ruh
the one downside to no longer working for The Man is no more sick days. you know, of the mental health variety? i have been itching for one for months, but i continually put it out of my head, because i know it's an impossibility. but this week... ugh. i desperately need a day to just sit and do nothing and putter and faff. and maybe finish typing
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the sketchbook he carries is actually full of lyrics he'd scratched down while on a conference call with some production executives in la. he's been in a grumpy kind of mood, but he'd tried to write stuff about getting out of a mood like that.
it was just so fucking hard to be excited about cartoon network now that he had the band to focus his time and energies on. as the train approached the lyndhurst station, gerard hefted his bag up, and fished his cigarettes from one of the pockets of his coat.
he was down to the last three in the pack, so when he came to the last corner store before mikey and frank's street, he ducked to grab another pack. on a whim, he grabbed a six pack of heineken as a 'i didn't call before i came over, hope you guys aren't doing anything, also, we haven't really spoken in a few days, anything new?' gift.
the buzzer on the intercom is pretty fucking old and useless, but it coughs up a sputtered bzzt when gerard mashes it hard. in the minute that passes before he gets a response, it occurs to him that frank and mikey might not even be home and he thinks how it would suck to have to lug the beer back to the station and then all the way home from there.
but then frank chirps a staticky 'yeah?' through the box.
"frank, it's gerard?"
another pause, and then the door clicks, and gerard juggles the beer, his backpack, and cigarette to tug it open.
frankie greets him at their door, in sleep pants and a fucking masterpiece of dreadloc'd bed-head.
"i brought beer," gerard says, holding the cans out to frank lamely. "did i wake you up?"
"not really," frank lied. "it's cool. we've got a show tonight, so i would've been up soon. come on in."
gerard hasn't been over in a while, actually, but the place looks exactly the same. piles of eyeball promo shit on every surface, posters up, and the sofa pullout covered in frank's tangled blankets and pillows.
he follows frank into the kitchen, which allows him an eyeful of the jack-o-lantern he'd never seen before on frank's back. he's probably totally staring, but frank doesn't seem to notice. he opens two beers, and hands one to gerard.
"you on your way from work?"
"yeah. i thought i'd stop by. just some stuff about the band i wanted to talk to my brother about." he shrugs a little. he totally hadn't thought of what he'd do if frank was there without mikey. it hadn't ever really happened before.
"oh, man. it's still so fucking awesome that you guy's are doing this." frank says as he heads back to the living room/bedroom, and gerard just follows him and there's no where to sit but on the edge of the pulled-out bed next to frank. "i ran into ray and matt a couple days ago. jersey's so fucking small, right? they were at jason d.'s place, in east orange."
"right, the guy with all those fucking vintage guitars. ray's like, almost in love with that fucking guy."
frank cackled, "no, shit! you should see his face while he's playing this 1965 les paul, it was pretty awesome."
gerard snuffs the last of his cigarette out in an ashtray on the coffee table.
"ray's fucking insane about that shit. but i can't blame him."
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"that is fucking amazing, did you design that?"
his fingertips graze frank's skin, and frank shudders. shit, gerard yanks his hand back and feels himself go hot all over.
frank swallows, and shakes his head. "neil did actually. his brother does tattoos; i got it a couple weeks ago."
gerard puts his empty beer can on the table. "i couldn't do that. i'm so fucking afraid of needles."
"i'm like the exact opposite, i think. i started, and now i can't stop," frank says, mouth curves slightly. "i'll be fucking covered by the time i'm thirty."
gerard looks around the apartment again, thinks about when mikey might come home.
when he looks back at frank, he's a little closer than before, and gerard's brain takes forever to catch up and by then, frank's hand comes up to clasp the side of his face, fingers in gerard's hair, and frank is kissing him, lips cool with beer, within the space of a second.
he spares a thought, "oh shit, was frank putting moves on me?" before he shuts his head up and kisses him back. gerard's hands are empty, so it's easy and natural to reach out and grab at frank's soft waist and the back of his neck. his skin is fever hot beneath gerard's hands.
frank opens his mouth first, pressing his tongue forward to taste gerard's lips. gerard's heart is pounding as he exhales and parts his lips to let frank kiss him harder, and wetter.
it's a little ridiculous, he thinks, that he just decided to come over and now he's making out with mikey's roommate. frank helps gerard shed his coat, and gerard settles his hands at the small of frank's back, fingers clawing at the small of it.
they come apart for air, frank's face is flushed bright pink, and gerard suspects he looks the same. on frank, it looks delicious, and gerard is already thinking ahead, of all the ways he wants to kiss frank and hoping that frank will want him to.
"i wanted to do this since i first met you," frank says against gerard's lips before kissing him again. and yeah, yeah, gerard feel blood rushing through his entire body, and frank smells clean with the sharp bite of cigarettes from his hair.
he twists his tongue over frank's teeth, as he tugs on a thick loc at the nape of frank's neck. frank moans and surges up, climbs into gerard's lap without breaking the kiss.
gerard immediately wants to lay back and let frank climb all over him forever, and is thinking about how to make that happen without having to take his tongue out of frank's mouth, when there's the clomp of feet approaching the front door and a key sliding into the lock.
frank doesn't get out of his lap in time, and mikey freezes when he sees them on the couch.
"oh, fuck, gross."
"the fuck ever, mikeyway!" frank exclaims. "how many times have i listened to you and gabe or whoever in that bedroom, making all that fucking noise?" he gestures toward the apartment's one bedroom.
frank gets up, completely unashamed of the way his flimsy sleep pants are tenting out at the front.
mikey blushes, then, and looks away pointedly.
gerard can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "frank's right, mikey. i've seen you making out with people way too much."
mikey just scowls and heads into the kitchen.
frank is smiling at him when gerard catches his eye. "will you come to our show tonight? i can get you on the list."
gerard's plans for the night had been to head home and write until he fell asleep sometime around 3:00 am. he instantly trades them in for a new plan. "course i will. maybe we can come back here after and scandalous mikey some more."
frank laughs, giggle slightly manic, and he leans in to plant another kiss to gerard's mouth, fast but hard,"oh fuck, no doubt."
-the end-
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gerard immediately wants to lay back and let frank climb all over him forever, and is thinking about how to make that happen without having to take his tongue out of frank's mouth
yes yes yes, bc a) that is a lovely visual and b) i too would love to find a way to let frank climb all over me forever and ever.
"oh, fuck, gross."
"the fuck ever, mikeyway!" frank exclaims.
heeeeeeee, boys. :D :D i love it when the boys, esp the brothers way, gross each other out with their sexy tiems.
i'm going to read this again now. and again. and again. ♥ ♥
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i love you, krit. i would write so many stories for you.
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