"Green-Eyed Monster", Frank/Dwayne, R
This is silly, I've done both the fics I chose for the LMS Mini Fic-Fest, but I still want to write more of these guys. I just adore this pairing. I might have to claim another prompt. :/
Title: Green-Eyed Monster
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Frank/Dwayne
Rating: R, probably, but almost a PG-13
Warnings: Uncle/nephew incest
Summary: Dwayne gets a boyfriend and Frank gets jealous.
A/N: This took longer than it was meant to because my laptop decided to delete it. I swear my laptop hates my Frank/Dwayne fics. *shakes fist* Anyway, prompt thanks to aricakes, hope you like it!
Frank listened to the sound of sheets twisting in fists and pillows rustling. These were sounds he had heard many times before. When followed by a cough and an ‘um, Frank?’, they always meant that Dwayne had something secret to say to him. He smiled to himself and rolled over onto his front at the same time as Dwayne cleared his throat.
“Um, Frank?”
“Yes?”
“I have something to tell you.”
Frank nodded. “Mm-hm?”
“Well, I kind of…” Dwayne began, then hesitated. “No, never mind. It’s late, it doesn’t matter.”
Frank grinned. “All right,” he said, putting his face back on the pillow. He counted to fifteen in his head, and then -
“It’s just that…”
Frank looked up at his nephew again, trying not to smile. In the time that he had been staying in Dwayne’s room, this had happened several times. Sometimes the things Dwayne had to tell him were fairly meaningless, and sometimes they were rather embarrassing (for instance, the time Dwayne stumbled and blushed his way through asking if it was normal for him to get hard-ons so often.) Sometimes they were really quite sweet, like the time all Dwayne wanted to say was that he was glad Frank spent time with him.
Frank urged Dwayne on with a gesture.
“Well, I kind of like somebody,” Dwayne forced out eventually. He looked troubled.
“Yeah?” asked Frank, and chuckled. “Taking your Grandpa’s advice, then? Fucking a lot of women?”
Dwayne looked even more troubled at this, and Frank wondered if perhaps it was the wrong time to make jokes. “What’s wrong?” he said softly.
“Well, it’s…” Dwayne said quietly. “It’s a boy, actually.”
“Oh,” said Frank, surprised. He said nothing for a few seconds, and then realised this probably wasn’t what Dwayne had been hoping for as a response. “Oh,” he said again. “I see. Well, okay.”
He mentally kicked himself. Dwayne frowned at him and started chewing his lip anxiously.
“What’s his name?” Frank asked.
Dwayne smiled. “Oh, well,” he said, and then laughed. “He’s called Frank, actually.”
Frank’s face fell. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he was jumping to these sorts of conclusions, but - was Dwayne trying to admit that he had feelings for him? It reminded him strongly of the sorts of confessions that begin ‘I have this friend…’ What on earth was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to reply?
“Oh right,” he said quickly, deciding to play it by ear. “And…I suppose you’re wondering what he’ll say when you tell him?”
Dwayne shook his head. “I’ve actually told him already,” he said, to Frank’s surprise. “Well, in a manner of speaking,” he added, and the implications of his words made Frank feel slightly sick but he didn’t know why.
“Oh. Well - what did he say?” Frank asked.
“We’re kind of - God, I hate this term - ‘going together’, now,” Dwayne said, grinning. “I just wanted to tell you, because, you know. The thing is, he wants to come round here, so I want to tell Mom, but…I’m not sure how.”
“You want to tell Sheryl? Are you sure?” asked Frank, a little taken aback. He could just about handle the fact that Dwayne liked a boy, but him dating a boy and wanting the boy to meet his parents was a little difficult to take in.
“Pretty sure,” shrugged Dwayne. “It’s what Frank wants. I just don’t know what to say. How did you, you know, come out?”
Frank grimaced. “I didn’t, exactly,” he said. “My Mom walked in on me and the paperboy in, er, a compromising position on the living room sofa.”
Dwayne’s eyebrows shot up underneath his bangs and he stifled his laughter against his fist. “Fuck! Seriously?”
Frank nodded. “Yeah,” he said, wincing at the memory. “So, I don’t exactly recommend that as a plan of action.”
“I guess I’m on my own, then,” Dwayne sighed.
“Oh, no,” Frank said hurriedly. “I’ll help you out.”
* * *
Frank prodded Dwayne forwards and then hovered anxiously near the entrance to the living room. He pressed himself against the wall and peered around the corner. Sheryl was kneeling on the floor by the sofa. She appeared to be sticking pins into Olive, but that couldn’t be right. He tried to look further in, but he lost his balance and nearly toppled over. Straightening up and flattening his back against the wall once more, he looked back into the living room.
Dwayne was edging closer towards Sheryl and Olive. “Uh, Mom?”
“Yes, honey?” asked Sheryl. She spoke with one side of her mouth closed and Frank was sure that there were pins sticking out of it.
“I need to talk to you,” said Dwayne.
“Oh, I’m kind of busy at the moment, Dwayne, I’m helping Olive,” said Sheryl, and Frank seriously doubted this for a moment until she added, “This dress is too big for her, you see, but you know what I’m like at sewing.”
Sewing. That made more sense.
“Oh. Okay,” Dwayne said, turning to leave. Frank made gestures that he hoped fell into the category of ‘encouraging’, and grinned when Dwayne turned back to his mother and said, “Actually, no, it’s kind of important.”
Sheryl looked surprised. She put down a handful of pins and settled back on her ankles. “All right. What is it?”
Dwayne eyed Frank nervously. Frank began gesturing again, and Dwayne looked puzzled, which caused Sheryl to try and see what he was looking at. Frank ducked back behind the wall quickly, and listened.
“Well, Mom, there’s someone I want to bring round for dinner,” Dwayne said.
“Oh! You mean a girlfriend?” cried Sheryl.
Frank sighed. He heard Dwayne sigh too, and then say, “No, not a girlfriend.”
“A friend from school, then?” Sheryl asked before Dwayne had a chance to say anything else. “Well, that’s great! The last time you brought a friend home must’ve been back in kindergarten.”
Frank shook his head in despair. He risked another peek into the living room. Dwayne was shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.
“He’s - um, he’s a bit more than a friend,” he admitted.
Sheryl frowned. Frank watched her face, remembering when he came out to her - months before the paperboy incident, of course. He hoped it would go just as well for Dwayne.
“Oh,” Sheryl said. “Oh, you mean-? Wow. Well, you know I love you no matter what, honey, it doesn’t make any difference to me.”
She pulled him in for a hug, and Frank gave Dwayne a thumbs-up while they were facing each other.
“What’s going on?” piped up Olive, and Sheryl and Dwayne turned to her as though they had forgotten she was there.
“Well, Olive,” said Sheryl gently, giving Dwayne a sideways look to check that it was okay to explain to her. Dwayne nodded. “Dwayne is in love with a boy.”
Dwayne opened his mouth to protest about this. Frank thought he was probably going to say that he wasn’t sure if he was in love yet. Then he seemed to realise that this was just to make sure Olive understood, and he shut his mouth again.
“Like Uncle Frank was?” Olive asked.
“Yes, like Uncle Frank was,” Sheryl smiled.
To their surprise, Olive’s eyes began to well up with tears. “Does - does that mean,” she choked out, “That Dwayne’s going to try to kill himself?”
“No! No, of course not, honey!” cried Sheryl, hugging Olive tightly. “No, because Dwayne’s boy loves him back.”
Dwayne grinned and blushed a little. He eyed Frank, whose head was still peeking out from round the corner. Frank smiled at him, but suddenly, there was something about the situation that felt wrong in some way. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but all of a sudden he wished Dwayne hadn’t said anything to Sheryl or Olive. He decided it was just because he liked it when Dwayne told him secrets, and now - as silly as it sounded - he didn’t feel quite as special anymore.
Olive sniffled. “What’s your boyfriend called, Dwayne?” she asked, blinking away a few remaining tears.
“Frank,” said Dwayne, and then added quickly, “Frank Williams.”
“Well,” said Sheryl, giving him a bright smile. “You should give him a call right away and invite him for dinner tomorrow. I’ll let Richard know.”
Dwayne made a face. “Does he have to?”
“Dwayne, of course he does,” Sheryl said, her voice suddenly much more stern. “You might want to lie to him about this, but I can’t.”
“He’ll beat me up,” Dwayne mumbled.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Sheryl. She paused, then squeezed Dwayne’s shoulder comfortingly. “Look, I’m glad you could tell me. You go and ring Frank now.”
She picked up her pins and some sort of strange spiky object, and stood up. Frank suddenly realised which direction she was heading in, and ducked inside the bathroom as she passed.
He listened at the door for a little while, then when the coast seemed clear, sneaked back towards the living room. He stopped when he heard voices.
“No, he doesn’t look like Uncle Frank at all,” Dwayne was saying.
“That would be weird,” giggled Olive. “If you were in love with somebody called Frank who looked like Uncle Frank.”
There was a pause, and then Frank heard Dwayne’s response. He noticed a slight change in his nephew’s voice but he wouldn’t have been able to explain it to an outsider. “Yeah,” Dwayne said quietly. “Yeah, it would.”
* * *
“So, Frank…what sort of things are you interested in?” asked Sheryl awkwardly the following night at dinner.
The boy sat in Frank’s usual place, and Frank himself had been moved to where Grandpa used to sit. Dwayne shot Sheryl a look, but the boy didn’t seem to realise. “Oh, you know…” he said vaguely. “Stuff…”
“Oh wow, stuff?” said Richard sarcastically. He bit viciously into a meatball and then flinched, and judging by the look on Sheryl’s face, Frank guessed that she had just kicked him underneath the table. He had overheard some of their conversation - which was more of an argument, if he was honest - the previous night. Richard had reacted just as everybody had expected. He had blamed Frank, insulted Dwayne, and then, once Sheryl had started to cry, claimed that he was just worried about Dwayne’s ‘safety’. He told Sheryl he just didn’t want her son being molested by her brother, and it’d taken a lot of self-control for Frank not to knock down the door and give Richard a piece of his mind.
“Do you like planes?” Sheryl asked suddenly, in the sweetest voice Frank had ever heard her use.
“Planes?” asked the boy. Frank thought that - just maybe - he saw a slight flicker of confusion pass over the boy’s otherwise completely expressionless face. “Not really…why?”
Frank gritted his teeth. He wanted desperately to say, because planes are practically Dwayne’s whole life, you fucking idiot, but he managed to stop himself by taking a particularly large gulp of wine and fixing his gaze on the the street outside the window.
“No reason,” Sheryl smiled. “I was just curious.”
A few long, tense seconds passed. The boy prodded his spaghetti with his fork, looking suspicious. Frank stared at him. He couldn’t understand what Dwayne saw in the guy. He was tall - even taller than Dwayne - and gangly, and he had a strangely pointy chin and greasy skin. His hair was similarly greasy, and hung lank over his face like curtains, parting in the middle to highlight a particularly large spot in the center of his forehead.
Frank squinted. An awkward silence had descended upon the table and was beginning to make itself comfortable there. The boy eyed his spaghetti and meatballs doubtfully, and took another sip of his water. He brushed a few strands of hair from his face and scratched his arm. Frank was deeply upset that a person like this shared his name.
“Do you like to read?” Sheryl asked. Dwayne shot her another look, but it was ignored.
“Yeah,” the boy replied in his usual monotone. Frank brightened for a moment and looked up from his meal. “You know…like…comics and stuff…”
Richard attempted to turn a laugh into a cough, and was not successful. Frank miserably stabbed a meatball with his fork. “You heard of Nietzsche?” he asked suddenly, surprising himself with the challenging tone in his voice.
“Neech…what?”
Frank ground his meatball to pieces with his fork, and finished off his glass of wine.
“Nothing,” Sheryl said hurriedly.
Olive munched happily on her food, utterly oblivious. “Frank,” she said happily. Frank looked up sharply, only to see that she meant the ‘other’ Frank.
Other-Frank looked up too, startled. He looked to Dwayne, nervously, then back at Olive, who was grinning at him.
“Are you in love with Dwayne?” Olive asked.
Dwayne suddenly began choking on his spaghetti, which gave other-Frank a good excuse for not answering the question, as he began to pound on Dwayne’s back with his fist.
“Okay!” said Sheryl loudly, simultaneously yanking Dwayne and Olive’s plates from under their noses and stacking them on top of her own. “I think we’re all finished here.”
Frank frowned. There was still food on all of their plates, but he decided he probably knew what was going on.
“Frank, can you give me a hand?” Sheryl asked, gesturing. Frank gave her a tight-lipped smile, and picked up Dwayne’s boyfriend’s plate, which was still almost completely full. He put it on top of his own, then added Richard’s to the pile and stood up to join Sheryl in the kitchen.
“What is your problem?” Sheryl hissed, practically throwing the plates into the sink.
Frank blinked at her.
“Why are you being so rude to him?”
Frank continued to blink at her in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he asked, then lowered his voice after glancing towards the dining table and seeing that, unsurprisingly, conversation had not continued any more successfully after they had left. “Have you seen him? Do you honestly think he’s right for your son?”
Sheryl hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other on the kitchen floor. “Okay, he’s not perfect,” she said finally. “But I’m just trying to be supportive. And I think Dwayne would appreciate it if you could do the same.”
With that, she turned her back on him and stomped her way back towards the table with a worryingly large grin on her face. “Who’s ready for dessert?”
* * *
Frank sat on his bed, his head in his hands.
It had been two weeks since the Meal From Hell.
He had not been able to stop thinking about Dwayne and Frank since then. Not for a minute. He kept making himself angry by thinking about how pathetic Frank was. But that wasn’t even the main problem - the main problem was that he couldn’t understand why, if he thought Frank was so pathetic, he was plagued with a feeling that was frighteningly similar to jealousy.
Jealous. Of Dwayne’s boyfriend. It didn’t make any sense. Frank Williams had no qualities that Frank Ginsberg desired. He didn’t even like the guy, how could he be jealous of him?
It was hard to deny, though, however much he tried to tell himself he was just looking out for his nephew, trying to make sure he didn’t get hurt by someone who wasn’t right for him. He’d felt jealousy before - many times, in fact, and strongly - so it was difficult to convince himself that this was something different. It didn’t make any sense, though - what did Frank have that he wanted?
He refused to let himself answer that question, though he asked it many times, over and over in his head. He couldn’t work out why, it was some sort of mental block.
Just then, the door swung open and Dwayne came in, a towel wrapped around his hips. Frank instinctively grabbed the nearest book he could see and held it up over his face.
“Hey,” said Dwayne quietly.
“Hey,” Frank replied, moving the book closer. Dwayne stood where he was for a moment, rubbing at his wet hair with his hands, then he went over to his bed.
Frank stared at the words in his book, but he could still see Dwayne undressing out of the corner of his eye. He shut his eyes instead.
There was something very wrong happening here.
* * *
Frank slammed the door behind him. He swore. He had just come home from the library to find Dwayne and his boyfriend making out on the sofa. Dwayne had leapt about a foot in the air when he noticed Frank’s presence, but Frank Williams had not even reacted. Dwayne apologized over and over, saying he thought nobody was going to be home. Frank had apologized back, saying it was his fault because he’d told Dwayne he was going to be home later, and then he had fled the room immediately, feeling like his face was on fire.
He was scared by the anger he had felt upon seeing the two of them together. He wanted to tear Frank away from Dwayne, cut his hands off so he couldn’t touch him anymore. And he wasn’t even a violent person. Not really.
There was something, though, that made it even worse. He leaned back against the door and tried very, very hard to ignore it, but it was impossible. He was rock hard.
He took a deep breath. He opened the bedroom door again, crossed the hall shouting “I’m having a shower!” and then shut himself in the bathroom.
Hot water pounded down on his back as he curled his hand around his cock and jerked off more frantically than he had since he was a teenager. Images of Dwayne filled his mind and he didn’t even try to make them go away. He thought of Dwayne and his boyfriend, curled around each other on the sofa, kissing each other heatedly. He replaced other-Frank with himself, and leaned back against the cool shower wall as he came harder than ever.
* * *
Dwayne wrapped his bedsheets around his hands. He rolled over and settled his head against his pillow. He coughed.
Frank rolled over but kept his eyes shut.
“Um, Frank?”
Frank moved slightly.
“I just wanted to ask you something,” Dwayne said. Frank opened his mouth to respond, but Dwayne cut him off. “No, don’t say anything, I need to ask this right away before I lose my nerve.”
Frank froze. He hated himself for the hope that filled his body at those words, but he was still hanging on Dwayne’s silence with bated breath, desperate to know what followed. He kept his eyes shut and listened.
“Well, me and Frank…” Dwayne began, then coughed again. “Well, Frank thinks…no, we both think that we’re ready to…” There was more rustling of sheets and then Dwayne continued. “I mean, we’ve done stuff, but we haven’t done it, and I was thinking, well, you’ve done it haven’t you? With a boy?”
Frank was speechless. He lay still, hoping Dwayne would think that he was asleep.
“Yeah,” said Dwayne quickly. “Of course you have. So I just thought…I mean, I know how you do it, but I thought you might be able to give me some…you know…advice?”
Frank squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut. He couldn’t believe Dwayne was asking him that question, but at the same time it made perfect sense. Dwayne did come to him for advice. He told him secrets and he asked him things that he couldn’t ask anybody else. He trusted him. He depended on him.
The silence went on.
“Night, Frank,” Dwayne whispered softly, and turned over.
* * *
“Why don’t you talk to me anymore?” Dwayne demanded, almost furious as he stood by Frank’s bed, shaking him.
Frank had, by now, spent a whole week of nights pretending to be asleep as Dwayne talked to him. First he had asked about sex a couple more times, then he had made some connection in his mind and, instead, started to ask why Frank didn’t talk to him anymore. Like now.
“You’re ignoring me all the time,” Dwayne went on. “Frank, I know you’re awake. What is it?”
Frank opened his eyes. He rubbed his face. He tried not to look directly at his nephew. “What?”
“Stop it. Don’t do that,” Dwayne snapped. “Why don’t you fucking talk to me anymore?”
“Dwayne, keep your voice down, you’ll wake the others,” Frank replied. He tried to keep his face free of any emotion at all, because he knew Dwayne was searching for it. He had spent what felt like forever attempting to deal with these feelings, now, and he was just started to get used to it. Dwayne had not invited other-Frank round for any more meals, thank God, but he had invited him round to watch TV or to watch movies or simply to go into Dwayne’s room to make out. Frank had, unfortunately, managed to walk in on them a couple more times, and it had gotten to the point where he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.
He had fallen for his nephew.
There was no other explanation. The only thing Frank Williams had that Frank Ginsberg wanted was Dwayne and that was all there was to it.
It would have been easier, Frank thought, if Dwayne didn’t seem so inexplicably in love with the guy. He was always with him, and for some reason he just couldn’t see how much a tool he was. Frank scowled. If he was with Dwayne, he certainly wouldn’t act the way Frank Williams did. He wouldn’t yawn whenever Dwayne tried to have a serious conversation with him, he wouldn’t change the subject to whatever was on TV last night. He wouldn’t be so rude to Dwayne’s family - he wouldn’t refuse to eat the food that was cooked for him, or ignore Dwayne’s sister. He wouldn’t be checking his watch while Dwayne explained all the different types of planes on the poster in his room. He would appreciate Dwayne’s interests even if he didn’t share them.
“Frank.”
Frank looked up. Dwayne was staring at him.
“You don’t talk to me anymore.”
Frank decided to go back to denial at this moment in time. “I do,” he insisted. “We still talk.”
Dwayne narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. There was that evening a couple of days ago when you asked me to pass the peas and I said ‘okay’ and passed them and then you said ‘thank you’.”
Frank kept his face blank.
“You’ve barely said a word to me since I started seeing Frank,” Dwayne hissed. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t like him, Dwayne,” Frank blurted out. “I fucking hate the guy, if I’m honest. He’s all wrong for you. He’s boring, he’s rude, he’s not even attractive. He doesn’t care about anything you care about. He doesn’t have any manners, especially where your family’s concerned. I can understand him being rude to Richard, but Sheryl and Olive have been nothing but nice to him.”
Dwayne opened his mouth but Frank went on, unable to stop himself.
“I can’t believe you want to have sex with a guy like that. To lose your virginity to him. You don’t know how important that is if you’re going to give it away that easily,” Frank ranted. “If he’s talked you into it and you’re not ready, I swear to God-”
“You heard that,” Dwayne interrupted.
“What?”
“You heard me saying I was ready to-” Dwayne lowered his voice, “-to have sex with him.”
“Of course I heard,” Frank snapped. “I just can’t believe it. Why can’t you see how wrong he is for you? He’s not good enough for you. I’ve never once heard you have a conversation that didn’t revolve around TV. He doesn’t make you think, Dwayne, and somebody like you needs to think.”
Dwayne frowned. “He doesn’t make me think?”
Frank shook his head. “I make you think,” he said quietly.
“What? What are you saying?”
Frank rubbed his face again, troubled. “He doesn’t deserve you, Dwayne.”
“Yeah? And who will?” Dwayne asked, his voice getting louder again. “Who’s going to be good enough for me, Frank?”
Frank said nothing. He looked down at his hands, shaking his head.
“I may as well be with Frank,” Dwayne went on. “I may as well, if-”
He stopped, turned his back as if about to leave, then changed his mind. His eyes flicked up to Frank, then back down to the floor. He shifted uneasily on his knees next to Frank’s bed.
“I may as well be with Frank. If I can’t be with you then nobody I’m with can even bother trying to compare.”
Frank’s head snapped up immediately. He stared at Dwayne in shock, but Dwayne wasn’t looking at him.
“Fuck,” Dwayne said, and Frank saw that there were tears forming in his eyes. “Fuck, forget it. I’m sick in the head.”
He got to his feet, about to go back to his bed, and Frank grabbed his arm. Dwayne turned, looking at him questioningly.
“Dwayne, I-”
“Yeah, go on, tell me how sick I am,” Dwayne urged him, still avoiding Frank’s eyes. “Tell me you’re going to go sleep on the sofa and never talk to me again. Not that you even talk to me already, it’s not like it’d make much of a difference.”
“Dwayne, look at me,” Frank whispered. Dwayne looked up cautiously. “Dwayne, why do you think I hate Frank so much?”
Dwayne frowned. “Because he’s a fucking prick?”
A smile began to play on Frank’s lips. Dwayne’s mouth copied his and broke into a grin.
“Besides that,” Frank said, and Dwayne shook his head. “Because I want to be in his place.”
Dwayne thought about this for a moment. “You…you want to be a fucking prick?” he asked.
“God, Dwayne, I thought you were smart,” Frank teased, prodding his nephew in the ribs.
Suddenly it dawned on Dwayne. His mouth fell open.
“You want - you want…”
“You,” Frank whispered.
Dwayne glanced towards the door, then sat down on Frank’s bed and grabbed him, pulling him forwards into a kiss. When Frank thought the kiss would end, it went on and on, and he couldn’t even bring himself to stop it. Everything was falling into place, a huge weight was being lifted. He let himself feel every feeling he had shut away for so long. He let himself be overwhelmed by the result.
“Frank,” Dwayne said breathlessly when he moved away, still holding Frank’s pajama shirt in his fists. “Frank…really?”
“Really,” replied Frank, unable to stop himself smiling. He thought of Sheryl, but at this moment in time he just didn’t care. If Sheryl cared about her son she would want him to be happy with somebody who was right for him. She’d have to accept it. When the time came.
He wrapped his arms around Dwayne, pulling him closer and pressing their lips together again. Dwayne tried to explain himself between kisses.
“I thought about you,” he said, “I thought about you - the whole time - I was with him. I wanted - I wanted you the whole time. I have since - since forever, but I thought we could never be together and I needed a - a replacement, I needed to distract myself, and-”
Frank held Dwayne tighter, kissing him harder. Dwayne pulled back, and Frank looked at him, suddenly afraid.
Dwayne kept a straight face and said, “I guess I got the wrong Frank, huh?”
“I guess you did,” grinned Frank, and Dwayne grinned back and kissed him. He snuggled his way under the covers, settling comfortably into Frank’s arms. He began to twist the sheets in his fists. He cleared his throat.
“Um, Frank?” he asked.
“Mm-hm?” Frank smiled.
“I love you.”
Title: Green-Eyed Monster
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Frank/Dwayne
Rating: R, probably, but almost a PG-13
Warnings: Uncle/nephew incest
Summary: Dwayne gets a boyfriend and Frank gets jealous.
A/N: This took longer than it was meant to because my laptop decided to delete it. I swear my laptop hates my Frank/Dwayne fics. *shakes fist* Anyway, prompt thanks to aricakes, hope you like it!
Frank listened to the sound of sheets twisting in fists and pillows rustling. These were sounds he had heard many times before. When followed by a cough and an ‘um, Frank?’, they always meant that Dwayne had something secret to say to him. He smiled to himself and rolled over onto his front at the same time as Dwayne cleared his throat.
“Um, Frank?”
“Yes?”
“I have something to tell you.”
Frank nodded. “Mm-hm?”
“Well, I kind of…” Dwayne began, then hesitated. “No, never mind. It’s late, it doesn’t matter.”
Frank grinned. “All right,” he said, putting his face back on the pillow. He counted to fifteen in his head, and then -
“It’s just that…”
Frank looked up at his nephew again, trying not to smile. In the time that he had been staying in Dwayne’s room, this had happened several times. Sometimes the things Dwayne had to tell him were fairly meaningless, and sometimes they were rather embarrassing (for instance, the time Dwayne stumbled and blushed his way through asking if it was normal for him to get hard-ons so often.) Sometimes they were really quite sweet, like the time all Dwayne wanted to say was that he was glad Frank spent time with him.
Frank urged Dwayne on with a gesture.
“Well, I kind of like somebody,” Dwayne forced out eventually. He looked troubled.
“Yeah?” asked Frank, and chuckled. “Taking your Grandpa’s advice, then? Fucking a lot of women?”
Dwayne looked even more troubled at this, and Frank wondered if perhaps it was the wrong time to make jokes. “What’s wrong?” he said softly.
“Well, it’s…” Dwayne said quietly. “It’s a boy, actually.”
“Oh,” said Frank, surprised. He said nothing for a few seconds, and then realised this probably wasn’t what Dwayne had been hoping for as a response. “Oh,” he said again. “I see. Well, okay.”
He mentally kicked himself. Dwayne frowned at him and started chewing his lip anxiously.
“What’s his name?” Frank asked.
Dwayne smiled. “Oh, well,” he said, and then laughed. “He’s called Frank, actually.”
Frank’s face fell. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he was jumping to these sorts of conclusions, but - was Dwayne trying to admit that he had feelings for him? It reminded him strongly of the sorts of confessions that begin ‘I have this friend…’ What on earth was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to reply?
“Oh right,” he said quickly, deciding to play it by ear. “And…I suppose you’re wondering what he’ll say when you tell him?”
Dwayne shook his head. “I’ve actually told him already,” he said, to Frank’s surprise. “Well, in a manner of speaking,” he added, and the implications of his words made Frank feel slightly sick but he didn’t know why.
“Oh. Well - what did he say?” Frank asked.
“We’re kind of - God, I hate this term - ‘going together’, now,” Dwayne said, grinning. “I just wanted to tell you, because, you know. The thing is, he wants to come round here, so I want to tell Mom, but…I’m not sure how.”
“You want to tell Sheryl? Are you sure?” asked Frank, a little taken aback. He could just about handle the fact that Dwayne liked a boy, but him dating a boy and wanting the boy to meet his parents was a little difficult to take in.
“Pretty sure,” shrugged Dwayne. “It’s what Frank wants. I just don’t know what to say. How did you, you know, come out?”
Frank grimaced. “I didn’t, exactly,” he said. “My Mom walked in on me and the paperboy in, er, a compromising position on the living room sofa.”
Dwayne’s eyebrows shot up underneath his bangs and he stifled his laughter against his fist. “Fuck! Seriously?”
Frank nodded. “Yeah,” he said, wincing at the memory. “So, I don’t exactly recommend that as a plan of action.”
“I guess I’m on my own, then,” Dwayne sighed.
“Oh, no,” Frank said hurriedly. “I’ll help you out.”
* * *
Frank prodded Dwayne forwards and then hovered anxiously near the entrance to the living room. He pressed himself against the wall and peered around the corner. Sheryl was kneeling on the floor by the sofa. She appeared to be sticking pins into Olive, but that couldn’t be right. He tried to look further in, but he lost his balance and nearly toppled over. Straightening up and flattening his back against the wall once more, he looked back into the living room.
Dwayne was edging closer towards Sheryl and Olive. “Uh, Mom?”
“Yes, honey?” asked Sheryl. She spoke with one side of her mouth closed and Frank was sure that there were pins sticking out of it.
“I need to talk to you,” said Dwayne.
“Oh, I’m kind of busy at the moment, Dwayne, I’m helping Olive,” said Sheryl, and Frank seriously doubted this for a moment until she added, “This dress is too big for her, you see, but you know what I’m like at sewing.”
Sewing. That made more sense.
“Oh. Okay,” Dwayne said, turning to leave. Frank made gestures that he hoped fell into the category of ‘encouraging’, and grinned when Dwayne turned back to his mother and said, “Actually, no, it’s kind of important.”
Sheryl looked surprised. She put down a handful of pins and settled back on her ankles. “All right. What is it?”
Dwayne eyed Frank nervously. Frank began gesturing again, and Dwayne looked puzzled, which caused Sheryl to try and see what he was looking at. Frank ducked back behind the wall quickly, and listened.
“Well, Mom, there’s someone I want to bring round for dinner,” Dwayne said.
“Oh! You mean a girlfriend?” cried Sheryl.
Frank sighed. He heard Dwayne sigh too, and then say, “No, not a girlfriend.”
“A friend from school, then?” Sheryl asked before Dwayne had a chance to say anything else. “Well, that’s great! The last time you brought a friend home must’ve been back in kindergarten.”
Frank shook his head in despair. He risked another peek into the living room. Dwayne was shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.
“He’s - um, he’s a bit more than a friend,” he admitted.
Sheryl frowned. Frank watched her face, remembering when he came out to her - months before the paperboy incident, of course. He hoped it would go just as well for Dwayne.
“Oh,” Sheryl said. “Oh, you mean-? Wow. Well, you know I love you no matter what, honey, it doesn’t make any difference to me.”
She pulled him in for a hug, and Frank gave Dwayne a thumbs-up while they were facing each other.
“What’s going on?” piped up Olive, and Sheryl and Dwayne turned to her as though they had forgotten she was there.
“Well, Olive,” said Sheryl gently, giving Dwayne a sideways look to check that it was okay to explain to her. Dwayne nodded. “Dwayne is in love with a boy.”
Dwayne opened his mouth to protest about this. Frank thought he was probably going to say that he wasn’t sure if he was in love yet. Then he seemed to realise that this was just to make sure Olive understood, and he shut his mouth again.
“Like Uncle Frank was?” Olive asked.
“Yes, like Uncle Frank was,” Sheryl smiled.
To their surprise, Olive’s eyes began to well up with tears. “Does - does that mean,” she choked out, “That Dwayne’s going to try to kill himself?”
“No! No, of course not, honey!” cried Sheryl, hugging Olive tightly. “No, because Dwayne’s boy loves him back.”
Dwayne grinned and blushed a little. He eyed Frank, whose head was still peeking out from round the corner. Frank smiled at him, but suddenly, there was something about the situation that felt wrong in some way. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but all of a sudden he wished Dwayne hadn’t said anything to Sheryl or Olive. He decided it was just because he liked it when Dwayne told him secrets, and now - as silly as it sounded - he didn’t feel quite as special anymore.
Olive sniffled. “What’s your boyfriend called, Dwayne?” she asked, blinking away a few remaining tears.
“Frank,” said Dwayne, and then added quickly, “Frank Williams.”
“Well,” said Sheryl, giving him a bright smile. “You should give him a call right away and invite him for dinner tomorrow. I’ll let Richard know.”
Dwayne made a face. “Does he have to?”
“Dwayne, of course he does,” Sheryl said, her voice suddenly much more stern. “You might want to lie to him about this, but I can’t.”
“He’ll beat me up,” Dwayne mumbled.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Sheryl. She paused, then squeezed Dwayne’s shoulder comfortingly. “Look, I’m glad you could tell me. You go and ring Frank now.”
She picked up her pins and some sort of strange spiky object, and stood up. Frank suddenly realised which direction she was heading in, and ducked inside the bathroom as she passed.
He listened at the door for a little while, then when the coast seemed clear, sneaked back towards the living room. He stopped when he heard voices.
“No, he doesn’t look like Uncle Frank at all,” Dwayne was saying.
“That would be weird,” giggled Olive. “If you were in love with somebody called Frank who looked like Uncle Frank.”
There was a pause, and then Frank heard Dwayne’s response. He noticed a slight change in his nephew’s voice but he wouldn’t have been able to explain it to an outsider. “Yeah,” Dwayne said quietly. “Yeah, it would.”
* * *
“So, Frank…what sort of things are you interested in?” asked Sheryl awkwardly the following night at dinner.
The boy sat in Frank’s usual place, and Frank himself had been moved to where Grandpa used to sit. Dwayne shot Sheryl a look, but the boy didn’t seem to realise. “Oh, you know…” he said vaguely. “Stuff…”
“Oh wow, stuff?” said Richard sarcastically. He bit viciously into a meatball and then flinched, and judging by the look on Sheryl’s face, Frank guessed that she had just kicked him underneath the table. He had overheard some of their conversation - which was more of an argument, if he was honest - the previous night. Richard had reacted just as everybody had expected. He had blamed Frank, insulted Dwayne, and then, once Sheryl had started to cry, claimed that he was just worried about Dwayne’s ‘safety’. He told Sheryl he just didn’t want her son being molested by her brother, and it’d taken a lot of self-control for Frank not to knock down the door and give Richard a piece of his mind.
“Do you like planes?” Sheryl asked suddenly, in the sweetest voice Frank had ever heard her use.
“Planes?” asked the boy. Frank thought that - just maybe - he saw a slight flicker of confusion pass over the boy’s otherwise completely expressionless face. “Not really…why?”
Frank gritted his teeth. He wanted desperately to say, because planes are practically Dwayne’s whole life, you fucking idiot, but he managed to stop himself by taking a particularly large gulp of wine and fixing his gaze on the the street outside the window.
“No reason,” Sheryl smiled. “I was just curious.”
A few long, tense seconds passed. The boy prodded his spaghetti with his fork, looking suspicious. Frank stared at him. He couldn’t understand what Dwayne saw in the guy. He was tall - even taller than Dwayne - and gangly, and he had a strangely pointy chin and greasy skin. His hair was similarly greasy, and hung lank over his face like curtains, parting in the middle to highlight a particularly large spot in the center of his forehead.
Frank squinted. An awkward silence had descended upon the table and was beginning to make itself comfortable there. The boy eyed his spaghetti and meatballs doubtfully, and took another sip of his water. He brushed a few strands of hair from his face and scratched his arm. Frank was deeply upset that a person like this shared his name.
“Do you like to read?” Sheryl asked. Dwayne shot her another look, but it was ignored.
“Yeah,” the boy replied in his usual monotone. Frank brightened for a moment and looked up from his meal. “You know…like…comics and stuff…”
Richard attempted to turn a laugh into a cough, and was not successful. Frank miserably stabbed a meatball with his fork. “You heard of Nietzsche?” he asked suddenly, surprising himself with the challenging tone in his voice.
“Neech…what?”
Frank ground his meatball to pieces with his fork, and finished off his glass of wine.
“Nothing,” Sheryl said hurriedly.
Olive munched happily on her food, utterly oblivious. “Frank,” she said happily. Frank looked up sharply, only to see that she meant the ‘other’ Frank.
Other-Frank looked up too, startled. He looked to Dwayne, nervously, then back at Olive, who was grinning at him.
“Are you in love with Dwayne?” Olive asked.
Dwayne suddenly began choking on his spaghetti, which gave other-Frank a good excuse for not answering the question, as he began to pound on Dwayne’s back with his fist.
“Okay!” said Sheryl loudly, simultaneously yanking Dwayne and Olive’s plates from under their noses and stacking them on top of her own. “I think we’re all finished here.”
Frank frowned. There was still food on all of their plates, but he decided he probably knew what was going on.
“Frank, can you give me a hand?” Sheryl asked, gesturing. Frank gave her a tight-lipped smile, and picked up Dwayne’s boyfriend’s plate, which was still almost completely full. He put it on top of his own, then added Richard’s to the pile and stood up to join Sheryl in the kitchen.
“What is your problem?” Sheryl hissed, practically throwing the plates into the sink.
Frank blinked at her.
“Why are you being so rude to him?”
Frank continued to blink at her in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he asked, then lowered his voice after glancing towards the dining table and seeing that, unsurprisingly, conversation had not continued any more successfully after they had left. “Have you seen him? Do you honestly think he’s right for your son?”
Sheryl hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other on the kitchen floor. “Okay, he’s not perfect,” she said finally. “But I’m just trying to be supportive. And I think Dwayne would appreciate it if you could do the same.”
With that, she turned her back on him and stomped her way back towards the table with a worryingly large grin on her face. “Who’s ready for dessert?”
* * *
Frank sat on his bed, his head in his hands.
It had been two weeks since the Meal From Hell.
He had not been able to stop thinking about Dwayne and Frank since then. Not for a minute. He kept making himself angry by thinking about how pathetic Frank was. But that wasn’t even the main problem - the main problem was that he couldn’t understand why, if he thought Frank was so pathetic, he was plagued with a feeling that was frighteningly similar to jealousy.
Jealous. Of Dwayne’s boyfriend. It didn’t make any sense. Frank Williams had no qualities that Frank Ginsberg desired. He didn’t even like the guy, how could he be jealous of him?
It was hard to deny, though, however much he tried to tell himself he was just looking out for his nephew, trying to make sure he didn’t get hurt by someone who wasn’t right for him. He’d felt jealousy before - many times, in fact, and strongly - so it was difficult to convince himself that this was something different. It didn’t make any sense, though - what did Frank have that he wanted?
He refused to let himself answer that question, though he asked it many times, over and over in his head. He couldn’t work out why, it was some sort of mental block.
Just then, the door swung open and Dwayne came in, a towel wrapped around his hips. Frank instinctively grabbed the nearest book he could see and held it up over his face.
“Hey,” said Dwayne quietly.
“Hey,” Frank replied, moving the book closer. Dwayne stood where he was for a moment, rubbing at his wet hair with his hands, then he went over to his bed.
Frank stared at the words in his book, but he could still see Dwayne undressing out of the corner of his eye. He shut his eyes instead.
There was something very wrong happening here.
* * *
Frank slammed the door behind him. He swore. He had just come home from the library to find Dwayne and his boyfriend making out on the sofa. Dwayne had leapt about a foot in the air when he noticed Frank’s presence, but Frank Williams had not even reacted. Dwayne apologized over and over, saying he thought nobody was going to be home. Frank had apologized back, saying it was his fault because he’d told Dwayne he was going to be home later, and then he had fled the room immediately, feeling like his face was on fire.
He was scared by the anger he had felt upon seeing the two of them together. He wanted to tear Frank away from Dwayne, cut his hands off so he couldn’t touch him anymore. And he wasn’t even a violent person. Not really.
There was something, though, that made it even worse. He leaned back against the door and tried very, very hard to ignore it, but it was impossible. He was rock hard.
He took a deep breath. He opened the bedroom door again, crossed the hall shouting “I’m having a shower!” and then shut himself in the bathroom.
Hot water pounded down on his back as he curled his hand around his cock and jerked off more frantically than he had since he was a teenager. Images of Dwayne filled his mind and he didn’t even try to make them go away. He thought of Dwayne and his boyfriend, curled around each other on the sofa, kissing each other heatedly. He replaced other-Frank with himself, and leaned back against the cool shower wall as he came harder than ever.
* * *
Dwayne wrapped his bedsheets around his hands. He rolled over and settled his head against his pillow. He coughed.
Frank rolled over but kept his eyes shut.
“Um, Frank?”
Frank moved slightly.
“I just wanted to ask you something,” Dwayne said. Frank opened his mouth to respond, but Dwayne cut him off. “No, don’t say anything, I need to ask this right away before I lose my nerve.”
Frank froze. He hated himself for the hope that filled his body at those words, but he was still hanging on Dwayne’s silence with bated breath, desperate to know what followed. He kept his eyes shut and listened.
“Well, me and Frank…” Dwayne began, then coughed again. “Well, Frank thinks…no, we both think that we’re ready to…” There was more rustling of sheets and then Dwayne continued. “I mean, we’ve done stuff, but we haven’t done it, and I was thinking, well, you’ve done it haven’t you? With a boy?”
Frank was speechless. He lay still, hoping Dwayne would think that he was asleep.
“Yeah,” said Dwayne quickly. “Of course you have. So I just thought…I mean, I know how you do it, but I thought you might be able to give me some…you know…advice?”
Frank squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut. He couldn’t believe Dwayne was asking him that question, but at the same time it made perfect sense. Dwayne did come to him for advice. He told him secrets and he asked him things that he couldn’t ask anybody else. He trusted him. He depended on him.
The silence went on.
“Night, Frank,” Dwayne whispered softly, and turned over.
* * *
“Why don’t you talk to me anymore?” Dwayne demanded, almost furious as he stood by Frank’s bed, shaking him.
Frank had, by now, spent a whole week of nights pretending to be asleep as Dwayne talked to him. First he had asked about sex a couple more times, then he had made some connection in his mind and, instead, started to ask why Frank didn’t talk to him anymore. Like now.
“You’re ignoring me all the time,” Dwayne went on. “Frank, I know you’re awake. What is it?”
Frank opened his eyes. He rubbed his face. He tried not to look directly at his nephew. “What?”
“Stop it. Don’t do that,” Dwayne snapped. “Why don’t you fucking talk to me anymore?”
“Dwayne, keep your voice down, you’ll wake the others,” Frank replied. He tried to keep his face free of any emotion at all, because he knew Dwayne was searching for it. He had spent what felt like forever attempting to deal with these feelings, now, and he was just started to get used to it. Dwayne had not invited other-Frank round for any more meals, thank God, but he had invited him round to watch TV or to watch movies or simply to go into Dwayne’s room to make out. Frank had, unfortunately, managed to walk in on them a couple more times, and it had gotten to the point where he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.
He had fallen for his nephew.
There was no other explanation. The only thing Frank Williams had that Frank Ginsberg wanted was Dwayne and that was all there was to it.
It would have been easier, Frank thought, if Dwayne didn’t seem so inexplicably in love with the guy. He was always with him, and for some reason he just couldn’t see how much a tool he was. Frank scowled. If he was with Dwayne, he certainly wouldn’t act the way Frank Williams did. He wouldn’t yawn whenever Dwayne tried to have a serious conversation with him, he wouldn’t change the subject to whatever was on TV last night. He wouldn’t be so rude to Dwayne’s family - he wouldn’t refuse to eat the food that was cooked for him, or ignore Dwayne’s sister. He wouldn’t be checking his watch while Dwayne explained all the different types of planes on the poster in his room. He would appreciate Dwayne’s interests even if he didn’t share them.
“Frank.”
Frank looked up. Dwayne was staring at him.
“You don’t talk to me anymore.”
Frank decided to go back to denial at this moment in time. “I do,” he insisted. “We still talk.”
Dwayne narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. There was that evening a couple of days ago when you asked me to pass the peas and I said ‘okay’ and passed them and then you said ‘thank you’.”
Frank kept his face blank.
“You’ve barely said a word to me since I started seeing Frank,” Dwayne hissed. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t like him, Dwayne,” Frank blurted out. “I fucking hate the guy, if I’m honest. He’s all wrong for you. He’s boring, he’s rude, he’s not even attractive. He doesn’t care about anything you care about. He doesn’t have any manners, especially where your family’s concerned. I can understand him being rude to Richard, but Sheryl and Olive have been nothing but nice to him.”
Dwayne opened his mouth but Frank went on, unable to stop himself.
“I can’t believe you want to have sex with a guy like that. To lose your virginity to him. You don’t know how important that is if you’re going to give it away that easily,” Frank ranted. “If he’s talked you into it and you’re not ready, I swear to God-”
“You heard that,” Dwayne interrupted.
“What?”
“You heard me saying I was ready to-” Dwayne lowered his voice, “-to have sex with him.”
“Of course I heard,” Frank snapped. “I just can’t believe it. Why can’t you see how wrong he is for you? He’s not good enough for you. I’ve never once heard you have a conversation that didn’t revolve around TV. He doesn’t make you think, Dwayne, and somebody like you needs to think.”
Dwayne frowned. “He doesn’t make me think?”
Frank shook his head. “I make you think,” he said quietly.
“What? What are you saying?”
Frank rubbed his face again, troubled. “He doesn’t deserve you, Dwayne.”
“Yeah? And who will?” Dwayne asked, his voice getting louder again. “Who’s going to be good enough for me, Frank?”
Frank said nothing. He looked down at his hands, shaking his head.
“I may as well be with Frank,” Dwayne went on. “I may as well, if-”
He stopped, turned his back as if about to leave, then changed his mind. His eyes flicked up to Frank, then back down to the floor. He shifted uneasily on his knees next to Frank’s bed.
“I may as well be with Frank. If I can’t be with you then nobody I’m with can even bother trying to compare.”
Frank’s head snapped up immediately. He stared at Dwayne in shock, but Dwayne wasn’t looking at him.
“Fuck,” Dwayne said, and Frank saw that there were tears forming in his eyes. “Fuck, forget it. I’m sick in the head.”
He got to his feet, about to go back to his bed, and Frank grabbed his arm. Dwayne turned, looking at him questioningly.
“Dwayne, I-”
“Yeah, go on, tell me how sick I am,” Dwayne urged him, still avoiding Frank’s eyes. “Tell me you’re going to go sleep on the sofa and never talk to me again. Not that you even talk to me already, it’s not like it’d make much of a difference.”
“Dwayne, look at me,” Frank whispered. Dwayne looked up cautiously. “Dwayne, why do you think I hate Frank so much?”
Dwayne frowned. “Because he’s a fucking prick?”
A smile began to play on Frank’s lips. Dwayne’s mouth copied his and broke into a grin.
“Besides that,” Frank said, and Dwayne shook his head. “Because I want to be in his place.”
Dwayne thought about this for a moment. “You…you want to be a fucking prick?” he asked.
“God, Dwayne, I thought you were smart,” Frank teased, prodding his nephew in the ribs.
Suddenly it dawned on Dwayne. His mouth fell open.
“You want - you want…”
“You,” Frank whispered.
Dwayne glanced towards the door, then sat down on Frank’s bed and grabbed him, pulling him forwards into a kiss. When Frank thought the kiss would end, it went on and on, and he couldn’t even bring himself to stop it. Everything was falling into place, a huge weight was being lifted. He let himself feel every feeling he had shut away for so long. He let himself be overwhelmed by the result.
“Frank,” Dwayne said breathlessly when he moved away, still holding Frank’s pajama shirt in his fists. “Frank…really?”
“Really,” replied Frank, unable to stop himself smiling. He thought of Sheryl, but at this moment in time he just didn’t care. If Sheryl cared about her son she would want him to be happy with somebody who was right for him. She’d have to accept it. When the time came.
He wrapped his arms around Dwayne, pulling him closer and pressing their lips together again. Dwayne tried to explain himself between kisses.
“I thought about you,” he said, “I thought about you - the whole time - I was with him. I wanted - I wanted you the whole time. I have since - since forever, but I thought we could never be together and I needed a - a replacement, I needed to distract myself, and-”
Frank held Dwayne tighter, kissing him harder. Dwayne pulled back, and Frank looked at him, suddenly afraid.
Dwayne kept a straight face and said, “I guess I got the wrong Frank, huh?”
“I guess you did,” grinned Frank, and Dwayne grinned back and kissed him. He snuggled his way under the covers, settling comfortably into Frank’s arms. He began to twist the sheets in his fists. He cleared his throat.
“Um, Frank?” he asked.
“Mm-hm?” Frank smiled.
“I love you.”