Fic: Basement Romantic 1/2
Basement Romantic 1/2
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After living with Patrick for nearly three years, Bob should have known to always expect Pete Wentz, but he still forgot on occasion.
They met for the first time about a week after Bob moved in. He had arrived home from work one night and found Pete stocking their cabinets with groceries, stuff a lot healthier than what Bob and Patrick had been eating. Patrick was nowhere in sight, so Bob introduced himself and asked what Pete was doing.
“Patrick needs to eat healthier. He owns a quarter of my soul and I want him to be around for a long time.”
Bob had blinked because he seriously doubted this was the girlfriend that Patrick had been spending long hours on the phone with. “Uh, okay. And you are?”
Pete had looked surprised at the question. “Oh! I’m Pete. Patrick didn’t tell you about me? ‘Trick and I are totally going to be married one day.”
Patrick had walked in right at that moment and snorted. “Yeah, sure, Pete. As soon as they legalize polygamy and your wife signs the permission slip. Where the hell did you put my new bag of chocolate chip cookies?”
“Wife?” Bob had asked, not sure if he really wanted to know but unable to resist.
“Ashlee and Patrick and I are perfectly happy with our polyamourous relationship,” Pete had declared before flouncing off to distract Patrick away from his search for his missing junk food stash.
As an introduction to Pete Wentz, it was entirely appropriate. Pete was at the apartment just as much as he was at his own home, and he frequently dragged Patrick out for dates with him and his wife. Bob was used to him being underfoot - literally, he was a pretty short dude - and used to ignoring him when he came up with crazy ideas. But every once in a while, he came up with something not-so-crazy.
So, Bob could trace the life-altering decision of New Jersey back to the fact that he hadn’t expected Pete Wentz.
Bob didn’t know Pete was even at the apartment when he was complaining to Patrick about feeling restless and needing a change. He had a large sum of money in the bank, leftover from his inheritance, so he could actually travel or start over somewhere without much of a problem. He had no ties in Chicago - other than his mom, he’d never really known his family, and she’d been gone two years now, and he had friends, but none of them were close enough that he’d regret leaving them. Except for Patrick, of course, but there was no doubt in his mind that if he did get out of Chicago, Patrick would make sure they stayed in touch.
Bob nearly dropped his drink when Pete suddenly appeared from the hallway and threw himself onto the couch, practically landing in Bob’s lap. “Bob Bryar, I have the perfect solution!”
Once Pete Wentz got on a roll, was excited about something or determined to have his way, there was no stopping him. Bob’s head was still reeling the next morning when he found himself on a plane headed for New Jersey and some friend of Pete’s named Mikey Way.
It wasn’t until he picked up his checked bag and started wondering about where to go from here that he realized he had no clue what Mikey looked like or how to contact him. He had just pulled out his phone to call Pete and at least get Mikey’s number when someone ran into him. Literally. The guy looked up at Bob like he was going to maybe apologize but instead he glanced back at the cell phone in his hand, a bright smile blossoming on his face.
“Bob! How perfect is this? Sorry for running into you, man, people are so pushy around here.” He gestured at the bag by Bob’s feet before pressing a button on his phone and holding it up to his ear. “This yours?”
Bob nodded. He was caught off guard by this approach, but maybe this was Mikey?
“Cool,” maybe-Mikey said, picking up Bob’s bag and turning towards the crowd. “Hey, Mikey, I found him… yeah… okay, we’ll meet you there.” Apparently-not-Mikey flashed a smile over his shoulder at Bob. “Mikey’s circling the parking lots. If he turns the car off, it’s a bitch to get it started again.”
Yeah, that was comforting. Bob followed not-Mikey through the crowded airport. There was a ratty, older model Sentra idling in the drop-off lane, and Bob’s hope that it wasn’t their ride was dashed when not-Mikey bounced - seriously fucking bounced, what the hell? Maybe he thought the fact he was bouncing on his tiptoes made him appear taller? Or maybe he was really just that happy, and if so then Bob wanted some of whatever he was on - over to the car, opened the back door to sling Bob’s bag inside, and then climbed into the front seat.
The car looked like it was held together with spit and prayer, the type of thing that could maybe fetch a hundred bucks if it had new tires and a full tank of gas. Bob approached it at a pace a lot slower than not-Mikey’s and tossed his carryon in before cautiously sliding into the backseat. He was a little worried that the entire thing might fall apart as soon as he sat down. He glanced at the front console, noticed the sound system was top of the line, and had to fight not to roll his eyes. He would never understand people who spent more money on speakers and a stereo than their car was worth, but that type of person had been paying his paycheck for a while so he couldn’t really complain.
“Hi!” The guy in the driver seat turned around to give Bob a small wave and an even smaller smile. “I’m Mikey, and I know the elfkin didn’t bother introducing himself, but he’s Frank. Our meeting with the realtor got moved up so we’re going over there now. I hope that’s okay. Brian’s gonna meet us.”
“That’s fine,” Bob answered, as if he had any other choice, and wondered again how he got himself into this situation. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because Frank kept up a steady stream of conversation, asking about the flight and about Bob’s job in Chicago and about Pete. He also said that the store they were going to look at was perfect but that Brian had said not to let the realtor know they thought so.
The store really was perfect, and something about it reminded Bob a little of the record store where he met Patrick so he took a picture with his camera phone. Patrick responded almost immediately with looks like Clicks, which made Bob smile. He wandered around a bit on his own and was studying the clutter of the walled off second room when Brian appeared beside him.
"What are you thinking?" Brian asked quietly.
“Music," Bob answered. "If we take out this wall, it'll increase the size of the main room but we can still have a decent partition between the areas with the counters. And each section has an outside door; this one just needs to be uncovered. The old guy lived in the back, and we wouldn't really need that as a living area, so we can convert one room into an office and one into a store room. Maybe invest in a storage building to put out back? That'd give Mikey half the store for his comics and me the other half -" Bob stopped suddenly, looking at Brian with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I'm kinda getting ahead of myself."
Brian shook his head. "Nah, man, I like the way you think. It’s a good investment, and we’re the first people who’ve seen the store. Darlene helped me out when I was looking for a place to move Rock City, so when this place hit the market, she called me to see if I knew anyone who’d be interested.”
“Rock City?”
“My tattoo shop. We just moved to a bigger building last year, and I’m hiring a couple new artists next week.” Brian seemed like he was going to start bragging on his business, but Mikey called him away before he could, and Bob made his way back to the others.
Bob didn’t mean to interrupt the realtor’s spiel about the recent parking lot improvements, but the parking lot wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of concerns. “What’s included in the selling price?” He really liked the glass display cases at the counter, and was hoping maybe a few of the shelves were part of the deal as well.
The realtor blinked and said, “All of it, everything in the store.”
Bob looked at Brian and found Brian looking right back at him with the same incredulous expression. Seriously?
“Aren’t they going to do an inventory?” Brian asked. There was a fine layer of dust covering everything, and Bob doubted the comics had even been touched since the doors were locked.
The realtor shook her head. “I asked for an inventory list, since I assumed the value of the furniture and product here would be included in the price, but apparently Mr. Whitson’s children didn’t inherit their father’s passions. They want the place sold along with everything in it, as soon as possible.”
Apparently the store was not only perfect, but it was a better deal than they had thought.
Bob, Frank, and Mikey left Brian to talk numbers with the realtor and piled back into the Sentra. Well, Bob and Mikey climbed back into the car, and Frank joined them after tapping on something under the hood to get the car started.
Bob must have looked a little worried about the prospect of getting somewhere safely because Mikey explained, “She’s okay once she gets going. She needs a starter, and Alicia hasn’t had time to replace it.”
Bob was going to ask who Alicia was when Frank wriggled around to pull his hoodie over his head, and his t-shirt rode up with it, revealing nearly all of Frank’s bare back and more than one tattoo. The one that caught Bob’s eye was a large jack-o’lantern in the middle of Frank’s back.
“That’s an awesome tattoo, the jack o’lantern.”
Frank turned around and grinned at Bob, pulling his shirt back down. “Isn’t it? It was my first real tattoo. Brian did it - Brian owns a tattoo shop, I don’t think any of us remembered to tell you that - but Gerard drew it. Gerard started drawing on me when we were kids, so it was kinda awesome when I finally got to have one of his designs made permanent.”
“Who’s Gerard?”
Bob quickly figured out that was a loaded question to ask, since he could see Mikey rolling his eyes in the rearview, and Frank started excitedly extolling Gerard’s virtues. Even though Gerard was evidently Mikey’s brother, Frank was clearly his biggest fan. Gerard was artistic and amazing and had apparently designed most of Frank’s tattoos, which required Frank twisting around in his seat and showing them all to Bob as he told the story to go along with each one.
Bob thought if there was ever any question about whether he’d miss Pete or not, Frank was the answer to it.
Bob didn’t even think about the fact that he was halfway across the country with no idea of where to stay until they pulled up in front of an apartment building and Mikey put the car in park. “Oh, um, I guess I should have asked Pete, but is there a decent hotel around here or something?”
Mikey looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Oh, I assumed that you were staying here? I mean, I don’t have a guest room or anything, but the couch isn’t that bad, as long as you don’t mind sharing with Bunny.”
“Oh! Oh, okay, cool.” Mikey didn’t know him, at all, and was offering to let a complete stranger into his home on the recommendation of Pete Wentz? Bob knew he should be surprised, but he really wasn’t. The world according to Pete wasn’t like the world normal people lived in.
Frank helped Bob carry his things up to Mikey’s apartment before disappearing across the hall to his own. He showed up later, timing it perfectly with both the buzz of the oven timer and the arrival of a hot girl in a greasy t-shirt and tattered jeans. They both walked right into the apartment like they belonged there, Frank immediately trying to stick his fingers into the pot on the stove and getting his hand smacked with a spoon for the effort.
The girl laughed, coming up to plant a kiss on Mikey’s cheek. “Smells good, babe. What are Alex and Ryland going to do without you when you leave?”
Mikey shifted around to turn the kiss into a real one - Frank making gagging faces at the two of them - before pulling away to say, “Alex is more than capable of running the kitchen himself. And the two of them are already giving me enough shit, I don’t need you guilting me too. You have ten minutes before dinner’s ready.”
Mikey watched her as she walked out of the room. Bob turned to Frank and asked, “Alicia?”
Frank nodded. “Yep, she’s hot. And scarily proficient at mechanical things. Which is good, because Mikey really, really isn’t.”
Mikey smacked Frank again and went back to making dinner.
***** ***** ***** *****
It took five days for Bob to ask Frank if he had a job. He assumed he did - he always had money and he had mentioned something about getting paid - but so far Frank was just always there, hanging out in Mikey's apartment with Bob or causing mayhem in Brian's shop with an overgrown delinquent who had been introduced as Gabe.
So it was only natural curiosity that when Frank came spinning across the floor in an office chair for the third time in less than an hour, Bob stopped him. “Jesus, Frank, don't you have a fucking job or something?”
Frank just grinned, like Bob wasn’t seconds away from strangling him, and said, “Of course, man, Gabe and I work for Brian. Give me a push?”
“As what, entertainment?” Bob grumbled, but gave Frank a push anyway before setting out to find Brian.
Brian was in his office, pretending to work but most likely checking the internet for highlights of the game he missed the night before. He barely glanced up when Bob came in and flopped down in the chair across the desk from him.
“Frank and Gabe work for you?” Bob wasn't sure he actually believed that.
Brian nodded. “Yeah, kinda.”
“You pay them to hang out and terrorize your customers, harass your employees, and break shit?”
Brian did look up at that, smiling like he knew a secret. “I'm guessing neither of them told you they met in college? They both did double majors, so they both have business degrees. Gabe also has an accounting degree, and Frank has a degree in some kind of web graphic design bullshit.”
Bob stared at him, waiting for the punchline, but apparently Brian was serious. “So you're telling me that Frank and Gabe have business degrees? The same Frank and Gabe who are right now riding around on office chairs and who spent the morning playing video games out front? That Frank and Gabe?” Bob shook his head, trying to reconcile that in his head. “You let Gabe handle your accounts and Frank design your website?”
“Well, yeah, because if it were the other way around, all our company functions would be vegan food only and my website would be full of purple spirals. Here,” Brian quickly keyed something in and then turned the monitor so Bob could get a better look, “see? Frank’s good at what he does. Gabe too. I mean, a lot of the stuff they do, I could do myself, but it would be a fucking headache. So it’s worth it to pay them for it.”
Okay, so the website looked professional and well-done, and Bob had meant to ask what kind of accounting software Brian used, but it was still hard to believe.
“Gabe owns a nightclub, too. Actually, even if you don’t hire them, he’d be a good one to talk to as far as getting you and Mikey set up with how to share expenses for the one building. Midtown shares a space with his friends’ restaurant, This is Ivy League, where Mikey works. So he’s got experience with that.” Brian turned his monitor back around with a grin. “Plus, that’ll get him out of my shop for a while.”
Frank and Gabe were already out of the shop, having moved their shenanigans to the parking lot. Bob didn’t even want to know where they got the hockey stick or what they were doing with what looked like the contents of Adam’s lunchbox.
“Um, hey? I know we haven’t finalized anything with the store yet, but I wanted to talk to you two about maybe helping me get set up, doing the same kinda stuff you do for Brian.”
Gabe immediately dropped the hockey stick and came over to throw his arm over Bob’s shoulder. “Well, you came to the right place. I am a fucking whiz with numbers.”
Frank added, “I was hoping you’d ask. Gerard and I were already talking about designs for the webpage.”
Gabe looked surprised. “It’s not every day that Frank gets Gerard to help him with his designs. You must be special. Gerard is an artistic genius or something, but he’s a weird little fucker.”
Bob thought it was a little rich for Gabe to be calling anyone weird, but he didn’t comment.
***** ***** ***** *****
During the negotiations involved with buying the store, Bob was glad Brian seemed to have good business sense. Bob still paid enough attention to know exactly what he was getting and what he was going to be responsible for when he signed away his life and a good portion of his inheritance, but he mostly let Brian handle the paperwork and the legalese.
When everything was said and done and signed, they talked about celebrating with pizza and a Guitar Hero tournament, but Mikey got called in to cover someone else's shift, Frank had dinner plans with his mom, and there was something going on at Midtown that required Gabe’s attendance and apparently Brian’s too, so Bob went back to a quiet, empty apartment, and a couch that was blissfully empty of pizza crumbs and dirty socks for once. Bob was still sleeping on Mikey's couch and living out of his suitcase, which really wasn't a bad situation when it was temporary, but now that Bob was actually staying, he needed a place of his own.
He told Brian this the next morning, sitting in the office in back of Brian's shop, working on his third cup of coffee and contemplating stealing one of the tables in the break room for a nap. He’d been up since the wee hours of the morning. He really liked Mikey and Alicia, but there were a few things about them he could have happily lived his whole life without knowing.
With the way everything seemed to be falling into place lately, he wasn't as surprised as he once would have been when Brian said, “I've got an extra bedroom. It's kinda crammed full of shit right now - stuff that's been accumulating for years that I probably should have gone through a long time ago - but if you want it, it's yours. My house isn’t much, but I do have a patio and a small backyard and a laundry room. Rent'd be pretty reasonable, better than what you'll find elsewhere.”
Bob almost pretended he had to think it over, but then he thought about the paper-thin walls at Mikey's and the fact that, for all his usual quiet and calm manner, Mikey was a totally different creature at 3 am when he was having sex with Alicia. Yeah, no, he really didn’t need to think about it. “When can I move in?”
Frank was sitting on the hood of Brian's car when Bob walked out of the shop. He was lighting one cigarette off another and, judging by the butts littering the ground, he'd been there for awhile.
“I thought it was too quiet inside.”
“She kicked me out.” The look in Frank's eyes was part amazement and part confusion.
“Who?”
“Brian's new girl. Gabe and I were playing the new game - not getting loud or violent or anything yet - but I accidentally kicked over a chair, and she came over and told us both to get the fuck out because we were disturbing her customers.”
Bob laughed. “And you listened?”
“Man, I smiled at her and tried to be charming and apologized, but she just pointed at the door.”
“Jamia’s a tough cookie.”
“Jamia? That’s her name?”
Bob nodded, wondering if he’d just made the mistake of giving Frank a name to go with his apparent dislike of Brian’s new artist.
Frank, though, just smiled. “Jamia,” he repeated, mostly to himself, then looked up at Bob. “I think I’m in love.”
Bob ruffled Frank’s hair, which he knew Frank hated, and laughed again. Leave it to Frank to develop a puppy-love crush on a girl who wasn’t going to take any shit from him. “Come on, lover boy, drive me home. Mikey’s off today and I seem to remember you promised you’d bring dessert if he made dinner.”
Bob waited until after dinner to tell Mikey he was planning on moving in with Brian. Mikey seemed a little disappointed, even though he couldn't have expected Bob was going to take up a permanent residence on his couch. Bob pointed out that it was a small apartment and that Alicia practically lived there anyway, but then he realized that Mikey was actually more worried about disappointing Pete.
Bob didn't roll his eyes or shake his head, but it took effort. Instead, he pulled Mikey into a quick hug - he blamed in on Frank’s affectionate nature rubbing off on him or something - and said, “Mikeyway, you've been taking care of me just fine. Pete’s lucky to have a friend like you, and I’m glad he introduced us.”
Bob excused himself to call Patrick before things got any more schmoopy. Apparently Pete had been waiting for an opportunity to visit because by the end of the conversation, plans were in place for Patrick, Pete, and Ashlee to drive to New Jersey in Bob's car and bring the rest of his belongings from Chicago.
Bob didn’t expect them until at least the weekend, so he was surprised they showed up Thursday morning. He was outside Brian's shop, smoking a cigarette, avoiding Frank, and listening to Gabe tell him a different version of the party he had gone to over the weekend - Bob didn't think Gabe was a liar, just that he liked to embellish the truth to make it more interesting - when his car pulled up in the parking lot, a small U-haul trailer attached to the back of it.
Pete, predictably, was the first one out of the car, and Bob quickly tossed his cigarette to the side to catch an armful of flying Pete.
Pete hugged like he did everything else - with enthusiasm and everything he had - but Bob could admit to himself that he had missed the little fucker. Ashlee and Patrick both waited until the car was actually parked, but they were both smiling indulgently as they crossed the lot. “We brought you a present, Bob!” Ashlee called out.
“I hope you mean my bed and my stereo,” Bob answered.
“Oh, Pete’s not all that comfortable to sleep on, but he’ll be more than happy to take the place of your stereo. He’s been singing along with the radio the entire trip.”
Bob cringed. He’d heard Pete’s attempts at singing. It wasn’t pretty. “And you didn’t tie him up and throw him in the trunk?”
“Pete gets kinda excited whenever we mention getting tied up, so no.” Patrick pulled Pete away from Bob so he could sneak in his own less exuberant but no less welcome hug.
“Fuck you all,” Pete said, without any real concern in his voice, and he took off into the shop.
Bob had thought it was bad having Frank and Gabe in the shop - they were an insurance liability all their own - but Pete was worse. He and Frank seemed to encourage the craziness in each other, and it was painful to watch but it definitely made the afternoon more interesting. It was a good thing it was Jamia’s day off because she would have strung both of them up, and not in the fun way that Pete liked.
Bob was in the corner of the shop, listening to Ashlee discuss the possibility of a new tattoo with Adam, when the bell chimed to announce a new arrival. He didn’t think anything of it during the chorus of hi’s and hugs, but then he heard, “Take me to your brother, MikeyWay!”
Bob looked over to where Pete was hanging on Mikey. “Isn’t it supposed to be ‘take me to your leader’?”
Pete smiled. “Yeah, but Mikey doesn’t have a leader. He's too awesome to be a follower.”
Mikey fucking beamed at Pete, and Bob rolled his eyes. “What, Ashlee and Patrick aren't enough, you have to charm Mikey too?”
Alicia came up and pointedly pulled Pete’s arms off Mikey. “Fuck off, Wentz, this one’s mine.”
Pete just laughed and hugged her too.
It was Thursday night, which meant family dinner at the Ways’ house, and Mikey invited everyone along. Pete and Ashlee went, but Patrick opted for pizza with Bob. Bob didn’t realize the reason behind it was to get him alone.
“So, how do you really feel about polyamourous relationships?”
Bob had just taken a bite of pizza and glared at Patrick for timing it that way. But it gave him a few seconds to think before he could speak. “I hope you're asking in context of you and Pete and Ashlee, and in no way thinking of including me in your kinky shit.”
Patrick balled up a paper towel and threw it at Bob. “Yes, Pete and Ashlee, you fucker. I kinda went over to their apartment the night you left and haven't been home since.”
Bob thought about it for a moment. “Does it really matter what I think? Do you think you need my approval or something?”
“No, because I'm already doing this, and I’m gonna keep doing it whether you approve or not. But I'd rather not lose your friendship over it.”
“Patrick, I've been waiting for years for you to figure it out. Pete's always been serious, even if you weren't taking him that way. I'm happy for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Plus, now I don't have to worry about paying half the rent on our apartment until you find another roommate.”
“Chicago’s not gonna be the same without you, man.”
“I’m sure Pete and Ash will keep you busy. Do I need to give them a lecture on how if they’re playing with your feelings or something, I’ll kill them?”
“Nah, I think we’re good. I mean, as a concept it’s still hard to imagine, because it’s the three of us and it’s not normal, right? But it’s Pete, so I don’t think normal actually applies, and it doesn’t feel weird. It doesn’t feel like anything’s changed, other than the addition of great sex.”
“Yeah, that’s really more than I needed to know.”
Patrick laughed. “So, tell me about this store of yours.”
***** ***** ***** *****
Friday morning was spent setting up Bob’s new bedroom at Brian’s, and the afternoon was spent cleaning out the shop. Saturday morning they met at the shop again for more cleaning and to start doing an inventory of what was actually already in stock.
Bob knew Mikey had called his brother at least a dozen times since they started cataloguing the comic books. Therefore, he didn't think it was unreasonable to say, “Hey, why don't you just ask Gerard to come down here?”
Everyone stopped their conversations and turned to stare at him. Bob had to replay his own words in his head to make sure he hadn't suggested Mikey's brother go out and kill puppies or something. Nope, it had just been an innocent, valid question. “What? I'm just saying, wouldn't it be easier to get his help if he was actually here?”
Mikey didn't look at Bob when he answered, “Gerard doesn't come out of the house.”
Uh, okay. Given how much everyone talked about Gerard, Bob definitely hadn’t been expecting that. “Does he have one of those medical disorders that keep him at home?”
“There's nothing wrong with him - and don't let Frank ever hear you say that. He’s not scared of going outside and he doesn’t have a physical disorder. He just doesn't leave the house.” Bob had never seen Mikey look so fierce. It was a little scary.
“Okay.” He made a mental note not to ask about Gerard again.
A little while later, Bob was taking yet another bag of trash out to Alicia’s pickup when he was approached by a kid. Well, not really a kid, but a few years younger than Bob, so yeah. Kid.
“Are you the new owner?”
Bob hesitated, decided the kid was harmless, and nodded, holding out a hand. “Bob Bryar.”
“Matt Cortez,” the kid answered, shaking Bob’s hand with a firm grip. “I used to work for old man Whitson. I heard this place got new owners, wanted to see if you needed any help.”
Bob and Mikey had talked about hiring someone to help out around the store and to cover when one of them was off, but they were both dreading having to actually go through the process of finding someone to hire. The majority of the decisions Bob had made since arriving in New Jersey had been based mostly on instinct, and this situation didn’t feel any different.
“Yeah, man, I’d have to talk it over with my business partner, but if you wanna give me your number, I’ll call you when we’re ready to actually open up the store.”
“Do you need a hand with cleaning and shit? I mean, I’m not asking you to pay me to help out with that, but that’s what you’re doing now, right? And the sooner it gets done, the sooner I can actually come back? Besides, it’ll give you and your partner a chance to get to know me, see if I’m going to work out.”
They were all very valid reasons, but Bob was still a little skeptical. It must have shown in his expression because Matt added, “Look, since Whitson died, I’ve been pulling graveyards down at Walmart, and there is nothing worse than that shit. So I’m just a little eager to get back into something I actually like.”
Bob nodded. “Okay. Come inside and meet the others.”
Inside, Bob introduced Matt to Mikey, Patrick, Pete, Frank, and Ray. Bob had actually just met Ray that morning, but apparently he was a long-time friend of Mikey and Frank. His wife was very, very pregnant, and Alicia had dragged Ashlee along to the baby shower that was being thrown for her that afternoon. Bob put Matt to work helping Ray with the boxes in the back - Frank and Pete were supposed to be helping but the two of them were more interested in acting out scenes from one of their favorite movies using a pair of plastic swords they had found behind the front register - and then pulled Mikey to the side.
“I know I should have talked to you first,” Bob said, “but he seems like a good kid. If you don’t think he’ll work out, let me know.”
Mikey looked over at Matt, considering. “I think that it’s always best to go with your gut. We’ll see how it goes.”
Bob had a feeling Matt was going to work out, though. He knew where everything was in the store, seemed to get along with everyone, and worked just as hard as the rest of them. At the end of the day, after the girls had shown back up and they were piling into cars, dirty and tired but accomplished, Mikey asked Matt to join them for dinner, and Bob knew their decision had been made.
When they were all heading to This is Ivy League, Pete said from the backseat, “See if we ever come visit you again, Bryar. All you wanted was cheap labor.”
“Man, you didn’t do any labor, unless you count making the lunch run or helping Frank make capes out of tarp and find a way onto the roof, and you’re definitely the cheap one in your trio.”
Patrick and Ashlee laughed but Pete was silent. “Patrick told you?” he finally asked, sounding unsure for the first time Bob could ever remember.
Bob glanced in the rearview and caught Pete’s eyes. “Pete, I’m happy for you guys. Just… take care of each other, okay? Because I’d hate to have to fly to Chicago to sort out the mess of hiding the bodies if you don’t.”
It was mostly an empty threat because the three of them had been taking care of one another for years now, but Pete still smiled. “Of course. I doubt Patrick told you, but we’re gonna have a commitment ceremony as soon as I talk him into it. You’ve gotta come home for that.”
From the passenger seat, Patrick made a sound that sounded suspiciously like an aborted laugh.
“Sure thing, Pete,” Bob said. “As soon as you talk Patrick into it.” He figured it would be about another three years or so before that happened, but he wouldn’t miss it for anything.
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob and Jamia were standing on the side of Rock City, sharing a cigarette and watching as Frank, Gabe, Adam, and Eddie played some warped game of tag in the parking lot. There was fruit involved, and Bob wasn’t sure what the rules were, if there actually were any rules.
“I’m almost afraid to admit this,” Bob said, “but I might actually miss them.” Disenchanted was set to open the following day.
“You nervous?”
Bob was, a little. Nervous about whether or not their store would work out, nervous about whether he and Mikey would get along - which was ridiculous, because they’d been getting along just fine so far and Bob had mostly been living on Mikey’s couch - nervous about the fact his stay in New Jersey was permanent, nervous about a dozen other trivial things. “Nah,” he told Jamia. “It’ll be good.”
She smiled at him, and Bob knew that she knew he was lying. “It will,” she agreed. “And I totally plan on sending Frank over there to keep you company, so don’t worry about missing him.”
“He can’t win your heart if he’s not here, Jamia.”
And that actually was something Bob might miss. Frank on his best behavior was pretty hilarious to watch, especially when everyone knew he was doing it to impress Jamia. Even Jamia herself knew, and she had already told Bob she knew it was an act. Still, she did look a little charmed by the efforts, especially when Pete had introduced himself to her and Frank had jumped in between them, saying, “This is Jamia and she’s off-limits. If you want a new tattoo, go talk to Brian or Adam.”
Jamia stole the cigarette from Bob’s hand with a grin. “That’s part of the point!”
They were laughing together when Frank came around the corner, scowling at them. “You two are awfully friendly lately.”
That only made Bob and Jamia laugh harder, which in turn made Frank seem more irritated. Bob probably should have told him that he really wasn’t interested in Jamia like that, but sometimes it was fun to rile him up.
***** ***** ***** *****
“Hey, Bob, can you do me a favor?”
Bob rolled his eyes discreetly. He was tired, and he knew that this favor was going to involve him driving out of his way before he made it home. Mikey’s car was in the shop yet again. Seriously, Bob understood that the car was what brought Alicia into Mikey’s life, but it was about time to give it up. Alicia was damn good at what she did, but she wasn’t a miracle worker.
“I told Mom I’d bring this by the house tonight.” He handed Bob a plain brown box. “Please?”
If it was anything else, for anyone else, Bob probably would have said no. Adjusting to working every day again was hard enough, but four really long days in a row was worse. He knew Mikey and Matt had both been working as hard as he had - they hadn’t paid for much advertising but word-of-mouth had provided them with a steady stream of business, even though they were still settling in - but tonight he really felt like being selfish and succumbing to the call of a hot shower and his bed. But he really liked Mrs. Way and it really wasn’t that far out of the way. Bob had to work to decipher Mikey’s directions, but he only managed to get lost once on the way over and he found the Way house by recognizing Mrs. Way’s car parked out front.
There was a hand-drawn sign taped next to the door, swirling letters that read “bell out of order, please knock” and a miniature, sparkling emerald city in the corner of the page. Waiting on the step after he knocked, Bob fidgeted and studied the statues in the small garden that lined the front of the house. After the second knock, he was about to turn around and go back to the car - he’d left his phone there on the charger - when the door opened and Bob was greeted by the sight of a man with dark, wet hair and a towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist.
"Please tell me you're here to fix the basement shower?"
Bob shook his head and tried to pretend like he wasn’t staring at the drops of water still clinging to the man’s skin. He was a bit nonplussed by this sudden situation and, before he could recover enough to process that this had to be Gerard and to explain he was there on a mission from Mikey, Mrs. Way was there.
“Go put some clothes on, Gerard.” She swatted him affectionately and Bob caught Gerard’s grin as he turned away. Mrs. Way smiled at Bob and reached out to take the box from his hands. “Thank you, Bob. I swear, one of these days Mikey will buy a car that actually runs.”
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob meant to say something about wanting a pizza - the commercials were getting to him - but when he opened his mouth, what came out instead was, “Mikey's brother's kinda hot.”
Across the room, Brian made a noise that Bob took to mean he was choking on his beer sputtering out a laugh.
Bob could feel his cheeks heating up, but he refused to apologize or try to take it back. It was the truth, after all, and besides, it was already out there. He couldn’t make Brian unhear it.
When Brian caught his breath, he said, “Yeah, objectively, Gee could be hot, I guess. I just didn’t know you swung that way.”
Bob made a point of keeping his eyes focused on the television and not looking over at Brian. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Hell no, man! No problem!” Brian got up and headed for the kitchen. “Although, objectively, I’m hotter than Gerard, right?”
“I don’t know; I’ve never seen you half naked.”
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob was actually a little jealous of Mikey's side of the store. The walls were covered in posters, fliers, and random bits of art. It should have looked cluttered, clashy, and overdone, but instead it just looked awesome.
Bob's half of the store, on the other hand, looked empty and sad in comparison, especially the lonely spot of bare wall in the space Bob had allocated for his local music section. Bob was studying the spot before they opened, trying to decide exactly what he could fill it with, and practically jumped when he felt a hand on his back.
"You should have Gerard make you something to put there," Frank suggested with a grin. He dangled his keys in front of Bob, confirming that Mikey had indeed given Frank a copy of their store key. Perfect.
"Yeah," Bob grumbled, "that would be great, if I knew Gerard."
"Dude, you met Gerard!" Frank hopped up to sit on the counter, kicking his heels against the faux-wood paneling in spite of the fact Bob had repeatedly asked him to knock that shit off. "You told Brian you think he's hot!"
Bob sighed and covered his face with his hand. "I said, Gerard is kinda hot. You know, objectively. And I didn't actually meet him."
"Whatever." Frank waved his hand dismissively. "You saw him in just a towel, he spoke to you, you each think the other is kinda hot, objectively. You should come to dinner Thursday night and ask him about making you something."
“Frank, seriously - wait, Gerard told you he thinks I’m hot?”
Frank smirked. “He fussed at Mikey for keeping his hot new business partner a secret.”
Bob shook his head. “Quit kicking my counter, Iero. Don’t you have a job or something?”
“Benefits of being my own boss - I get to make time to come bother the shit out of you.”
Bob handed Frank the box that UPS had delivered the afternoon before. “Well, as long as you’re here, you may as well make yourself useful.”
***** ***** ***** *****
When Mrs. Way invited Bob to join them for Thursday Night Family Dinner, he couldn't exactly refuse, not that he wanted to. Despite the rather large kitchen in Brian's house, Bob's dietary habits were mostly fueled by take out and easy mac. A homecooked meal sounded awesome.
It wasn't like it was unusual for the Ways to have extras at their family dinners. Frank was included nearly every week, Brian had gone at least twice since Bob had met him, and Ray had just mentioned Krista wanting the recipe for the casserole Mrs. Way had made last week. Gabe had made it a point to say he'd never been invited, but Bob could see Mikey’s wisdom in wanting to keep Gabe as far apart from his mother as humanly possible.
Dinner this week was only a small affair though. Brian had a date with some girl named Cheryl or Charlene or something. Bob had given up trying to keep names straight not long after he moved in with Brian. Frank finally convinced Jamia to go out to dinner with him, although Bob thought it was maybe the new vegan diner across town that had tipped the scales in that deal.
So that left Bob, Mikey, Alicia, Mrs. Way, and Gerard. It was Gerard that Bob was worried about. He didn't think 'Hey, I like your art, and by the way, you look really good half naked' was an appropriate conversation starter with someone he'd never been officially introduced to.
It was not as bad as he feared, though. There were no awkward pauses in conversation, no disastrous incidents of knocking his plate in floor. He actually felt at home, like he’d been friends with this family for years, and dinner was simple but good. He had complimented Mrs. Way on the food, and she had pointed at Gerard, who blushed and murmured a thanks. Apparently Mikey wasn’t the only one in the family who knew how to cook.
Mrs. Way refused his offer to help with the dishes and left the four of them finishing up too-large slices of peaches and cream cake and discussing the newest Marvel film adaptation.
Bob was distracted when he felt someone brush his foot under the table. He figured it was probably an accident, but then a sock-clad foot was working its way up the inside of his leg and he nearly choked on his food. “Alicia!”
Alicia looked startled for a moment and then grinned. “Sorry, Bob, I just couldn’t resist.”
“Mikey, could you please ask your girlfriend to not molest me with her feet?”
Mikey laughed. “ I can ask, but I doubt she’ll listen. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with polyamourous relationships, you know.”
“That’s it. I’m going to tell Patrick he’s not allowed to bring Pete to visit anymore.”
Mikey laughed even harder. “Wait, how’d you know it was Alicia and not Gee? They’re both right across from you.”
“Gerard has his shoes on.”
Mikey leaned back to glance under the table. “Gee! You do have shoes on, what the fuck? Why do you have shoes on? You almost never wear shoes.”
Gerard, who had been laughing along with the rest of them, was suddenly extremely interested in his plate. “Geez, Mikey, I do wear shoes. Like, all the time.”
“No, you really don’t,” Alicia put in. “Only when you’re trying to look presentable and impress someone.”
Bob could see the blush rising to Gerard’s cheeks and wondered what the big deal was. “Shoes or not, no more footsie at the dinner table,” Bob declared.
“But footsie is acceptable at a different time and place?”
Bob rolled his eyes at Alicia’s mischievous grin but smiled at her nevertheless. He knew he shouldn’t encourage her, but he couldn’t help it.
A few minutes later, Alicia stood up to clear the dessert plates from the table and didn’t refuse Bob’s offer to help with those. When they came back from the kitchen, Mikey and Gerard had already gone downstairs, arguing about what they were going to watch, and Alicia looped her arm through Bob’s. “Welcome to the family,” she said. “This is part of their tradition, watching Tivo’d episodes of things Mikey misses while he’s working. But I can usually convince them to play a game or something at the same time.”
Bob hadn’t realized that dinner actually meant spending the entire evening at the Way house, but that was okay.
Bob stopped at the bottom of the basement steps, taking the time to study the pictures hanging on the wall. There was one of Frank, younger and smiling and with a mohawk that Bob really wanted to give him shit over. Next to it was a fairly recent picture of Mikey, Alicia, and Bunny. A picture of Gabe in a bright red golf cart, poised to drive down a flight of stairs. Gerard and Brian with two guys Bob didn't recognize, then a picture of Gerard hugged up with one of the guys. The one on the end was of Frank stretched out on the grass, shirt pushed up and Gerard laid out across him, drawing on his stomach and chest with a colored marker.
Bob didn’t notice Gerard walking up beside him until he said, “Frank’s pretty.”
Bob didn’t think “pretty” was a word he would associate with Frank - it was a term far better suited to Gerard, actually - but he could admit that there was something about Frank in that one picture that drew his attention.
“So, um, Bob?”
Bob looked over at Gerard, but Gerard was turned away from him, busy straightening a stack of sketchbooks on a shelf. “Yeah?”
“Frank said you wanted to ask me to draw something for your wall at the shop?”
Bob really doubted that was exactly what Frank had said. “Did he, now?”
“Well, he said there was an empty spot in your life that he thought I could fill, but he was giggling and we had been talking about the picture I did for Mikey and I’m pretty fluent in Frank-speak. So I knew what he meant.”
Bob shook his head. Frank was seriously trouble of Wentzian proportions. It was probably a very good thing they lived half a country apart. But he did still have a huge, glaring white spot in his side of the store. "Yeah, I've got this bit of wall over the local music section, and I can't figure out what I want to do with it. I’m sure I’ll know what I want when I see it, but I just have no idea right now.”
“I could maybe draw up a few ideas, see if you like any of them. I just need to get an idea of what the space looks like.”
Bob had seen Gerard’s work, at Mikey’s and at Rock City and at Midtown and on Frank, so he wasn’t about to turn down that offer. “Really? Yeah, that’d be great. Maybe you-“ Bob stopped himself before he could ask if Gerard wanted to stop by the store. “Um, maybe I can take some pictures and send them to you?”
Gerard either didn’t notice Bob’s almost-slipup or else he was used to getting that reaction from strangers. “Yeah, that’s what Mikey and Brian usually do. Here,” Gerard flipped through the topmost sketchbook and found a blank page, tearing off a corner, “let me write down my email and cell, so you can do that.”
Bob folded the slip of paper and tucked it in his pocket, turning around to see the rest of the basement. The middle was open, a common area with a big screen television in the corner and bookshelves along the walls. There were knick knacks and action figures and comics and sketchbooks scattered among the neatly shelved books, which included an entire wall of cookbooks. Off to one side was a bathroom - hopefully with a working shower now - and an open doorway leading into a laundry room. The other side of the room had two closed doors, one with Gerard’s name and one with Mikey’s.
“Mikey’s old bedroom is my studio,” Gerard explained. “C’mon, it’s time for Dinner: Impossible.” He kicked the chair where Mikey and Alicia were curled together as he passed it and left room on the couch for Bob.
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob hadn’t realized that Alicia wasn’t joking - Gerard actually had made an effort to be presentable the first night they met - but the next time he went over to the house, Gerard answered the door in a t-shirt that had seen better days and paint-spattered jeans, hair sticking up in every direction.
“Sorry,” Gerard apologized as he led the way down the basement stairs. “I didn’t mean to forget you were coming, so you’ll have to excuse the mess. Actually, it always looks like this, so whatever.”
Gerard waved a hand over the mess in the basement and Bob realized this is probably what Mikey’s apartment would look like if it wasn’t for Alicia. He also realized that Gerard had been trying to impress him that first night, which made him feel special.
“Am I interrupting something? You said to come by today, but I can come back later or something,” Bob offered.
“Nah, you’re good.” Gerard flipped through a stack of canvases leaning against the wall and pulled one out. “I’ve got a show next week and I’m trying to finish up a couple pieces for it.”
“A show?”
“Yeah, an art show. My friend has a small gallery in New York. He makes a ridiculous amount of money off my art, but he says the fact I’m eccentric enough never to show up at the gallery makes my stuff worth more. Personally, I think he’s full of shit, but I’m getting paid so I’m not going to argue.”
That answered the question of where Gerard got his money from but there were a half dozen other questions lined up behind that one, questions Bob couldn’t ask. “Brian said something about going up to New York next week; is this related?”
“Yeah, Quinn usually invites him and Frank up for the shows. It works out. They can take the paintings up and then bring me a check back. Plus they get a weekend drinking with old friends, and Frank gets a new set of people to terrorize. Everyone wins. Sometimes Mikey goes with them, but only if he won’t miss Thursday night.”
He held out a canvas hesitantly, like he was worried about what Bob would think of it. Bob took it and held it up, taking in the different aspects of the painting.
“If you don’t like it, I’ve got others.” Gerard was biting his lip and watching Bob for his reaction.
“No! I mean, it’s perfect.” And it was. It was like Gerard had read Bob’s mind, even when Bob himself hadn’t had a clear picture of what he wanted. But this was going to look perfect in Disenchanted. “What do I owe you?”
Gerard shook his head. “Friends, Bob. You don’t owe me anything.” He hesitated and then grinned. “Unless you want to make a grocery run for me. There was this parmesan crusted chicken recipe on 30 Minute Meals yesterday that I’d really like to try.”
That wasn’t a hardship, especially since Bob was pretty sure that meant he’d be getting dinner out of the deal. “Deal. But you should show me your other art first.”
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob handed Jamia another beer and picked up his phone. “Hello?”
“Bob? Mikey says you turned him down when he invited you over for dinner.”
“Hey, Gerard. Yeah, I actually had plans already - ow, shit, there’s a table there - since Frank’s in New York.”
“You’re with Jamia?” Gerard sounded oddly disappointed, but Bob had no idea why.
“Yeah, and she’s kicking my ass at this fucking game. She plays dirtier than Frank.”
Jamia laughed as she handed Bob back his controller. “No one plays dirtier than Frank. Are we going to play or what, Bryar?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bob told her before turning his attention back to the phone. He wasn’t sure why he felt like he needed to apologize, but he did. “Sorry, Gee. I’m off tomorrow. How about I come over for lunch? I’ll bring take out and we can watch that movie you were talking about the other day.”
“I guess,” Gerard agreed reluctantly.
“Cool. I’ll see you then.” Bob clicked the ‘end’ button and dropped the phone onto the floor beside him. When Jamia didn’t unpause the game like he was expecting, he looked at her.
“You know I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself. I did it for a long time before Frank. You didn’t have to change your plans.”
“I didn’t change my plans. Mikey just said something this afternoon, which was after I had already made plans with you.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. I just don’t want to cause problems between you and Gerard. I need Gerard to like me.”
“Why would you cause problems between me and Gerard? He and I are friends, just like you and I are. And I’ve known you longer.”
“Just friends, huh?”
“Yeah, just friends.” All of Bob’s friends were crazy tonight, what the hell was up with that? “Are we gonna play or what?”
***** ***** ***** *****
“No, no, I insist!” Jamia ignored Mrs. Way’s protests and started gathering the dishes from the table, casting a desperate look in Bob’s direction.
“Here, I’ll help,” he volunteered, standing up as well. He always offered to lend a hand with cleanup, but it was more polite habit at this point than anything else, since Mrs. Way always refused. He’d never pushed the point like Jamia was doing, though.
Once they were in the kitchen, Jamia turned around and whispered, “Gerard doesn’t like me!”
“That’s not true,” Bob answered automatically, turning on the faucet to rinse the dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. But Gerard had been acting a little hostile toward Jamia, and some of the looks he’d been sending her way were definitely of the unfriendly variety.
“Seriously, Bob, this is more important than meeting Frank’s mom. If Gerard doesn’t approve, Frank and I don’t have a chance.”
Bob wanted to point out that Frank had put an awful lot of effort into winning Jamia over, but he honestly wasn’t sure that would matter if Gerard didn’t approve. But the other night, Gerard had asked him about Jamia, which Bob had taken a evidence he had wanted to make sure he made a good impression on Frank’s girlfriend, and Bob had done his best to talk her up.
“It’ll be okay,” he said. “I’ll talk to him.”
Everyone else was moving away from the table when Bob and Jamia went back into the dining room - Mrs. Way upstairs for her dose of Thursday Night television, Brian probably aiming for Midtown, and the others heading to the basement. Bob pulled Gerard aside. “Quit being mean to Jamia! She thinks you don’t like her!”
Gerard crossed his arms and glared at Bob. “It’s not her I don’t like, but she’s supposed to be here with Frank. She’s spent most of the evening talking to you.”
“Gerard, you and Frank haven’t stopped talking about Frank Miller since he and Jamia walked in the door! What is it with the two of you? First Frank starts making these random threats for no reason, and now you? Don’t get me wrong, Jamia’s plenty hot and she’s pretty damn awesome, but girls just don’t usually do it for me. And even if they did, Frank’s had Jamia’s number since that first day at Brian’s shop.”
Gerard was staring at him, wide-eyed and on the verge of smiling.
“What?” Bob asked irritably. Seriously, everyone in New Jersey was fucking crazy.
“You don’t like girls.”
“I don’t dislike girls. I just prefer boys.”
Gerard grinned. “Bob Bryar, come downstairs and watch Iron Chef with me.”
Seriously. Fucking crazy.
***** ***** ***** *****
“Everyone in New Jersey is crazy,” Bob complained as soon as Patrick picked up the phone.
Patrick laughed. “Pete practically lived with us here in Chicago; you can’t tell me you’re not used to crazy.”
“Yeah, but with Pete I had you to dilute the insanity. Here, not so much. Why don’t you move out here?”
“Because Pete wouldn’t let me move out of state without him,” Patrick explained patiently, “and do you really want to add that to the mix?”
Bob thought about it. “I guess not. How’s life with Pete and the wife?”
“Good, good.” Bob could hear the rustle of papers in the background. “We’re talking about getting another dog, actually. Not that Hemmy isn’t enough of a handful, but Pete’s been making noises about having a baby, and Ash and I are trying to put that off.”
“A baby? Pete does realize that there are three of you in this relationship, right? And only one of you is a girl? How exactly is a baby going to work?”
“It’ll work. I would just rather it been later than sooner.”
“Yeah, okay. When you call me two months from now and tell me Pete’s pregnant, I’m going to laugh.”
“Believe me, if Pete could get pregnant, we’d already have a houseful of babies.”
By the time Bob got off the phone with Patrick, he felt like maybe he just attracted crazy people because his friends in Chicago were just as crazy as the ones here in New Jersey. He went to find Mikey to see about placing bets on how long it would take for the Wentz family to announce they were expecting.
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob smiled when he saw Gerard’s name flash up on the display of his cell. “Hey.”
“What are you doing when you close up the shop tonight?”
“Uh, I was thinking about ordering a pizza, watching reruns of House, and going to bed early. What’d you have in mind?”
“I don’t know, man, that’s kinda hard to top.”
“My life is exciting,” Bob agreed. Then he heard couching in the background. “Is that Frank?”
“Yeah, he’s sick. - What? - Hang on, Bob.” There was the sound of rustling fabric and some murmuring before Gerard came back to the phone. “I stand corrected, sorry. Frankie is dying and miserable.”
Bob laughed. “Frankie is a drama queen.”
Gerard laughed quietly and there was a fondness in his voice when he said, “Well, yeah, but we love him.”
“So what’s up?”
“Well, I was wondering if you’d mind bringing him some orange juice and more Tylenol? Mikey’s with Alicia at the garage - fucking car again, I swear I’m gonna talk to Alicia about buying him a new one for his birthday - and I don’t want Ray to take a chance on carrying any germs back to Krista, and -”
“Hey, no,” Bob interrupted. “No explanations. Of course I will.”
Bob decided to close the shop an hour early. He knew Matt was perfectly capable of running things himself, but he didn’t see the fairness in sticking him there alone while both the owners were playing hooky, especially since Matt was seriously underpaid as it was. He called Rock City to talk to Brian and then to Jamia. A few stops later, he showed up on the Ways’ doorstep with a container of Frank’s favorite soup from the vegan diner, subs for him and Gerard, a bag from the drugstore, and a gallon of orange juice. It took a bit of juggling to get to the key that they always left in the mailbox for Frank - he apparently had his own key at one point but kept losing it, so this was easier - and let himself in, but he managed. He followed the sound of the television to the basement.
Frank was sprawled out across Gerard on the bed, looking young and vulnerable in his sleep, his cheeks flushed with fever. Gerard looked bored, sketching something halfheartedly with one hand and rubbing Frank’s back with the other.
“You’re going to get sick,” Bob called through the open bedroom door, using his foot to push aside a stack of Gerard’s sketchbooks so he could put his bags down on the coffee table.
Gerard looked up and smiled. “Nah. I’m immune to Frank-germs.” He shifted a little so he was mostly out from under Frank. “Hey, Frankie. Bob’s here.”
Frank rolled over a little, blinking sleeping at Bob. Then he tried to yawn but it turned into a coughing fit. Bob couldn’t help but feel sorry for him; drama queen or not, he looked and sounded pitiful. Gerard helped Frank sit up and get settled against the pillows. It was obviously a practiced move. Bob had apparently been wrong when he thought that all the talk about Frank’s weak immune system was a joke.
“I’ve got soup and juice and drugs,” Bob said.
“You’re my fucking favorite,” Frank mumbled.
“Yeah, whatever.” Bob headed up to the kitchen for a glass and a spoon. When he returned, Frank had wrapped himself up in a blanket and shuffled to the chair in the main part of the basement. Gerard was sorting through the bag from the drugstore, shaking out a handful of pills to hand to Frank. Bob was glad he’d called Brian because Gerard gave him an approving look. Bob settled down on the end of the couch opposite Gerard, watching as Gerard coaxed Frank into finishing most of the soup, even teasing a few half-hearted giggles out of him.
Finally, Frank was falling asleep in the chair, and Bob excused himself to take the leftover soup and juice upstairs. He grabbed a couple of Cokes out of the fridge for himself and Gerard before heading back down.
Frank was tucked back in Gerard’s bed, and the door to the bedroom was cracked slightly. Gerard had cleared more room on the coffee table and laid the subs out on it.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the can Bob offered him. “And thanks for picking up food. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I kinda did,” Bob answered, sitting down beside Gerard. “Friends, right? You don’t have to take care of Frank when he’s sick, but you do.”
“Frank’s done a lot for me. All of them have, him and Mikey and Brian and Ray. They put up with a lot. Me taking care of Frank when he’s sick? It’s really not that big a deal.”
Bob didn’t agree. He thought it was actually a big deal. He would have done the same for Patrick, or maybe even Pete, but even then he would have been doing it because he felt obligated since they lived together. Still, the fact that Gerard was so dedicated to his friends… well, it really just made him that much more endearing.
Link to Part 2
link to master post
After living with Patrick for nearly three years, Bob should have known to always expect Pete Wentz, but he still forgot on occasion.
They met for the first time about a week after Bob moved in. He had arrived home from work one night and found Pete stocking their cabinets with groceries, stuff a lot healthier than what Bob and Patrick had been eating. Patrick was nowhere in sight, so Bob introduced himself and asked what Pete was doing.
“Patrick needs to eat healthier. He owns a quarter of my soul and I want him to be around for a long time.”
Bob had blinked because he seriously doubted this was the girlfriend that Patrick had been spending long hours on the phone with. “Uh, okay. And you are?”
Pete had looked surprised at the question. “Oh! I’m Pete. Patrick didn’t tell you about me? ‘Trick and I are totally going to be married one day.”
Patrick had walked in right at that moment and snorted. “Yeah, sure, Pete. As soon as they legalize polygamy and your wife signs the permission slip. Where the hell did you put my new bag of chocolate chip cookies?”
“Wife?” Bob had asked, not sure if he really wanted to know but unable to resist.
“Ashlee and Patrick and I are perfectly happy with our polyamourous relationship,” Pete had declared before flouncing off to distract Patrick away from his search for his missing junk food stash.
As an introduction to Pete Wentz, it was entirely appropriate. Pete was at the apartment just as much as he was at his own home, and he frequently dragged Patrick out for dates with him and his wife. Bob was used to him being underfoot - literally, he was a pretty short dude - and used to ignoring him when he came up with crazy ideas. But every once in a while, he came up with something not-so-crazy.
So, Bob could trace the life-altering decision of New Jersey back to the fact that he hadn’t expected Pete Wentz.
Bob didn’t know Pete was even at the apartment when he was complaining to Patrick about feeling restless and needing a change. He had a large sum of money in the bank, leftover from his inheritance, so he could actually travel or start over somewhere without much of a problem. He had no ties in Chicago - other than his mom, he’d never really known his family, and she’d been gone two years now, and he had friends, but none of them were close enough that he’d regret leaving them. Except for Patrick, of course, but there was no doubt in his mind that if he did get out of Chicago, Patrick would make sure they stayed in touch.
Bob nearly dropped his drink when Pete suddenly appeared from the hallway and threw himself onto the couch, practically landing in Bob’s lap. “Bob Bryar, I have the perfect solution!”
Once Pete Wentz got on a roll, was excited about something or determined to have his way, there was no stopping him. Bob’s head was still reeling the next morning when he found himself on a plane headed for New Jersey and some friend of Pete’s named Mikey Way.
It wasn’t until he picked up his checked bag and started wondering about where to go from here that he realized he had no clue what Mikey looked like or how to contact him. He had just pulled out his phone to call Pete and at least get Mikey’s number when someone ran into him. Literally. The guy looked up at Bob like he was going to maybe apologize but instead he glanced back at the cell phone in his hand, a bright smile blossoming on his face.
“Bob! How perfect is this? Sorry for running into you, man, people are so pushy around here.” He gestured at the bag by Bob’s feet before pressing a button on his phone and holding it up to his ear. “This yours?”
Bob nodded. He was caught off guard by this approach, but maybe this was Mikey?
“Cool,” maybe-Mikey said, picking up Bob’s bag and turning towards the crowd. “Hey, Mikey, I found him… yeah… okay, we’ll meet you there.” Apparently-not-Mikey flashed a smile over his shoulder at Bob. “Mikey’s circling the parking lots. If he turns the car off, it’s a bitch to get it started again.”
Yeah, that was comforting. Bob followed not-Mikey through the crowded airport. There was a ratty, older model Sentra idling in the drop-off lane, and Bob’s hope that it wasn’t their ride was dashed when not-Mikey bounced - seriously fucking bounced, what the hell? Maybe he thought the fact he was bouncing on his tiptoes made him appear taller? Or maybe he was really just that happy, and if so then Bob wanted some of whatever he was on - over to the car, opened the back door to sling Bob’s bag inside, and then climbed into the front seat.
The car looked like it was held together with spit and prayer, the type of thing that could maybe fetch a hundred bucks if it had new tires and a full tank of gas. Bob approached it at a pace a lot slower than not-Mikey’s and tossed his carryon in before cautiously sliding into the backseat. He was a little worried that the entire thing might fall apart as soon as he sat down. He glanced at the front console, noticed the sound system was top of the line, and had to fight not to roll his eyes. He would never understand people who spent more money on speakers and a stereo than their car was worth, but that type of person had been paying his paycheck for a while so he couldn’t really complain.
“Hi!” The guy in the driver seat turned around to give Bob a small wave and an even smaller smile. “I’m Mikey, and I know the elfkin didn’t bother introducing himself, but he’s Frank. Our meeting with the realtor got moved up so we’re going over there now. I hope that’s okay. Brian’s gonna meet us.”
“That’s fine,” Bob answered, as if he had any other choice, and wondered again how he got himself into this situation. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because Frank kept up a steady stream of conversation, asking about the flight and about Bob’s job in Chicago and about Pete. He also said that the store they were going to look at was perfect but that Brian had said not to let the realtor know they thought so.
The store really was perfect, and something about it reminded Bob a little of the record store where he met Patrick so he took a picture with his camera phone. Patrick responded almost immediately with looks like Clicks, which made Bob smile. He wandered around a bit on his own and was studying the clutter of the walled off second room when Brian appeared beside him.
"What are you thinking?" Brian asked quietly.
“Music," Bob answered. "If we take out this wall, it'll increase the size of the main room but we can still have a decent partition between the areas with the counters. And each section has an outside door; this one just needs to be uncovered. The old guy lived in the back, and we wouldn't really need that as a living area, so we can convert one room into an office and one into a store room. Maybe invest in a storage building to put out back? That'd give Mikey half the store for his comics and me the other half -" Bob stopped suddenly, looking at Brian with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I'm kinda getting ahead of myself."
Brian shook his head. "Nah, man, I like the way you think. It’s a good investment, and we’re the first people who’ve seen the store. Darlene helped me out when I was looking for a place to move Rock City, so when this place hit the market, she called me to see if I knew anyone who’d be interested.”
“Rock City?”
“My tattoo shop. We just moved to a bigger building last year, and I’m hiring a couple new artists next week.” Brian seemed like he was going to start bragging on his business, but Mikey called him away before he could, and Bob made his way back to the others.
Bob didn’t mean to interrupt the realtor’s spiel about the recent parking lot improvements, but the parking lot wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of concerns. “What’s included in the selling price?” He really liked the glass display cases at the counter, and was hoping maybe a few of the shelves were part of the deal as well.
The realtor blinked and said, “All of it, everything in the store.”
Bob looked at Brian and found Brian looking right back at him with the same incredulous expression. Seriously?
“Aren’t they going to do an inventory?” Brian asked. There was a fine layer of dust covering everything, and Bob doubted the comics had even been touched since the doors were locked.
The realtor shook her head. “I asked for an inventory list, since I assumed the value of the furniture and product here would be included in the price, but apparently Mr. Whitson’s children didn’t inherit their father’s passions. They want the place sold along with everything in it, as soon as possible.”
Apparently the store was not only perfect, but it was a better deal than they had thought.
Bob, Frank, and Mikey left Brian to talk numbers with the realtor and piled back into the Sentra. Well, Bob and Mikey climbed back into the car, and Frank joined them after tapping on something under the hood to get the car started.
Bob must have looked a little worried about the prospect of getting somewhere safely because Mikey explained, “She’s okay once she gets going. She needs a starter, and Alicia hasn’t had time to replace it.”
Bob was going to ask who Alicia was when Frank wriggled around to pull his hoodie over his head, and his t-shirt rode up with it, revealing nearly all of Frank’s bare back and more than one tattoo. The one that caught Bob’s eye was a large jack-o’lantern in the middle of Frank’s back.
“That’s an awesome tattoo, the jack o’lantern.”
Frank turned around and grinned at Bob, pulling his shirt back down. “Isn’t it? It was my first real tattoo. Brian did it - Brian owns a tattoo shop, I don’t think any of us remembered to tell you that - but Gerard drew it. Gerard started drawing on me when we were kids, so it was kinda awesome when I finally got to have one of his designs made permanent.”
“Who’s Gerard?”
Bob quickly figured out that was a loaded question to ask, since he could see Mikey rolling his eyes in the rearview, and Frank started excitedly extolling Gerard’s virtues. Even though Gerard was evidently Mikey’s brother, Frank was clearly his biggest fan. Gerard was artistic and amazing and had apparently designed most of Frank’s tattoos, which required Frank twisting around in his seat and showing them all to Bob as he told the story to go along with each one.
Bob thought if there was ever any question about whether he’d miss Pete or not, Frank was the answer to it.
Bob didn’t even think about the fact that he was halfway across the country with no idea of where to stay until they pulled up in front of an apartment building and Mikey put the car in park. “Oh, um, I guess I should have asked Pete, but is there a decent hotel around here or something?”
Mikey looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Oh, I assumed that you were staying here? I mean, I don’t have a guest room or anything, but the couch isn’t that bad, as long as you don’t mind sharing with Bunny.”
“Oh! Oh, okay, cool.” Mikey didn’t know him, at all, and was offering to let a complete stranger into his home on the recommendation of Pete Wentz? Bob knew he should be surprised, but he really wasn’t. The world according to Pete wasn’t like the world normal people lived in.
Frank helped Bob carry his things up to Mikey’s apartment before disappearing across the hall to his own. He showed up later, timing it perfectly with both the buzz of the oven timer and the arrival of a hot girl in a greasy t-shirt and tattered jeans. They both walked right into the apartment like they belonged there, Frank immediately trying to stick his fingers into the pot on the stove and getting his hand smacked with a spoon for the effort.
The girl laughed, coming up to plant a kiss on Mikey’s cheek. “Smells good, babe. What are Alex and Ryland going to do without you when you leave?”
Mikey shifted around to turn the kiss into a real one - Frank making gagging faces at the two of them - before pulling away to say, “Alex is more than capable of running the kitchen himself. And the two of them are already giving me enough shit, I don’t need you guilting me too. You have ten minutes before dinner’s ready.”
Mikey watched her as she walked out of the room. Bob turned to Frank and asked, “Alicia?”
Frank nodded. “Yep, she’s hot. And scarily proficient at mechanical things. Which is good, because Mikey really, really isn’t.”
Mikey smacked Frank again and went back to making dinner.
***** ***** ***** *****
It took five days for Bob to ask Frank if he had a job. He assumed he did - he always had money and he had mentioned something about getting paid - but so far Frank was just always there, hanging out in Mikey's apartment with Bob or causing mayhem in Brian's shop with an overgrown delinquent who had been introduced as Gabe.
So it was only natural curiosity that when Frank came spinning across the floor in an office chair for the third time in less than an hour, Bob stopped him. “Jesus, Frank, don't you have a fucking job or something?”
Frank just grinned, like Bob wasn’t seconds away from strangling him, and said, “Of course, man, Gabe and I work for Brian. Give me a push?”
“As what, entertainment?” Bob grumbled, but gave Frank a push anyway before setting out to find Brian.
Brian was in his office, pretending to work but most likely checking the internet for highlights of the game he missed the night before. He barely glanced up when Bob came in and flopped down in the chair across the desk from him.
“Frank and Gabe work for you?” Bob wasn't sure he actually believed that.
Brian nodded. “Yeah, kinda.”
“You pay them to hang out and terrorize your customers, harass your employees, and break shit?”
Brian did look up at that, smiling like he knew a secret. “I'm guessing neither of them told you they met in college? They both did double majors, so they both have business degrees. Gabe also has an accounting degree, and Frank has a degree in some kind of web graphic design bullshit.”
Bob stared at him, waiting for the punchline, but apparently Brian was serious. “So you're telling me that Frank and Gabe have business degrees? The same Frank and Gabe who are right now riding around on office chairs and who spent the morning playing video games out front? That Frank and Gabe?” Bob shook his head, trying to reconcile that in his head. “You let Gabe handle your accounts and Frank design your website?”
“Well, yeah, because if it were the other way around, all our company functions would be vegan food only and my website would be full of purple spirals. Here,” Brian quickly keyed something in and then turned the monitor so Bob could get a better look, “see? Frank’s good at what he does. Gabe too. I mean, a lot of the stuff they do, I could do myself, but it would be a fucking headache. So it’s worth it to pay them for it.”
Okay, so the website looked professional and well-done, and Bob had meant to ask what kind of accounting software Brian used, but it was still hard to believe.
“Gabe owns a nightclub, too. Actually, even if you don’t hire them, he’d be a good one to talk to as far as getting you and Mikey set up with how to share expenses for the one building. Midtown shares a space with his friends’ restaurant, This is Ivy League, where Mikey works. So he’s got experience with that.” Brian turned his monitor back around with a grin. “Plus, that’ll get him out of my shop for a while.”
Frank and Gabe were already out of the shop, having moved their shenanigans to the parking lot. Bob didn’t even want to know where they got the hockey stick or what they were doing with what looked like the contents of Adam’s lunchbox.
“Um, hey? I know we haven’t finalized anything with the store yet, but I wanted to talk to you two about maybe helping me get set up, doing the same kinda stuff you do for Brian.”
Gabe immediately dropped the hockey stick and came over to throw his arm over Bob’s shoulder. “Well, you came to the right place. I am a fucking whiz with numbers.”
Frank added, “I was hoping you’d ask. Gerard and I were already talking about designs for the webpage.”
Gabe looked surprised. “It’s not every day that Frank gets Gerard to help him with his designs. You must be special. Gerard is an artistic genius or something, but he’s a weird little fucker.”
Bob thought it was a little rich for Gabe to be calling anyone weird, but he didn’t comment.
***** ***** ***** *****
During the negotiations involved with buying the store, Bob was glad Brian seemed to have good business sense. Bob still paid enough attention to know exactly what he was getting and what he was going to be responsible for when he signed away his life and a good portion of his inheritance, but he mostly let Brian handle the paperwork and the legalese.
When everything was said and done and signed, they talked about celebrating with pizza and a Guitar Hero tournament, but Mikey got called in to cover someone else's shift, Frank had dinner plans with his mom, and there was something going on at Midtown that required Gabe’s attendance and apparently Brian’s too, so Bob went back to a quiet, empty apartment, and a couch that was blissfully empty of pizza crumbs and dirty socks for once. Bob was still sleeping on Mikey's couch and living out of his suitcase, which really wasn't a bad situation when it was temporary, but now that Bob was actually staying, he needed a place of his own.
He told Brian this the next morning, sitting in the office in back of Brian's shop, working on his third cup of coffee and contemplating stealing one of the tables in the break room for a nap. He’d been up since the wee hours of the morning. He really liked Mikey and Alicia, but there were a few things about them he could have happily lived his whole life without knowing.
With the way everything seemed to be falling into place lately, he wasn't as surprised as he once would have been when Brian said, “I've got an extra bedroom. It's kinda crammed full of shit right now - stuff that's been accumulating for years that I probably should have gone through a long time ago - but if you want it, it's yours. My house isn’t much, but I do have a patio and a small backyard and a laundry room. Rent'd be pretty reasonable, better than what you'll find elsewhere.”
Bob almost pretended he had to think it over, but then he thought about the paper-thin walls at Mikey's and the fact that, for all his usual quiet and calm manner, Mikey was a totally different creature at 3 am when he was having sex with Alicia. Yeah, no, he really didn’t need to think about it. “When can I move in?”
Frank was sitting on the hood of Brian's car when Bob walked out of the shop. He was lighting one cigarette off another and, judging by the butts littering the ground, he'd been there for awhile.
“I thought it was too quiet inside.”
“She kicked me out.” The look in Frank's eyes was part amazement and part confusion.
“Who?”
“Brian's new girl. Gabe and I were playing the new game - not getting loud or violent or anything yet - but I accidentally kicked over a chair, and she came over and told us both to get the fuck out because we were disturbing her customers.”
Bob laughed. “And you listened?”
“Man, I smiled at her and tried to be charming and apologized, but she just pointed at the door.”
“Jamia’s a tough cookie.”
“Jamia? That’s her name?”
Bob nodded, wondering if he’d just made the mistake of giving Frank a name to go with his apparent dislike of Brian’s new artist.
Frank, though, just smiled. “Jamia,” he repeated, mostly to himself, then looked up at Bob. “I think I’m in love.”
Bob ruffled Frank’s hair, which he knew Frank hated, and laughed again. Leave it to Frank to develop a puppy-love crush on a girl who wasn’t going to take any shit from him. “Come on, lover boy, drive me home. Mikey’s off today and I seem to remember you promised you’d bring dessert if he made dinner.”
Bob waited until after dinner to tell Mikey he was planning on moving in with Brian. Mikey seemed a little disappointed, even though he couldn't have expected Bob was going to take up a permanent residence on his couch. Bob pointed out that it was a small apartment and that Alicia practically lived there anyway, but then he realized that Mikey was actually more worried about disappointing Pete.
Bob didn't roll his eyes or shake his head, but it took effort. Instead, he pulled Mikey into a quick hug - he blamed in on Frank’s affectionate nature rubbing off on him or something - and said, “Mikeyway, you've been taking care of me just fine. Pete’s lucky to have a friend like you, and I’m glad he introduced us.”
Bob excused himself to call Patrick before things got any more schmoopy. Apparently Pete had been waiting for an opportunity to visit because by the end of the conversation, plans were in place for Patrick, Pete, and Ashlee to drive to New Jersey in Bob's car and bring the rest of his belongings from Chicago.
Bob didn’t expect them until at least the weekend, so he was surprised they showed up Thursday morning. He was outside Brian's shop, smoking a cigarette, avoiding Frank, and listening to Gabe tell him a different version of the party he had gone to over the weekend - Bob didn't think Gabe was a liar, just that he liked to embellish the truth to make it more interesting - when his car pulled up in the parking lot, a small U-haul trailer attached to the back of it.
Pete, predictably, was the first one out of the car, and Bob quickly tossed his cigarette to the side to catch an armful of flying Pete.
Pete hugged like he did everything else - with enthusiasm and everything he had - but Bob could admit to himself that he had missed the little fucker. Ashlee and Patrick both waited until the car was actually parked, but they were both smiling indulgently as they crossed the lot. “We brought you a present, Bob!” Ashlee called out.
“I hope you mean my bed and my stereo,” Bob answered.
“Oh, Pete’s not all that comfortable to sleep on, but he’ll be more than happy to take the place of your stereo. He’s been singing along with the radio the entire trip.”
Bob cringed. He’d heard Pete’s attempts at singing. It wasn’t pretty. “And you didn’t tie him up and throw him in the trunk?”
“Pete gets kinda excited whenever we mention getting tied up, so no.” Patrick pulled Pete away from Bob so he could sneak in his own less exuberant but no less welcome hug.
“Fuck you all,” Pete said, without any real concern in his voice, and he took off into the shop.
Bob had thought it was bad having Frank and Gabe in the shop - they were an insurance liability all their own - but Pete was worse. He and Frank seemed to encourage the craziness in each other, and it was painful to watch but it definitely made the afternoon more interesting. It was a good thing it was Jamia’s day off because she would have strung both of them up, and not in the fun way that Pete liked.
Bob was in the corner of the shop, listening to Ashlee discuss the possibility of a new tattoo with Adam, when the bell chimed to announce a new arrival. He didn’t think anything of it during the chorus of hi’s and hugs, but then he heard, “Take me to your brother, MikeyWay!”
Bob looked over to where Pete was hanging on Mikey. “Isn’t it supposed to be ‘take me to your leader’?”
Pete smiled. “Yeah, but Mikey doesn’t have a leader. He's too awesome to be a follower.”
Mikey fucking beamed at Pete, and Bob rolled his eyes. “What, Ashlee and Patrick aren't enough, you have to charm Mikey too?”
Alicia came up and pointedly pulled Pete’s arms off Mikey. “Fuck off, Wentz, this one’s mine.”
Pete just laughed and hugged her too.
It was Thursday night, which meant family dinner at the Ways’ house, and Mikey invited everyone along. Pete and Ashlee went, but Patrick opted for pizza with Bob. Bob didn’t realize the reason behind it was to get him alone.
“So, how do you really feel about polyamourous relationships?”
Bob had just taken a bite of pizza and glared at Patrick for timing it that way. But it gave him a few seconds to think before he could speak. “I hope you're asking in context of you and Pete and Ashlee, and in no way thinking of including me in your kinky shit.”
Patrick balled up a paper towel and threw it at Bob. “Yes, Pete and Ashlee, you fucker. I kinda went over to their apartment the night you left and haven't been home since.”
Bob thought about it for a moment. “Does it really matter what I think? Do you think you need my approval or something?”
“No, because I'm already doing this, and I’m gonna keep doing it whether you approve or not. But I'd rather not lose your friendship over it.”
“Patrick, I've been waiting for years for you to figure it out. Pete's always been serious, even if you weren't taking him that way. I'm happy for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Plus, now I don't have to worry about paying half the rent on our apartment until you find another roommate.”
“Chicago’s not gonna be the same without you, man.”
“I’m sure Pete and Ash will keep you busy. Do I need to give them a lecture on how if they’re playing with your feelings or something, I’ll kill them?”
“Nah, I think we’re good. I mean, as a concept it’s still hard to imagine, because it’s the three of us and it’s not normal, right? But it’s Pete, so I don’t think normal actually applies, and it doesn’t feel weird. It doesn’t feel like anything’s changed, other than the addition of great sex.”
“Yeah, that’s really more than I needed to know.”
Patrick laughed. “So, tell me about this store of yours.”
***** ***** ***** *****
Friday morning was spent setting up Bob’s new bedroom at Brian’s, and the afternoon was spent cleaning out the shop. Saturday morning they met at the shop again for more cleaning and to start doing an inventory of what was actually already in stock.
Bob knew Mikey had called his brother at least a dozen times since they started cataloguing the comic books. Therefore, he didn't think it was unreasonable to say, “Hey, why don't you just ask Gerard to come down here?”
Everyone stopped their conversations and turned to stare at him. Bob had to replay his own words in his head to make sure he hadn't suggested Mikey's brother go out and kill puppies or something. Nope, it had just been an innocent, valid question. “What? I'm just saying, wouldn't it be easier to get his help if he was actually here?”
Mikey didn't look at Bob when he answered, “Gerard doesn't come out of the house.”
Uh, okay. Given how much everyone talked about Gerard, Bob definitely hadn’t been expecting that. “Does he have one of those medical disorders that keep him at home?”
“There's nothing wrong with him - and don't let Frank ever hear you say that. He’s not scared of going outside and he doesn’t have a physical disorder. He just doesn't leave the house.” Bob had never seen Mikey look so fierce. It was a little scary.
“Okay.” He made a mental note not to ask about Gerard again.
A little while later, Bob was taking yet another bag of trash out to Alicia’s pickup when he was approached by a kid. Well, not really a kid, but a few years younger than Bob, so yeah. Kid.
“Are you the new owner?”
Bob hesitated, decided the kid was harmless, and nodded, holding out a hand. “Bob Bryar.”
“Matt Cortez,” the kid answered, shaking Bob’s hand with a firm grip. “I used to work for old man Whitson. I heard this place got new owners, wanted to see if you needed any help.”
Bob and Mikey had talked about hiring someone to help out around the store and to cover when one of them was off, but they were both dreading having to actually go through the process of finding someone to hire. The majority of the decisions Bob had made since arriving in New Jersey had been based mostly on instinct, and this situation didn’t feel any different.
“Yeah, man, I’d have to talk it over with my business partner, but if you wanna give me your number, I’ll call you when we’re ready to actually open up the store.”
“Do you need a hand with cleaning and shit? I mean, I’m not asking you to pay me to help out with that, but that’s what you’re doing now, right? And the sooner it gets done, the sooner I can actually come back? Besides, it’ll give you and your partner a chance to get to know me, see if I’m going to work out.”
They were all very valid reasons, but Bob was still a little skeptical. It must have shown in his expression because Matt added, “Look, since Whitson died, I’ve been pulling graveyards down at Walmart, and there is nothing worse than that shit. So I’m just a little eager to get back into something I actually like.”
Bob nodded. “Okay. Come inside and meet the others.”
Inside, Bob introduced Matt to Mikey, Patrick, Pete, Frank, and Ray. Bob had actually just met Ray that morning, but apparently he was a long-time friend of Mikey and Frank. His wife was very, very pregnant, and Alicia had dragged Ashlee along to the baby shower that was being thrown for her that afternoon. Bob put Matt to work helping Ray with the boxes in the back - Frank and Pete were supposed to be helping but the two of them were more interested in acting out scenes from one of their favorite movies using a pair of plastic swords they had found behind the front register - and then pulled Mikey to the side.
“I know I should have talked to you first,” Bob said, “but he seems like a good kid. If you don’t think he’ll work out, let me know.”
Mikey looked over at Matt, considering. “I think that it’s always best to go with your gut. We’ll see how it goes.”
Bob had a feeling Matt was going to work out, though. He knew where everything was in the store, seemed to get along with everyone, and worked just as hard as the rest of them. At the end of the day, after the girls had shown back up and they were piling into cars, dirty and tired but accomplished, Mikey asked Matt to join them for dinner, and Bob knew their decision had been made.
When they were all heading to This is Ivy League, Pete said from the backseat, “See if we ever come visit you again, Bryar. All you wanted was cheap labor.”
“Man, you didn’t do any labor, unless you count making the lunch run or helping Frank make capes out of tarp and find a way onto the roof, and you’re definitely the cheap one in your trio.”
Patrick and Ashlee laughed but Pete was silent. “Patrick told you?” he finally asked, sounding unsure for the first time Bob could ever remember.
Bob glanced in the rearview and caught Pete’s eyes. “Pete, I’m happy for you guys. Just… take care of each other, okay? Because I’d hate to have to fly to Chicago to sort out the mess of hiding the bodies if you don’t.”
It was mostly an empty threat because the three of them had been taking care of one another for years now, but Pete still smiled. “Of course. I doubt Patrick told you, but we’re gonna have a commitment ceremony as soon as I talk him into it. You’ve gotta come home for that.”
From the passenger seat, Patrick made a sound that sounded suspiciously like an aborted laugh.
“Sure thing, Pete,” Bob said. “As soon as you talk Patrick into it.” He figured it would be about another three years or so before that happened, but he wouldn’t miss it for anything.
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob and Jamia were standing on the side of Rock City, sharing a cigarette and watching as Frank, Gabe, Adam, and Eddie played some warped game of tag in the parking lot. There was fruit involved, and Bob wasn’t sure what the rules were, if there actually were any rules.
“I’m almost afraid to admit this,” Bob said, “but I might actually miss them.” Disenchanted was set to open the following day.
“You nervous?”
Bob was, a little. Nervous about whether or not their store would work out, nervous about whether he and Mikey would get along - which was ridiculous, because they’d been getting along just fine so far and Bob had mostly been living on Mikey’s couch - nervous about the fact his stay in New Jersey was permanent, nervous about a dozen other trivial things. “Nah,” he told Jamia. “It’ll be good.”
She smiled at him, and Bob knew that she knew he was lying. “It will,” she agreed. “And I totally plan on sending Frank over there to keep you company, so don’t worry about missing him.”
“He can’t win your heart if he’s not here, Jamia.”
And that actually was something Bob might miss. Frank on his best behavior was pretty hilarious to watch, especially when everyone knew he was doing it to impress Jamia. Even Jamia herself knew, and she had already told Bob she knew it was an act. Still, she did look a little charmed by the efforts, especially when Pete had introduced himself to her and Frank had jumped in between them, saying, “This is Jamia and she’s off-limits. If you want a new tattoo, go talk to Brian or Adam.”
Jamia stole the cigarette from Bob’s hand with a grin. “That’s part of the point!”
They were laughing together when Frank came around the corner, scowling at them. “You two are awfully friendly lately.”
That only made Bob and Jamia laugh harder, which in turn made Frank seem more irritated. Bob probably should have told him that he really wasn’t interested in Jamia like that, but sometimes it was fun to rile him up.
***** ***** ***** *****
“Hey, Bob, can you do me a favor?”
Bob rolled his eyes discreetly. He was tired, and he knew that this favor was going to involve him driving out of his way before he made it home. Mikey’s car was in the shop yet again. Seriously, Bob understood that the car was what brought Alicia into Mikey’s life, but it was about time to give it up. Alicia was damn good at what she did, but she wasn’t a miracle worker.
“I told Mom I’d bring this by the house tonight.” He handed Bob a plain brown box. “Please?”
If it was anything else, for anyone else, Bob probably would have said no. Adjusting to working every day again was hard enough, but four really long days in a row was worse. He knew Mikey and Matt had both been working as hard as he had - they hadn’t paid for much advertising but word-of-mouth had provided them with a steady stream of business, even though they were still settling in - but tonight he really felt like being selfish and succumbing to the call of a hot shower and his bed. But he really liked Mrs. Way and it really wasn’t that far out of the way. Bob had to work to decipher Mikey’s directions, but he only managed to get lost once on the way over and he found the Way house by recognizing Mrs. Way’s car parked out front.
There was a hand-drawn sign taped next to the door, swirling letters that read “bell out of order, please knock” and a miniature, sparkling emerald city in the corner of the page. Waiting on the step after he knocked, Bob fidgeted and studied the statues in the small garden that lined the front of the house. After the second knock, he was about to turn around and go back to the car - he’d left his phone there on the charger - when the door opened and Bob was greeted by the sight of a man with dark, wet hair and a towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist.
"Please tell me you're here to fix the basement shower?"
Bob shook his head and tried to pretend like he wasn’t staring at the drops of water still clinging to the man’s skin. He was a bit nonplussed by this sudden situation and, before he could recover enough to process that this had to be Gerard and to explain he was there on a mission from Mikey, Mrs. Way was there.
“Go put some clothes on, Gerard.” She swatted him affectionately and Bob caught Gerard’s grin as he turned away. Mrs. Way smiled at Bob and reached out to take the box from his hands. “Thank you, Bob. I swear, one of these days Mikey will buy a car that actually runs.”
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob meant to say something about wanting a pizza - the commercials were getting to him - but when he opened his mouth, what came out instead was, “Mikey's brother's kinda hot.”
Across the room, Brian made a noise that Bob took to mean he was choking on his beer sputtering out a laugh.
Bob could feel his cheeks heating up, but he refused to apologize or try to take it back. It was the truth, after all, and besides, it was already out there. He couldn’t make Brian unhear it.
When Brian caught his breath, he said, “Yeah, objectively, Gee could be hot, I guess. I just didn’t know you swung that way.”
Bob made a point of keeping his eyes focused on the television and not looking over at Brian. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Hell no, man! No problem!” Brian got up and headed for the kitchen. “Although, objectively, I’m hotter than Gerard, right?”
“I don’t know; I’ve never seen you half naked.”
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob was actually a little jealous of Mikey's side of the store. The walls were covered in posters, fliers, and random bits of art. It should have looked cluttered, clashy, and overdone, but instead it just looked awesome.
Bob's half of the store, on the other hand, looked empty and sad in comparison, especially the lonely spot of bare wall in the space Bob had allocated for his local music section. Bob was studying the spot before they opened, trying to decide exactly what he could fill it with, and practically jumped when he felt a hand on his back.
"You should have Gerard make you something to put there," Frank suggested with a grin. He dangled his keys in front of Bob, confirming that Mikey had indeed given Frank a copy of their store key. Perfect.
"Yeah," Bob grumbled, "that would be great, if I knew Gerard."
"Dude, you met Gerard!" Frank hopped up to sit on the counter, kicking his heels against the faux-wood paneling in spite of the fact Bob had repeatedly asked him to knock that shit off. "You told Brian you think he's hot!"
Bob sighed and covered his face with his hand. "I said, Gerard is kinda hot. You know, objectively. And I didn't actually meet him."
"Whatever." Frank waved his hand dismissively. "You saw him in just a towel, he spoke to you, you each think the other is kinda hot, objectively. You should come to dinner Thursday night and ask him about making you something."
“Frank, seriously - wait, Gerard told you he thinks I’m hot?”
Frank smirked. “He fussed at Mikey for keeping his hot new business partner a secret.”
Bob shook his head. “Quit kicking my counter, Iero. Don’t you have a job or something?”
“Benefits of being my own boss - I get to make time to come bother the shit out of you.”
Bob handed Frank the box that UPS had delivered the afternoon before. “Well, as long as you’re here, you may as well make yourself useful.”
***** ***** ***** *****
When Mrs. Way invited Bob to join them for Thursday Night Family Dinner, he couldn't exactly refuse, not that he wanted to. Despite the rather large kitchen in Brian's house, Bob's dietary habits were mostly fueled by take out and easy mac. A homecooked meal sounded awesome.
It wasn't like it was unusual for the Ways to have extras at their family dinners. Frank was included nearly every week, Brian had gone at least twice since Bob had met him, and Ray had just mentioned Krista wanting the recipe for the casserole Mrs. Way had made last week. Gabe had made it a point to say he'd never been invited, but Bob could see Mikey’s wisdom in wanting to keep Gabe as far apart from his mother as humanly possible.
Dinner this week was only a small affair though. Brian had a date with some girl named Cheryl or Charlene or something. Bob had given up trying to keep names straight not long after he moved in with Brian. Frank finally convinced Jamia to go out to dinner with him, although Bob thought it was maybe the new vegan diner across town that had tipped the scales in that deal.
So that left Bob, Mikey, Alicia, Mrs. Way, and Gerard. It was Gerard that Bob was worried about. He didn't think 'Hey, I like your art, and by the way, you look really good half naked' was an appropriate conversation starter with someone he'd never been officially introduced to.
It was not as bad as he feared, though. There were no awkward pauses in conversation, no disastrous incidents of knocking his plate in floor. He actually felt at home, like he’d been friends with this family for years, and dinner was simple but good. He had complimented Mrs. Way on the food, and she had pointed at Gerard, who blushed and murmured a thanks. Apparently Mikey wasn’t the only one in the family who knew how to cook.
Mrs. Way refused his offer to help with the dishes and left the four of them finishing up too-large slices of peaches and cream cake and discussing the newest Marvel film adaptation.
Bob was distracted when he felt someone brush his foot under the table. He figured it was probably an accident, but then a sock-clad foot was working its way up the inside of his leg and he nearly choked on his food. “Alicia!”
Alicia looked startled for a moment and then grinned. “Sorry, Bob, I just couldn’t resist.”
“Mikey, could you please ask your girlfriend to not molest me with her feet?”
Mikey laughed. “ I can ask, but I doubt she’ll listen. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with polyamourous relationships, you know.”
“That’s it. I’m going to tell Patrick he’s not allowed to bring Pete to visit anymore.”
Mikey laughed even harder. “Wait, how’d you know it was Alicia and not Gee? They’re both right across from you.”
“Gerard has his shoes on.”
Mikey leaned back to glance under the table. “Gee! You do have shoes on, what the fuck? Why do you have shoes on? You almost never wear shoes.”
Gerard, who had been laughing along with the rest of them, was suddenly extremely interested in his plate. “Geez, Mikey, I do wear shoes. Like, all the time.”
“No, you really don’t,” Alicia put in. “Only when you’re trying to look presentable and impress someone.”
Bob could see the blush rising to Gerard’s cheeks and wondered what the big deal was. “Shoes or not, no more footsie at the dinner table,” Bob declared.
“But footsie is acceptable at a different time and place?”
Bob rolled his eyes at Alicia’s mischievous grin but smiled at her nevertheless. He knew he shouldn’t encourage her, but he couldn’t help it.
A few minutes later, Alicia stood up to clear the dessert plates from the table and didn’t refuse Bob’s offer to help with those. When they came back from the kitchen, Mikey and Gerard had already gone downstairs, arguing about what they were going to watch, and Alicia looped her arm through Bob’s. “Welcome to the family,” she said. “This is part of their tradition, watching Tivo’d episodes of things Mikey misses while he’s working. But I can usually convince them to play a game or something at the same time.”
Bob hadn’t realized that dinner actually meant spending the entire evening at the Way house, but that was okay.
Bob stopped at the bottom of the basement steps, taking the time to study the pictures hanging on the wall. There was one of Frank, younger and smiling and with a mohawk that Bob really wanted to give him shit over. Next to it was a fairly recent picture of Mikey, Alicia, and Bunny. A picture of Gabe in a bright red golf cart, poised to drive down a flight of stairs. Gerard and Brian with two guys Bob didn't recognize, then a picture of Gerard hugged up with one of the guys. The one on the end was of Frank stretched out on the grass, shirt pushed up and Gerard laid out across him, drawing on his stomach and chest with a colored marker.
Bob didn’t notice Gerard walking up beside him until he said, “Frank’s pretty.”
Bob didn’t think “pretty” was a word he would associate with Frank - it was a term far better suited to Gerard, actually - but he could admit that there was something about Frank in that one picture that drew his attention.
“So, um, Bob?”
Bob looked over at Gerard, but Gerard was turned away from him, busy straightening a stack of sketchbooks on a shelf. “Yeah?”
“Frank said you wanted to ask me to draw something for your wall at the shop?”
Bob really doubted that was exactly what Frank had said. “Did he, now?”
“Well, he said there was an empty spot in your life that he thought I could fill, but he was giggling and we had been talking about the picture I did for Mikey and I’m pretty fluent in Frank-speak. So I knew what he meant.”
Bob shook his head. Frank was seriously trouble of Wentzian proportions. It was probably a very good thing they lived half a country apart. But he did still have a huge, glaring white spot in his side of the store. "Yeah, I've got this bit of wall over the local music section, and I can't figure out what I want to do with it. I’m sure I’ll know what I want when I see it, but I just have no idea right now.”
“I could maybe draw up a few ideas, see if you like any of them. I just need to get an idea of what the space looks like.”
Bob had seen Gerard’s work, at Mikey’s and at Rock City and at Midtown and on Frank, so he wasn’t about to turn down that offer. “Really? Yeah, that’d be great. Maybe you-“ Bob stopped himself before he could ask if Gerard wanted to stop by the store. “Um, maybe I can take some pictures and send them to you?”
Gerard either didn’t notice Bob’s almost-slipup or else he was used to getting that reaction from strangers. “Yeah, that’s what Mikey and Brian usually do. Here,” Gerard flipped through the topmost sketchbook and found a blank page, tearing off a corner, “let me write down my email and cell, so you can do that.”
Bob folded the slip of paper and tucked it in his pocket, turning around to see the rest of the basement. The middle was open, a common area with a big screen television in the corner and bookshelves along the walls. There were knick knacks and action figures and comics and sketchbooks scattered among the neatly shelved books, which included an entire wall of cookbooks. Off to one side was a bathroom - hopefully with a working shower now - and an open doorway leading into a laundry room. The other side of the room had two closed doors, one with Gerard’s name and one with Mikey’s.
“Mikey’s old bedroom is my studio,” Gerard explained. “C’mon, it’s time for Dinner: Impossible.” He kicked the chair where Mikey and Alicia were curled together as he passed it and left room on the couch for Bob.
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob hadn’t realized that Alicia wasn’t joking - Gerard actually had made an effort to be presentable the first night they met - but the next time he went over to the house, Gerard answered the door in a t-shirt that had seen better days and paint-spattered jeans, hair sticking up in every direction.
“Sorry,” Gerard apologized as he led the way down the basement stairs. “I didn’t mean to forget you were coming, so you’ll have to excuse the mess. Actually, it always looks like this, so whatever.”
Gerard waved a hand over the mess in the basement and Bob realized this is probably what Mikey’s apartment would look like if it wasn’t for Alicia. He also realized that Gerard had been trying to impress him that first night, which made him feel special.
“Am I interrupting something? You said to come by today, but I can come back later or something,” Bob offered.
“Nah, you’re good.” Gerard flipped through a stack of canvases leaning against the wall and pulled one out. “I’ve got a show next week and I’m trying to finish up a couple pieces for it.”
“A show?”
“Yeah, an art show. My friend has a small gallery in New York. He makes a ridiculous amount of money off my art, but he says the fact I’m eccentric enough never to show up at the gallery makes my stuff worth more. Personally, I think he’s full of shit, but I’m getting paid so I’m not going to argue.”
That answered the question of where Gerard got his money from but there were a half dozen other questions lined up behind that one, questions Bob couldn’t ask. “Brian said something about going up to New York next week; is this related?”
“Yeah, Quinn usually invites him and Frank up for the shows. It works out. They can take the paintings up and then bring me a check back. Plus they get a weekend drinking with old friends, and Frank gets a new set of people to terrorize. Everyone wins. Sometimes Mikey goes with them, but only if he won’t miss Thursday night.”
He held out a canvas hesitantly, like he was worried about what Bob would think of it. Bob took it and held it up, taking in the different aspects of the painting.
“If you don’t like it, I’ve got others.” Gerard was biting his lip and watching Bob for his reaction.
“No! I mean, it’s perfect.” And it was. It was like Gerard had read Bob’s mind, even when Bob himself hadn’t had a clear picture of what he wanted. But this was going to look perfect in Disenchanted. “What do I owe you?”
Gerard shook his head. “Friends, Bob. You don’t owe me anything.” He hesitated and then grinned. “Unless you want to make a grocery run for me. There was this parmesan crusted chicken recipe on 30 Minute Meals yesterday that I’d really like to try.”
That wasn’t a hardship, especially since Bob was pretty sure that meant he’d be getting dinner out of the deal. “Deal. But you should show me your other art first.”
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob handed Jamia another beer and picked up his phone. “Hello?”
“Bob? Mikey says you turned him down when he invited you over for dinner.”
“Hey, Gerard. Yeah, I actually had plans already - ow, shit, there’s a table there - since Frank’s in New York.”
“You’re with Jamia?” Gerard sounded oddly disappointed, but Bob had no idea why.
“Yeah, and she’s kicking my ass at this fucking game. She plays dirtier than Frank.”
Jamia laughed as she handed Bob back his controller. “No one plays dirtier than Frank. Are we going to play or what, Bryar?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bob told her before turning his attention back to the phone. He wasn’t sure why he felt like he needed to apologize, but he did. “Sorry, Gee. I’m off tomorrow. How about I come over for lunch? I’ll bring take out and we can watch that movie you were talking about the other day.”
“I guess,” Gerard agreed reluctantly.
“Cool. I’ll see you then.” Bob clicked the ‘end’ button and dropped the phone onto the floor beside him. When Jamia didn’t unpause the game like he was expecting, he looked at her.
“You know I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself. I did it for a long time before Frank. You didn’t have to change your plans.”
“I didn’t change my plans. Mikey just said something this afternoon, which was after I had already made plans with you.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. I just don’t want to cause problems between you and Gerard. I need Gerard to like me.”
“Why would you cause problems between me and Gerard? He and I are friends, just like you and I are. And I’ve known you longer.”
“Just friends, huh?”
“Yeah, just friends.” All of Bob’s friends were crazy tonight, what the hell was up with that? “Are we gonna play or what?”
***** ***** ***** *****
“No, no, I insist!” Jamia ignored Mrs. Way’s protests and started gathering the dishes from the table, casting a desperate look in Bob’s direction.
“Here, I’ll help,” he volunteered, standing up as well. He always offered to lend a hand with cleanup, but it was more polite habit at this point than anything else, since Mrs. Way always refused. He’d never pushed the point like Jamia was doing, though.
Once they were in the kitchen, Jamia turned around and whispered, “Gerard doesn’t like me!”
“That’s not true,” Bob answered automatically, turning on the faucet to rinse the dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. But Gerard had been acting a little hostile toward Jamia, and some of the looks he’d been sending her way were definitely of the unfriendly variety.
“Seriously, Bob, this is more important than meeting Frank’s mom. If Gerard doesn’t approve, Frank and I don’t have a chance.”
Bob wanted to point out that Frank had put an awful lot of effort into winning Jamia over, but he honestly wasn’t sure that would matter if Gerard didn’t approve. But the other night, Gerard had asked him about Jamia, which Bob had taken a evidence he had wanted to make sure he made a good impression on Frank’s girlfriend, and Bob had done his best to talk her up.
“It’ll be okay,” he said. “I’ll talk to him.”
Everyone else was moving away from the table when Bob and Jamia went back into the dining room - Mrs. Way upstairs for her dose of Thursday Night television, Brian probably aiming for Midtown, and the others heading to the basement. Bob pulled Gerard aside. “Quit being mean to Jamia! She thinks you don’t like her!”
Gerard crossed his arms and glared at Bob. “It’s not her I don’t like, but she’s supposed to be here with Frank. She’s spent most of the evening talking to you.”
“Gerard, you and Frank haven’t stopped talking about Frank Miller since he and Jamia walked in the door! What is it with the two of you? First Frank starts making these random threats for no reason, and now you? Don’t get me wrong, Jamia’s plenty hot and she’s pretty damn awesome, but girls just don’t usually do it for me. And even if they did, Frank’s had Jamia’s number since that first day at Brian’s shop.”
Gerard was staring at him, wide-eyed and on the verge of smiling.
“What?” Bob asked irritably. Seriously, everyone in New Jersey was fucking crazy.
“You don’t like girls.”
“I don’t dislike girls. I just prefer boys.”
Gerard grinned. “Bob Bryar, come downstairs and watch Iron Chef with me.”
Seriously. Fucking crazy.
***** ***** ***** *****
“Everyone in New Jersey is crazy,” Bob complained as soon as Patrick picked up the phone.
Patrick laughed. “Pete practically lived with us here in Chicago; you can’t tell me you’re not used to crazy.”
“Yeah, but with Pete I had you to dilute the insanity. Here, not so much. Why don’t you move out here?”
“Because Pete wouldn’t let me move out of state without him,” Patrick explained patiently, “and do you really want to add that to the mix?”
Bob thought about it. “I guess not. How’s life with Pete and the wife?”
“Good, good.” Bob could hear the rustle of papers in the background. “We’re talking about getting another dog, actually. Not that Hemmy isn’t enough of a handful, but Pete’s been making noises about having a baby, and Ash and I are trying to put that off.”
“A baby? Pete does realize that there are three of you in this relationship, right? And only one of you is a girl? How exactly is a baby going to work?”
“It’ll work. I would just rather it been later than sooner.”
“Yeah, okay. When you call me two months from now and tell me Pete’s pregnant, I’m going to laugh.”
“Believe me, if Pete could get pregnant, we’d already have a houseful of babies.”
By the time Bob got off the phone with Patrick, he felt like maybe he just attracted crazy people because his friends in Chicago were just as crazy as the ones here in New Jersey. He went to find Mikey to see about placing bets on how long it would take for the Wentz family to announce they were expecting.
***** ***** ***** *****
Bob smiled when he saw Gerard’s name flash up on the display of his cell. “Hey.”
“What are you doing when you close up the shop tonight?”
“Uh, I was thinking about ordering a pizza, watching reruns of House, and going to bed early. What’d you have in mind?”
“I don’t know, man, that’s kinda hard to top.”
“My life is exciting,” Bob agreed. Then he heard couching in the background. “Is that Frank?”
“Yeah, he’s sick. - What? - Hang on, Bob.” There was the sound of rustling fabric and some murmuring before Gerard came back to the phone. “I stand corrected, sorry. Frankie is dying and miserable.”
Bob laughed. “Frankie is a drama queen.”
Gerard laughed quietly and there was a fondness in his voice when he said, “Well, yeah, but we love him.”
“So what’s up?”
“Well, I was wondering if you’d mind bringing him some orange juice and more Tylenol? Mikey’s with Alicia at the garage - fucking car again, I swear I’m gonna talk to Alicia about buying him a new one for his birthday - and I don’t want Ray to take a chance on carrying any germs back to Krista, and -”
“Hey, no,” Bob interrupted. “No explanations. Of course I will.”
Bob decided to close the shop an hour early. He knew Matt was perfectly capable of running things himself, but he didn’t see the fairness in sticking him there alone while both the owners were playing hooky, especially since Matt was seriously underpaid as it was. He called Rock City to talk to Brian and then to Jamia. A few stops later, he showed up on the Ways’ doorstep with a container of Frank’s favorite soup from the vegan diner, subs for him and Gerard, a bag from the drugstore, and a gallon of orange juice. It took a bit of juggling to get to the key that they always left in the mailbox for Frank - he apparently had his own key at one point but kept losing it, so this was easier - and let himself in, but he managed. He followed the sound of the television to the basement.
Frank was sprawled out across Gerard on the bed, looking young and vulnerable in his sleep, his cheeks flushed with fever. Gerard looked bored, sketching something halfheartedly with one hand and rubbing Frank’s back with the other.
“You’re going to get sick,” Bob called through the open bedroom door, using his foot to push aside a stack of Gerard’s sketchbooks so he could put his bags down on the coffee table.
Gerard looked up and smiled. “Nah. I’m immune to Frank-germs.” He shifted a little so he was mostly out from under Frank. “Hey, Frankie. Bob’s here.”
Frank rolled over a little, blinking sleeping at Bob. Then he tried to yawn but it turned into a coughing fit. Bob couldn’t help but feel sorry for him; drama queen or not, he looked and sounded pitiful. Gerard helped Frank sit up and get settled against the pillows. It was obviously a practiced move. Bob had apparently been wrong when he thought that all the talk about Frank’s weak immune system was a joke.
“I’ve got soup and juice and drugs,” Bob said.
“You’re my fucking favorite,” Frank mumbled.
“Yeah, whatever.” Bob headed up to the kitchen for a glass and a spoon. When he returned, Frank had wrapped himself up in a blanket and shuffled to the chair in the main part of the basement. Gerard was sorting through the bag from the drugstore, shaking out a handful of pills to hand to Frank. Bob was glad he’d called Brian because Gerard gave him an approving look. Bob settled down on the end of the couch opposite Gerard, watching as Gerard coaxed Frank into finishing most of the soup, even teasing a few half-hearted giggles out of him.
Finally, Frank was falling asleep in the chair, and Bob excused himself to take the leftover soup and juice upstairs. He grabbed a couple of Cokes out of the fridge for himself and Gerard before heading back down.
Frank was tucked back in Gerard’s bed, and the door to the bedroom was cracked slightly. Gerard had cleared more room on the coffee table and laid the subs out on it.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the can Bob offered him. “And thanks for picking up food. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I kinda did,” Bob answered, sitting down beside Gerard. “Friends, right? You don’t have to take care of Frank when he’s sick, but you do.”
“Frank’s done a lot for me. All of them have, him and Mikey and Brian and Ray. They put up with a lot. Me taking care of Frank when he’s sick? It’s really not that big a deal.”
Bob didn’t agree. He thought it was actually a big deal. He would have done the same for Patrick, or maybe even Pete, but even then he would have been doing it because he felt obligated since they lived together. Still, the fact that Gerard was so dedicated to his friends… well, it really just made him that much more endearing.
Link to Part 2