falls into step with Frank.
“Nah, at least drying paint has fumes. There’s the possibility for entertainment, see?”
“Good point,” Frank concedes and smiles. When they reach locker 708, they both reach for the lock and Frank can’t help the jolt his stomach does when his fingers accidentally brush Gerard’s. Oh honestly.
“You’re… oh that is fucking rad!” Gerard exclaims. “You’re my locker buddy?”
“Not if you call me that,” Frank snorts and tries to mentally get his retarded heart under control.
“Sorry,” Gerard says and his bright grin turns into a half-smile instead. He keeps insistently trying to get his hair to stick behind his ear, but rebel strands continue to fall in his face. It looks strangely endearing and Frank feels like a giant loser for just staring at him like a creeper.
“It’s just, last year, I had this complete asshole jock sharing my locker, and he took up all the space and left his gym bag in there for days and just… it totally sucked. Please tell me you’re not doing sports,” Gerard says and looks mildly terrified at the prospect. Frank can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips.
“No way man, the only exercise I do is the kind that involves swinging an X-Box controller around.”
“Oh, good.” Gerard sounds massively relieved and Frank has never been happier to be a lazy bastard.
They spend a second just staring at each other, smiling before Gerard seems to realize his hand is still on the lock. “Oh, right,” he says and twists it a couple of times before swinging the door open.
Frank stuffs all his new books (and crude drawings) inside, before stepping aside to let Gerard dump his stuff in it too.
“Wanna make your mark?” Gerard asks and Frank just blinks.
“What?”
“On the locker,” Gerard clarifies and nods sideways at their locker. “It’s tradition to write your name on it, but I never got around to it last year, so.”
“Oh, uh, sure. Yeah. My artistic talent is limited though,” Frank snorts and Gerard giggles. Frank wishes a fiery death upon the butterflies currently spazzing out in his stomach.
“It’s cool, I’m an art major.” Gerard walks over to Mikey’s locker, fiddles with the lock and opens it, rummages around before finally emerging with the set of multicolored sharpies. Frank gapes.
“You know his combination?”
Gerard shrugs. “I know everything about my brother. And I may have nicked his info sheet last night,” he adds with a grin.
Frank smiles and shakes his head. “Nice.”
“What color?” Gerard asks and holds up pens in every shade of the rainbow.
“Uhm. Surprise me?” Frank says, shrugging with one shoulder. Gerard nods.
“Alright, red and black it is then.” He uncaps the markers and carefully writes ‘Gee & Frank’ in large, carefully lined letters; black outlines and red filling. He adds tiny fangs to the bottom of the G and devil horns to Frank’s F.
“That is the most awesome thing ever, man,” Frank says, aware that he’s maybe gaping a little. Gerard recaps the pens and looks sideways at Frank with a half-smile, scratching at the back of his neck, making his hair look completely ridiculous.
“Yeah?” he asks and Frank nods furiously.
“Fuck yeah, dude. It rocks!”
Gerard fucking beams at that and Frank just smiles like a total idiot. Then Gerard’s stomach rumbles and Frank realizes that he hasn’t eaten since ass o’clock this morning either.
“Wanna go grab some lunch?” he asks, totally nonchalant and shit, because hi, it’s not like it means anything. They have to eat, right?
But when Gerard says, “Yeah,” and smiles, the dumbass butterflies in Frank’s stomach reminds him that his mental powers haven’t actually exterminated them yet. Fuckers.
--
They’ve only got about twenty minutes left of their lunch break, but it’s still enough time to grab a couple of sandwiches and some diet coke and slouch on the bench where Bob, Ray and Mikey are already sitting. There’s also the dude with the trucker hat and glasses and he has seriously impressive sideburns. Frank has no idea who is, but he’s having a heated discussion with Bob about a teacher called Schechter and his badass tattoos.
Mikey is bemoaning the homework load from a teacher Frank doesn’t know and is about to faceplant into his plate of French fries, when Ray thankfully snatches it away just in time and pats Mikey on the back. “I’m sure you’ll survive,” he says and Mikey groans something unintelligible.
Gerard rolls his eyes, steals the fries from Ray and says, “that’s a filthy lie, there’s no way he’s Satans minion,” and Frank is staring at him in wonder, trying to figure out how he got that from Mikey’s mangled garbling against the table.
“Guys, what’re the plans for next week’s Friday?” Bob asks and even Mikey raises his head from his self-made pit of despair on the table to throw a questioning look Bob’s way.
“Erh, none, I think?” Ray offers and Bob nods.
“Awesome. Patrick says there’s a horror movie marathon going on at one of the cinemas. We’re going.”
Frank assumes the trucker hat dude is Patrick, because he does a shy smile and tiny wave at the mention of his name. He’s kinda adorable, even if he’s not Frank’s type at all, but he reminds Frank of a timid puppy, and well. That’s like, his biggest weakness. That and Gerard evidently, because at the huge smile Gerard sends his way, Frank can’t imagine spending his Friday night any other way.
Okay, so he would’ve gone anyway, because hi, horror movie marathon (he’s really hoping it’s classic horror, not Sorority Row or some shit) and popcorn and twizzlers and yeah. But, having Gerard there sweetens the deal a hell of a lot. Frank mentally punches himself in the face for being such a loser.
“You’re in, right?” Gerard asks, suddenly looking nervous and Frank nods frantically and then realizes he’s acting like a spazz.
“Sure, sounds fun,” he says and tries to be laid-back and cool, but then Gerard says, “Good,” and smiles warmly and Frank isn’t sure he didn’t just melt into a puddle on the floor.
It’s only when they get up and get ready to go to their next classes that Frank catches Bob smirking at him. Frank narrows his eyes suspiciously, because a smirking Bob has never been the sign of anything good, but when Frank says, “what, Bryar?” Bob just grins and shrugs. Frank has a bad feeling about this.
--
Frank never thought he’d ever see the day where he’d wish for a weekend to just be over and done with, but he does, just wanting it to be next Friday already. Thankfully Saturday and Sunday pass eventually, and a new week begins.
School is school, and Frank really isn’t that bothered by it. Psych is actually interesting and so far his favorite class. History continues to be the most boring shit ever, but at least he manages to create a shitload of horrible doodles to show Gerard in between classes when they meet up at their locker, and they make him laugh and that gives Frank a lovely warm feeling in his stomach, and yeah. Seems like he’s doomed to never progress beyond the teenage girl stage, but fuck it.
So yeah, classes are, well, classes. Some are interesting, others are boring as shit, but senior high is, so far, totally the most awesome scholastic experience Frank has ever had, which has nothing to do with any of the actually scholastic shit, but everything to do with the fact that he shares a locker with Gerard. The locker now has a tiny vampire Gerard on it too and a tiny demon Frank with horns and a badass swishy tail underneath their names, and Frank already feels fucking sad at the thought of ever having to leave that locker behind.
They’re always late for lunch because Gerard wants to add stuff to it because he thought of something awesome (which is mostly variations of vampire!Gee and demon!Frank on some crazy ass adventure) to add to it, but Frank doesn’t really mind.
There’s something fantastic about seeing Gerard draw, even if it’s ridiculous cartoons on a school locker, with an abused sharpie pen. He gets completely absorbed in his doodling, all intensity and concentration, and Frank maybe thinks it’s kinda hot. He’s a total goner, there’s no point in even trying to deny it anymore. And it’s cool, Frank has made his peace with it. He will just be the pathetic first-year who has a loser crush on the older, hotter guy, because seeing as Frank is obviously a total girl, he might as well go with all the clichés anyway.
Today is Wednesday, and the locker is currently sporting an absolute shitload of cartoon!Gee-and-Frank, their names in the bold black and red letters, spider-webs intricately weaving their way across the corners of the locker and the words ‘you only live forever in the lights you make’ at the very top of the locker, written in delicately swirled letters, fragile but strong. Frank wants them imprinted on his skin too.
Gerard has just added the finishing touches to demon!Frank attempting to set fire to the locker next theirs (Frank hopes this Pete guy isn’t the type of dude to easily take offense), and Frank silently vows to one day nick his mom’s camera and take a picture of the locker so he can keep it with him forever. Not that he’ll ever tell anyone that, of course. There are limits to how much of a girl he’ll admit to being, come on.
Sometimes Frank has to stop and remind himself that he’s only known Gerard a week, because it feels like he’s known him forever. They like the same music, the same comics, the same movies and just. Frank is pretty much a lost case here. He’s trying really hard to remain rational and remind himself that it’s not like it’s the first time he’s been bedazzled by someone and crushed crazily on them, but it’s like his brain is steadily ignoring Frank’s adamant tries to remind himself to just chill out and take a step back.
When Friday arrives and school ends, they all agree to meet up at Gerard and Mikey’s. Frank isn’t really sure how the fuck he gets home from school. He’s pretty sure Bob drives him, and he’s also pretty sure he eats dinner with his mom, but all that seems to occupy his mind is ‘cinema, Gerard, darkness, holyshitholyshitholyshit’.
He somehow magically manages to take a shower without drowning himself, get dressed and even kiss his mom goodbye on the cheek when Bob honks his horn from outside, hollering “Let’s go, Iero!”
Ray and Patrick are in the backseat, so Frank jumps in shotgun and spends the entire ride wiping his hands on his jeans excessively.
When they pull up outside the house, Gerard and Mikey are already waiting, leaning against Gerard’s car. Frank isn’t even aware that he’s supposed to get out until Bob shoves at him. “Move, Iero, or we’re gonna be late.”
“What?” Frank says but opens the door and stumbles onto the sidewalk anyway.
Patrick gets out as well, only to take Frank’s seat and Frank frowns. “What?” he says again, but then Mikey zooms past him and climbs in next to Ray, and Frank suddenly feels little pieces slide into place. Everything is confirmed by the look on Bob’s face.
“You’re sharing with Gerard. Problem?” he asks sweetly and Frank wants to punch him in the face, but that would mean explaining why, and that’s not really something he feels like doing, oh, ever.
“Motherfucker,” he hisses under his breath and Bob just grins brightly.
“See you there guys!” he calls through his window as he rears up his engine and drives off. Frank blinks. He’s pretty sure Mikey was sitting in Ray’s lap. Huh.
“Sorry, I just, Mikey wanted to ride with Ray, and I thought, well, that you wouldn’t mind, so,” Gerard blabbers and flails his hands about, alternatively looking at the ground and up at Frank through his bangs. Frank feels a bit like an asshole, realizing what that scene must have looked like.
“No, no, it’s cool! I don’t mind, I’d love to ride with you,” he says, feeling himself go red as he replays the words in his head. Classy, Iero.
“I mean, I know you’d probably want to sit in a car with your friends-”
“You are my friend,” Frank cuts in and then rewinds. “Wait, what? Sit in the car?”
Gerard throws him a bemused look. “Yeah, it’s a drive-in. You didn’t know?”
“No.” Suddenly Frank isn’t so sure about driving with Gerard. Or, well, it’s more like he’s equal parts terrified and excited. Either way, he feels like he’s gonna be sick. He’s going to sit in a car, all night. In Gerard’s car. With Gerard. Next to him. Oh jesus.
“You alright?” Gerard asks and now he’s actually looking genuinely concerned, and fuck that, Frank is not going to ruin the night just because he’s a retard who can’t get his dumbass crush under control.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Let’s go, we’ll be late otherwise,” he says and plasters on a smile. It seems to do the trick, because Gerard smiles back at him and opens the car door for Frank to get in.
Frank very studiously tells his brain to stop being excited about the show of chivalry.
--
It turns out to be pretty awesome actually, and not awkward like Frank had feared. They get an awesome spot, stock up on Twizzlers and popcorn and drinks and after seeing Gerard spill shit all over the car, Frank stops worrying about accidentally spilling stuff himself.
The movies are a mix of old classics (Frank actually whoops when Evil Dead comes on), and they alternate between cracking jokes, squealing along with whatever unfortunate girl is about to slashed, gushing about the special effects and arguing whether or not blood would actually spray quite like that. They scream and cheer and laugh a lot and Frank actually think this is the best time he’s had at the movies, ever.
“Aw come on man, there’s no way it would keep spraying now, seriously. Humans don’t have that much blood in their bodies!” Frank gestures wildly at the screen and makes an outraged face. Gerard is laughing himself silly.
“I really don’t think anyone gives a shit, dude. And it would be kind of lame if he kept stabbing her and then didn’t get sprayed with blood.”
“Yeah, but. Come on,” Frank repeats and pouts a little. He loves fake blood as much as the next person, but seriously, this chick has been spraying what looks to be close to ten gallons of blood now, and she’s still going. That’s just overdoing it.
“This is why the classics will always be awesome. Honestly, compared to this shit? Are you kidding?”
Frank rolls his eyes slightly and tries to comfort himself with a handful of popcorn. Gerard is still snickering and Frank makes a half-hearted kick at his shin. Gerard throws a Twizzler at Frank and hits him in the face.
Frank squawks indignantly and gapes at Gerard for a split second before retaliating with popcorn and suddenly no one gives a shit about the chick on the screen. They’re too busy throwing candy and popcorn at each other.
“I yield, I yield!” Frank cries in between laughing when he runs out of popcorn. He slumps back against the car seat and clutches a hand to his stomach. It hurts from laughing, but it’s nice.
Gerard is trying to catch his breath too, smiling widely, eyes closed when Frank looks at him.
“You’re fucking wonderful, Frankie,” he says, and it’s soft and quiet against the silence in the car after the ruckus of their impromptu war. Frank’s heart relocates to his throat immediately.
Gerard opens his eyes and looks at Frank and Frank can’t even hear the screaming of whatever poor victim is fighting for their life on the screen right now. All he can hear is his and Gerard’s breathing and his blood rushing in his ears. Gerard is still smiling at him, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, open and unguarded and Frank wonders if someone stole the air from the car or something, because he can’t fucking breathe. And maybe he ate too much popcorn, because his stomach is going apeshit too.
And then Frank almost has a fucking heart attack when someone honks their car horn. He jumps in his seat and turns to see Bob and the rest of guys parked next to them.
Cars are driving off and Frank blinks when he realizes that the movie is over and that it was apparently the last one.
Bob is rolling his window down and Frank follows the lead.
“What, asshole?” he shouts and ignores the way his voice is definitely fucking wavering. Shit.
“Had a good time, Iero?”
“Fuck off, Bryar!” Frank shouts back and Bob laughs, head thrown back and everything. Frank can’t see Mikey and Ray on the backseat. He decides not to dwell on that.
Frank feels rather than sees Gerard turn on the engine and flips Bob off before rolling his window back off. Bob just keeps laughing, the asshole, and drives off.
Gerard doesn’t look at Frank at all on the drive home, just keeps his eyes on the road and chews madly on his bottom lip. It’s getting red and swollen from all the abuse and Frank has to try really, really hard to not whimper and just throw himself across the seats to kiss Gerard silly.
Good thing he has awesome willpower, or they would probably both suffer an untimely and messy death by car-crash, and as much as Frank wants to kiss Gerard, he doesn’t really want to die for it. And he most certainly doesn’t want to kill Gerard by kissing him.
Instead Frank focuses on breathing, even if it’s all uneven and shit. He can’t feel his hands or stomach, and his chest feels tight and everything just feels really fucking weird. Good weird, maybe. Like his nerves are hyper-wired somehow and can’t decide on if they want to be oversensitive or shut off completely. Frank thinks he really needs to go to bed.
When they reach Frank’s house it still feels too soon though.
Gerard is still worrying his bottom lip and he turns off the engine and looks sideways at Frank whilst fidgeting with his car keys. There’s a Lego Yoda keyring holding them together.
“So,” Gerard says and he’s still speaking in that same soft tone he used when he called Frank wonderful. Frank’s stomach decides to return from numbness to do what feels like a somersault.
“I… I had a really good time,” Gerard goes on and smiles at Frank, and Frank can’t help but smile back.
“Yeah, I… I did too,” Frank agrees and they sit there for a second, just smiling idiotically at each other and Frank’s brain is screaming at him that this was totally a date, it was it was and dates should end with a goodnight kiss, jesus christ just do it. Frank’s body seems to have lost all mobility though and he remains in his seat, smiling like a loon.
Gerard flicks at Lego Yoda and the keys jingle. Frank unconsciously licks his lips and shifts a little in his seat. He really should just lean over and then-
“Frank?” Oh shit, that’s definitely his mom’s voice.
“Uhm, I should probably…” Frank mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat up. He’s half-way leaning towards to Gerard already, but he can’t kiss him now, because dude, his mom, and he ends up giving him the most awkward hug in all of history, trying not to make it a weak, limp one but also not wanting to fall over and end up in Gerard’s lap. At least not with his mom looking.
Gerard smells just like he did that first time in the basement and Frank’s heart feels like it’s fluttering at the memory. Damn. It’s ridiculously hard to let go of Gerard.
“I’ll see you… Monday, I guess?” Gerard says and bites his lip again and Frank falters. Oh, right. Weekend.
“Oh, ehm. Yeah. Yeah, Monday. Definitely.”
“Okay. ‘night Frankie,” Gerard says and smiles the little half-smile and Frank just smiles back and opens the car door.
“’Night, Gee,” he says before he slams the door shut and walks up to his front door.
He ignores his mom’s smirk and raised eyebrow and just goes straight up to his room, collapses on his bed, burrows his face in his pillow and screams.
--
Frank finds it slightly wrong how he’s only had two Monday’s at school so far, and yet they’ve both been the days he’s been the most excited for.
He passes Gerard in the hallway on his way to American History, but there’s a good ten students separating them. Gerard just smiles shyly at him and Frank grins back and doesn’t even draw any rude stick figures during class. He’s too busy grinning at nothing in particular and attempting to doodle tiny devils and vampires holding hands. He makes a mental note to never let Bob see those. He’d never live it down.
Frank almost fucking runs to the locker when he’s done with his second class (seriously, English is the most dumbass class ever; why does he need a class for a language he already knows?) and is too busy rushing that he only sees Ray once he’s collided face-first with his chest.
“Ow,” Frank says and rubs his nose. At least he didn’t fall on his ass this time.
“Sorry man,” Ray says, “you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Frank mutters and double-takes at the way Mikey is all but draped across Ray’s back. What the fuck. He stares for a second and then shakes his head and walks around them to his own locker. He barely has time to bite down the disappointment of Gerard not being there, when someone says, “Hey,” right next to his ear, almost making him jump.
Gerard is smiling at him, eyes all crinkled and Frank rubs at his neck and leans against the locker.
“Hi,” he says and Gerard looks at the floor, scuffing his shoe against it, but he’s still smiling.
“Nice shirt,” Gerard says and Frank looks down. Oh, right. He didn’t even realize he put that one on this morning. He picks at the ‘Homophobia is gay’ on his chest and shrugs.
“You too,” Frank says and then feels like a tool, because Gerard is just wearing a regular long-sleeved t-shirt, black and white. And yeah okay, it still looks good because it’s Gerard, but it’s not like there’s anything special about it.
“Oh, ehm, thanks?” Gerard says and Frank just nods and doesn’t look Gerard in the eye. Loser, loser, loser, his brain shouts at him.
“Are you two coming for lunch or what?” Mikey says and both of them startle at the sound of his voice. “Seriously,” Mikey mutters under his breath and walks off, Ray at his side.
Frank just follows without a word and Gerard walks right next to him, hands accidentally brushing against each other. It feels like an electrical jolt through Frank’s arm.
Frank picks food out on autopilot, not paying attention to what he’s getting at all, and frowns a little on the weird mix of syrupy peaches, rice and French fries on his plate when he sits down. Ray gives him a weird look as well.
And then Gerard sits down next to Frank, sliding onto bench and up to Frank until they’re flush against each other and then Frank can’t really focus on his food anyway. All he can focus on is the heat seeping through his jeans from Gerard’s leg where it’s pressed against Frank’s own, warm and solid. Frank really, really doesn’t give a shit about eating right now.
Gerard is totally not eating either, he’s just pushing his food around on the plate, shooting Frank sideways glances whenever he thinks Frank’s not looking, but Frank totally is and his breathing is going all uneven again, goddammit.
Across the table Mikey is trying very intently to convince Ray to let him braid his hair, and Ray is trying to be determined in his denial of the request. All Frank really sees is Mikey making really big eyes at Ray and Ray attempting to look stone faced. He’s not doing a very good job at it.
Frank briefly wonders where the hell Bob is, but then again, Patrick isn’t anywhere to be seen either.
And then Gerard leans back a little and lets one hand fall down to rest on his thigh and Frank doesn’t really care where Bob and Patrick are.
Frank has no idea what on fucking earth possesses him to do it, but Mikey is busy still sugarcoating his plan for Ray’s hair and then Frank leans back too and lets one hand fall on his own thigh. He lets the one next to Gerard’s inch closer and closer until they’re pinky to pinky. Frank takes a deep breath and hooks his through Gerard’s and Gerard’s inhales sharply.
Frank can hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel it in his throat. He feels giddy and dizzy and he almost passes the fuck out when Gerard slowly weaves their fingers together completely and then they’re holding hands under the table. Frank has to bite his lip, hard, to not smile like the looniest motherfucker. Gerard is all red-cheeked, but he’s biting his lip too and it takes every ounce of willpower Frank has to not just lean over and kiss the fuck out of him, right in the middle of the cafeteria.
Ray and Mikey don’t appear to have noticed anything, and it’s totally ridiculous, but Frank feels like it’s so fucking daring, what he’s doing. Holding Gerard’s hand under the table. It’s awesome.
“Okay, jesus! Fine. But you better believe you’re going to be the one combing it out again,” Ray exclaims suddenly and Frank almost lets go of Gerard’s hand in shock. Almost. But Gerard squeezes his hand tightly and Frank squeezes back, feeling his heart hammer against his ribcage.
Mikey is fist pumping and doing victory arms and Ray mutters and grumbles, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, so Frank really doesn’t think he’s that upset by the prospect of having Mikey’s hands in his hair. Dude’s got the shittiest pokerface ever.
Then Frank looks at Gerard who’s all but fucking glowing like the sun. Yeah okay, maybe not the shittiest.
“Later, guys,” Ray sighs and gives them a half-hearted wave as Mikey drags him off.
They sit there, holding hands for a little while, staring at their plates before Frank risks looking over at Gerard, who’s looking back at him, and then he allows himself to smile, so widely he feels like his face is going to break in fucking half.
“Frankie,” Gerard says and Frank is done with this shit. He almost knocks over their plates when he leans over and presses his lips to Gerard’s. It’s brief and chaste and Frank totally just kissed Gerard. In the middle of the fucking cafeteria. He can’t stop smiling and Gerard could actually probably provide some serious competition for the sun right now, no lie.
“So, I hear there’s a Batman marathon next Friday,” Gerard says, a million unspoken things in the sentence. Frank just grins and says, “Yes.”
Fandom: Bandom
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, background Ray/Mikey
Rating: PG
Warnings: High School AU.
Word count: 7,900
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just have fun playing in other people's sandboxes.
Summary: Frank Iero has never been a fan of first days of school or of school in general and Bob can just shove his optimistic bullshit where the sun never shines. School is always shitty, and senior high is not going to be any different. Right?
Notes: This is the should've-been-a-follow-up-ficlet-but-turned-out-to-be-a-monster-fic for my lovely slashxyouxup, which goes with the doodle she requested of Frank and Gerard sharing a locker in high school. I hope you like it bb! ♥
Thanks a million to my darling bergann for performing a super beta. Any remaining fuck-ups are my own.
This can also be found on my AO3 account here.
Title from 'Come As You Were' by The Bird & The Bee.
Frank has never been a fan of first days of school. On the first day of pre-school, his mom left him and Frank spent the rest of the day crying. On the first day of elementary school, he got told off for not being able to sit still on his chair. On the first day of middle school, he had moved to a different part of town and didn’t know anyone in his class and ended up being on his own the entire day. On his first day of junior high, someone shoved him inside a locker.
So yeah, not a fan of first days. Even if this is senior high, Frank isn’t exactly holding his breath for it to be amazing. It always sucks. Sure, he’s got Bob and Bob’s friend Ray this time and that at least eliminates the risk of being locker-shoved, but it’s still the first day of school. And so per definition, it’s going to suck. That’s just how things work.
Frank’s already sulking when his mom drops him off, but at least she doesn’t say anything, just pecks him on the cheek before driving off to work. Frank sighs and hefts his bag further onto his shoulder and texts Bob to find out where the fuck he’s at.
--
“Cheer the fuck up, Iero. You look like someone killed your dog.” Bob looks as mellow as fucking ever, and Frank just grunts in response.
“Yeah, this is senior high after all!” Ray’s hair acts just as excited as Ray himself, and Frank will probably always be a little in awe of the fro. It’s kinda incredible. Ray is one big smile, and Frank is finding it increasingly hard to remain grumpy. Damn it.
“But it’s the first day of school, and those are always horrible,” Frank mutters and kicks at the chair in front of him, earning himself a glare from the girl sitting on it. Whatever.
Bob rolls his eyes. “Motherfucker, nothing has happened yet, has it? Be positive for once. Who the fuck knows, this year might be the one where everything changes.”
Frank snorts and gives Bob the finger. “Yeah sure. You gonna tell me the glass is always half full next?”
“Of course it is,” Bob states calmly and Frank just shakes his head. Optimistic fucker.
The principal is droning on about adulthood and responsibilities and other kinds of bullshit that Frank really does not give a flying fuck about, but it’s mandatory to show up to the welcoming speech or whatever, and they need to be here in order to get all their papers with class schedules and shit, so.
Frank just leans his head on Bob’s shoulder and closes his eyes.
“Drool on me and die, bitch,” Bob says and Frank giggles.
--
He’s only been nodding off for a couple of seconds, tops, when Bob pushes him off his shoulder, almost making Frank tumble off his chair.
“Ow, asshole. What the fuck?”
“She’s done, dude. Time to get the info sheets, and then I suggest we go smoke up in your basement.”
“Dude, no. My mom could smell it last time, I had to convince her it was incense or some shit. It’s not gonna roll a second time.” Frank follows Ray and Bob to the line of students, picking absently at a hole in his red t-shirt. He really should throw this thing out, but he likes the color, so.
“Well, where the fuck else are we gonna go, Iero? Ray and I ain’t got basements to smoke up in.” Bob just raises both eyebrows and Ray nods his head vigorously to back him up. Frank shrugs.
“Uhm, I’ve got a basement?”
They all turn around to look at the guy behind them. He reminds Frank of a beanpole, tall and freakishly skinny, in jeans that might as well have been painted on him. His glasses are kinda unfortunate and he’s wearing a fucking beanie indoors, but he’s also wearing a The Smiths t-shirt, and that’s always a massive plus in Frank’s book. Plus, he just offered up his basement. He could look like the creature from the black lagoon, for all Frank cares.
They’re all just standing there, staring at each other when someone shoves at the beanpole guy and says, “dude, line is moving, get going!” making them all shuffle forward.
“I’m Mikey, by the way,” he offers and does a lame half-wave, which is mostly just wriggling his fingers a little, and oh jesus, he’s wearing fingerless gloves. It’s only fucking September man, and yeah it’s Jersey, but it’s not that cold yet.
“I’m Ray.” Ray offers his hand and smiles widely, which makes Mikey blink for a second before tentatively taking his hand, shaking it limply and then letting it go. Frank has to suppress a giggle at Ray’s bemused look.
“’sup, I’m Frank and this is Bob,” Frank cuts in and motions in Bob’s direction, who just nods his head in hello. Mikey nods back, seemingly more at ease with this than a handshake.
“So, what’s this about a basement we can use?”
“Oh, well, technically it’s my brother’s, but I really don’t think he’d care. He normally just smokes on his own, but if you share your weed, I’m pretty sure he’ll share his basement.” Mikey doesn’t look like he’s too bothered by basically renting out his brother’s room for weed, and Frank can’t really figure out if it’s because this Mikey guy is actually that laid-back or if he doesn’t give a shit about his brother. Not that he really cares because hey, basement to smoke up in.
They finally reach the table where the info sheets are being handed out and after a couple of minutes of teachers frantically flipping through small mountains of papers, Frank, Bob and Ray walk out into the sunlight, now with Mikey in tow and info sheets in hand.
“You got a car or do you need a lift?” Frank asks and turns to look at Mikey. Bob raises an eyebrow at Frank, which is fair, because it’s Bob’s car after all, but still. No Mikey, no basement, no weed, so.
“Uh, I don’t have a license yet, and my brother owns the car anyway, so.”
Frank is about to ask whether or not his brother goes to school here too, but his question is answered when a guy in a leather jacket and jeans that are possibly tighter than Mikey’s (and how the fuck does that even work, jesus christ) walks up to them.
“Mikes, I told you to wait for me outside the assembly hall!”
He’s got wild, black hair and he’s attempting to light a fag dangling from the corner of his mouth, whilst talking to Mikey about keeping to arrangements and shit. Frank can’t help it, the first thing that enters his mind is, ‘cool’.
“Gee, can we borrow the basement?”
Mikey’s brother, Gee or whatever, blinks and stops fumbling with his cigarette for a second and looks over at Frank, Bob and Ray, apparently only just noticing them.
“What?”
Mikey shrugs. “This is Frank, Bob and Ray. They’ve got weed but nowhere to smoke, and you’ve got the basement but no weed. It seemed like a good match. Oh, by the way guys, this is my brother Gerard.”
They all nod at each other in greeting and Gerard, not Gee apparently, finally succeeds in lighting his cigarette.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Mom and dad are at aunt Isabella’s tonight anyway, so sure. You’re sharing, right?” Gerard asks and looks at Frank. It takes Frank a second to answer, simply because he’s not used to being the center of attention. People usually direct stuff at Bob, for some reason. Frank figures he gives off a leadership vibe or something.
“Of course,” he finally manages. Gerard nods, eyes squinting as he takes a deep drag of his fag, and smiles widely, smoke blowing out through his teeth.
“Awesome. Let’s go then!” he says and wanders off in direction of the parking lot. No one needs to be told twice.
--
Mikey and Gerard’s house looks like something out of a horror movie, old and kinda worn down and with a complete wilderness passing for a yard. Frank fucking loves it. He’s also really jealous that Gerard has an entire basement to himself, as well as his own entrance. If only Frank could convince his mom to let him have that.
The basement is a total dump, with clothes and comics and DVD cases scattered across the floor, but Frank still think it’s the most awesome thing ever. His basement is kinda small compared to this one, and all that’s in it is a sofa bed and a wobbly coffee table.
Gerard has a TV, a DVD player, millions of comics (Frank’s hands itches with the urge to flick through them all), horror movie posters and shitloads of nerdy memorabilia. Frank pretty much thinks this is what heaven should be like. Only less smelly.
Gerard shrugs his leather jacket off onto the bed on top of a pile of duvets and blankets and flaps his hands around. “Take a seat wherever, man.”
There are only two actual chairs in the room, and Bob and Ray look at each other and then race to sit down in them. Mikey just looks back and forth between the two, then shrugs and sits down on Ray’s lap. Frank’s stomach actually hurts with contained laughter when he sees the shade of red on Ray’s face.
And then he realizes that he hasn’t got anywhere to sit, unless he wants to sit in Bob’s lap, and yeah, Frank doesn’t really have a death wish.
He considers the floor for a nanosecond but then, no. Ew. Frank isn’t a neat freak by any streak, but that shit just looks unsanitary, and Frank likes not being ill for a change, thanks.
And that leaves the bed. Gerard’s bed. Where Gerard is currently sitting. Bob is smirking now, and okay, fuck that, Frank is not actually a thirteen year old girl, so he takes a couple of determined steps and then sits down next to Gerard who just smiles at him and rakes a hand through his messy black hair. He’s got really pretty eyes, too. Shit, maybe Frank is a thirteen year old girl.
“So, weed?” Gerard says and Frank starts, earning him a bemused look.
“Yeah, yeah, just a second,” Frank blabbers and then has to get up from the bed in order to snake his hand into his back pocket to get the weed bag out. Skinny jeans should be illegal, Frank thinks, even though he loves them. And anyway, that would mean not getting to see them on Gerard, and that would just be a fucking travesty. Frank sits back down and wishes he hadn’t allowed his brain to take that route. Fuck.
He passes the bag to Gerard who digs out a crack pipe from somewhere underneath the mess on his night stand. Frank has a moment of apprehension as he thinks about the cleanliness of the pipe as Gerard lights it up, but then Gerard passes it to Frank, and well, it’s weed. You can’t really pass that up, no matter if the pipe is clean or not.
They pass the pipe back and forth, smoking in silence for a little while. It’s like weed has the opposite effect on Frank than it does on most others he knows. He’s chatty and hyper as fuck normally, but when he smokes up, he just relaxes and goes quiet. He gets as mellow as Bob, which is a pretty big feat. Bob on the other hand loses his stone face and goes smiley. And Ray… well, Ray gets giggly. And he seems to be reaching the right point of baked now, if the noises are anything to go by.
“You alright, Toro?” Frank asks and lets himself fall back on Gerard’s bed, smiling as Ray just keeps giggling. He lands on top of the leather jacket. It smells like cigarettes and something else Frank can’t define. He decides it smells like Gerard, even if Frank has no actual fucking clue what Gerard smells like.
There’s only one way to remedy that, so Frank reaches out and flaps his hand around until it closes around Gerard’s bicep and Frank pulls him down. Gerard squeaks and flails and lands halfway on top of Frank, who inhales deeply.
“Dude, the fuck?” Gerard mumbles into Frank’s hair, but he’s not making any attempt to get back into an upright position, so Frank’s not too worried. Everything is good, everything is great. And yeah, Gerard smells just like the jacket. Or, maybe the jacket smells like Gerard. Frank doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care.
“Needed to check something,” Frank mumbles in reply against Gerard’s neck where his head is currently resting.
“Okay.”
They don’t move, not even when Mikey asks if they should pop on a movie. Gerard just flaps his hand at him, which apparently is some sort of affirmation, because Mikey picks a random case off the floor and pop it into the DVD player and then returns to sit in Ray’s lap. Ray doesn’t look embarrassed when Frank cranes his neck to look, he just smiles widely and giggles and pets Mikey on the head. Frank turns his head back into Gerard’s neck and grins and then shivers when Gerard’s fingers start playing with the short hair at his nape. That feels… surprisingly good and Frank has to bite his lip to avoid making embarrassing sounds.
He blinks, only just realizing then exactly the situation he’s in. Snuggled up close against some dude he doesn’t even know. Yeah sure, he seems cool and he’s stupidly hot, but still. Also, they’re not exactly alone here. Frank can feel himself coming down from his high, and he disentangles himself as smoothly as possible from Gerard and sits up.
“Frank?” Gerard doesn’t move, only turns his head slightly to look at Frank with confusion.
“Curfew,” he says and gives an apologetic half-smile. That’s technically not a lie, but seeing as it’s only like, four in the fucking afternoon, it’s still a pathetic excuse.
“Already?” Gerard frowns and Frank shrugs and grabs his bag off the floor.
“Yeah, dinner duty. Sorry,” he adds, and Gerard just tilts his head a little and says, “’is cool. See ya.”
“Sure,” Frank nods and waves at the rest of the guys, before all but running out the door and up the stairs.
It’s not till he’s standing on the street he realizes he now has to walk home. Damn it.
--
“You fucked off early yesterday,” Bob greets him the next morning in the parking lot. Frank just shrugs.
“Had to make dinner.”
“Like fuck you did. Bad snuggling or what?”
“Shut up,” Frank says and ignores the way he can feel himself going red. Bob smirks.
“So, good snuggling. Why the fuck did you leave then?”
Frank rolls his eyes. “Come on, I’d known the dude for what, three hours at that point? A little early for that sort of thing.”
“’s not like there are any rules for that stuff, man. Those only apply for chicks, and even though you look like one-” Frank gives him the finger, “- I’m pretty sure you’re actually a dude,” Bob says and punches Frank in the shoulder. Frank kicks him in the shin and almost makes him fall up the stairs to the school entrance.
The jostle each other through the hallways until Frank walks face-first into Ray and ends up on his ass. Bob laughs while Frank just blinks up at the human tower in front of him.
Ray extends a hand and pulls Frank up. “Sorry, man.”
“No worries.”
“You guys found your lockers yet?” Ray asks and drags out his folded info sheet from his front pocket. Frank skims his own paper over.
“Nope. I’ve got 708 according to this, and I’m apparently sharing it with someone else. Aw, fuck that.”
“Better hope it’s not one of the jocks, then. It fucking reeks when they leave their gym bags in there,” Mikey says as he pops out of seemingly thin air. The dude is fucking ninja and Frank stares in awe.
“Right. Where’s your locker?” Frank asks.
“707,” Ray replies. “We’re sharing. What about you Bob?”
“715.”
“Dude, what? How come you’re not next to us?” Frank says and Bob shrugs.
“Fuck if I know, Iero. I don’t know how the inner workings of senior high functions or whatever. At least I’m not sharing with anyone,” he adds with a smirk. Frank gives him the finger. Dickhead.
“Come on, let’s hunt down some lockers,” Frank says and sets off.
--
As it turns out, it’s not really that hard to find. Their lockers are on the second floor, right next to the cafeteria and it only takes Frank and the others about ten minutes to locate the right ones. Frank checks the locker combination on his paper, and after a bit of fiddling, the door swings open easily enough. There’s already a stack of books in there, as well as what looks like some sketchbooks and random paint brushes, stained with a variety of colors. Frank shrugs, stuffs his own bag in there and grabs his class schedule before closing the locker shut again.
Frank’s locker has Mikey and Ray’s on the left side and some dude named Pete’s on the other, if the huge, black Sharpie-painted letters are anything to go by. Classy.
Most of the lockers have names on them though, but they’re mostly nicer looking than the Pete one.
Next to Frank, Mikey is writing his and Ray’s names on their locker. At least he’s using different colored Sharpies.
“Wanna borrow?” Mikey asks and holds out a purple Sharpie. Frank shakes his head.
“Naw man, but thanks. I think I’ll wait till I see who I’m sharing with.”
Mikey just nods in response and starts drawing tiny stars around his and Ray’s names, and Frank can’t help but smile.
He looks up and down the hallway, hoping to see someone coming his way, but it seems to be clearing out as everyone heads off to classes and with only five minutes to go, Frank figures he should probably get going too. He nods at Ray and Mikey and waves at Bob who’s talking to some dude in a trucker cap and glasses before setting off for his first taste of Psych 101.
--
After Psych, Frank heads straight off to American History, which he spends most of drawing crude stick figures on his note paper, giggling to himself. The teacher either doesn’t hear or he doesn’t care, and after what feels like the longest while in all of time, Frank is finally allowed to leave for lunch.
He’s busy stuffing his note papers into his new load of books when he walks into someone, again, but this time he drops all of his books and can only watch while his drawings go flying across the floor. When he looks up though, he’s staring into a familiar pair of hazel eyes.
“Oh,” is all Frank says. Gerard just smiles and crouches down, picking up books and papers. Frank snaps out of it and starts to help.
“Nice drawings,” Gerard says with a snicker and Frank can feel himself blush. Great, apparently still a thirteen year old girl, then. Wonder-fucking-ful.
“History was boring,” he says with a shrug and picks up the stack as he rises.
“You got Matthews?” Gerard asks and brushes his hands on his jeans. Frank nods. “Yeah, he’s as boring as drying mud.”
“I thought it was paint?” Frank asks and starts walking towards the lockers. Gerard just grins and shakes his head as he falls into step with Frank.
“Nah, at least drying paint has fumes. There’s the possibility for entertainment, see?”
“Good point,” Frank concedes and smiles. When they reach locker 708, they both reach for the lock and Frank can’t help the jolt his stomach does when his fingers accidentally brush Gerard’s. Oh honestly.
“You’re… oh that is fucking rad!” Gerard exclaims. “You’re my locker buddy?”
“Not if you call me that,” Frank snorts and tries to mentally get his retarded heart under control.
“Sorry,” Gerard says and his bright grin turns into a half-smile instead. He keeps insistently trying to get his hair to stick behind his ear, but rebel strands continue to fall in his face. It looks strangely endearing and Frank feels like a giant loser for just staring at him like a creeper.
“It’s just, last year, I had this complete asshole jock sharing my locker, and he took up all the space and left his gym bag in there for days and just… it totally sucked. Please tell me you’re not doing sports,” Gerard says and looks mildly terrified at the prospect. Frank can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips.
“No way man, the only exercise I do is the kind that involves swinging an X-Box controller around.”
“Oh, good.” Gerard sounds massively relieved and Frank has never been happier to be a lazy bastard.
They spend a second just staring at each other, smiling before Gerard seems to realize his hand is still on the lock. “Oh, right,” he says and twists it a couple of times before swinging the door open.
Frank stuffs all his new books (and crude drawings) inside, before stepping aside to let Gerard dump his stuff in it too.
“Wanna make your mark?” Gerard asks and Frank just blinks.
“What?”
“On the locker,” Gerard clarifies and nods sideways at their locker. “It’s tradition to write your name on it, but I never got around to it last year, so.”
“Oh, uh, sure. Yeah. My artistic talent is limited though,” Frank snorts and Gerard giggles. Frank wishes a fiery death upon the butterflies currently spazzing out in his stomach.
“It’s cool, I’m an art major.” Gerard walks over to Mikey’s locker, fiddles with the lock and opens it, rummages around before finally emerging with the set of multicolored sharpies. Frank gapes.
“You know his combination?”
Gerard shrugs. “I know everything about my brother. And I may have nicked his info sheet last night,” he adds with a grin.
Frank smiles and shakes his head. “Nice.”
“What color?” Gerard asks and holds up pens in every shade of the rainbow.
“Uhm. Surprise me?” Frank says, shrugging with one shoulder. Gerard nods.
“Alright, red and black it is then.” He uncaps the markers and carefully writes ‘Gee & Frank’ in large, carefully lined letters; black outlines and red filling. He adds tiny fangs to the bottom of the G and devil horns to Frank’s F.
“That is the most awesome thing ever, man,” Frank says, aware that he’s maybe gaping a little. Gerard recaps the pens and looks sideways at Frank with a half-smile, scratching at the back of his neck, making his hair look completely ridiculous.
“Yeah?” he asks and Frank nods furiously.
“Fuck yeah, dude. It rocks!”
Gerard fucking beams at that and Frank just smiles like a total idiot. Then Gerard’s stomach rumbles and Frank realizes that he hasn’t eaten since ass o’clock this morning either.
“Wanna go grab some lunch?” he asks, totally nonchalant and shit, because hi, it’s not like it means anything. They have to eat, right?
But when Gerard says, “Yeah,” and smiles, the dumbass butterflies in Frank’s stomach reminds him that his mental powers haven’t actually exterminated them yet. Fuckers.
--
They’ve only got about twenty minutes left of their lunch break, but it’s still enough time to grab a couple of sandwiches and some diet coke and slouch on the bench where Bob, Ray and Mikey are already sitting. There’s also the dude with the trucker hat and glasses and he has seriously impressive sideburns. Frank has no idea who is, but he’s having a heated discussion with Bob about a teacher called Schechter and his badass tattoos.
Mikey is bemoaning the homework load from a teacher Frank doesn’t know and is about to faceplant into his plate of French fries, when Ray thankfully snatches it away just in time and pats Mikey on the back. “I’m sure you’ll survive,” he says and Mikey groans something unintelligible.
Gerard rolls his eyes, steals the fries from Ray and says, “that’s a filthy lie, there’s no way he’s Satans minion,” and Frank is staring at him in wonder, trying to figure out how he got that from Mikey’s mangled garbling against the table.
“Guys, what’re the plans for next week’s Friday?” Bob asks and even Mikey raises his head from his self-made pit of despair on the table to throw a questioning look Bob’s way.
“Erh, none, I think?” Ray offers and Bob nods.
“Awesome. Patrick says there’s a horror movie marathon going on at one of the cinemas. We’re going.”
Frank assumes the trucker hat dude is Patrick, because he does a shy smile and tiny wave at the mention of his name. He’s kinda adorable, even if he’s not Frank’s type at all, but he reminds Frank of a timid puppy, and well. That’s like, his biggest weakness. That and Gerard evidently, because at the huge smile Gerard sends his way, Frank can’t imagine spending his Friday night any other way.
Okay, so he would’ve gone anyway, because hi, horror movie marathon (he’s really hoping it’s classic horror, not Sorority Row or some shit) and popcorn and twizzlers and yeah. But, having Gerard there sweetens the deal a hell of a lot. Frank mentally punches himself in the face for being such a loser.
“You’re in, right?” Gerard asks, suddenly looking nervous and Frank nods frantically and then realizes he’s acting like a spazz.
“Sure, sounds fun,” he says and tries to be laid-back and cool, but then Gerard says, “Good,” and smiles warmly and Frank isn’t sure he didn’t just melt into a puddle on the floor.
It’s only when they get up and get ready to go to their next classes that Frank catches Bob smirking at him. Frank narrows his eyes suspiciously, because a smirking Bob has never been the sign of anything good, but when Frank says, “what, Bryar?” Bob just grins and shrugs. Frank has a bad feeling about this.
--
Frank never thought he’d ever see the day where he’d wish for a weekend to just be over and done with, but he does, just wanting it to be next Friday already. Thankfully Saturday and Sunday pass eventually, and a new week begins.
School is school, and Frank really isn’t that bothered by it. Psych is actually interesting and so far his favorite class. History continues to be the most boring shit ever, but at least he manages to create a shitload of horrible doodles to show Gerard in between classes when they meet up at their locker, and they make him laugh and that gives Frank a lovely warm feeling in his stomach, and yeah. Seems like he’s doomed to never progress beyond the teenage girl stage, but fuck it.
So yeah, classes are, well, classes. Some are interesting, others are boring as shit, but senior high is, so far, totally the most awesome scholastic experience Frank has ever had, which has nothing to do with any of the actually scholastic shit, but everything to do with the fact that he shares a locker with Gerard. The locker now has a tiny vampire Gerard on it too and a tiny demon Frank with horns and a badass swishy tail underneath their names, and Frank already feels fucking sad at the thought of ever having to leave that locker behind.
They’re always late for lunch because Gerard wants to add stuff to it because he thought of something awesome (which is mostly variations of vampire!Gee and demon!Frank on some crazy ass adventure) to add to it, but Frank doesn’t really mind.
There’s something fantastic about seeing Gerard draw, even if it’s ridiculous cartoons on a school locker, with an abused sharpie pen. He gets completely absorbed in his doodling, all intensity and concentration, and Frank maybe thinks it’s kinda hot. He’s a total goner, there’s no point in even trying to deny it anymore. And it’s cool, Frank has made his peace with it. He will just be the pathetic first-year who has a loser crush on the older, hotter guy, because seeing as Frank is obviously a total girl, he might as well go with all the clichés anyway.
Today is Wednesday, and the locker is currently sporting an absolute shitload of cartoon!Gee-and-Frank, their names in the bold black and red letters, spider-webs intricately weaving their way across the corners of the locker and the words ‘you only live forever in the lights you make’ at the very top of the locker, written in delicately swirled letters, fragile but strong. Frank wants them imprinted on his skin too.
Gerard has just added the finishing touches to demon!Frank attempting to set fire to the locker next theirs (Frank hopes this Pete guy isn’t the type of dude to easily take offense), and Frank silently vows to one day nick his mom’s camera and take a picture of the locker so he can keep it with him forever. Not that he’ll ever tell anyone that, of course. There are limits to how much of a girl he’ll admit to being, come on.
Sometimes Frank has to stop and remind himself that he’s only known Gerard a week, because it feels like he’s known him forever. They like the same music, the same comics, the same movies and just. Frank is pretty much a lost case here. He’s trying really hard to remain rational and remind himself that it’s not like it’s the first time he’s been bedazzled by someone and crushed crazily on them, but it’s like his brain is steadily ignoring Frank’s adamant tries to remind himself to just chill out and take a step back.
When Friday arrives and school ends, they all agree to meet up at Gerard and Mikey’s. Frank isn’t really sure how the fuck he gets home from school. He’s pretty sure Bob drives him, and he’s also pretty sure he eats dinner with his mom, but all that seems to occupy his mind is ‘cinema, Gerard, darkness, holyshitholyshitholyshit’.
He somehow magically manages to take a shower without drowning himself, get dressed and even kiss his mom goodbye on the cheek when Bob honks his horn from outside, hollering “Let’s go, Iero!”
Ray and Patrick are in the backseat, so Frank jumps in shotgun and spends the entire ride wiping his hands on his jeans excessively.
When they pull up outside the house, Gerard and Mikey are already waiting, leaning against Gerard’s car. Frank isn’t even aware that he’s supposed to get out until Bob shoves at him. “Move, Iero, or we’re gonna be late.”
“What?” Frank says but opens the door and stumbles onto the sidewalk anyway.
Patrick gets out as well, only to take Frank’s seat and Frank frowns. “What?” he says again, but then Mikey zooms past him and climbs in next to Ray, and Frank suddenly feels little pieces slide into place. Everything is confirmed by the look on Bob’s face.
“You’re sharing with Gerard. Problem?” he asks sweetly and Frank wants to punch him in the face, but that would mean explaining why, and that’s not really something he feels like doing, oh, ever.
“Motherfucker,” he hisses under his breath and Bob just grins brightly.
“See you there guys!” he calls through his window as he rears up his engine and drives off. Frank blinks. He’s pretty sure Mikey was sitting in Ray’s lap. Huh.
“Sorry, I just, Mikey wanted to ride with Ray, and I thought, well, that you wouldn’t mind, so,” Gerard blabbers and flails his hands about, alternatively looking at the ground and up at Frank through his bangs. Frank feels a bit like an asshole, realizing what that scene must have looked like.
“No, no, it’s cool! I don’t mind, I’d love to ride with you,” he says, feeling himself go red as he replays the words in his head. Classy, Iero.
“I mean, I know you’d probably want to sit in a car with your friends-”
“You are my friend,” Frank cuts in and then rewinds. “Wait, what? Sit in the car?”
Gerard throws him a bemused look. “Yeah, it’s a drive-in. You didn’t know?”
“No.” Suddenly Frank isn’t so sure about driving with Gerard. Or, well, it’s more like he’s equal parts terrified and excited. Either way, he feels like he’s gonna be sick. He’s going to sit in a car, all night. In Gerard’s car. With Gerard. Next to him. Oh jesus.
“You alright?” Gerard asks and now he’s actually looking genuinely concerned, and fuck that, Frank is not going to ruin the night just because he’s a retard who can’t get his dumbass crush under control.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Let’s go, we’ll be late otherwise,” he says and plasters on a smile. It seems to do the trick, because Gerard smiles back at him and opens the car door for Frank to get in.
Frank very studiously tells his brain to stop being excited about the show of chivalry.
--
It turns out to be pretty awesome actually, and not awkward like Frank had feared. They get an awesome spot, stock up on Twizzlers and popcorn and drinks and after seeing Gerard spill shit all over the car, Frank stops worrying about accidentally spilling stuff himself.
The movies are a mix of old classics (Frank actually whoops when Evil Dead comes on), and they alternate between cracking jokes, squealing along with whatever unfortunate girl is about to slashed, gushing about the special effects and arguing whether or not blood would actually spray quite like that. They scream and cheer and laugh a lot and Frank actually think this is the best time he’s had at the movies, ever.
“Aw come on man, there’s no way it would keep spraying now, seriously. Humans don’t have that much blood in their bodies!” Frank gestures wildly at the screen and makes an outraged face. Gerard is laughing himself silly.
“I really don’t think anyone gives a shit, dude. And it would be kind of lame if he kept stabbing her and then didn’t get sprayed with blood.”
“Yeah, but. Come on,” Frank repeats and pouts a little. He loves fake blood as much as the next person, but seriously, this chick has been spraying what looks to be close to ten gallons of blood now, and she’s still going. That’s just overdoing it.
“This is why the classics will always be awesome. Honestly, compared to this shit? Are you kidding?”
Frank rolls his eyes slightly and tries to comfort himself with a handful of popcorn. Gerard is still snickering and Frank makes a half-hearted kick at his shin. Gerard throws a Twizzler at Frank and hits him in the face.
Frank squawks indignantly and gapes at Gerard for a split second before retaliating with popcorn and suddenly no one gives a shit about the chick on the screen. They’re too busy throwing candy and popcorn at each other.
“I yield, I yield!” Frank cries in between laughing when he runs out of popcorn. He slumps back against the car seat and clutches a hand to his stomach. It hurts from laughing, but it’s nice.
Gerard is trying to catch his breath too, smiling widely, eyes closed when Frank looks at him.
“You’re fucking wonderful, Frankie,” he says, and it’s soft and quiet against the silence in the car after the ruckus of their impromptu war. Frank’s heart relocates to his throat immediately.
Gerard opens his eyes and looks at Frank and Frank can’t even hear the screaming of whatever poor victim is fighting for their life on the screen right now. All he can hear is his and Gerard’s breathing and his blood rushing in his ears. Gerard is still smiling at him, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, open and unguarded and Frank wonders if someone stole the air from the car or something, because he can’t fucking breathe. And maybe he ate too much popcorn, because his stomach is going apeshit too.
And then Frank almost has a fucking heart attack when someone honks their car horn. He jumps in his seat and turns to see Bob and the rest of guys parked next to them.
Cars are driving off and Frank blinks when he realizes that the movie is over and that it was apparently the last one.
Bob is rolling his window down and Frank follows the lead.
“What, asshole?” he shouts and ignores the way his voice is definitely fucking wavering. Shit.
“Had a good time, Iero?”
“Fuck off, Bryar!” Frank shouts back and Bob laughs, head thrown back and everything. Frank can’t see Mikey and Ray on the backseat. He decides not to dwell on that.
Frank feels rather than sees Gerard turn on the engine and flips Bob off before rolling his window back off. Bob just keeps laughing, the asshole, and drives off.
Gerard doesn’t look at Frank at all on the drive home, just keeps his eyes on the road and chews madly on his bottom lip. It’s getting red and swollen from all the abuse and Frank has to try really, really hard to not whimper and just throw himself across the seats to kiss Gerard silly.
Good thing he has awesome willpower, or they would probably both suffer an untimely and messy death by car-crash, and as much as Frank wants to kiss Gerard, he doesn’t really want to die for it. And he most certainly doesn’t want to kill Gerard by kissing him.
Instead Frank focuses on breathing, even if it’s all uneven and shit. He can’t feel his hands or stomach, and his chest feels tight and everything just feels really fucking weird. Good weird, maybe. Like his nerves are hyper-wired somehow and can’t decide on if they want to be oversensitive or shut off completely. Frank thinks he really needs to go to bed.
When they reach Frank’s house it still feels too soon though.
Gerard is still worrying his bottom lip and he turns off the engine and looks sideways at Frank whilst fidgeting with his car keys. There’s a Lego Yoda keyring holding them together.
“So,” Gerard says and he’s still speaking in that same soft tone he used when he called Frank wonderful. Frank’s stomach decides to return from numbness to do what feels like a somersault.
“I… I had a really good time,” Gerard goes on and smiles at Frank, and Frank can’t help but smile back.
“Yeah, I… I did too,” Frank agrees and they sit there for a second, just smiling idiotically at each other and Frank’s brain is screaming at him that this was totally a date, it was it was and dates should end with a goodnight kiss, jesus christ just do it. Frank’s body seems to have lost all mobility though and he remains in his seat, smiling like a loon.
Gerard flicks at Lego Yoda and the keys jingle. Frank unconsciously licks his lips and shifts a little in his seat. He really should just lean over and then-
“Frank?” Oh shit, that’s definitely his mom’s voice.
“Uhm, I should probably…” Frank mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat up. He’s half-way leaning towards to Gerard already, but he can’t kiss him now, because dude, his mom, and he ends up giving him the most awkward hug in all of history, trying not to make it a weak, limp one but also not wanting to fall over and end up in Gerard’s lap. At least not with his mom looking.
Gerard smells just like he did that first time in the basement and Frank’s heart feels like it’s fluttering at the memory. Damn. It’s ridiculously hard to let go of Gerard.
“I’ll see you… Monday, I guess?” Gerard says and bites his lip again and Frank falters. Oh, right. Weekend.
“Oh, ehm. Yeah. Yeah, Monday. Definitely.”
“Okay. ‘night Frankie,” Gerard says and smiles the little half-smile and Frank just smiles back and opens the car door.
“’Night, Gee,” he says before he slams the door shut and walks up to his front door.
He ignores his mom’s smirk and raised eyebrow and just goes straight up to his room, collapses on his bed, burrows his face in his pillow and screams.
--
Frank finds it slightly wrong how he’s only had two Monday’s at school so far, and yet they’ve both been the days he’s been the most excited for.
He passes Gerard in the hallway on his way to American History, but there’s a good ten students separating them. Gerard just smiles shyly at him and Frank grins back and doesn’t even draw any rude stick figures during class. He’s too busy grinning at nothing in particular and attempting to doodle tiny devils and vampires holding hands. He makes a mental note to never let Bob see those. He’d never live it down.
Frank almost fucking runs to the locker when he’s done with his second class (seriously, English is the most dumbass class ever; why does he need a class for a language he already knows?) and is too busy rushing that he only sees Ray once he’s collided face-first with his chest.
“Ow,” Frank says and rubs his nose. At least he didn’t fall on his ass this time.
“Sorry man,” Ray says, “you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Frank mutters and double-takes at the way Mikey is all but draped across Ray’s back. What the fuck. He stares for a second and then shakes his head and walks around them to his own locker. He barely has time to bite down the disappointment of Gerard not being there, when someone says, “Hey,” right next to his ear, almost making him jump.
Gerard is smiling at him, eyes all crinkled and Frank rubs at his neck and leans against the locker.
“Hi,” he says and Gerard looks at the floor, scuffing his shoe against it, but he’s still smiling.
“Nice shirt,” Gerard says and Frank looks down. Oh, right. He didn’t even realize he put that one on this morning. He picks at the ‘Homophobia is gay’ on his chest and shrugs.
“You too,” Frank says and then feels like a tool, because Gerard is just wearing a regular long-sleeved t-shirt, black and white. And yeah okay, it still looks good because it’s Gerard, but it’s not like there’s anything special about it.
“Oh, ehm, thanks?” Gerard says and Frank just nods and doesn’t look Gerard in the eye. Loser, loser, loser, his brain shouts at him.
“Are you two coming for lunch or what?” Mikey says and both of them startle at the sound of his voice. “Seriously,” Mikey mutters under his breath and walks off, Ray at his side.
Frank just follows without a word and Gerard walks right next to him, hands accidentally brushing against each other. It feels like an electrical jolt through Frank’s arm.
Frank picks food out on autopilot, not paying attention to what he’s getting at all, and frowns a little on the weird mix of syrupy peaches, rice and French fries on his plate when he sits down. Ray gives him a weird look as well.
And then Gerard sits down next to Frank, sliding onto bench and up to Frank until they’re flush against each other and then Frank can’t really focus on his food anyway. All he can focus on is the heat seeping through his jeans from Gerard’s leg where it’s pressed against Frank’s own, warm and solid. Frank really, really doesn’t give a shit about eating right now.
Gerard is totally not eating either, he’s just pushing his food around on the plate, shooting Frank sideways glances whenever he thinks Frank’s not looking, but Frank totally is and his breathing is going all uneven again, goddammit.
Across the table Mikey is trying very intently to convince Ray to let him braid his hair, and Ray is trying to be determined in his denial of the request. All Frank really sees is Mikey making really big eyes at Ray and Ray attempting to look stone faced. He’s not doing a very good job at it.
Frank briefly wonders where the hell Bob is, but then again, Patrick isn’t anywhere to be seen either.
And then Gerard leans back a little and lets one hand fall down to rest on his thigh and Frank doesn’t really care where Bob and Patrick are.
Frank has no idea what on fucking earth possesses him to do it, but Mikey is busy still sugarcoating his plan for Ray’s hair and then Frank leans back too and lets one hand fall on his own thigh. He lets the one next to Gerard’s inch closer and closer until they’re pinky to pinky. Frank takes a deep breath and hooks his through Gerard’s and Gerard’s inhales sharply.
Frank can hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel it in his throat. He feels giddy and dizzy and he almost passes the fuck out when Gerard slowly weaves their fingers together completely and then they’re holding hands under the table. Frank has to bite his lip, hard, to not smile like the looniest motherfucker. Gerard is all red-cheeked, but he’s biting his lip too and it takes every ounce of willpower Frank has to not just lean over and kiss the fuck out of him, right in the middle of the cafeteria.
Ray and Mikey don’t appear to have noticed anything, and it’s totally ridiculous, but Frank feels like it’s so fucking daring, what he’s doing. Holding Gerard’s hand under the table. It’s awesome.
“Okay, jesus! Fine. But you better believe you’re going to be the one combing it out again,” Ray exclaims suddenly and Frank almost lets go of Gerard’s hand in shock. Almost. But Gerard squeezes his hand tightly and Frank squeezes back, feeling his heart hammer against his ribcage.
Mikey is fist pumping and doing victory arms and Ray mutters and grumbles, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, so Frank really doesn’t think he’s that upset by the prospect of having Mikey’s hands in his hair. Dude’s got the shittiest pokerface ever.
Then Frank looks at Gerard who’s all but fucking glowing like the sun. Yeah okay, maybe not the shittiest.
“Later, guys,” Ray sighs and gives them a half-hearted wave as Mikey drags him off.
They sit there, holding hands for a little while, staring at their plates before Frank risks looking over at Gerard, who’s looking back at him, and then he allows himself to smile, so widely he feels like his face is going to break in fucking half.
“Frankie,” Gerard says and Frank is done with this shit. He almost knocks over their plates when he leans over and presses his lips to Gerard’s. It’s brief and chaste and Frank totally just kissed Gerard. In the middle of the fucking cafeteria. He can’t stop smiling and Gerard could actually probably provide some serious competition for the sun right now, no lie.
“So, I hear there’s a Batman marathon next Friday,” Gerard says, a million unspoken things in the sentence. Frank just grins and says, “Yes.”