prompt fic no 1
Hi. First prompt fic is done! I am sorry for being slow with these, but I promise to try to write something for everyone (poke me if I don't).
For Elena (some parts added/changed after commentficcing), beta by Mony.
the second time the band saves gerard's life
Frank/Gerard, 1400 words, PG, prompts: one week of danger and dec 16 '06
Frank's knees hurt from standing on them for too long, holding a hand on Gerard’s back as Gerard pukes into a wastebasket squeezed between him and Mikey. The room is too hot, smells strongly of sweat and Gerard’s vomit, and Frank thinks if it doesn’t end soon, he’ll start retching as well. He can already feel it in the pit of his throat.
Frank gets his pot cramps at the worst times, stomach twisting painfully, but he can't get his medicine, doesn't want to leave Gerard like this. They’re both pretty messed up, him and Gerard, but Frank knows that Gerard will be able to get through it, stop drinking. He just wishes it’d be as easy as quitting pot was for him, even as he knows that it won’t be.
Ray and Brian are amazing all through the night; shooing people out of the room, making sure Gerard gets at least some fake sense of privacy.
Ray presses a bottle of water into Frank's hands somewhere between midnight and morning in case Gerard wants to rinse his mouth from bile and sick, briefly touching the back of Frank’s neck, patting Mikey’s bony shoulder.
Ray’s fucking ace.
Frank will feel ashamed later for thinking how much he wants out, how much he wishes he could go home, never having to deal with something like this again, even if the overwhelming need to stay with Gerard wins in the end.
/
The plane ride back home to Jersey is terrifying, especially for Gerard. The way he had said his goodbyes at the Narita International Airport, one by one pulling everyone into a tight hug, murmuring quiet, desperate apologies; whispering if I don't make through this, jus’ wanted you to know you were always my favorite into Frank's neck, fisting the back of his t-shirt tightly with sweaty palms.
Frank thinks he would have punched Gerard in the face if he hadn't looked so miserable, so genuinely afraid: shaky hands and a ghostly pale face.
.
"Fuck, Frank, I - everything's so fucking f-fucked -"
"It'll get better, promise. You'll get better," Frank murmurs, rubbing his hands up and down Gerard's arms, pulling the evening sky-colored airplane blanket tighter around Gerard, wishing he'd at least stop shaking.
He glances up at Mikey on the window seat beside Gerard, finding him staring blankly at his brother like he doesn't know what he should be doing. It’s a familiar feeling for Frank.
"Hey, Mikey," Frank says, smiles slightly when Mikey snaps his head up to look at Frank, glasses smudgy and sitting at the tip of his nose.
/
Matt hadn't yelled when Ray told him they'd have to let him go: the cold silence had done a much better job at making everyone feel like they had betrayed a good friend.
Frank had thought a lot about his place in the band, not being an original member, wondering if he should even take part in the discussion that would either result in keeping Matt as their drummer or kicking him out.
But then Gerard had slurred, "C'mon, punk, let's go have this fuckin' meeting, am I right?" draping a heavy arm around Frank's shoulders, breath stinking from the contents of their mini fridge, and Ray had yelled from the back of the room, "Hurry up, guys, we need you both here."
And as stupid as the situation had been, one look at his friends and Frank knew he was as deep in it as they were, and it had been oddly comforting up until he remembered what they were about to do.
/
"I fucked up. Real fucking bad," Gerard says on the sofa bed at Mikey's, quietly so as to not wake up his brother. Frank had promised to move in during the one-week break in case they needed any help. Well, not as much promised as forced his company on them.
He pokes Gerard's ankle with his sockless foot, tucking his chin out of the covers.
"Yes, you did," he says, voice raspy from dozing on the bed for hours. "But you know it and that's why you get a second chance."
"Matt never got a second chance."
"Gerard."
"No, Frank. If anyone should have been kicked out, it's me. I'm the reason for all the tension and shit that - "
"Would you shut up about that already? Matt didn’t want to consider that maybe he was the one being wrong, didn’t think he needed to try harder. That’s the difference," Frank says, sighing. “Between you and him.” He pokes his toe harder into Gerard's leg, fingers gripping the front of his t-shirt.
"But - "
"No buts. Besides, it's you." Frank smiles when Gerard presses the heel of his palm against his stomach, fingers pushing under the hem of his shirt.
"You get all the fucking chances," he says and leans closer to bump his nose against Gerard’s when Gerard thumbs at the skin above Frank’s hip.
/
the first time frank kisses gerard, it's back in the days of club shows and living room parties. it's sloppy, careless, both drunk and cozy; frank laughs into gerard's mouth when gerard pulls him into his lap, not caring about the catcalls they get from equally drunk people.
"your brother's starin'," frank mumbles lazily, both of their mouths tugging into wide grins when mikey flips them off.
/
Gerard survives, transforms the need to drink into other addictions. More coffee, more sketching, more cigarettes, more Dungeons and Dragons in the back of the bus. He starts spending more time with his band, which - when Frank isn't completely tired of talking about the Doom Patrol or running over the faults in The Lord of the Rings movies - Frank likes just fine.
The best thing though, is when Frank kisses Gerard and the guy doesn't taste and smell like he has been sleeping with his head in a keg.
.
Frank sits on the steps in the schoolyard with his arm wrapped loosely around Gerard’s knee. He watches as Bob, Ray and Mikey talk with Brian and Marc Webb, eyes drooping from the lack of sleep.
“Thanks,” Gerard says, cigarette wobbling between his lips when he talks. There’s a giant cup of coffee next to Gerard’s feet that Frank would steal if he didn’t think Gerard needed it more. “For everything, really.”
Frank shrugs, inhaling secondhand smoke. “It’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”
/
The first thing Gerard said to Bob was, "I'm an alcoholic."
"Recovering," Frank said pointedly, bumping his hip against Gerard's thigh on his way to shake Bob's hand.
"Full-time retard," Mikey said, complaining when Gerard flicked him on the back of his head, all brotherly love, hard enough to make a loud sound.
"Guy's a pretty amazing performer though, kids love him like something fierce," Ray said, and Frank saw a lick of doubt flicker on Gerard's face.
"Fucking ace, no matter what," he said, punching Gerard in the arm affectionately before pulling him into a one armed hug.
Bob shrugged, glancing over at Brian who laughed tiredly, shaking his head. “Welcome to the band,” he said, and Bob said, “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.”
.
Bob sits behind his drum set and starts a slow comp like it’s the most natural thing for him, early afternoon sun shining through the small window high up on the wall, making him scrunch up his face.
Mikey reaches up to pull the curtains closed, smiling toothily at Bob when he swats the side of his ass with his drumstick. “Motherfucker,” Mikey says, but doesn’t even try to hide his smile.
Gerard laughs, pressing his bottle of Diet Coke tightly against his chest, meeting Frank’s eyes as Ray starts freaking out about teaching Bob all the songs before the show in Philly.
And Frank thinks, no, knows, they’ll be fine.
More than fine.
For Elena (some parts added/changed after commentficcing), beta by Mony.
the second time the band saves gerard's life
Frank/Gerard, 1400 words, PG, prompts: one week of danger and dec 16 '06
Frank's knees hurt from standing on them for too long, holding a hand on Gerard’s back as Gerard pukes into a wastebasket squeezed between him and Mikey. The room is too hot, smells strongly of sweat and Gerard’s vomit, and Frank thinks if it doesn’t end soon, he’ll start retching as well. He can already feel it in the pit of his throat.
Frank gets his pot cramps at the worst times, stomach twisting painfully, but he can't get his medicine, doesn't want to leave Gerard like this. They’re both pretty messed up, him and Gerard, but Frank knows that Gerard will be able to get through it, stop drinking. He just wishes it’d be as easy as quitting pot was for him, even as he knows that it won’t be.
Ray and Brian are amazing all through the night; shooing people out of the room, making sure Gerard gets at least some fake sense of privacy.
Ray presses a bottle of water into Frank's hands somewhere between midnight and morning in case Gerard wants to rinse his mouth from bile and sick, briefly touching the back of Frank’s neck, patting Mikey’s bony shoulder.
Ray’s fucking ace.
Frank will feel ashamed later for thinking how much he wants out, how much he wishes he could go home, never having to deal with something like this again, even if the overwhelming need to stay with Gerard wins in the end.
/
The plane ride back home to Jersey is terrifying, especially for Gerard. The way he had said his goodbyes at the Narita International Airport, one by one pulling everyone into a tight hug, murmuring quiet, desperate apologies; whispering if I don't make through this, jus’ wanted you to know you were always my favorite into Frank's neck, fisting the back of his t-shirt tightly with sweaty palms.
Frank thinks he would have punched Gerard in the face if he hadn't looked so miserable, so genuinely afraid: shaky hands and a ghostly pale face.
.
"Fuck, Frank, I - everything's so fucking f-fucked -"
"It'll get better, promise. You'll get better," Frank murmurs, rubbing his hands up and down Gerard's arms, pulling the evening sky-colored airplane blanket tighter around Gerard, wishing he'd at least stop shaking.
He glances up at Mikey on the window seat beside Gerard, finding him staring blankly at his brother like he doesn't know what he should be doing. It’s a familiar feeling for Frank.
"Hey, Mikey," Frank says, smiles slightly when Mikey snaps his head up to look at Frank, glasses smudgy and sitting at the tip of his nose.
/
Matt hadn't yelled when Ray told him they'd have to let him go: the cold silence had done a much better job at making everyone feel like they had betrayed a good friend.
Frank had thought a lot about his place in the band, not being an original member, wondering if he should even take part in the discussion that would either result in keeping Matt as their drummer or kicking him out.
But then Gerard had slurred, "C'mon, punk, let's go have this fuckin' meeting, am I right?" draping a heavy arm around Frank's shoulders, breath stinking from the contents of their mini fridge, and Ray had yelled from the back of the room, "Hurry up, guys, we need you both here."
And as stupid as the situation had been, one look at his friends and Frank knew he was as deep in it as they were, and it had been oddly comforting up until he remembered what they were about to do.
/
"I fucked up. Real fucking bad," Gerard says on the sofa bed at Mikey's, quietly so as to not wake up his brother. Frank had promised to move in during the one-week break in case they needed any help. Well, not as much promised as forced his company on them.
He pokes Gerard's ankle with his sockless foot, tucking his chin out of the covers.
"Yes, you did," he says, voice raspy from dozing on the bed for hours. "But you know it and that's why you get a second chance."
"Matt never got a second chance."
"Gerard."
"No, Frank. If anyone should have been kicked out, it's me. I'm the reason for all the tension and shit that - "
"Would you shut up about that already? Matt didn’t want to consider that maybe he was the one being wrong, didn’t think he needed to try harder. That’s the difference," Frank says, sighing. “Between you and him.” He pokes his toe harder into Gerard's leg, fingers gripping the front of his t-shirt.
"But - "
"No buts. Besides, it's you." Frank smiles when Gerard presses the heel of his palm against his stomach, fingers pushing under the hem of his shirt.
"You get all the fucking chances," he says and leans closer to bump his nose against Gerard’s when Gerard thumbs at the skin above Frank’s hip.
/
the first time frank kisses gerard, it's back in the days of club shows and living room parties. it's sloppy, careless, both drunk and cozy; frank laughs into gerard's mouth when gerard pulls him into his lap, not caring about the catcalls they get from equally drunk people.
"your brother's starin'," frank mumbles lazily, both of their mouths tugging into wide grins when mikey flips them off.
/
Gerard survives, transforms the need to drink into other addictions. More coffee, more sketching, more cigarettes, more Dungeons and Dragons in the back of the bus. He starts spending more time with his band, which - when Frank isn't completely tired of talking about the Doom Patrol or running over the faults in The Lord of the Rings movies - Frank likes just fine.
The best thing though, is when Frank kisses Gerard and the guy doesn't taste and smell like he has been sleeping with his head in a keg.
.
Frank sits on the steps in the schoolyard with his arm wrapped loosely around Gerard’s knee. He watches as Bob, Ray and Mikey talk with Brian and Marc Webb, eyes drooping from the lack of sleep.
“Thanks,” Gerard says, cigarette wobbling between his lips when he talks. There’s a giant cup of coffee next to Gerard’s feet that Frank would steal if he didn’t think Gerard needed it more. “For everything, really.”
Frank shrugs, inhaling secondhand smoke. “It’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”
/
The first thing Gerard said to Bob was, "I'm an alcoholic."
"Recovering," Frank said pointedly, bumping his hip against Gerard's thigh on his way to shake Bob's hand.
"Full-time retard," Mikey said, complaining when Gerard flicked him on the back of his head, all brotherly love, hard enough to make a loud sound.
"Guy's a pretty amazing performer though, kids love him like something fierce," Ray said, and Frank saw a lick of doubt flicker on Gerard's face.
"Fucking ace, no matter what," he said, punching Gerard in the arm affectionately before pulling him into a one armed hug.
Bob shrugged, glancing over at Brian who laughed tiredly, shaking his head. “Welcome to the band,” he said, and Bob said, “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.”
.
Bob sits behind his drum set and starts a slow comp like it’s the most natural thing for him, early afternoon sun shining through the small window high up on the wall, making him scrunch up his face.
Mikey reaches up to pull the curtains closed, smiling toothily at Bob when he swats the side of his ass with his drumstick. “Motherfucker,” Mikey says, but doesn’t even try to hide his smile.
Gerard laughs, pressing his bottle of Diet Coke tightly against his chest, meeting Frank’s eyes as Ray starts freaking out about teaching Bob all the songs before the show in Philly.
And Frank thinks, no, knows, they’ll be fine.
More than fine.