fic: I Spy
I SPY
My Chemical Romance platonically jerking off together, plus some Frank/Gerard mutual appreciation. NC-17.
2905 words.
"Fuck it, it's just us in here," Frank is saying even as he's working the top of his boxers down so he can get at his dick. "Let's do this."
Thanks to harborshore for the beta.
For air_crash, who I last saw exactly one year ago today ♥
"I hate getting a boner when I play," Frank announces, right as the all noise in the room drops off at the same time. "Actually, I don't mind getting it," he continues thoughtfully into the sudden silence, "I just hate having to deal with it."
Gerard very nobly resists the temptation to glance over at Frank's crotch to see if his announcement is random or, uh, more topical.
"Since when do you hate jerking off?" Ray asks from where he's sprawled on a folding chair on the other side of the room.
Frank laughs. "Since never! What the fuck kind of question is that?"
Gerard laughs too.
"No, it's like, where am I supposed to do it?" Frank goes on. "You might have noticed that nobody's had any personal space on this tour at all."
Gerard nods his agreement, still taking care not to sneak a glance over at Frank. They're sitting next to each other on a tiny, saggy couch and their knees are almost touching. It's Frank's point in a nutshell, really.
"The bathroom?" Ray offers.
Frank makes a horrified noise.
Ray shrugs. "Well, it's not my fault you're such a clean freak."
"Fuck you," Frank says easily.
"We have a van," Mikey points out, not even looking up from his cell phone.
"Yeah, and with my luck that's when a cop comes by and busts me for indecency," Frank sighs.
Mikey rolls his eyes. "Stop being so difficult or stop complaining."
"Have some fucking compassion," Frank says kind of melodramatically, "it's been three days since I had a chance to rub one out and that's more than any man should have to bear."
There's something about the way he says it that makes Gerard cave and glance over at him before he can stop himself. Which is, of course, right when Frank starts to undo his belt and pull down his jeans.
Gerard gapes at him. He sort of hears Mikey muttering something sarcastic about cruel and unusual but it doesn't fully register because all he can focus on right now is the skin of Frank's hips.
"Fuck it, it's just us in here," Frank is saying even as he's working the top of his boxers down so he can get at his dick. "Let's do this."
Gerard averts his eyes as quickly as he can when he realizes that Frank is actually going to do it. Well, almost as quickly as he can. He takes the opportunity to get a quick look at Frank's dick; he's not stupid. And what the fuck, Frank's already mostly hard. Gerard can't help but wonder how long Frank's been like that, if he's been sitting there with wood since they came off stage, if he's been thinking about how he wants to deal with it while Gerard's been right there next to him...
Something gets all tight in Gerard's stomach and he pointedly looks anywhere but Frank. He ends up facing Ray, who slumps down a little further in his chair and reaches for his own belt. When Ray sees Gerard looking at him he shrugs like he's saying, Well, it's not the worst idea ever.
Which Gerard is willing to concede is true, except for the fact that he spends a lot of time trying very hard not to think about Frank in any kind of sexual way and now they're all getting their dicks out to jerk off together. Fucking great.
Well, he thinks, looking quickly the other way when he catches sight of Mikey reaching for his fly, right now he has two options: he can join the party, or he can leave. And considering this is probably the closest he's ever going to get to Frank's dick, there's no way he's going to leave.
There just isn't. Not an option.
So it's settled; he's staying.
Gerard feels a bit of a thrill at the decision, and the thrill settles warmly in his stomach-and a little further down, too. He isn't hard yet but he thinks it wouldn't be too much trouble to get there, not with the fact that it's probably been about three days for him too, now that he actually thinks about it. Maybe four. No, definitely four. Maybe even five. When the hell did Frank find the chance to do it three days ago? Shit. He has to admit that it would be pretty nice to be able to jerk off now, take it leisurely, not have to worry if somebody is going to hear him-or worse, accidentally walk in.
Yeah, his dick is already warming up to the thought of it. He palms himself through his pants, cups his fingers around his dick, starts psyching himself up to actually undo his belt and pull down his fly and go for it for real. He can hear the soft whispery skin-on-skin sound of Frank touching himself and he's pretty sure it's not going to take much longer before he's ready to go.
And then Frank makes a noise, this half-voiced moan of satisfaction, and it shoots straight down Gerard's spine from his ears to his dick and all of a sudden he is very, very ready and he can't get his pants open fast enough.
Gerard tips his head back to rest against the top of the couch as he wraps his fingers around his dick. He tries not to think about the fact that there are three other dudes in the room doing the exact same thing as him right now. He can keep his eyes closed, he figures, and it'll almost be like he's alone.
Except for how he can hear them all, he realizes a moment later when he hears Ray suck in a breath through his nose and hears Mikey-
No. He didn't hear Mikey anything, thank you very much. If he'd had two seconds to think about it he would have moved before he started because he really wouldn't have chosen to sit across from his brother while doing this. But now he's committed and in it to the end, and he's going to make the most of it if it kills him.
The more he thinks about keeping his eyes closed the more they keep trying to flutter back open on their own, and Gerard finally huffs a breath out and opens his eyes for real, just a little bit, trying very hard to avoid seeing anything in his peripheral vision and especially anything directly across the room. That doesn't leave him many options. He ends up turning his head, pressing the side of his face into the scratchy cushions of the back of the couch. He can only see out of one eye now, which solves half the problem, but it turns out he didn't think things through enough because his other eye is looking right at Frank.
Frank-who's enthusiastically jacking his dick, his eyelids fluttering open and closed as his mouth hangs open.
Gerard can't look away. He really doesn't want to look away even though he knows he probably should. Holy shit.
He keeps stroking his own dick as he watches Frank jerk off. He still can't quite believe that he's seeing this-that he's doing this. And if he's honest with himself, deep down inside, he's pretty okay with the fact that he's watching Frank-he just hopes he's not being too obvious about it.
Frank shifts his weight and his legs fall further open as he- oh holy Jesus, he's reaching down to cup his balls, and he spreads his legs and-
And his knee touches Gerard's.
Time comes to a complete stop for a moment and all Gerard can feel is the heat of the point of contact between their bodies. His heart is racing and he can feel his pulse in his dick and also in his knee where it's touching Frank's and he's heading quickly towards completely overwhelmed.
He tightens his grip on his dick and it feels fucking amazing. His hand is mostly moving on its own at this point, following the rhythm he knows as well as-no, better than-any of their songs. He feels warm, mostly in his stomach and his legs, and heavy and liquid, and he's really getting into it, and fuck, he has no idea how this ended up being such a good idea after all.
And then Frank looks over at him. Their eyes don't meet but Frank is clearly looking at him, or at least at his immediate facial vicinity, and there's no way he won't notice that Gerard was already looking at him. Gerard's stomach clenches and seizes for a moment and his hand slows involuntarily on his dick as he waits for something to happen.
But nothing does. Frank just gives him this half-smile, one side of his mouth pulling up for a moment before it falls open.
Gerard blinks dumbly as his stomach flutters enthusiastically, and he forces himself to smile back.
He realizes then that neither of them have moved their legs away yet, so their knees are still touching.
Frank hasn't looked away yet either, and he's still jerking himself off with one hand and rolling his balls with the other, and his hips keep stuttering up to meet his hands and holy fuck it's the hottest thing Gerard has ever seen in his entire fucking life, no question.
Gerard flushes warm all over and he can only imagine how red his face must be by now. It's like his dick is radiating heat, down his legs and out into his hand and up his arm into the rest of his body. He's keeping his rhythm going more out of habit than anything else; he sure isn't thinking about it. Specifically, he's trying not to dwell on how the tips of his fingers feel against his skin because he doesn't want to think about what it might feel to have someone else's-Frank's-fingers on him. That will only end badly. He shakes his head to try to get some of his hair to fall across his face so he can hide behind it, but it's pretty well stuck behind his ears and he's not about to let go of his dick to do it by hand.
Be cool, Gerard orders himself sternly, be very fucking cool. But it's easier said than done, considering how Frank is breathing hard, kind of almost sort of right near Gerard's ear, all hissing in through his teeth and coming out heavy, right at the edge of a moan this time, almost verging into a grunt the next.
Fuck, he has to look away from Frank right the fuck now. He's going to embarrass himself really badly if he can't get it under control.
Somehow he manages to turn his head enough to change his line of sight. Now he can sort of see Ray, right in his peripheral vision, and he quickly moves his eyes to the floor in the middle of the room. That's a safe zone, he figures. Safe enough that he's good to keep going, anyway.
He runs the edge of his thumb against the edge of the head of his dick before he grips it firmly, slides his palm across the slick drops already collecting at the tip, and it sends a jolt up his spine that makes him shiver hard, one big wave moving through his whole body, and his eyes go unfocused for a minute. When he can see straight again he catches sight of Ray rolling his hips up into his hand, and the heat in his stomach flares up unexpectedly.
Fuck, he can't watch that. Mostly, he wants to turn his head back to look at Frank again. But he feels like he's already pushed his luck more than enough already, so he doesn't. His eyes slide out of focus as he tips his head back again, leaving him staring, more or less, at where the wall joins the ceiling across the room from him.
It turns out that he can still hear Frank loud and clear, which is almost as bad as being able to see him too. He can hear the way Frank's gasping in breath and how it hitches every time he exhales, and he can hear the steady stream of Frank muttering to himself quietly, nonsense sounds and the occasional curse.
And then-
"Fuck, fuck, yes," Frank chokes out. It doesn't take a genius to tell that he's about to come, just a year together in a van.
The sound jolts hot and electric through Gerard's body and the next brush of his palm over the head of his dick feels so powerfully good that he almost comes too, just like that. But he's not quite at that point, not yet.
Even though he desperately wants to, he doesn't let himself look over at Frank. Instead he listens intently as Frank groans low and long before breathing out hard, heavy and final and satisfied.
When Frank finally quiets, Gerard allows himself to glance over quickly to steal a brief and tiny glimpse from the corner of his eye. Frank's mouth is still hanging open and his lips are pink-was he biting them?-and kind of wet.
A moan gets caught in the back of Gerard's throat as he jacks his dick fast and tight as he starts chasing around this half-formed thought about how he'd much rather be fucking Frank's mouth right now instead of his own hand and fuck, the very thought of it makes his balls get tight and makes his stomach flip over hard. He has to swallow the noise that threatens to come out at that, because he's not sure it wouldn't come out as Frank's name. He ends up groaning out a string of garbled vowels, which isn't very dignified but is so much better than the alternative.
Then Frank's knee touches his again, and Gerard glances over before he can stop himself. He lets Frank catch his eye and Frank smiles at him, this dopey beaming grin that's open and happy and totally Frank, and that's it, fucking game over, Gerard is done. He bites down hard on his bottom lip as his balls pull up and his eyes squeeze shut and he's coming in his hand, hot and sticky on his palm and where it drips through his fingers.
He opens his eyes again only to realize that Frank is still looking at him, and that Frank clearly just watched him come and saw whatever stupid face he made when he did-and he's still smiling at him.
No fucking way, Gerard thinks, still too flushed and dazed to really contemplate what it could mean.
He sinks back into the couch instead of trying to pin anything down. He's all boneless and warm and satisfied, more relaxed than he's been since this whole thing started, and he's in no real hurry to shake off his languor to think the same thoughts that sometimes keep him up at night, mired in worry and self-doubt.
But his happy little bubble can't last forever, of course, and he's abruptly brought back to the moment when he hears Ray bite off a gasp and then breathe out noisily. There's a loud creaking noise, like Ray is shifting around on his rickety chair, and then there's just the softest whisper of skin on skin-Mikey's still going, Gerard realizes with no small horror.
He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to concentrate on the sound of Frank breathing, but he's already calmed down a lot and it's not really audible anymore. Gerard holds back the sigh of disappointment that threatens to break free.
Mikey grunts softly, a sound that throws Gerard back to their years of sharing a bedroom. He cringes a little, but at least he's pretty sure that means Mikey's almost done.
But then Frank presses his knee firmly against Gerard's for a heartbeat before he swings it back in front of himself, and the persistent spot of warmth where they were touching is enough to keep Gerard distracted while Mikey finishes.
Now all Gerard can hear is the low hum of the HVAC pipe in the ceiling and the buzz of human noise outside the tiny room they're in, where the air in the room is quickly turning stifling and awkward as the four of them sit there, trying not to breathe too loudly or look at each other or be the first to say something.
They're all clearly waiting for somebody else to make the first move, to clear the air. Gerard is personally of the opinion that Frank started things and therefore can damn well finish them. Gerard can wait, it's cool.
But it's Ray that finally clears his throat. "Happy now, Frank?" he asks. It could be sarcastic, but there's no bite in the words.
Gerard mostly-involuntarily glances over at Frank to read his reaction. He's surprised and pleased to see Frank look quickly at the floor, obviously trying to cover the fact he just got caught looking at Gerard.
Gerard holds in his smile as Frank lifts his chin confidently and says, "As a matter of fact, I am."
My Chemical Romance platonically jerking off together, plus some Frank/Gerard mutual appreciation. NC-17.
2905 words.
"Fuck it, it's just us in here," Frank is saying even as he's working the top of his boxers down so he can get at his dick. "Let's do this."
Thanks to harborshore for the beta.
For air_crash, who I last saw exactly one year ago today ♥
"I hate getting a boner when I play," Frank announces, right as the all noise in the room drops off at the same time. "Actually, I don't mind getting it," he continues thoughtfully into the sudden silence, "I just hate having to deal with it."
Gerard very nobly resists the temptation to glance over at Frank's crotch to see if his announcement is random or, uh, more topical.
"Since when do you hate jerking off?" Ray asks from where he's sprawled on a folding chair on the other side of the room.
Frank laughs. "Since never! What the fuck kind of question is that?"
Gerard laughs too.
"No, it's like, where am I supposed to do it?" Frank goes on. "You might have noticed that nobody's had any personal space on this tour at all."
Gerard nods his agreement, still taking care not to sneak a glance over at Frank. They're sitting next to each other on a tiny, saggy couch and their knees are almost touching. It's Frank's point in a nutshell, really.
"The bathroom?" Ray offers.
Frank makes a horrified noise.
Ray shrugs. "Well, it's not my fault you're such a clean freak."
"Fuck you," Frank says easily.
"We have a van," Mikey points out, not even looking up from his cell phone.
"Yeah, and with my luck that's when a cop comes by and busts me for indecency," Frank sighs.
Mikey rolls his eyes. "Stop being so difficult or stop complaining."
"Have some fucking compassion," Frank says kind of melodramatically, "it's been three days since I had a chance to rub one out and that's more than any man should have to bear."
There's something about the way he says it that makes Gerard cave and glance over at him before he can stop himself. Which is, of course, right when Frank starts to undo his belt and pull down his jeans.
Gerard gapes at him. He sort of hears Mikey muttering something sarcastic about cruel and unusual but it doesn't fully register because all he can focus on right now is the skin of Frank's hips.
"Fuck it, it's just us in here," Frank is saying even as he's working the top of his boxers down so he can get at his dick. "Let's do this."
Gerard averts his eyes as quickly as he can when he realizes that Frank is actually going to do it. Well, almost as quickly as he can. He takes the opportunity to get a quick look at Frank's dick; he's not stupid. And what the fuck, Frank's already mostly hard. Gerard can't help but wonder how long Frank's been like that, if he's been sitting there with wood since they came off stage, if he's been thinking about how he wants to deal with it while Gerard's been right there next to him...
Something gets all tight in Gerard's stomach and he pointedly looks anywhere but Frank. He ends up facing Ray, who slumps down a little further in his chair and reaches for his own belt. When Ray sees Gerard looking at him he shrugs like he's saying, Well, it's not the worst idea ever.
Which Gerard is willing to concede is true, except for the fact that he spends a lot of time trying very hard not to think about Frank in any kind of sexual way and now they're all getting their dicks out to jerk off together. Fucking great.
Well, he thinks, looking quickly the other way when he catches sight of Mikey reaching for his fly, right now he has two options: he can join the party, or he can leave. And considering this is probably the closest he's ever going to get to Frank's dick, there's no way he's going to leave.
There just isn't. Not an option.
So it's settled; he's staying.
Gerard feels a bit of a thrill at the decision, and the thrill settles warmly in his stomach-and a little further down, too. He isn't hard yet but he thinks it wouldn't be too much trouble to get there, not with the fact that it's probably been about three days for him too, now that he actually thinks about it. Maybe four. No, definitely four. Maybe even five. When the hell did Frank find the chance to do it three days ago? Shit. He has to admit that it would be pretty nice to be able to jerk off now, take it leisurely, not have to worry if somebody is going to hear him-or worse, accidentally walk in.
Yeah, his dick is already warming up to the thought of it. He palms himself through his pants, cups his fingers around his dick, starts psyching himself up to actually undo his belt and pull down his fly and go for it for real. He can hear the soft whispery skin-on-skin sound of Frank touching himself and he's pretty sure it's not going to take much longer before he's ready to go.
And then Frank makes a noise, this half-voiced moan of satisfaction, and it shoots straight down Gerard's spine from his ears to his dick and all of a sudden he is very, very ready and he can't get his pants open fast enough.
Gerard tips his head back to rest against the top of the couch as he wraps his fingers around his dick. He tries not to think about the fact that there are three other dudes in the room doing the exact same thing as him right now. He can keep his eyes closed, he figures, and it'll almost be like he's alone.
Except for how he can hear them all, he realizes a moment later when he hears Ray suck in a breath through his nose and hears Mikey-
No. He didn't hear Mikey anything, thank you very much. If he'd had two seconds to think about it he would have moved before he started because he really wouldn't have chosen to sit across from his brother while doing this. But now he's committed and in it to the end, and he's going to make the most of it if it kills him.
The more he thinks about keeping his eyes closed the more they keep trying to flutter back open on their own, and Gerard finally huffs a breath out and opens his eyes for real, just a little bit, trying very hard to avoid seeing anything in his peripheral vision and especially anything directly across the room. That doesn't leave him many options. He ends up turning his head, pressing the side of his face into the scratchy cushions of the back of the couch. He can only see out of one eye now, which solves half the problem, but it turns out he didn't think things through enough because his other eye is looking right at Frank.
Frank-who's enthusiastically jacking his dick, his eyelids fluttering open and closed as his mouth hangs open.
Gerard can't look away. He really doesn't want to look away even though he knows he probably should. Holy shit.
He keeps stroking his own dick as he watches Frank jerk off. He still can't quite believe that he's seeing this-that he's doing this. And if he's honest with himself, deep down inside, he's pretty okay with the fact that he's watching Frank-he just hopes he's not being too obvious about it.
Frank shifts his weight and his legs fall further open as he- oh holy Jesus, he's reaching down to cup his balls, and he spreads his legs and-
And his knee touches Gerard's.
Time comes to a complete stop for a moment and all Gerard can feel is the heat of the point of contact between their bodies. His heart is racing and he can feel his pulse in his dick and also in his knee where it's touching Frank's and he's heading quickly towards completely overwhelmed.
He tightens his grip on his dick and it feels fucking amazing. His hand is mostly moving on its own at this point, following the rhythm he knows as well as-no, better than-any of their songs. He feels warm, mostly in his stomach and his legs, and heavy and liquid, and he's really getting into it, and fuck, he has no idea how this ended up being such a good idea after all.
And then Frank looks over at him. Their eyes don't meet but Frank is clearly looking at him, or at least at his immediate facial vicinity, and there's no way he won't notice that Gerard was already looking at him. Gerard's stomach clenches and seizes for a moment and his hand slows involuntarily on his dick as he waits for something to happen.
But nothing does. Frank just gives him this half-smile, one side of his mouth pulling up for a moment before it falls open.
Gerard blinks dumbly as his stomach flutters enthusiastically, and he forces himself to smile back.
He realizes then that neither of them have moved their legs away yet, so their knees are still touching.
Frank hasn't looked away yet either, and he's still jerking himself off with one hand and rolling his balls with the other, and his hips keep stuttering up to meet his hands and holy fuck it's the hottest thing Gerard has ever seen in his entire fucking life, no question.
Gerard flushes warm all over and he can only imagine how red his face must be by now. It's like his dick is radiating heat, down his legs and out into his hand and up his arm into the rest of his body. He's keeping his rhythm going more out of habit than anything else; he sure isn't thinking about it. Specifically, he's trying not to dwell on how the tips of his fingers feel against his skin because he doesn't want to think about what it might feel to have someone else's-Frank's-fingers on him. That will only end badly. He shakes his head to try to get some of his hair to fall across his face so he can hide behind it, but it's pretty well stuck behind his ears and he's not about to let go of his dick to do it by hand.
Be cool, Gerard orders himself sternly, be very fucking cool. But it's easier said than done, considering how Frank is breathing hard, kind of almost sort of right near Gerard's ear, all hissing in through his teeth and coming out heavy, right at the edge of a moan this time, almost verging into a grunt the next.
Fuck, he has to look away from Frank right the fuck now. He's going to embarrass himself really badly if he can't get it under control.
Somehow he manages to turn his head enough to change his line of sight. Now he can sort of see Ray, right in his peripheral vision, and he quickly moves his eyes to the floor in the middle of the room. That's a safe zone, he figures. Safe enough that he's good to keep going, anyway.
He runs the edge of his thumb against the edge of the head of his dick before he grips it firmly, slides his palm across the slick drops already collecting at the tip, and it sends a jolt up his spine that makes him shiver hard, one big wave moving through his whole body, and his eyes go unfocused for a minute. When he can see straight again he catches sight of Ray rolling his hips up into his hand, and the heat in his stomach flares up unexpectedly.
Fuck, he can't watch that. Mostly, he wants to turn his head back to look at Frank again. But he feels like he's already pushed his luck more than enough already, so he doesn't. His eyes slide out of focus as he tips his head back again, leaving him staring, more or less, at where the wall joins the ceiling across the room from him.
It turns out that he can still hear Frank loud and clear, which is almost as bad as being able to see him too. He can hear the way Frank's gasping in breath and how it hitches every time he exhales, and he can hear the steady stream of Frank muttering to himself quietly, nonsense sounds and the occasional curse.
And then-
"Fuck, fuck, yes," Frank chokes out. It doesn't take a genius to tell that he's about to come, just a year together in a van.
The sound jolts hot and electric through Gerard's body and the next brush of his palm over the head of his dick feels so powerfully good that he almost comes too, just like that. But he's not quite at that point, not yet.
Even though he desperately wants to, he doesn't let himself look over at Frank. Instead he listens intently as Frank groans low and long before breathing out hard, heavy and final and satisfied.
When Frank finally quiets, Gerard allows himself to glance over quickly to steal a brief and tiny glimpse from the corner of his eye. Frank's mouth is still hanging open and his lips are pink-was he biting them?-and kind of wet.
A moan gets caught in the back of Gerard's throat as he jacks his dick fast and tight as he starts chasing around this half-formed thought about how he'd much rather be fucking Frank's mouth right now instead of his own hand and fuck, the very thought of it makes his balls get tight and makes his stomach flip over hard. He has to swallow the noise that threatens to come out at that, because he's not sure it wouldn't come out as Frank's name. He ends up groaning out a string of garbled vowels, which isn't very dignified but is so much better than the alternative.
Then Frank's knee touches his again, and Gerard glances over before he can stop himself. He lets Frank catch his eye and Frank smiles at him, this dopey beaming grin that's open and happy and totally Frank, and that's it, fucking game over, Gerard is done. He bites down hard on his bottom lip as his balls pull up and his eyes squeeze shut and he's coming in his hand, hot and sticky on his palm and where it drips through his fingers.
He opens his eyes again only to realize that Frank is still looking at him, and that Frank clearly just watched him come and saw whatever stupid face he made when he did-and he's still smiling at him.
No fucking way, Gerard thinks, still too flushed and dazed to really contemplate what it could mean.
He sinks back into the couch instead of trying to pin anything down. He's all boneless and warm and satisfied, more relaxed than he's been since this whole thing started, and he's in no real hurry to shake off his languor to think the same thoughts that sometimes keep him up at night, mired in worry and self-doubt.
But his happy little bubble can't last forever, of course, and he's abruptly brought back to the moment when he hears Ray bite off a gasp and then breathe out noisily. There's a loud creaking noise, like Ray is shifting around on his rickety chair, and then there's just the softest whisper of skin on skin-Mikey's still going, Gerard realizes with no small horror.
He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to concentrate on the sound of Frank breathing, but he's already calmed down a lot and it's not really audible anymore. Gerard holds back the sigh of disappointment that threatens to break free.
Mikey grunts softly, a sound that throws Gerard back to their years of sharing a bedroom. He cringes a little, but at least he's pretty sure that means Mikey's almost done.
But then Frank presses his knee firmly against Gerard's for a heartbeat before he swings it back in front of himself, and the persistent spot of warmth where they were touching is enough to keep Gerard distracted while Mikey finishes.
Now all Gerard can hear is the low hum of the HVAC pipe in the ceiling and the buzz of human noise outside the tiny room they're in, where the air in the room is quickly turning stifling and awkward as the four of them sit there, trying not to breathe too loudly or look at each other or be the first to say something.
They're all clearly waiting for somebody else to make the first move, to clear the air. Gerard is personally of the opinion that Frank started things and therefore can damn well finish them. Gerard can wait, it's cool.
But it's Ray that finally clears his throat. "Happy now, Frank?" he asks. It could be sarcastic, but there's no bite in the words.
Gerard mostly-involuntarily glances over at Frank to read his reaction. He's surprised and pleased to see Frank look quickly at the floor, obviously trying to cover the fact he just got caught looking at Gerard.
Gerard holds in his smile as Frank lifts his chin confidently and says, "As a matter of fact, I am."