(no subject)
Make It Smoke (2/2)
Frank pulls a beer from the box and attempts to guzzle the can down without taking a breath. Back in the day he would have been able to. His lungs used to be in shape from all the extended bong rips. Apparently chugging is not like riding a bicycle. Frank can’t do much more than a third before he has to gasp for a breath.
He raises the can and goes for another third. He really needs to drink himself stupid. Like, really. It’s imperative, even. Ray’s been teaching him some of the songs, and he can’t get new chords out of his head. In the week of concerts he’s grown to love what My Chemical Romance creates. But he can’t help but feel like some of the rhythm is missing. It’s not like he can say that. It would be rude, bordering on offensive. If he can just drink until he can’t hear any music but theirs he’ll be much better off.
Gerard leaning against him comes as a surprise. Yes, he’s been drinking, everyone in the room has been, he’s no special snowfkake. But it shouldn’t be enough to make him lose his balance. Not this early. That’s the kind of thing that comes from extended drinking, and they’ve only just started.
He can feel Mikey staring at him. There’s no question that if he gives Mikey a desperate look he’ll somehow lure his older brother away. Mikey’s a great guy like that. According to Mikey, he tried out for Pencey Prep years ago. Frank doesn’t even remember it, never mind why they said no. It’s an interesting What If to play with, what might have happened to Pencey if Mikey had been around to be great back then.
Frank doesn’t give Mikey a desperate look. He’s only teasing himself with Gerard’s closeness, but it’s a nice kind of tease. Like smelling your mom baking a cake you can’t eat because it fucks with your allergies.
Gerard’s hands lock onto his face to pull their gazes together. For a brief moment he wonders what lecture Gerard will so earnestly give him. Yesterday Mikey got the same hands on face treatment for encouragement to move more on stage like he and Ray do.
Frank doesn’t get a lecture. Instead it’s Gerard’s lips on his. Frank’s mouth opens to ask what he’s doing, and Gerard’s part with his, and he’s got a tongue against his teeth.
Frank’s swept up in the kiss. He can’t help it. All the feelings inside him are burning like he’s trapped in an inferno of his own choosing. It’s more than just a kiss. He’s had a few dozen just-a-kisses with pretty vanilla boys, a vanilla girl or two in the mix. Pleasant enough, nothing worth pursuing to get a second. And then there was his last girlfriend, who was rough enough with jagged bitten fingernails she knew how to use. It was only after going online after they broke up that he figured out his half formed interests had names. Kissing Kathleen was fiery, kissing Zeke for the first time face to face was fiery, and this is too.
Gerard ends it the same way he began it; abruptly. He pulls away and scoots back to his side of the couch. The room is silent, a rare feat for this group of people. Frank waits a minute for Gerard to explain himself. When it becomes obvious with the first sip of vodka that explaning isn’t on his agenda, Frank stands and walks as calmly as he can to the bathroom. He doesn’t want to create more of a drama by running out and slamming the door behind him.
Once he’s in a stall he beats off furiously, in both senses of the word. Why would Gerard start something that so obviously can’t be finished? And why did he have to like it so much? Having his crush confirmed as applicable in real life doesn’t help. It makes things worse.
Coming is barely a relief. It’s really only one factor removed from the dozen thoughts-feelings-sensations clamouring at him.
***
Frank gets halfway through Cubicles before he bursts out “what does he think he’s doing?”
Ray is a pretty wise guy. He doesn’t try to make an excuse for his best friend. “He likes you. He wasn’t thinking, just doing.”
Frank scowls. “Liking me comes with baggage. Like a literal bag of ropes and spreaders and sterilized needles.”
The snort that comes out of Ray is soft, just like his voice when he replies. “Our introduction sort of proved that. It doesn’t need to be explained.”
“So then, so what if we both like each other? You think he can handle that?” With everyone else in the band so optimistic, he has to be the realist.
“I think that instead of being pissy, and acting like once an addict always an addict, you should talk to him.”
It was a lame idea yesterday from Mikey, and Frank isn’t liking it much more now. He scoffs and puts his fingers down again.
Two run-throughs of Cubicles later he puts the guitar down and stands up. If he says something maybe he’ll stop making up speeches in his head about what he might say. And when Gerard continues to match Otter shot for shot, Frank can have his miserable but honest I told you so.
It doesn’t take Frank long to find the Ways sitting together, playing a game of Magic. Frank knows they both only brought two decks, which apparently is just enough variety of gameplay for two weeks of tour. Normally Frank likes watching them. They both get highly vocal about not enough mana, or when their creature gets killed. Right now he’s on a mission.
“Mikey, I gotta talk to Gerard.”
Mikey only sticks around as long as it takes to put his hand of cards face down on the floor. Gerard makes the same move, a small pile of yellow sleeves against Mikey’s red.
“What’s going on?”
Might as well plunge in headfirst. “I’m not straight edge. I honestly couldn’t give a shit if you’re drunk constantly, as a friend. But I can’t have the kind of relationship I need with someone that’s mostly drunk.”
“I can stop drinking.”
“Really.” The skepticism comes out harsher than he meant it to.
“I didn’t drink three quarters of my life. It’s not like I need it to live.”
Frank’s pretty sure childhood shouldn’t count. And he’s also pretty sure that functional addicts need it as much as dysfunctional addicts do. On the other hand, he’s only seen Gerard on tour. Maybe there’s a fourth version of him when he’s at home that doesn’t pour alcohol down his throat like water. He doesn’t say anything, not wanting anything else mean to come out.
“Okay, so you don’t believe me. I get it. You don’t know me well enough to know I follow through.” Except Frank kind of does. He’s here, not in a restroom in Atlanta, isn’t he? “But answer me a question. Is it just the drinking? Like, if I was totally sober you’d want to kiss me?”
“I’ve wanted you to tie me up and fuck me for a week. But drunks can’t untie knots. And what if you passed out before you did? Do you know how bad my circulation could get?”
“I wouldn’t do that. It wouldn’t happen.”
“Yeah. It’s almost soundcheck. I’m gonna go for a walk.”
Frank walks for maybe twenty minutes before he passes a library. It’s not a hard decision to go in. He doesn’t particularly need to witness Gerard pregaming, unable to keep his vow for even a few hours. The place is open until ten, but Frank leaves with enough time to catch the night’s performance.
The concert goes by too quickly, like always. Frank could spend his entire life listening to My Chem play. Frank wants onstage Gerard as much as he wants the different, offstage version. This Gerard he doesn’t feel as bad about desiring. In the pit he’s just one of a hundred people that want the sexy lead singer. He throws himself around in the audience, barely noticing that his fingers are playing the chords that Ray’s are.
They’re not driving for long before Gerard leans forward in his seat and shouts “oh fuck yeah! A Walmart! Pull over.”
“What? No.”
Otter’s reply is casual, Gerard’s isn’t. “Pull over or I will kick you in the face.”
Doubtful that Gerard literally will, Frank thinks. He could maybe manage a kick to the back of the head, if he could curl around the piled merch. With the passenger side occupied, Gerard would have a rough time getting the right angle for a shot to the nose. And that’s just logistically speaking. If you throw in morals, Frank doubts that Gerard would actually let himself break anyone’s nose, let alone My Chem’s drummer with five shows left.
Otter pulls into the next entrance anyway. He can obviously hear the determination and tension Frank hears. Stopping for ten minutes is by far the lesser of two evils over Gerard being cranky the rest of the night.
Gerard and Ray go in. Ray comes out five minutes later with a two liter of Coke tucked under his arm. Gerard takes nearly half an hour. When he opens the side door his plastic bag is tightly knotted, and no amount of pestering from Mikey will get the contents explained. Not that Mikey genuinely cares. Frank’s sure he just wants to know because he doesn’t know.
Eventually, when it’s late enough that not even Iron Maiden blasting is keeping their eyes open, Otter pulls into a motel parking lot. It’s complete with a flickering neon sign that offers pay by the hour rooms. Frank’s not sure what the motel would have more of; prostitutes or bugs. On the other hand, no one will ask why they’re parked. Anyone that actually bothers to notice there are people still in the van will automatically assume they’re pimps, drug dealers, or cops. Possibly dirty cops selling drugs while waiting for their women to be ready for them.
Frank’s the last of them to fall asleep, and he really doesn’t take long. He wakes up an untold time later to Gerard shaking him. He’s not in the coveted passenger seat anymore, turned around to get a hand on Frank’s knee. He’s not even in the space between the front seats. Instead he’s got the van door open, cold December air blowing in around him. He’s lit by orange neon. “Wake up, I’m booking an hour.”
Frank follows Gerard across the parking lot. He’s not sure how much he really wants to, but if he doesn’t go it’s likely Gerard will just start talking about whatever he wants to talk about while standing outside the van. If the talking doesn’t wake up the guys the winter draft will. He’d rather have another awkward conversation than Mikey and Otter and Ray pissed at him.
The manager doesn’t blink an eye at two guys renting a room at one in the morning. Frank guesses they’re probably the tenth this week. They get their key and go to their room.
Gerard doesn’t start a conversation. Instead he takes off his shirt and goes into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Out of his plastic bag he pulls a box of bleach, a box of hair dye, and a pair of flipflops. Looking at the greasy brown coating in the shower, Frank mentally applauds Gerard’s common sense.
“I’m all for revamping your look, but any reason it needs to be right now?” Gerard could probably do this almost as easily at tomorrow’s venue, and tomorrow it wouldn’t interrupt their sleep.
“Yeah. I’m gonna be a sober redhead with a sub instead of a drunk lonely brunet.”
“Uh.” He’s not awake enough for this.
“It’s gonna be great!”
Judging by Gerard’s expression, it’ll be better than the second coming of Jesus Christ. Frank’s not sure how to respond to such bare faced enthusiasm. He really wants to believe Gerard’s words. If it was true, it would be great. He’s just not sure it’ll be true.
“I didn’t drink before we went on stage. Not one beer. Ask Otter. He called me a pussy like fifteen times. I know twelve hours doesn’t prove forever, but you said you wanted me if I changed. Did you mean it?”
Frank darts forward to kiss Gerard, a chaste one before he backs up to answer. “I meant it.”
He means it. Frank might not trust Gerard to never drink again. He’s not even sure that’s necessary, Zeke partied on occasion. He does trust Gerard to keep to keep him safe. The first thing he ever did was sense something was wrong and get him to safety.
“The bleach has to sit for awhile. We should make out until your scalp burns.”
Gerard shakes his head. “You like anticipation. One more kiss now and then we wait until tomorrow.
Frank smiles. Already Gerard is doing this the right way.
***
When they pull over so Mikey can take his turn driving Frank pulls a blanket over his head so he doesn’t have to watch all the near misses. Mikey’s driving is hazardous to Frank’s emotional capacity. He feels someone sit beside him and can only imagine it’s Gerard, just deposed from the driver’s seat. He doesn’t peek out to make certain.
A few minutes later Gerard pries up the edge of the fleece and joins him under the blanket. “I’ve come to join you.”
“Do you have ulterior motives?” Frank whispers.
“I could if you want me to,” he whispers back.
Frank wants him to. Every inch of him wants Gerard to touch him. It’s only been overnight, but he wants. But he wants to wait too, until Gerard’s giving it instead of him taking it.
They wait for each other, exhalations heating the blanket a little, the sun doing it a little more. Finally Gerard turns his head and presses his lips against Frank’s. It’s more than it was last night. It’s so much more, every moment saying finally finally finally. It’s going to his head already. His body is burning, more than the blanket or the weak sunshine should call for.
Gerard undoes his seat belt and climbs over to straddle Frank’s lap. The blanket is still cocooning them, just vertical instead of horizontal. They’d be an obstacle in the rear view mirror, but Mikey doesn’t check his mirrors anyway. Frank feels brilliant, trapped in the fleece and under his boyfriend’s -his dom’s- weight. It’s loose bondage, makeshift but no less fantastic for it.
He bites Frank’s lip then sits up a bit so he’s on his knees instead of resting against Frank’s chest. Gerard’s pushes both hands under the hem of his shirt and moves them slowly up. First his fingertips are on the lowest part of his belly just above his belt, then the undersides of his knuckles, then the heels of his palms. Gerard’s hands are sweaty, as wet and warm as Frank feels, like the inferno inside him is burning Gerard too. They travel slowly up, pulling the front side of Frank’s shirt with them, the back still pinned between the seat and his back. His thumbs twitch over his nipples and Frank bucks up enough that Gerard needs to throw a hand out to balance himself.
As they start to sweat Gerard’s hair smears against his forehead. Frank can’t really see colour through the filtered light, can only see the stain it leaves against his skin. He wants to lick the dye off, or pull on Gerard’s poorly painted hair, or kiss Gerard again and this time never stop. He stays as still as he can instead, arms folded and tucked between the small of his back and the blanket softened upholstery. None of that is his to decide.
“Could you guys not? We can hear you, you know.”
Ray answers Otter before they think to, suddenly startled into remembering they’re not alone. “Give ‘em a break. In four days we’ll be back in Jersey, and you never have to listen to it again.”
“Ray Toro, you are a champion for love!” Gerard shouts happily. Frank doesn’t say anything, not quite at that point of normalcy yet.
Gerard pulls away after one last kiss, tossing the blanket off the both of them. He settles back into his seat and puts his seat belt back on. Most people would call it cockteasing. Frank would call it perfection. He’s hard, needing, and Gerard decides when something happens about that. What other word is there?
***
Otter’s friends pick him up after their last show, and help him cart away his drums. They’re big, beefy guys like he is. They all have the look of second string quarterbacks, the guys that are full of team pride but didn’t get much exercise. Whatever. They’re strong enough to carry Otter’s kit, which is enough for Frank. He’s not good at hauling shit that big.
Ray’s parents and brothers take him home. According to his taller brother -Frank didn’t catch the name, was just impressed with his 6’5 frame- they’ve got an extended family dinner waiting. Ray protests that it’ll be nearly eleven, and the cousins and Grandpa will be asleep, but Frank can tell he’s happy about the fuss. Ray’s a family kind of guy.
Frank just watches as Gerard and Mikey make a deal that he’ll take Mikey’s gear if Mikey stays away for a bit. He knows Mikey’s doing it a little for him, so they can finally do something with their clothes off. Of course, it’s not entirely altruistic. There are about ten women eyeing Mikey up. Both the Ways are probably equally sexually pent up, and this is just a way to make sure both parties win.
Their house is unique, from what Frank sees of it. Not much, admittedly. They go in through the back door and sneak down the stairs.
“I’m not ashamed of you or anything. It’s just my parents will want to get to know you, not just say hello. My mom will judge you by your cigarette brand, and my dad will ask what books you’ve read lately. There’s time for all of that tomorrow, right?” Gerard looks at him anxiously.
“Parents planning our future can wait until after our first time, yeah.” It’s not like Frank plans on taking Gerard to his mom any time soon. Hell, he’s not even sure when he’s going home.
The anxious look doesn’t fade from Gerard’s face as they close the door to his bedroom. Someone that doesn’t know Gerard might think it’s sudden shame at seeing his dorky bedroom through a stranger’s eyes that makes Gerard frown. Frank knows that Gerard knows Frank thinks nerds are awesome. Except for people that like Spiderman, because he is a whiny bastard. Tobey Maguire did not do the character any favours. But all of Gerard’s action figures and comics and memorabilia is pretty cool, in that dorky way.
“What’s up?” he asks, tossing himself onto Gerard’s bed.
“I don’t own any toys. I mean, I have a vibrator and a flesh tube. But nothing like bondage stuff.”
“Who says you’re getting past first base?” Frank jokes.
Unfortunately for the both of them, the remark is true. Every time Frank’s hand moves to Gerard’s zipper his parents make noise upstairs. It can’t be purposeful cockblocking, unless they have surveillance cameras, but it’s still preventing everything Frank wants to do. He doesn’t mind an audience in a no-touching monogamous scene, but that doesn’t include parents.
“I can’t do this here,” he admits finally.
“Yeah. It’s kinda distracting.” Gerard doesn’t seem too distracted, he’s still hard and panting against Frank’s neck. But he’s willing to get up and drive to the nearest hotel. A hotel-hotel, not like where they had their second kiss.
“Kinda funny we get a hotel after we get home from touring. Like we could have done all of this then, if we were just gonna do it in a hotel.”
Frank shakes his head. “Nah. I did the touring thing. Mikey and Ray and Otter would have wanted in. Five guys in one hotel room is no better than five guys in a van. Worse, really, in some ways. In a hotel people feel like they have the right to take their pants off.”
He was being honest. He doesn’t even see what he set up until he walks into it with Gerard saying “you have the right to take your pants off.”
“Is that a suggestion, or an order?”
“Frank, about that-”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, no. Not when they’re so close to having something! Gerard hasn’t had internet access yet, he shouldn’t be scared off by Googling things he doesn’t understand yet. “What?”
“You said you wanted me to tie you up and fuck you. But I don’t know anything about knots. I don’t even know anything about rope. When I think rope I think the wrist thick yellow rope that hung from the ceiling that the asshole gym teachers made people climb. I assume that’s not the right rope. Also, where do you buy it?”
“I like it, and you’ll learn it” if this lasts, if this works, if he stays sober, please god let this last “but I like other stuff too. And I bet there’s stuff that you like that you wouldn’t consider kinky that some people would.”
When he actually gets internet access, he should print off a list. Not so much for negotiation purposes, just so Gerard can see how much there is to experience.
“Otter was right about the holding thing. Not that we ever had sex for him to know. He’s very very straight.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard him talk about pussy. So see? There’s a thing. Or have you ever accidentally dug your nails in? Because that I really like. I’m a man about sharp pain, not dull.”
“Oooh. Oh! I have like forty million clothes pegs at home to dry art. They’ve got really good springs they should pinch.”
Frank grins. He’s had good experiences with DIY clamps.
“But you said you liked bondage and stuff.”
“For now, you know something easy that really works? Only take my clothes off halfway. Jeans don’t stretch, so I’ll only be able to open my legs as far as you slide them down.”
“Could we maybe try the sharp pains stuff first? Once I research I’ll know what I’m doing, and then it’ll be easier to do the bondage stuff.”
It’s not like Frank is expecting expert Shibari. But he can understand how Gerard might need some time. “Yeah. That’s fine. Just don’t freak out when you see shit. You know how the internet is.”
“So, take off your pants.” This time his voice is firm, exactly the way Frank wants to hear it. “And when they’re off, fold them and your shirt and put them on the table.”
His skin is cold from the blasting air conditioning, but he does as he’s told.
“Now kneel between the beds. I’ll be back in-. Kneel.”
The ugly pink carpet is surprisingly soft against his bare legs. Gerard didn’t mention a particular position, so he lets himself fold more, so his ass is resting on his heels. After a moment he folds his arms behind his back and does his best to clasp his elbows. His chin drops to his collarbone, so all he can see is the small expanse of pink and the night stand. If his gaze was higher he’d see the digital clock slowly tick its way through minutes. He doesn’t want to see. Gerard’s intention was that he not know how long Gerard was gone, even if it wasn’t stated in the clearest way, and that’s what Frank intends to submit to.
At some point, he hears footsteps. He doesn’t raise his head. There’s a soft shuffle, then Gerard kneels behind him. None of their skin is touching, but he can feel the heat of Gerard radiating. If Gerard was to breath deeply, Frank would be able to feel his stomach expand against his back.
The first scratch comes as a surprise. It’s only one finger, starting at his hairline and scraping down to where his neck meets his shoulders. Frank tilts his head to look at the left bed, to give more room. Gerard ignores him, the next scratch down the right side of his lower back. It’s longer than the few inches of his neck, with more pressure applied. The third is against his right shoulder, the fourth just above the crack of his ass. With each painful nail, Frank finds himself coming a little more apart, sticking a little more together. It’s impossible to describe to someone not feeling it.
Gerard feels it. Frank’s certain he does. His breath is regulated, but he’s a singer, he knows how to regulate his breathing in any circumstance. Frank knows he feels it because he grabs his asscheek and digs in like it’s a handful of sand. Frank shudders as five crescents of fire shoot directly across his groin to his dick, and Gerard reaches around to pinch his nipple with the same brutal fingernails.
He doesn’t hesitate, just curls both arms around him like it’s a hug, then immediately throws away the gentle movement when he lines each finger up with a rib and pulls sideways. It’s the first time Frank can see what he’s doing, and it makes it all the better.
“I want to make you come. Tell me to stop if that’s not what this is about for you.”
Frank doesn’t say a word. Later they’ll have to talk about setting boundaries of a scene before it’s started, but right now Gerard wants to make him come, so that’s what Frank wants to happen.
He knows how to make it happen. Gerard waits to hear the protest, and when there’s none he starts to jerk him off. Every third stroke he loosens his grip so he can scrape his thumb against the head of Frank’s cock. It’s only when he’s coming that he unfolds, Gerard anticipating the throw back of his head an instant before he arches and shoots all over the drawer of the nightstand.
Gerard grabs him by the hips and pulls them up. Frank’s too close to the furniture to fully go on hands and knees, but Gerard’s got him at enough of an angle that it’s easy for him to press his cock in the crack of his ass. With an arm curved around him to hold him where Gerard wants, it doesn’t take long for Gerard to come. Evidently he was just as turned on scratching as Frank was being scratched. A good sign for the future, Frank thinks.
In the first genuinely affectionate move of the night, Gerard pulls hard on the shiny quilted cover blanket until it comes half off the bed, and then wipes Frank with it.
“I love you, and that was really great. Do you want to lie down now?”
“Yeah.” It’s all he wants to say. They can analyse the scene later. For now he just wants to be in Gerard’s arms.
***
Everything seems off when Frank wakes up, eyes sticky as he blinks them open. The immediate concerns clear. He’s not tied with no circulation left. Gerard hasn’t left in a big kinky-and-or-gay freak out. There’s no one in the room attempting to rob them.
It takes a minute to hit him. The generic painting Frank fell asleep looking at was a boat last night. Now, with his eyes fully open and staring at the same wall, it’s foliage.
It’s late morning, so Frank has no problem nudging Gerard. “Wasn’t that a boat last night?”
“I don’t want to sound pretentious, but hotel room art makes me want to cry. I try not to look at it.”
Frank shrugs. He’s sure it was different, but it doesn’t matter enough to argue it. Instead he gets out of bed. To get coffee he needs to go to the lobby, and he needs to be dressed to go to the lobby. He grabs the shirt he was wearing last night, attempting in vain to shake the fold creases out. One day he’ll get used to not wearing the same shirt four days in a row. That day is not today.
He considers turning the shirt right side out for the delicate natures of the elderly and suburban moms that might be in the continental breakfast room. In the end he leaves it inside out. He likes that side better, and if anyone is offended by it, they deserve to be. Assholes in the pit or assholes in pink sweats and green plastic visors, he’ll call any and all of them out.
The words really aren’t that offensive, he thinks. Some guy was being homophobic about the band in the crowd, so he snatched a sharpie, turned his shirt inside out, and wrote Homophobia Is Gay on it. It was an easy way to get across the message that that’s bullshit, and he didn’t have to resort to punching the guy fifteen times until his nose broke. It’s not like he wrote Fags Fuck Assholes, Breeders Fuck Cunts, Why Do You Care? on it.
“Where are you going so early?” Gerard groans, eyes still tightly shut.
“Coffee. And it’s not early. It’s past ten.”
“As your dom can I order you to not get up before noon?”
Frank grins. “You can tell me not to bother you, but I doubt you can change my actual biorhythms.”
“Well hell. Now that we’re awake, might as well get good coffee.” Gerard pushes the heaps of blankets off his body. It’s a good sight. When given a real bed, Gerard sleeps in the nude.
They’re leaving Starbucks, biggest cups of coffee they can legally buy in hand when a girl accosts them. She’s about his height, with long brown hair. The top of her face is hidden behind a jester’s mask, at least until she pushes it high on her forehead to see better. “Oh my God! I was right! Holy fuck! Frerard!”
Frank’s confused by the slip of the tongue. “Did you mean me or Gerard?”
“Oh my god! Frank Iero is talking to me!” People that are as excited as she is faint. Frank’s seen it before, just never directed towards him. Maybe she was a big Pencey fan back in the day. He’d always thought they’d all hate him though, for breaking up the band.
“I’m not dreaming, right? You were kissing, right?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Oh man. El Jay is going to shit.”
Frank still has no idea what’s going on, or why some Spanish guy would care that he was kissing his boyfriend when he was bored in line. It’s too early for mysteries, he’s only had a sip of his coffee. He tugs on Gerard’s hand and starts to pull him around the stranger. It’s not too early for more kissing, somewhere that isn’t around crazy women.
After a second she runs the few steps to catch up. “Wait! I have to ask something. Em see are unofficial will kill me if I don’t. Uh. Uh. All I can think of is stupid crap, like what’s your favourite coffee mix. No, don’t answer that, that wasn’t my question. Fuck. Uh. Oh! Okay. Why does Korse hate you?”
Frank looks at Gerard. It’s clear he has no idea who that is either. She looks like she’s on the verge of mental breakdown, like if she doesn’t get an answer she’ll just collapse in the street. Not willing to cause that much drama, Frank answers blindly. “Because he’s a fuckin’ prick!”
“That’s it?”
“Some people are just fuckin’ pricks.”
“Can I get a picture with you guys?”
Still confused, he shrugs then agrees. He can’t see the harm in some person he’ll never see again having their picture. It’s better than her freaking out at them if he says no. They huddle together and she stretches her arm as far as it will go to take the picture. The image that shows on the preview picture menu pleases her, and she separates from them.
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone now. I’ll see you tonight. I don’t have a meet and greet or anything, but I’ll be there. Play some of your old stuff!”
“I’m sure we don’t play tonight,” Gerard ponders. “Ray or Mikey would have said something if we had a second Jersey show.”
“You don’t. I would remember too.” Frank had memorised the tour schedule when Ray told him, the night he started hitching with them. It had been important to figure out where his mom would be the day he got home, and what mood would result from what commitment she had just fulfilled.
“Back to the hotel, or keep walking?” Gerard asks.
“We don’t have to check out until noon. It’s not very cold, might as well keep walking.”
“Cold makes steaming coffee taste better anyway.”
They walk for a bit before Frank sees a odd line of people and wonders if a con is about to occur. Nearly all of the teens -and most of the adults- are cosplaying. From a distance he can’t see a singular often repeated symbol, he can only see the colour explosion. Whatever they’re about to experience, it looks interesting. If it’s a full week thing, maybe he and Gerard can scrape up a costume and join. Most cons sell one day passes, at least in Frank’s experience.
He’s about to point them out to Gerard, who’s focus is solely on the lighter that he can’t get to stay lit, when the cosplayers spot them. From being pointed at to being completely swarmed is maybe thirty seconds. It’s weird for a second, and then it moves way beyond weird to frightening. There so many people shouting things he can barely hear, a good chunk of them just B horror movie screaming. And they’re all trying to touch him and Gerard. His jacket is being ripped from trying to pull out of the grip they have on him. To make it worse, he’s losing sight of Gerard. His boyfriend is being dragged into the current of people.
Just as Frank starts to hyperventilate, a massive guy shoves his way through the swarm. He grabs both of them by an arm and deftly tugs them through the crowd. With such a swift and strong pulling, Frank has to trot to keep up. He keeps pulling until they’re at a side door, and then he takes five seconds to type in a code and shove them through it.
He doesn’t speak until they’re alone in a hallway. “What the hell guys? You know there was no barrier.”
Frank has no idea what to say, but Gerard manages an apology, to which the guy tells them to not do it again, and then leaves, irritation in his step. Gerard’s coat got left in the crowd, the only real way to get him out of a parka with both his arms being clung to. Frank’s shitty windbreaker is cheap enough that he doesn’t care that it’s torn. He just strips it off and tosses it into the corner. Maybe the insane cosplayers can find a use for it later.
Frank’s looking for a place to put the cigarette butt -technically Gerard’s, but he took the last drag that got it to filter, so it’s his problem- when he sees their doppelgangers. They’re not entirely identical. Both of them have short hair. The Gerard he’s facing is skinnier, and the Frank he’s facing has a tattoo on both sides of his neck. But there’s no question that the faces of himself and his boyfriend are on other people. Seeing them, Frank’s stunned into silence.
The other Frank is not. “Well, I guess Mikey is finally getting revenge for the portraits of him thing. Lookalikes. Except your picture is a bit dated. I cut my hair.”
Real Gerard looks at Frank, then turns to his clone. “Do you believe in parallel universes?”
Other Frank applauds. “Similar voice and pretends to likes sci-fi. Bonus points for that.”
Real Gerard turns to other Gerard. “Mikey hates refried beans bcause you convinced him they were Yorkshire Terrier poo when your cousin made you dog-sit. Elena gave you your first drag of a cigarette. You were horrified when Joe told you about Fear Factor. I’m you, I’m just not from here. I don’t know if this world has magical principles, but can you think of any reason, any way you might have pulled us into this universe?”
Other Gerard stares at him in shock. Other Frank nudges him. “Come on Gee. Don’t tell me you believe him.”
“How did he know if he’s not me?”
“Elena was a lucky guess, someone had to get you started. And Mikey told someone, I think, thanks to the Power Pup. And what fan would think you’d be pro the kind of shit they do on Fear Factor?”
Frank rolls his eyes. Of course other him is a cynic. “Fine, I’ll do it too. You think bees are badass, and for a while you thought Jamia Nestor was the love of your life.”
Other Frank snorts. “Wow man, that’s shocking!”
“That’s what I-”
“Sarcasm, man. Part of Fun Ghoul’s costume is bee related, so there’s that. And of course my wife is the love of my life.”
“What!” Frank feels a little woozy. “How is that possible?”
Other Gerard looks at him. “In your world you’re not married to her?”
“Hell no. In my world we’ve been dating a week.”
Other Frank remains disbelieving. “You’re taking the Frerard angle too hard, guys.”
“Yeah! What the hell is that? Someone said it earlier!”
“You know, I almost believe you now? Any fan that cared enough to cosplay us would react to that word. A few creepers, but most by shouting fourth wall.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Gerard must hear the upset in his voice, he slings an arm around his shoulders. It’s not enough to center Frank, they’re not quite there in the relationship. It’s still nice.
“Maybe they don’t have it in your world. Or maybe you’re not big enough. You are still in a band, right? My Chemical Romance?”
“Yeah, same as you. We’re touring Bullets.”
Other Frank looks at Gerard like he just said something ridiculous. “Not that I buy this. But what year is it for you, if you actually weren’t bullshitting?”
“Two thousand two.”
“See, two thousand eleven here. So you’ve moved in time, not just across worlds. But you have Mikey at home? He didn’t travel with you?”
“No, he and Otter and Ray didn’t come with us. Or if they did, we haven’t stumbled across them yet. But I bet they’re all still in bed. Touring was sorta exhausting for the four of us. In a good way, you know what I mean. But you really wanna sleep for a while after, in a bed you can stretch out in.”
“What about Frank?”
“Well, he likes the music. Right? You do, right? Don’t lie if you don’t.”
“Shut up Gerard,” he answers easily, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.
“But. He doesn’t play?”
“I play here?” It’s almost cruel to find that out. Still, at least in some universes he gets to.
“You should really let him play. He makes the songs so much more dynamic.”
“Frank doesn’t even want to play. He quit his last band because he didn’t like playing anymore.”
Other Frank crosses his arms. “If it was Pencey he had good reason.”
“He would have said?” Gerard doesn’t sound as confident anymore.
“How could I have said anything? Rescuing me wasn’t enough, you had to let me join your awesome band?”
Gerard doesn’t answer him. Frank didn’t really expect him to. But the silence is going to get awkward, so he needs to find something to say. Preferably something unlikely to break the universe. Other Frank is a shirt with his own writing scrawled on it. Frank points and asks “what’s that?”
“My babies. Lily and Cherry. Me and Jamia have kids.”
It’s another shocker. Frank likes kids. If Mikey and his eventual girlfriend eventually have seven, and he’s still with Gerard and friends with Mikey then, he’ll happily spend time with all of them. But he can’t see turning his and his dom’s relationship into a relationship about providing for children for twenty years.
“Wow. That’s. Wow. I hope you and her are really happy.” It’s true, as far as it goes. It’s also true that he’s thankful it isn’t him, but that much he won’t say out loud.
Other Gerard looks at Gerard. Frank almost laughs when he ruffles his hair the same way Gerard does. Cross the universe, and Gerards everywhere are still twitchy. “Assuming the band stuff stays the same, but you don’t have a Lindsey? The fourth time you feel so stagnant and depressed you think you’ll never create again? Go to the desert in California.”
Other Gerard’s phone goes off. He pulls it out of his tight jeans and checks it. “Mikey wants you to tell him what that movie with the sewer dinosaurs is. He’s trying to argue a point.”
It sounds like an argument Frank could get into. “Should we come with, or-”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s our job to host you while you’re here. But stay here, and we’ll bring them to you first. It’ll make it funnier.”
“Mikey’s gonna shit.”
Frank’s not sure how long they’re going to stay here, but with Gerard standing beside him, Frank’s safe. He got used to not being in Atlanta with Zeke in a few days. So what if another universe takes a week or a month? He’ll do it with Gerard, and it’ll be okay. He leans in for a kiss for that hint of reassurance. When he pulls away their doppelgangers are gone, and the venue is empty.
“We better not fall into a parallel universe every time we kiss. That’ll get old fast.”
Frank would point out that it didn’t happen any of the other times, so this was probably some sort of lesson. It’ll be a lot more fun to say “we could test the theory?”
Gerard kisses him deeply. They stay in the back of the venue.
“Try it again? We need a large pool of data to be scientific, right?”
“We’ll do it on the way home. Right now we’re in property we’ll be accused of breaking in to. I’d like to avoid getting arrested.”
“At least until you’re a big name rock star?”
“Until we’re big name rock stars.”
Frank pulls away from under Gerard’s arm so he can look him directly in the face. He looks sincere. It doesn’t mean it’s a sure thing. They’ll have to have a band meeting to see if Mikey and Ray and Otter agree. Ray’s the one with the most to lose, his status as The Guitarist will be gone. Otter’s not super comfortable with their relationship. And Mikey might want revenge for that time Frank doesn’t even remember when they wouldn’t let him into Pencey. But there’s a chance, now. It’s enough to make Frank smile.
Frank pulls a beer from the box and attempts to guzzle the can down without taking a breath. Back in the day he would have been able to. His lungs used to be in shape from all the extended bong rips. Apparently chugging is not like riding a bicycle. Frank can’t do much more than a third before he has to gasp for a breath.
He raises the can and goes for another third. He really needs to drink himself stupid. Like, really. It’s imperative, even. Ray’s been teaching him some of the songs, and he can’t get new chords out of his head. In the week of concerts he’s grown to love what My Chemical Romance creates. But he can’t help but feel like some of the rhythm is missing. It’s not like he can say that. It would be rude, bordering on offensive. If he can just drink until he can’t hear any music but theirs he’ll be much better off.
Gerard leaning against him comes as a surprise. Yes, he’s been drinking, everyone in the room has been, he’s no special snowfkake. But it shouldn’t be enough to make him lose his balance. Not this early. That’s the kind of thing that comes from extended drinking, and they’ve only just started.
He can feel Mikey staring at him. There’s no question that if he gives Mikey a desperate look he’ll somehow lure his older brother away. Mikey’s a great guy like that. According to Mikey, he tried out for Pencey Prep years ago. Frank doesn’t even remember it, never mind why they said no. It’s an interesting What If to play with, what might have happened to Pencey if Mikey had been around to be great back then.
Frank doesn’t give Mikey a desperate look. He’s only teasing himself with Gerard’s closeness, but it’s a nice kind of tease. Like smelling your mom baking a cake you can’t eat because it fucks with your allergies.
Gerard’s hands lock onto his face to pull their gazes together. For a brief moment he wonders what lecture Gerard will so earnestly give him. Yesterday Mikey got the same hands on face treatment for encouragement to move more on stage like he and Ray do.
Frank doesn’t get a lecture. Instead it’s Gerard’s lips on his. Frank’s mouth opens to ask what he’s doing, and Gerard’s part with his, and he’s got a tongue against his teeth.
Frank’s swept up in the kiss. He can’t help it. All the feelings inside him are burning like he’s trapped in an inferno of his own choosing. It’s more than just a kiss. He’s had a few dozen just-a-kisses with pretty vanilla boys, a vanilla girl or two in the mix. Pleasant enough, nothing worth pursuing to get a second. And then there was his last girlfriend, who was rough enough with jagged bitten fingernails she knew how to use. It was only after going online after they broke up that he figured out his half formed interests had names. Kissing Kathleen was fiery, kissing Zeke for the first time face to face was fiery, and this is too.
Gerard ends it the same way he began it; abruptly. He pulls away and scoots back to his side of the couch. The room is silent, a rare feat for this group of people. Frank waits a minute for Gerard to explain himself. When it becomes obvious with the first sip of vodka that explaning isn’t on his agenda, Frank stands and walks as calmly as he can to the bathroom. He doesn’t want to create more of a drama by running out and slamming the door behind him.
Once he’s in a stall he beats off furiously, in both senses of the word. Why would Gerard start something that so obviously can’t be finished? And why did he have to like it so much? Having his crush confirmed as applicable in real life doesn’t help. It makes things worse.
Coming is barely a relief. It’s really only one factor removed from the dozen thoughts-feelings-sensations clamouring at him.
***
Frank gets halfway through Cubicles before he bursts out “what does he think he’s doing?”
Ray is a pretty wise guy. He doesn’t try to make an excuse for his best friend. “He likes you. He wasn’t thinking, just doing.”
Frank scowls. “Liking me comes with baggage. Like a literal bag of ropes and spreaders and sterilized needles.”
The snort that comes out of Ray is soft, just like his voice when he replies. “Our introduction sort of proved that. It doesn’t need to be explained.”
“So then, so what if we both like each other? You think he can handle that?” With everyone else in the band so optimistic, he has to be the realist.
“I think that instead of being pissy, and acting like once an addict always an addict, you should talk to him.”
It was a lame idea yesterday from Mikey, and Frank isn’t liking it much more now. He scoffs and puts his fingers down again.
Two run-throughs of Cubicles later he puts the guitar down and stands up. If he says something maybe he’ll stop making up speeches in his head about what he might say. And when Gerard continues to match Otter shot for shot, Frank can have his miserable but honest I told you so.
It doesn’t take Frank long to find the Ways sitting together, playing a game of Magic. Frank knows they both only brought two decks, which apparently is just enough variety of gameplay for two weeks of tour. Normally Frank likes watching them. They both get highly vocal about not enough mana, or when their creature gets killed. Right now he’s on a mission.
“Mikey, I gotta talk to Gerard.”
Mikey only sticks around as long as it takes to put his hand of cards face down on the floor. Gerard makes the same move, a small pile of yellow sleeves against Mikey’s red.
“What’s going on?”
Might as well plunge in headfirst. “I’m not straight edge. I honestly couldn’t give a shit if you’re drunk constantly, as a friend. But I can’t have the kind of relationship I need with someone that’s mostly drunk.”
“I can stop drinking.”
“Really.” The skepticism comes out harsher than he meant it to.
“I didn’t drink three quarters of my life. It’s not like I need it to live.”
Frank’s pretty sure childhood shouldn’t count. And he’s also pretty sure that functional addicts need it as much as dysfunctional addicts do. On the other hand, he’s only seen Gerard on tour. Maybe there’s a fourth version of him when he’s at home that doesn’t pour alcohol down his throat like water. He doesn’t say anything, not wanting anything else mean to come out.
“Okay, so you don’t believe me. I get it. You don’t know me well enough to know I follow through.” Except Frank kind of does. He’s here, not in a restroom in Atlanta, isn’t he? “But answer me a question. Is it just the drinking? Like, if I was totally sober you’d want to kiss me?”
“I’ve wanted you to tie me up and fuck me for a week. But drunks can’t untie knots. And what if you passed out before you did? Do you know how bad my circulation could get?”
“I wouldn’t do that. It wouldn’t happen.”
“Yeah. It’s almost soundcheck. I’m gonna go for a walk.”
Frank walks for maybe twenty minutes before he passes a library. It’s not a hard decision to go in. He doesn’t particularly need to witness Gerard pregaming, unable to keep his vow for even a few hours. The place is open until ten, but Frank leaves with enough time to catch the night’s performance.
The concert goes by too quickly, like always. Frank could spend his entire life listening to My Chem play. Frank wants onstage Gerard as much as he wants the different, offstage version. This Gerard he doesn’t feel as bad about desiring. In the pit he’s just one of a hundred people that want the sexy lead singer. He throws himself around in the audience, barely noticing that his fingers are playing the chords that Ray’s are.
They’re not driving for long before Gerard leans forward in his seat and shouts “oh fuck yeah! A Walmart! Pull over.”
“What? No.”
Otter’s reply is casual, Gerard’s isn’t. “Pull over or I will kick you in the face.”
Doubtful that Gerard literally will, Frank thinks. He could maybe manage a kick to the back of the head, if he could curl around the piled merch. With the passenger side occupied, Gerard would have a rough time getting the right angle for a shot to the nose. And that’s just logistically speaking. If you throw in morals, Frank doubts that Gerard would actually let himself break anyone’s nose, let alone My Chem’s drummer with five shows left.
Otter pulls into the next entrance anyway. He can obviously hear the determination and tension Frank hears. Stopping for ten minutes is by far the lesser of two evils over Gerard being cranky the rest of the night.
Gerard and Ray go in. Ray comes out five minutes later with a two liter of Coke tucked under his arm. Gerard takes nearly half an hour. When he opens the side door his plastic bag is tightly knotted, and no amount of pestering from Mikey will get the contents explained. Not that Mikey genuinely cares. Frank’s sure he just wants to know because he doesn’t know.
Eventually, when it’s late enough that not even Iron Maiden blasting is keeping their eyes open, Otter pulls into a motel parking lot. It’s complete with a flickering neon sign that offers pay by the hour rooms. Frank’s not sure what the motel would have more of; prostitutes or bugs. On the other hand, no one will ask why they’re parked. Anyone that actually bothers to notice there are people still in the van will automatically assume they’re pimps, drug dealers, or cops. Possibly dirty cops selling drugs while waiting for their women to be ready for them.
Frank’s the last of them to fall asleep, and he really doesn’t take long. He wakes up an untold time later to Gerard shaking him. He’s not in the coveted passenger seat anymore, turned around to get a hand on Frank’s knee. He’s not even in the space between the front seats. Instead he’s got the van door open, cold December air blowing in around him. He’s lit by orange neon. “Wake up, I’m booking an hour.”
Frank follows Gerard across the parking lot. He’s not sure how much he really wants to, but if he doesn’t go it’s likely Gerard will just start talking about whatever he wants to talk about while standing outside the van. If the talking doesn’t wake up the guys the winter draft will. He’d rather have another awkward conversation than Mikey and Otter and Ray pissed at him.
The manager doesn’t blink an eye at two guys renting a room at one in the morning. Frank guesses they’re probably the tenth this week. They get their key and go to their room.
Gerard doesn’t start a conversation. Instead he takes off his shirt and goes into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Out of his plastic bag he pulls a box of bleach, a box of hair dye, and a pair of flipflops. Looking at the greasy brown coating in the shower, Frank mentally applauds Gerard’s common sense.
“I’m all for revamping your look, but any reason it needs to be right now?” Gerard could probably do this almost as easily at tomorrow’s venue, and tomorrow it wouldn’t interrupt their sleep.
“Yeah. I’m gonna be a sober redhead with a sub instead of a drunk lonely brunet.”
“Uh.” He’s not awake enough for this.
“It’s gonna be great!”
Judging by Gerard’s expression, it’ll be better than the second coming of Jesus Christ. Frank’s not sure how to respond to such bare faced enthusiasm. He really wants to believe Gerard’s words. If it was true, it would be great. He’s just not sure it’ll be true.
“I didn’t drink before we went on stage. Not one beer. Ask Otter. He called me a pussy like fifteen times. I know twelve hours doesn’t prove forever, but you said you wanted me if I changed. Did you mean it?”
Frank darts forward to kiss Gerard, a chaste one before he backs up to answer. “I meant it.”
He means it. Frank might not trust Gerard to never drink again. He’s not even sure that’s necessary, Zeke partied on occasion. He does trust Gerard to keep to keep him safe. The first thing he ever did was sense something was wrong and get him to safety.
“The bleach has to sit for awhile. We should make out until your scalp burns.”
Gerard shakes his head. “You like anticipation. One more kiss now and then we wait until tomorrow.
Frank smiles. Already Gerard is doing this the right way.
***
When they pull over so Mikey can take his turn driving Frank pulls a blanket over his head so he doesn’t have to watch all the near misses. Mikey’s driving is hazardous to Frank’s emotional capacity. He feels someone sit beside him and can only imagine it’s Gerard, just deposed from the driver’s seat. He doesn’t peek out to make certain.
A few minutes later Gerard pries up the edge of the fleece and joins him under the blanket. “I’ve come to join you.”
“Do you have ulterior motives?” Frank whispers.
“I could if you want me to,” he whispers back.
Frank wants him to. Every inch of him wants Gerard to touch him. It’s only been overnight, but he wants. But he wants to wait too, until Gerard’s giving it instead of him taking it.
They wait for each other, exhalations heating the blanket a little, the sun doing it a little more. Finally Gerard turns his head and presses his lips against Frank’s. It’s more than it was last night. It’s so much more, every moment saying finally finally finally. It’s going to his head already. His body is burning, more than the blanket or the weak sunshine should call for.
Gerard undoes his seat belt and climbs over to straddle Frank’s lap. The blanket is still cocooning them, just vertical instead of horizontal. They’d be an obstacle in the rear view mirror, but Mikey doesn’t check his mirrors anyway. Frank feels brilliant, trapped in the fleece and under his boyfriend’s -his dom’s- weight. It’s loose bondage, makeshift but no less fantastic for it.
He bites Frank’s lip then sits up a bit so he’s on his knees instead of resting against Frank’s chest. Gerard’s pushes both hands under the hem of his shirt and moves them slowly up. First his fingertips are on the lowest part of his belly just above his belt, then the undersides of his knuckles, then the heels of his palms. Gerard’s hands are sweaty, as wet and warm as Frank feels, like the inferno inside him is burning Gerard too. They travel slowly up, pulling the front side of Frank’s shirt with them, the back still pinned between the seat and his back. His thumbs twitch over his nipples and Frank bucks up enough that Gerard needs to throw a hand out to balance himself.
As they start to sweat Gerard’s hair smears against his forehead. Frank can’t really see colour through the filtered light, can only see the stain it leaves against his skin. He wants to lick the dye off, or pull on Gerard’s poorly painted hair, or kiss Gerard again and this time never stop. He stays as still as he can instead, arms folded and tucked between the small of his back and the blanket softened upholstery. None of that is his to decide.
“Could you guys not? We can hear you, you know.”
Ray answers Otter before they think to, suddenly startled into remembering they’re not alone. “Give ‘em a break. In four days we’ll be back in Jersey, and you never have to listen to it again.”
“Ray Toro, you are a champion for love!” Gerard shouts happily. Frank doesn’t say anything, not quite at that point of normalcy yet.
Gerard pulls away after one last kiss, tossing the blanket off the both of them. He settles back into his seat and puts his seat belt back on. Most people would call it cockteasing. Frank would call it perfection. He’s hard, needing, and Gerard decides when something happens about that. What other word is there?
***
Otter’s friends pick him up after their last show, and help him cart away his drums. They’re big, beefy guys like he is. They all have the look of second string quarterbacks, the guys that are full of team pride but didn’t get much exercise. Whatever. They’re strong enough to carry Otter’s kit, which is enough for Frank. He’s not good at hauling shit that big.
Ray’s parents and brothers take him home. According to his taller brother -Frank didn’t catch the name, was just impressed with his 6’5 frame- they’ve got an extended family dinner waiting. Ray protests that it’ll be nearly eleven, and the cousins and Grandpa will be asleep, but Frank can tell he’s happy about the fuss. Ray’s a family kind of guy.
Frank just watches as Gerard and Mikey make a deal that he’ll take Mikey’s gear if Mikey stays away for a bit. He knows Mikey’s doing it a little for him, so they can finally do something with their clothes off. Of course, it’s not entirely altruistic. There are about ten women eyeing Mikey up. Both the Ways are probably equally sexually pent up, and this is just a way to make sure both parties win.
Their house is unique, from what Frank sees of it. Not much, admittedly. They go in through the back door and sneak down the stairs.
“I’m not ashamed of you or anything. It’s just my parents will want to get to know you, not just say hello. My mom will judge you by your cigarette brand, and my dad will ask what books you’ve read lately. There’s time for all of that tomorrow, right?” Gerard looks at him anxiously.
“Parents planning our future can wait until after our first time, yeah.” It’s not like Frank plans on taking Gerard to his mom any time soon. Hell, he’s not even sure when he’s going home.
The anxious look doesn’t fade from Gerard’s face as they close the door to his bedroom. Someone that doesn’t know Gerard might think it’s sudden shame at seeing his dorky bedroom through a stranger’s eyes that makes Gerard frown. Frank knows that Gerard knows Frank thinks nerds are awesome. Except for people that like Spiderman, because he is a whiny bastard. Tobey Maguire did not do the character any favours. But all of Gerard’s action figures and comics and memorabilia is pretty cool, in that dorky way.
“What’s up?” he asks, tossing himself onto Gerard’s bed.
“I don’t own any toys. I mean, I have a vibrator and a flesh tube. But nothing like bondage stuff.”
“Who says you’re getting past first base?” Frank jokes.
Unfortunately for the both of them, the remark is true. Every time Frank’s hand moves to Gerard’s zipper his parents make noise upstairs. It can’t be purposeful cockblocking, unless they have surveillance cameras, but it’s still preventing everything Frank wants to do. He doesn’t mind an audience in a no-touching monogamous scene, but that doesn’t include parents.
“I can’t do this here,” he admits finally.
“Yeah. It’s kinda distracting.” Gerard doesn’t seem too distracted, he’s still hard and panting against Frank’s neck. But he’s willing to get up and drive to the nearest hotel. A hotel-hotel, not like where they had their second kiss.
“Kinda funny we get a hotel after we get home from touring. Like we could have done all of this then, if we were just gonna do it in a hotel.”
Frank shakes his head. “Nah. I did the touring thing. Mikey and Ray and Otter would have wanted in. Five guys in one hotel room is no better than five guys in a van. Worse, really, in some ways. In a hotel people feel like they have the right to take their pants off.”
He was being honest. He doesn’t even see what he set up until he walks into it with Gerard saying “you have the right to take your pants off.”
“Is that a suggestion, or an order?”
“Frank, about that-”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, no. Not when they’re so close to having something! Gerard hasn’t had internet access yet, he shouldn’t be scared off by Googling things he doesn’t understand yet. “What?”
“You said you wanted me to tie you up and fuck you. But I don’t know anything about knots. I don’t even know anything about rope. When I think rope I think the wrist thick yellow rope that hung from the ceiling that the asshole gym teachers made people climb. I assume that’s not the right rope. Also, where do you buy it?”
“I like it, and you’ll learn it” if this lasts, if this works, if he stays sober, please god let this last “but I like other stuff too. And I bet there’s stuff that you like that you wouldn’t consider kinky that some people would.”
When he actually gets internet access, he should print off a list. Not so much for negotiation purposes, just so Gerard can see how much there is to experience.
“Otter was right about the holding thing. Not that we ever had sex for him to know. He’s very very straight.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard him talk about pussy. So see? There’s a thing. Or have you ever accidentally dug your nails in? Because that I really like. I’m a man about sharp pain, not dull.”
“Oooh. Oh! I have like forty million clothes pegs at home to dry art. They’ve got really good springs they should pinch.”
Frank grins. He’s had good experiences with DIY clamps.
“But you said you liked bondage and stuff.”
“For now, you know something easy that really works? Only take my clothes off halfway. Jeans don’t stretch, so I’ll only be able to open my legs as far as you slide them down.”
“Could we maybe try the sharp pains stuff first? Once I research I’ll know what I’m doing, and then it’ll be easier to do the bondage stuff.”
It’s not like Frank is expecting expert Shibari. But he can understand how Gerard might need some time. “Yeah. That’s fine. Just don’t freak out when you see shit. You know how the internet is.”
“So, take off your pants.” This time his voice is firm, exactly the way Frank wants to hear it. “And when they’re off, fold them and your shirt and put them on the table.”
His skin is cold from the blasting air conditioning, but he does as he’s told.
“Now kneel between the beds. I’ll be back in-. Kneel.”
The ugly pink carpet is surprisingly soft against his bare legs. Gerard didn’t mention a particular position, so he lets himself fold more, so his ass is resting on his heels. After a moment he folds his arms behind his back and does his best to clasp his elbows. His chin drops to his collarbone, so all he can see is the small expanse of pink and the night stand. If his gaze was higher he’d see the digital clock slowly tick its way through minutes. He doesn’t want to see. Gerard’s intention was that he not know how long Gerard was gone, even if it wasn’t stated in the clearest way, and that’s what Frank intends to submit to.
At some point, he hears footsteps. He doesn’t raise his head. There’s a soft shuffle, then Gerard kneels behind him. None of their skin is touching, but he can feel the heat of Gerard radiating. If Gerard was to breath deeply, Frank would be able to feel his stomach expand against his back.
The first scratch comes as a surprise. It’s only one finger, starting at his hairline and scraping down to where his neck meets his shoulders. Frank tilts his head to look at the left bed, to give more room. Gerard ignores him, the next scratch down the right side of his lower back. It’s longer than the few inches of his neck, with more pressure applied. The third is against his right shoulder, the fourth just above the crack of his ass. With each painful nail, Frank finds himself coming a little more apart, sticking a little more together. It’s impossible to describe to someone not feeling it.
Gerard feels it. Frank’s certain he does. His breath is regulated, but he’s a singer, he knows how to regulate his breathing in any circumstance. Frank knows he feels it because he grabs his asscheek and digs in like it’s a handful of sand. Frank shudders as five crescents of fire shoot directly across his groin to his dick, and Gerard reaches around to pinch his nipple with the same brutal fingernails.
He doesn’t hesitate, just curls both arms around him like it’s a hug, then immediately throws away the gentle movement when he lines each finger up with a rib and pulls sideways. It’s the first time Frank can see what he’s doing, and it makes it all the better.
“I want to make you come. Tell me to stop if that’s not what this is about for you.”
Frank doesn’t say a word. Later they’ll have to talk about setting boundaries of a scene before it’s started, but right now Gerard wants to make him come, so that’s what Frank wants to happen.
He knows how to make it happen. Gerard waits to hear the protest, and when there’s none he starts to jerk him off. Every third stroke he loosens his grip so he can scrape his thumb against the head of Frank’s cock. It’s only when he’s coming that he unfolds, Gerard anticipating the throw back of his head an instant before he arches and shoots all over the drawer of the nightstand.
Gerard grabs him by the hips and pulls them up. Frank’s too close to the furniture to fully go on hands and knees, but Gerard’s got him at enough of an angle that it’s easy for him to press his cock in the crack of his ass. With an arm curved around him to hold him where Gerard wants, it doesn’t take long for Gerard to come. Evidently he was just as turned on scratching as Frank was being scratched. A good sign for the future, Frank thinks.
In the first genuinely affectionate move of the night, Gerard pulls hard on the shiny quilted cover blanket until it comes half off the bed, and then wipes Frank with it.
“I love you, and that was really great. Do you want to lie down now?”
“Yeah.” It’s all he wants to say. They can analyse the scene later. For now he just wants to be in Gerard’s arms.
***
Everything seems off when Frank wakes up, eyes sticky as he blinks them open. The immediate concerns clear. He’s not tied with no circulation left. Gerard hasn’t left in a big kinky-and-or-gay freak out. There’s no one in the room attempting to rob them.
It takes a minute to hit him. The generic painting Frank fell asleep looking at was a boat last night. Now, with his eyes fully open and staring at the same wall, it’s foliage.
It’s late morning, so Frank has no problem nudging Gerard. “Wasn’t that a boat last night?”
“I don’t want to sound pretentious, but hotel room art makes me want to cry. I try not to look at it.”
Frank shrugs. He’s sure it was different, but it doesn’t matter enough to argue it. Instead he gets out of bed. To get coffee he needs to go to the lobby, and he needs to be dressed to go to the lobby. He grabs the shirt he was wearing last night, attempting in vain to shake the fold creases out. One day he’ll get used to not wearing the same shirt four days in a row. That day is not today.
He considers turning the shirt right side out for the delicate natures of the elderly and suburban moms that might be in the continental breakfast room. In the end he leaves it inside out. He likes that side better, and if anyone is offended by it, they deserve to be. Assholes in the pit or assholes in pink sweats and green plastic visors, he’ll call any and all of them out.
The words really aren’t that offensive, he thinks. Some guy was being homophobic about the band in the crowd, so he snatched a sharpie, turned his shirt inside out, and wrote Homophobia Is Gay on it. It was an easy way to get across the message that that’s bullshit, and he didn’t have to resort to punching the guy fifteen times until his nose broke. It’s not like he wrote Fags Fuck Assholes, Breeders Fuck Cunts, Why Do You Care? on it.
“Where are you going so early?” Gerard groans, eyes still tightly shut.
“Coffee. And it’s not early. It’s past ten.”
“As your dom can I order you to not get up before noon?”
Frank grins. “You can tell me not to bother you, but I doubt you can change my actual biorhythms.”
“Well hell. Now that we’re awake, might as well get good coffee.” Gerard pushes the heaps of blankets off his body. It’s a good sight. When given a real bed, Gerard sleeps in the nude.
They’re leaving Starbucks, biggest cups of coffee they can legally buy in hand when a girl accosts them. She’s about his height, with long brown hair. The top of her face is hidden behind a jester’s mask, at least until she pushes it high on her forehead to see better. “Oh my God! I was right! Holy fuck! Frerard!”
Frank’s confused by the slip of the tongue. “Did you mean me or Gerard?”
“Oh my god! Frank Iero is talking to me!” People that are as excited as she is faint. Frank’s seen it before, just never directed towards him. Maybe she was a big Pencey fan back in the day. He’d always thought they’d all hate him though, for breaking up the band.
“I’m not dreaming, right? You were kissing, right?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Oh man. El Jay is going to shit.”
Frank still has no idea what’s going on, or why some Spanish guy would care that he was kissing his boyfriend when he was bored in line. It’s too early for mysteries, he’s only had a sip of his coffee. He tugs on Gerard’s hand and starts to pull him around the stranger. It’s not too early for more kissing, somewhere that isn’t around crazy women.
After a second she runs the few steps to catch up. “Wait! I have to ask something. Em see are unofficial will kill me if I don’t. Uh. Uh. All I can think of is stupid crap, like what’s your favourite coffee mix. No, don’t answer that, that wasn’t my question. Fuck. Uh. Oh! Okay. Why does Korse hate you?”
Frank looks at Gerard. It’s clear he has no idea who that is either. She looks like she’s on the verge of mental breakdown, like if she doesn’t get an answer she’ll just collapse in the street. Not willing to cause that much drama, Frank answers blindly. “Because he’s a fuckin’ prick!”
“That’s it?”
“Some people are just fuckin’ pricks.”
“Can I get a picture with you guys?”
Still confused, he shrugs then agrees. He can’t see the harm in some person he’ll never see again having their picture. It’s better than her freaking out at them if he says no. They huddle together and she stretches her arm as far as it will go to take the picture. The image that shows on the preview picture menu pleases her, and she separates from them.
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone now. I’ll see you tonight. I don’t have a meet and greet or anything, but I’ll be there. Play some of your old stuff!”
“I’m sure we don’t play tonight,” Gerard ponders. “Ray or Mikey would have said something if we had a second Jersey show.”
“You don’t. I would remember too.” Frank had memorised the tour schedule when Ray told him, the night he started hitching with them. It had been important to figure out where his mom would be the day he got home, and what mood would result from what commitment she had just fulfilled.
“Back to the hotel, or keep walking?” Gerard asks.
“We don’t have to check out until noon. It’s not very cold, might as well keep walking.”
“Cold makes steaming coffee taste better anyway.”
They walk for a bit before Frank sees a odd line of people and wonders if a con is about to occur. Nearly all of the teens -and most of the adults- are cosplaying. From a distance he can’t see a singular often repeated symbol, he can only see the colour explosion. Whatever they’re about to experience, it looks interesting. If it’s a full week thing, maybe he and Gerard can scrape up a costume and join. Most cons sell one day passes, at least in Frank’s experience.
He’s about to point them out to Gerard, who’s focus is solely on the lighter that he can’t get to stay lit, when the cosplayers spot them. From being pointed at to being completely swarmed is maybe thirty seconds. It’s weird for a second, and then it moves way beyond weird to frightening. There so many people shouting things he can barely hear, a good chunk of them just B horror movie screaming. And they’re all trying to touch him and Gerard. His jacket is being ripped from trying to pull out of the grip they have on him. To make it worse, he’s losing sight of Gerard. His boyfriend is being dragged into the current of people.
Just as Frank starts to hyperventilate, a massive guy shoves his way through the swarm. He grabs both of them by an arm and deftly tugs them through the crowd. With such a swift and strong pulling, Frank has to trot to keep up. He keeps pulling until they’re at a side door, and then he takes five seconds to type in a code and shove them through it.
He doesn’t speak until they’re alone in a hallway. “What the hell guys? You know there was no barrier.”
Frank has no idea what to say, but Gerard manages an apology, to which the guy tells them to not do it again, and then leaves, irritation in his step. Gerard’s coat got left in the crowd, the only real way to get him out of a parka with both his arms being clung to. Frank’s shitty windbreaker is cheap enough that he doesn’t care that it’s torn. He just strips it off and tosses it into the corner. Maybe the insane cosplayers can find a use for it later.
Frank’s looking for a place to put the cigarette butt -technically Gerard’s, but he took the last drag that got it to filter, so it’s his problem- when he sees their doppelgangers. They’re not entirely identical. Both of them have short hair. The Gerard he’s facing is skinnier, and the Frank he’s facing has a tattoo on both sides of his neck. But there’s no question that the faces of himself and his boyfriend are on other people. Seeing them, Frank’s stunned into silence.
The other Frank is not. “Well, I guess Mikey is finally getting revenge for the portraits of him thing. Lookalikes. Except your picture is a bit dated. I cut my hair.”
Real Gerard looks at Frank, then turns to his clone. “Do you believe in parallel universes?”
Other Frank applauds. “Similar voice and pretends to likes sci-fi. Bonus points for that.”
Real Gerard turns to other Gerard. “Mikey hates refried beans bcause you convinced him they were Yorkshire Terrier poo when your cousin made you dog-sit. Elena gave you your first drag of a cigarette. You were horrified when Joe told you about Fear Factor. I’m you, I’m just not from here. I don’t know if this world has magical principles, but can you think of any reason, any way you might have pulled us into this universe?”
Other Gerard stares at him in shock. Other Frank nudges him. “Come on Gee. Don’t tell me you believe him.”
“How did he know if he’s not me?”
“Elena was a lucky guess, someone had to get you started. And Mikey told someone, I think, thanks to the Power Pup. And what fan would think you’d be pro the kind of shit they do on Fear Factor?”
Frank rolls his eyes. Of course other him is a cynic. “Fine, I’ll do it too. You think bees are badass, and for a while you thought Jamia Nestor was the love of your life.”
Other Frank snorts. “Wow man, that’s shocking!”
“That’s what I-”
“Sarcasm, man. Part of Fun Ghoul’s costume is bee related, so there’s that. And of course my wife is the love of my life.”
“What!” Frank feels a little woozy. “How is that possible?”
Other Gerard looks at him. “In your world you’re not married to her?”
“Hell no. In my world we’ve been dating a week.”
Other Frank remains disbelieving. “You’re taking the Frerard angle too hard, guys.”
“Yeah! What the hell is that? Someone said it earlier!”
“You know, I almost believe you now? Any fan that cared enough to cosplay us would react to that word. A few creepers, but most by shouting fourth wall.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Gerard must hear the upset in his voice, he slings an arm around his shoulders. It’s not enough to center Frank, they’re not quite there in the relationship. It’s still nice.
“Maybe they don’t have it in your world. Or maybe you’re not big enough. You are still in a band, right? My Chemical Romance?”
“Yeah, same as you. We’re touring Bullets.”
Other Frank looks at Gerard like he just said something ridiculous. “Not that I buy this. But what year is it for you, if you actually weren’t bullshitting?”
“Two thousand two.”
“See, two thousand eleven here. So you’ve moved in time, not just across worlds. But you have Mikey at home? He didn’t travel with you?”
“No, he and Otter and Ray didn’t come with us. Or if they did, we haven’t stumbled across them yet. But I bet they’re all still in bed. Touring was sorta exhausting for the four of us. In a good way, you know what I mean. But you really wanna sleep for a while after, in a bed you can stretch out in.”
“What about Frank?”
“Well, he likes the music. Right? You do, right? Don’t lie if you don’t.”
“Shut up Gerard,” he answers easily, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.
“But. He doesn’t play?”
“I play here?” It’s almost cruel to find that out. Still, at least in some universes he gets to.
“You should really let him play. He makes the songs so much more dynamic.”
“Frank doesn’t even want to play. He quit his last band because he didn’t like playing anymore.”
Other Frank crosses his arms. “If it was Pencey he had good reason.”
“He would have said?” Gerard doesn’t sound as confident anymore.
“How could I have said anything? Rescuing me wasn’t enough, you had to let me join your awesome band?”
Gerard doesn’t answer him. Frank didn’t really expect him to. But the silence is going to get awkward, so he needs to find something to say. Preferably something unlikely to break the universe. Other Frank is a shirt with his own writing scrawled on it. Frank points and asks “what’s that?”
“My babies. Lily and Cherry. Me and Jamia have kids.”
It’s another shocker. Frank likes kids. If Mikey and his eventual girlfriend eventually have seven, and he’s still with Gerard and friends with Mikey then, he’ll happily spend time with all of them. But he can’t see turning his and his dom’s relationship into a relationship about providing for children for twenty years.
“Wow. That’s. Wow. I hope you and her are really happy.” It’s true, as far as it goes. It’s also true that he’s thankful it isn’t him, but that much he won’t say out loud.
Other Gerard looks at Gerard. Frank almost laughs when he ruffles his hair the same way Gerard does. Cross the universe, and Gerards everywhere are still twitchy. “Assuming the band stuff stays the same, but you don’t have a Lindsey? The fourth time you feel so stagnant and depressed you think you’ll never create again? Go to the desert in California.”
Other Gerard’s phone goes off. He pulls it out of his tight jeans and checks it. “Mikey wants you to tell him what that movie with the sewer dinosaurs is. He’s trying to argue a point.”
It sounds like an argument Frank could get into. “Should we come with, or-”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s our job to host you while you’re here. But stay here, and we’ll bring them to you first. It’ll make it funnier.”
“Mikey’s gonna shit.”
Frank’s not sure how long they’re going to stay here, but with Gerard standing beside him, Frank’s safe. He got used to not being in Atlanta with Zeke in a few days. So what if another universe takes a week or a month? He’ll do it with Gerard, and it’ll be okay. He leans in for a kiss for that hint of reassurance. When he pulls away their doppelgangers are gone, and the venue is empty.
“We better not fall into a parallel universe every time we kiss. That’ll get old fast.”
Frank would point out that it didn’t happen any of the other times, so this was probably some sort of lesson. It’ll be a lot more fun to say “we could test the theory?”
Gerard kisses him deeply. They stay in the back of the venue.
“Try it again? We need a large pool of data to be scientific, right?”
“We’ll do it on the way home. Right now we’re in property we’ll be accused of breaking in to. I’d like to avoid getting arrested.”
“At least until you’re a big name rock star?”
“Until we’re big name rock stars.”
Frank pulls away from under Gerard’s arm so he can look him directly in the face. He looks sincere. It doesn’t mean it’s a sure thing. They’ll have to have a band meeting to see if Mikey and Ray and Otter agree. Ray’s the one with the most to lose, his status as The Guitarist will be gone. Otter’s not super comfortable with their relationship. And Mikey might want revenge for that time Frank doesn’t even remember when they wouldn’t let him into Pencey. But there’s a chance, now. It’s enough to make Frank smile.