Genuine and Unprepared.
So this has been in the works for a while, and finally it's all finished and beta'd and ready to go.
Thanks to
boobookittifukk for the beta job, much appreciated. This is the first Gerard/Lindsey that I've written that's well, het, and canon, so I'm hoping I did okay. We'll see. Hope you like it.
Genuine and Unprepared
Gerard/Lindsey
~5100 words.
Gerard’s maybe a little jealous. There’s this sharp pang in his stomach, or maybe his heart, and it kind of makes him want to throw up. He supposes he should be excited about this. About the fact that they’re embarking on a tour that should be one of the best of their lives, but he can’t bring himself to crack a smile. All he can feel is this churning in his stomach, this fear, this anxiety. He can’t stop fidgeting, shifting and moving on the couch, his leg bouncing, his hands twisting, constantly changing his position and unable to stay comfortable. From the way Bob is looking at him, he’s seconds away from getting up and slapping Gerard until he sits still, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but no matter how many times he tells himself to sit still to calm down and act like he’s okay, he can’t. He’s been restless lately, on edge. On the other couch Mikey and Alicia are snuggling, his nose pressed into her neck. Occasionally, she lets out a giggle as he nips at her skin, and Gerard has to look away. There’s something unsettling about seeing his younger brother happily married before Gerard himself even settles down. He’s happy for Mikey - over the fucking moon - but he can’t help the nagging voice in his head telling him to get a move on. If he’s being honest, he really just wants to meet someone. He’s sick and tired of people who only see him as the front-man of a successful band, sick of being hit on by girls who wouldn’t have looked at him twice if he wasn’t Gerard Way. He fiddles with his ring finger, wonders what it would be like to be happily, comfortably married. With one quick glance back over at Mikey, he stands up and hurries to the bunks, feeling the rest of the band’s eyes on him as he walks away.
Usually, Gerard’s used to the rumble of the bus moving, the small bumps along the road. It’s become ingrained into him like every other part of touring, and never before has he had a problem sleeping because of it. Now though, he’s tossing and turning, unable to sleep until just as he thinks he’s about to nod off, the bus hits a pothole or a bumpy gravel road and he’s wide awake again. It’s nearing on four am and he’s at that point where he’s so tired he feels like crying, but he can’t make himself fall asleep. Instead, he kicks the blankets off before pulling them back up to his chin, turns onto his back, then his stomach, his side, and then tries kicking the blankets off again. Nothing feels comfortable, nothing is working, and he lets loose a string of curse words as he fumbles around in his bunk. He knows that if he keeps this up, he’ll probably wake everyone else up, but he can’t bring himself to care. Part of him even takes some twisted pleasure at the thought of someone else waking up and having to share his pain. He can’t sleep, and it’s not fair that everyone else has been out of it for hours now.
When he can’t take it anymore, he rolls out of his bunk and stomps into the kitchenette, boiling the kettle and setting about making himself a shitty cup of instant coffee. There’s no way in hell he’s sitting around waiting to drink proper coffee, so he figures the instant shit will do. After all, he’s also pretty used to shitty coffee after six years on the road, give or take. He’s just about to sit down and watch whatever crappy shows are on television at this time of morning when he hears someone else stumbling out of the bunk area. He cranes his neck to look behind him out of curiosity, feeling half-guilty and half-delighted. Frank staggers into view, rubbing his eyes sleepily with his pajama pants threatening to slip right off his hips. Gerard can’t help but grin at him, and when Frank shoots him a glare in return, he holds up his cup of coffee as a peace offering. Frank mutters something that sounds a little like fucking ass, but he takes the cup regardless, cradling it in his hands as he shuffles back out into the lounge. Quickly, Gerard makes himself a new cup before he follows.
“Fucking insomniac,” Frank grumbles as Gerard sits on the couch beside him, but all of the malice from his tone is killed by the scratchy sound of his tired voice.
“It’s not like I came knocking on your bunk,” Gerard points out, keeping his voice low. It’s one thing to wake Frank up, it’s another thing entirely to wake up Bob. Bob isn’t afraid to throw a shoe at his face. Frank is - most of the time - more rational when it comes to Gerard’s bouts of insomnia.
“Might as well’ve.” Frank stifles a yawn and slouches further down onto the couch, and Gerard watches the mug of coffee in his hands a little fearfully. Any second now Frank’s going to slosh it all over himself, surely.
Somehow, Frank manages to manoeuvre both himself and the mug however, and he makes it safely into a comfortable position without drenching himself or Gerard in coffee. “You need to stop thinking so hard,” Frank says, and Gerard wrinkles his brow.
“Stop thinking? That’s more your department, Frankie.”
Frank apparently isn’t into teasing at four in the morning, and he rolls his eyes, elbowing Gerard in the side. Again, his coffee comes dangerously close to spilling. Frank takes a sip, and Gerard sighs a little in relief, hoping that it might not be full enough for any more close calls.
“Whenever you can’t sleep it’s always because you think too much,” Frank explains, like he knows how Gerard’s mind works better than Gerard himself.
“I’m not thinking. Well, I am, but not like. Not things that would keep me awake usually.” Gerard has been thinking. Been thinking an awful lot about this tour, and the bands they’re on the road with, but mostly, about the fact that he feels fucking lonely. As lame as it sounds - and he’s well aware that it does - he still feels lonely even with his best friends and band-mates living with him 24/7. It’s just the usual bout of homesickness he supposes - missing having friends he only sees occasionally, because somehow that made the times he did see them even better. He loves his band to death but sometimes it feels like they’re all he’s got, and that’s not always such a great thing. He’s always been one for affection; always needed physical and emotional contact, like he’ll shrivel up and die if he’s not around people for long. In a way he’s a walking contradiction because as much as he loves human contact, he’s a fan of curling up by himself with his iPod for hours on end. Now though, the idea of being alone sickens him. And it’s not just friendships anymore, he knows that. He’s thirty, and he doesn’t care that he’s on the road all the time. That it’s going to be hard to settle down no matter what. All he really cares about is the fact that he’s thirty, and craving the attention he can only get from a lover. Or more than that, really. Hopeless romantic and all, he’s wishing he had someone to cuddle, someone to nuzzle and smile with. Not just a fuck buddy or a friends-with-benefits sort of thing because really, it’s just not his scene.
“You’re doing it again,” Frank notes, and Gerard snaps to attention.
“Oh. Okay. Yeah, you’re right.”
“Wanna talk about it?” Frank asks, and he’s not pushing it, and he’s not saying it just because he feels obligated, either. Gerard knows Frank, and he knows that it’s just Frank’s way of letting him know that he’s there if he needs to talk, that he’s approachable at any time. Gerard sort of loves that about Frank.
“I’m just. I’m just lonely, I guess,” Gerard admits, and Frank stays quiet, waiting to see whether he’ll continue. After a moment he does, setting aside his almost empty coffee mug so that he can use his hands like he’s used to. “I just kind of want to meet someone who’s not just looking to fuck me around, y’know? Like, someone who I can just be me with, and not any shit to do with the money, or the name, or the band.” Gerard frowns, looking Frank dead in the eyes. “You’re a lucky fuck, you know. With Jamia and all.”
And that brings a warm smile to Frank’s eyes and lips. That’s what Gerard wants. He envies Frank for meeting someone before the band, someone who’s stuck with him through all of it, and not changed just because the situation became a little different. Gerard wants that.
“Yeah, I know,” Frank replies, and he has this dopey smile on his face, like he’s got half a mind to get up and call Jamia, regardless of time differences and the fact that he has no idea what unreasonable time he could be calling her in. “You’ll meet someone, Gee. Sure you will.”
Gerard isn’t so sure, and for a brief second he severely regrets writing fucking Cubicles. Motherfucker didn’t know what he was asking for. Hindsight is always 20/20, he supposes. As if sensing that Gerard’s still on edge, Frank reaches across and takes his hand, squeezing it reassuringly and smiling. It’s all comfort, all relaxed support and Gerard loves that about their friendship. There’s no awkward boundaries, no worries about whether holding hands or hugging or kisses on the cheek is a little bit too far, a little bit too close for comfort. They’re best friends, have been for years, and they’ve been living together, eating together, breathing together for so many years that they can’t help but be affectionate. Jamia understands, and it’s never been something they’ve had to worry about. Gerard feels a surge of relief and gratitude for what he has with Frank. Someone to talk to at ungodly hours of the morning. Someone who understands.
They end up watching re-runs of Will and Grace, and eventually, Gerard falls asleep with his head on Frank’s shoulder.
He’s the last one off the bus, shades firmly covering his eyes from harsh sunlight. There’s already people moving quickly, bustling around with equipment and walkie talkies, headsets and badges. It feels like home, even in a strange venue so far away from Jersey. The sights and smells are still more or less the same though - the sweat, the static of equipment and radios, fast-paced chatter and the occasional burst of laughter. There’s a group of guys - Linkin Park from what he can see - already kicking a ball around a little to his right, and it’s all easy and familiar. A new tour, new bands, new people to meet sure, but still everything he loves, still the comfort of doing what he knows.
“Gerard Way, you lazy fuck!”
Gerard snaps to attention, seeking out the voice and finding it in the form of a woman striding towards him. There’s a wide smile on her lips, a little all-knowing, a little teasing.
“Heard you only just decided to join us,” she continues once she reaches him, and Gerard smiles back, an automatic reaction to seeing an old friend.
“Had some things I had to clear up first,” he lies. What he had really been doing was spending a little bit longer moping around the bus, not wanting to face people. He knows that Jamia is coming out to see Frank midway through this tour, and that sort of brings his mood down even further. Mikey has Alicia, and Frank has Jamia, and Bob and Ray have their girlfriends waiting patiently for them back home. And then there’s Gerard, drifting back and forth without being able to decide what he wants. He knows what he wants to an extent - wants someone to love, simple as that - but he can’t bring himself to find the right girl. There’s always something holding him back.
“Listen, so your guys wanted me to tell you they want you over at the stage when you’re ready, but I was thinking we could talk for a bit before I hand you over. What do you say?” Lindsey is still smiling at him, red-painted lips curved perfectly. She’s not in her stage outfit yet - the school girl uniform that he rather guiltily enjoys seeing her in - but she looks as gorgeous as he remembers her in tight fitting jeans and a simple t-shirt. He can remember the way they hit it off back when they first met. The way they’d clicked so easily with music and art and ideals and suddenly he wants to hide for the entire day and just talk to her.
“That’d be awesome,” he says genuinely, and she rocks forward on her heels to nudge him with her shoulder and grin again.
“Well then let’s go.”
Gerard’s quickly losing track of time. The longer they sit and talk the more he wants to stay here forever. All he can focus on are the words pouring from her mouth, the way she just seems to get everything. She’s smart, she has a lot to say and she’s not afraid of saying it, and it’s everything Gerard’s ever admired in people. He kind of wants her to keep talking forever. And then there’s the way her lips move, painted ruby-red and curving and twisting to form the words she wants to say, the way he can’t help but stare at them as they move, transfixed. Every now and then she lifts a hand to brush hair back from her face and he notices that, too.
And then suddenly she stops, glancing at her watch and laughing. “Holy shit! That’s the time? Fuck. We should get back.”
She stands up and Gerard refrains from catching her wrist, from pleading with her to stay. She’s right. They have jobs to do.
“Yeah. It’s been awesome talking to you though,” he says, and again he genuinely means every word. He’s never found himself so intrigued with what one person has to say.
She smiles warmly, none of the old teasing grin, and he knows that she can see he means it. “Yeah, you too. We should do it again some time.”
Gerard’s about to offer to take her out for dinner if they get time, and then he remembers that this is the first day of tour. That it’s only their first day of catching up since they met, and he should probably keep in mind that he hasn’t known her for his whole life, even if that’s what it feels like.
“Well, we’ve got a whole tour together,” he says instead. And then he can’t figure out what the standard procedure here is; whether he’s supposed to hug her or shake her hand or just say goodbye, and he hesitates.
She laughs a little, as if she can hear his thoughts, and shuffles a little closer. “It’s a rock tour, Gerard, not a business meeting.” And then she embraces him for a second and he can smell her shampoo before she’s pulling away. She waves goodbye and hurries back to her own band, and Gerard stands there for a minute with a stupid smile on his face before he remembers that his own band is probably wondering where he is.
“Where the fuck have you been, Gerard?” Ray is already herding him towards sound check, yelling at him that there’s only a couple of hours until the show starts, and that it’s the first day of the tour and they have to be prepared, yada yada yada. All Gerard can really think about is the red of Lindsey’s lips, and the way she spoke of things he couldn’t talk about with anyone.
“Dude, he’s not even listening,” Mikey says, and Gerard looks up to see his brother grinning at him.
“Fuck off, Mikey, I was too,” Gerard counters, even though he knows Mikey’s going to pull the usual ‘What did he say, then?’ trick and he’s not going to have an answer past about the first two minutes of Ray’s speech.
Mikey says exactly that and Gerard counts off a small triumph on his mental Gerard versus Mikey tally. And then he remembers that he really doesn’t have much of an answer and Mikey’s about to get his own little stroke under his name.
“I’m in lots of trouble because I disappeared and we’re on tour and I have to be responsible and be where I’m supposed to be, etcetera, etcetera. Was that all?”
Mikey crosses his arms in front of his chest and raises an eyebrow. “You passed, I guess. Barely. But where were you? We were looking for you everywhere. We even sent Lindsey from MSI to go looking for you.”
Gerard allows a tiny smile and thinks that oh yeah, Lindsey found him, and he’s more or less counting down the minutes until he can corner her alone again. “We were just talking.” He shrugs, and figures that whatever, they shouldn’t question that. People talk and get distracted all the time.
It seems to suffice for now, and they leave him alone while everything’s being set up. They get on stage and play something quick, easy and second nature, and Gerard sings when instructed to and otherwise thinks of Lindsey.
It’s halfway through their second song of the night that he spots her. He’s striding over to Frank’s side of the stage, singing his lungs out and feeling the music reverberate through his entire body. He can’t see much when he looks out off the stage, the lights blinding any chance of real sight, but he heads towards Frank, knowing that even if he can’t see them, they can see him, and anything he does with Frank is sure to get a reaction out of them. He’s halfway there, strutting and giving it all he has when his eyes drift to the side, to where the lights aren’t quite as blinding as they are straight ahead, and he can see her in the wings, grinning and tapping her foot along to the beat. Gerard catches her eye and grins straight back, and then he nuzzles his face into Frank’s neck, biting the skin when there’s a break in the vocals. Frank leans back against his shoulder and laughs, eyes wild and stage-crazed, and Gerard knows that Frank saw her too.
He powers through the rest of the set then, the knowledge that she’s watching, that she likes what she sees only fuelling his performance, encouraging him to give everything he has. To work the crowd more, to show off a little more, play the crazy motherfucker he can be on stage and occasionally glancing back over to wink at the woman just off to the side of the stage. And Lindsey grins back at him every single time, until she blows him a kiss during Give ‘Em Hell, Kid and he shakes his hips in response. The rest of the band have realised that she’s there by now, and Mikey keeps giving Gerard this warning look, mixed in with a smile.
It’s one of the most carefree, relaxed and fun shows Gerard remembers playing in a while, and the crowd feed off it. She stays until the end of their set, which is more than he could ask for. Mostly, they get a chance to maybe catch a couple of songs from someone else’s set before they’re being hauled off to do something else. And yet, somehow, she’s managed to avoid band members, managers, tour managers and everyone else on her back just to watch their show.
When they finish their set and head off stage, she’s disappeared. He’s a little disappointed he didn’t get a chance to talk to her, but he supposes it’s about time she got back to her own band. He can always try and catch her later anyway.
His opportunity comes later that night when Kitty and Lindsey knock on the door of their bus. Frank opens the door and when he spots who it is, he grins and calls for Gerard.
“Hey,” Lindsey greets him with a smile, and he returns it warmly. “So we were wondering if you anti-social geeks wanted to come out tonight. Everyone’s going - first night of tour and all.”
Gerard hesitates. There’s nothing he’d rather do than spend the night with her, but he also knows that everyone on tour going out will involve a lot of drinking. He finds it’s easier to avoid these situations altogether. They all respect his sobriety, but being the only sober person in the place gets depressing and lonely fast. And then there’s the added risk factor. Usually, he’s okay with people around him drinking. Hell, he lives his life on the road and seeing his own band mates or other bands drinking had become mundane. Still, in a room full of intoxicated people who wouldn’t notice if he slipped up, sometimes it’s hard to hold himself in check. As much as he likes Lindsey, he’s not about to go fucking up everything he’s worked for. He’s about to make an excuse not to go when something flashes across Lindsey’s face.
“Oh! You. Of course. Listen, um. Well, I’ll stay, if you’d like?”
Gerard doesn’t catch on right away, but then Frank’s nudging him in the ribs. “Awesome. I’ll go ask the guys,” he says before he disappears, leaving Gerard on the doorstep.
There’s an awkward silence before Gerard remembers he should probably invite them in. Kitty shakes her head and declines politely, assuring him that she’s following Jimmy and Steve out as soon as she picks up the MCR boys. On cue, the other four members of his band reappear and nudge Gerard out of the way so that they can climb off the bus.
Soon enough, it’s just him and Lindsey, and he finally clues in. “Oh! I don’t. Don’t let me keep you from going out, really.”
Lindsey rolls her eyes good-naturedly and pushes past him. “I invited you for a reason, Gerard.”
He falters, unsure of what exactly he’s supposed to say to that and realising that this is the first time in a long time that he’s been left without words. Having Lindsey on the MCR bus is one of those things Gerard doesn’t entirely know how to deal with. She’s awesome, and he’s totally looking forward to spending time with her without having to worry about interruptions or being on time to sound check or a show or quality time with band mates that he sees 24/7 and yet somehow still want to spend every waking minute with each other. He’s not sure exactly what she’s expecting.
“Relax, kid. I’m just here so that you don’t get so lonely.”
And maybe he’s overanalysing. Maybe he needs to calm the fuck down, but...“just”? She laughs, seeing the look on his face and understanding immediately.
“I want to be here, you over-thinking fuck. Stress less.”
Gerard forces a smile and makes for the kitchen. If he can keep moving, keep busy, maybe he won’t make a total idiot out of himself.
“Coffee?” he calls out and can hear her following him into the kitchenette.
“Would be great, thanks.”
And that gives him a few moments of distraction, of mundane activity. She potters around beside him, humming to herself and after a second or two, he realises it’s one of MCR’s songs.
“What did you think of the set tonight?” he asks, because there, that’s conversation. He can talk about the music, no problem. He does so in interviews every day, and he can get through this easily. Besides, it’s not like they’ve never talked before. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all of a sudden.
“I loved it. You guys are really something to watch on that stage,” she says, and she’s staring straight at him, a light smile on her lips. Gerard likes hearing that they played a good show, that they gave the audience what they paid for. And it means even more coming from her.
“I’m glad. Maybe I can swing by and watch you tomorrow,” he suggests, and she nods, sidling a little bit closer.
“I’d like that.”
He finishes making them coffee and hands her a mug, noticing briefly that it’s the one Ray normally uses.
“So, how would you like to spend the evening?” he asks her, feeling as though he should be entertaining her more than he is. This is his bus, his territory. He’s the host, and yet he’s at a complete loss as to how to amuse a gorgeous woman on a tour bus.
“Seriously, Gerard. Relax. Anyone would think you’d never been around people before. We can just talk, you know.”
He calms down a little, smiles at her thankfully, and leads her back into the living room. They end up lazing on the couch, and her knees bump against his. It doesn’t take long before conversation becomes easy, and he starts to remember how much of a geek she is, how much they have in common, how comfortable it is just to talk to her. It’s not long before they get into art, and when she asks him whether he’d like to see some of her stuff one day, his eyes light up.
In the time they’ve been talking, he’s barely noticed that she’s shifted a little closer, that their thighs are now rubbing together. Their empty coffee mugs are abandoned on the table to his right, and he’s too comfortable to bother getting up and putting them in the sink. Instead, he listens to her talk, adds in his own two cents every now and then, and lets himself get caught up in conversation without worrying. They get talking about past lovers, past relationships and she laughs a little awkwardly when she says she always ends up dating the assholes. There’s a surge of something in his stomach that makes him want to find anyone who ever hurt her and punch them in the face, but then she’s changing the subject as if it makes her uncomfortable.
He’s halfway through describing every detail about his favourite scenes in Little Miss Sunshine (“And you know, the part where he finds out he’s colour blind and can’t become a pilot? My god, it was just so perfectly soul destroying. Can you imagine that? Imagine having the one thing you want most in the world taken away from you?”) when Lindsey smiles, cocks her head to the side slightly and says, “I haven’t seen it.”
Gerard’s off the couch in seconds, rummaging through the drawer of DVDs they have to keep them relatively sane on the road, and after a moment, he pulls his head back up triumphant, clutching the movie in his hand. “We’re watching it. Right now.”
She looks a little bemused but she goes with it, settling back on the couch and nodding. “Put it in then.”
He does so as fast as he can before he rushes back to the couch and settles back down, hitting play on the remote.
An hour later and they’ve slipped down against the couch. The lights are all off and the light from the TV washes over them gently. Both caught up in the movie and hardly paying attention to who they’re sharing the couch with, both have resorted to the usual bus tendencies. When you live on a bus with the same people for so long, personal boundaries and space cease to become an issue, and without realising it, both of them are lying down on the couch, Lindsey’s legs dangling over the arm rest and Gerard’s head on her stomach. It’s only when she starts gently threading her fingers through his hair that he realises he’s not watching the movie with his band, and being this all up in her personal space is probably not a good idea. He startles, makes to move away, and when she laughs, he can feel the vibrations against his skin.
“Gerard, it’s fine. Really,” she assures him, and he smiles up at her before laying back down again. Her fingers immediately go back to playing with his hair and scratching gently against his scalp, and it’s soothing in all the best ways.
It’s not long before the credits are rolling, and she’s doing her best to stretch underneath him without jostling him too much. He sits up anyway, allowing her to shift a little and regain the feeling in her limbs. Her shirt rides up a little as she does and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s tracing fingertips gently against the sliver of exposed skin above her waistband. She shivers beneath his touch and he snaps his hand back, eyes catching hers immediately.
“I’m sorry, I-“
“It’s okay,” she says again, and this time she edges closer, pushes him back on the couch until he’s pinned against the armrest. Her right leg slots in between his thighs as she leans in close, and this is pushing the boundaries, this is going beyond casual movie-cuddling and relaxed friendship. Then she kisses him, and Gerard couldn’t give a fuck about personal boundaries.
He kisses back almost immediately, pressing forward and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Her fingers find their way back to his hair again, and this time she’s tangling, tugging, meeting his tongue with hers and pushing closer, closer.
When he breaks away to breathe, she’s grinning and her lipstick is a little smeared at the edges. He can’t help but laugh, reminded of teenagers making out on his parents’ couch once they’d gone to bed. She brushes her hair away from her face and kisses him again, simple but sweet.
“I’m not that guy,” he says a little breathlessly, his fingers sliding up the back of her shirt and touching skin.
“I know.” And she smiles, kissing him again.
When Mikey corners him the next day and gives him the usual lecture on being careful and not falling too fast, not getting hurt so easily, Gerard just shakes his head.
“She’s it, Mikes,” he says, simple as that, and Mikey hugs him tight.
Thanks to
boobookittifukk for the beta job, much appreciated. This is the first Gerard/Lindsey that I've written that's well, het, and canon, so I'm hoping I did okay. We'll see. Hope you like it.
Genuine and Unprepared
Gerard/Lindsey
~5100 words.
Gerard’s maybe a little jealous. There’s this sharp pang in his stomach, or maybe his heart, and it kind of makes him want to throw up. He supposes he should be excited about this. About the fact that they’re embarking on a tour that should be one of the best of their lives, but he can’t bring himself to crack a smile. All he can feel is this churning in his stomach, this fear, this anxiety. He can’t stop fidgeting, shifting and moving on the couch, his leg bouncing, his hands twisting, constantly changing his position and unable to stay comfortable. From the way Bob is looking at him, he’s seconds away from getting up and slapping Gerard until he sits still, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but no matter how many times he tells himself to sit still to calm down and act like he’s okay, he can’t. He’s been restless lately, on edge. On the other couch Mikey and Alicia are snuggling, his nose pressed into her neck. Occasionally, she lets out a giggle as he nips at her skin, and Gerard has to look away. There’s something unsettling about seeing his younger brother happily married before Gerard himself even settles down. He’s happy for Mikey - over the fucking moon - but he can’t help the nagging voice in his head telling him to get a move on. If he’s being honest, he really just wants to meet someone. He’s sick and tired of people who only see him as the front-man of a successful band, sick of being hit on by girls who wouldn’t have looked at him twice if he wasn’t Gerard Way. He fiddles with his ring finger, wonders what it would be like to be happily, comfortably married. With one quick glance back over at Mikey, he stands up and hurries to the bunks, feeling the rest of the band’s eyes on him as he walks away.
Usually, Gerard’s used to the rumble of the bus moving, the small bumps along the road. It’s become ingrained into him like every other part of touring, and never before has he had a problem sleeping because of it. Now though, he’s tossing and turning, unable to sleep until just as he thinks he’s about to nod off, the bus hits a pothole or a bumpy gravel road and he’s wide awake again. It’s nearing on four am and he’s at that point where he’s so tired he feels like crying, but he can’t make himself fall asleep. Instead, he kicks the blankets off before pulling them back up to his chin, turns onto his back, then his stomach, his side, and then tries kicking the blankets off again. Nothing feels comfortable, nothing is working, and he lets loose a string of curse words as he fumbles around in his bunk. He knows that if he keeps this up, he’ll probably wake everyone else up, but he can’t bring himself to care. Part of him even takes some twisted pleasure at the thought of someone else waking up and having to share his pain. He can’t sleep, and it’s not fair that everyone else has been out of it for hours now.
When he can’t take it anymore, he rolls out of his bunk and stomps into the kitchenette, boiling the kettle and setting about making himself a shitty cup of instant coffee. There’s no way in hell he’s sitting around waiting to drink proper coffee, so he figures the instant shit will do. After all, he’s also pretty used to shitty coffee after six years on the road, give or take. He’s just about to sit down and watch whatever crappy shows are on television at this time of morning when he hears someone else stumbling out of the bunk area. He cranes his neck to look behind him out of curiosity, feeling half-guilty and half-delighted. Frank staggers into view, rubbing his eyes sleepily with his pajama pants threatening to slip right off his hips. Gerard can’t help but grin at him, and when Frank shoots him a glare in return, he holds up his cup of coffee as a peace offering. Frank mutters something that sounds a little like fucking ass, but he takes the cup regardless, cradling it in his hands as he shuffles back out into the lounge. Quickly, Gerard makes himself a new cup before he follows.
“Fucking insomniac,” Frank grumbles as Gerard sits on the couch beside him, but all of the malice from his tone is killed by the scratchy sound of his tired voice.
“It’s not like I came knocking on your bunk,” Gerard points out, keeping his voice low. It’s one thing to wake Frank up, it’s another thing entirely to wake up Bob. Bob isn’t afraid to throw a shoe at his face. Frank is - most of the time - more rational when it comes to Gerard’s bouts of insomnia.
“Might as well’ve.” Frank stifles a yawn and slouches further down onto the couch, and Gerard watches the mug of coffee in his hands a little fearfully. Any second now Frank’s going to slosh it all over himself, surely.
Somehow, Frank manages to manoeuvre both himself and the mug however, and he makes it safely into a comfortable position without drenching himself or Gerard in coffee. “You need to stop thinking so hard,” Frank says, and Gerard wrinkles his brow.
“Stop thinking? That’s more your department, Frankie.”
Frank apparently isn’t into teasing at four in the morning, and he rolls his eyes, elbowing Gerard in the side. Again, his coffee comes dangerously close to spilling. Frank takes a sip, and Gerard sighs a little in relief, hoping that it might not be full enough for any more close calls.
“Whenever you can’t sleep it’s always because you think too much,” Frank explains, like he knows how Gerard’s mind works better than Gerard himself.
“I’m not thinking. Well, I am, but not like. Not things that would keep me awake usually.” Gerard has been thinking. Been thinking an awful lot about this tour, and the bands they’re on the road with, but mostly, about the fact that he feels fucking lonely. As lame as it sounds - and he’s well aware that it does - he still feels lonely even with his best friends and band-mates living with him 24/7. It’s just the usual bout of homesickness he supposes - missing having friends he only sees occasionally, because somehow that made the times he did see them even better. He loves his band to death but sometimes it feels like they’re all he’s got, and that’s not always such a great thing. He’s always been one for affection; always needed physical and emotional contact, like he’ll shrivel up and die if he’s not around people for long. In a way he’s a walking contradiction because as much as he loves human contact, he’s a fan of curling up by himself with his iPod for hours on end. Now though, the idea of being alone sickens him. And it’s not just friendships anymore, he knows that. He’s thirty, and he doesn’t care that he’s on the road all the time. That it’s going to be hard to settle down no matter what. All he really cares about is the fact that he’s thirty, and craving the attention he can only get from a lover. Or more than that, really. Hopeless romantic and all, he’s wishing he had someone to cuddle, someone to nuzzle and smile with. Not just a fuck buddy or a friends-with-benefits sort of thing because really, it’s just not his scene.
“You’re doing it again,” Frank notes, and Gerard snaps to attention.
“Oh. Okay. Yeah, you’re right.”
“Wanna talk about it?” Frank asks, and he’s not pushing it, and he’s not saying it just because he feels obligated, either. Gerard knows Frank, and he knows that it’s just Frank’s way of letting him know that he’s there if he needs to talk, that he’s approachable at any time. Gerard sort of loves that about Frank.
“I’m just. I’m just lonely, I guess,” Gerard admits, and Frank stays quiet, waiting to see whether he’ll continue. After a moment he does, setting aside his almost empty coffee mug so that he can use his hands like he’s used to. “I just kind of want to meet someone who’s not just looking to fuck me around, y’know? Like, someone who I can just be me with, and not any shit to do with the money, or the name, or the band.” Gerard frowns, looking Frank dead in the eyes. “You’re a lucky fuck, you know. With Jamia and all.”
And that brings a warm smile to Frank’s eyes and lips. That’s what Gerard wants. He envies Frank for meeting someone before the band, someone who’s stuck with him through all of it, and not changed just because the situation became a little different. Gerard wants that.
“Yeah, I know,” Frank replies, and he has this dopey smile on his face, like he’s got half a mind to get up and call Jamia, regardless of time differences and the fact that he has no idea what unreasonable time he could be calling her in. “You’ll meet someone, Gee. Sure you will.”
Gerard isn’t so sure, and for a brief second he severely regrets writing fucking Cubicles. Motherfucker didn’t know what he was asking for. Hindsight is always 20/20, he supposes. As if sensing that Gerard’s still on edge, Frank reaches across and takes his hand, squeezing it reassuringly and smiling. It’s all comfort, all relaxed support and Gerard loves that about their friendship. There’s no awkward boundaries, no worries about whether holding hands or hugging or kisses on the cheek is a little bit too far, a little bit too close for comfort. They’re best friends, have been for years, and they’ve been living together, eating together, breathing together for so many years that they can’t help but be affectionate. Jamia understands, and it’s never been something they’ve had to worry about. Gerard feels a surge of relief and gratitude for what he has with Frank. Someone to talk to at ungodly hours of the morning. Someone who understands.
They end up watching re-runs of Will and Grace, and eventually, Gerard falls asleep with his head on Frank’s shoulder.
He’s the last one off the bus, shades firmly covering his eyes from harsh sunlight. There’s already people moving quickly, bustling around with equipment and walkie talkies, headsets and badges. It feels like home, even in a strange venue so far away from Jersey. The sights and smells are still more or less the same though - the sweat, the static of equipment and radios, fast-paced chatter and the occasional burst of laughter. There’s a group of guys - Linkin Park from what he can see - already kicking a ball around a little to his right, and it’s all easy and familiar. A new tour, new bands, new people to meet sure, but still everything he loves, still the comfort of doing what he knows.
“Gerard Way, you lazy fuck!”
Gerard snaps to attention, seeking out the voice and finding it in the form of a woman striding towards him. There’s a wide smile on her lips, a little all-knowing, a little teasing.
“Heard you only just decided to join us,” she continues once she reaches him, and Gerard smiles back, an automatic reaction to seeing an old friend.
“Had some things I had to clear up first,” he lies. What he had really been doing was spending a little bit longer moping around the bus, not wanting to face people. He knows that Jamia is coming out to see Frank midway through this tour, and that sort of brings his mood down even further. Mikey has Alicia, and Frank has Jamia, and Bob and Ray have their girlfriends waiting patiently for them back home. And then there’s Gerard, drifting back and forth without being able to decide what he wants. He knows what he wants to an extent - wants someone to love, simple as that - but he can’t bring himself to find the right girl. There’s always something holding him back.
“Listen, so your guys wanted me to tell you they want you over at the stage when you’re ready, but I was thinking we could talk for a bit before I hand you over. What do you say?” Lindsey is still smiling at him, red-painted lips curved perfectly. She’s not in her stage outfit yet - the school girl uniform that he rather guiltily enjoys seeing her in - but she looks as gorgeous as he remembers her in tight fitting jeans and a simple t-shirt. He can remember the way they hit it off back when they first met. The way they’d clicked so easily with music and art and ideals and suddenly he wants to hide for the entire day and just talk to her.
“That’d be awesome,” he says genuinely, and she rocks forward on her heels to nudge him with her shoulder and grin again.
“Well then let’s go.”
Gerard’s quickly losing track of time. The longer they sit and talk the more he wants to stay here forever. All he can focus on are the words pouring from her mouth, the way she just seems to get everything. She’s smart, she has a lot to say and she’s not afraid of saying it, and it’s everything Gerard’s ever admired in people. He kind of wants her to keep talking forever. And then there’s the way her lips move, painted ruby-red and curving and twisting to form the words she wants to say, the way he can’t help but stare at them as they move, transfixed. Every now and then she lifts a hand to brush hair back from her face and he notices that, too.
And then suddenly she stops, glancing at her watch and laughing. “Holy shit! That’s the time? Fuck. We should get back.”
She stands up and Gerard refrains from catching her wrist, from pleading with her to stay. She’s right. They have jobs to do.
“Yeah. It’s been awesome talking to you though,” he says, and again he genuinely means every word. He’s never found himself so intrigued with what one person has to say.
She smiles warmly, none of the old teasing grin, and he knows that she can see he means it. “Yeah, you too. We should do it again some time.”
Gerard’s about to offer to take her out for dinner if they get time, and then he remembers that this is the first day of tour. That it’s only their first day of catching up since they met, and he should probably keep in mind that he hasn’t known her for his whole life, even if that’s what it feels like.
“Well, we’ve got a whole tour together,” he says instead. And then he can’t figure out what the standard procedure here is; whether he’s supposed to hug her or shake her hand or just say goodbye, and he hesitates.
She laughs a little, as if she can hear his thoughts, and shuffles a little closer. “It’s a rock tour, Gerard, not a business meeting.” And then she embraces him for a second and he can smell her shampoo before she’s pulling away. She waves goodbye and hurries back to her own band, and Gerard stands there for a minute with a stupid smile on his face before he remembers that his own band is probably wondering where he is.
“Where the fuck have you been, Gerard?” Ray is already herding him towards sound check, yelling at him that there’s only a couple of hours until the show starts, and that it’s the first day of the tour and they have to be prepared, yada yada yada. All Gerard can really think about is the red of Lindsey’s lips, and the way she spoke of things he couldn’t talk about with anyone.
“Dude, he’s not even listening,” Mikey says, and Gerard looks up to see his brother grinning at him.
“Fuck off, Mikey, I was too,” Gerard counters, even though he knows Mikey’s going to pull the usual ‘What did he say, then?’ trick and he’s not going to have an answer past about the first two minutes of Ray’s speech.
Mikey says exactly that and Gerard counts off a small triumph on his mental Gerard versus Mikey tally. And then he remembers that he really doesn’t have much of an answer and Mikey’s about to get his own little stroke under his name.
“I’m in lots of trouble because I disappeared and we’re on tour and I have to be responsible and be where I’m supposed to be, etcetera, etcetera. Was that all?”
Mikey crosses his arms in front of his chest and raises an eyebrow. “You passed, I guess. Barely. But where were you? We were looking for you everywhere. We even sent Lindsey from MSI to go looking for you.”
Gerard allows a tiny smile and thinks that oh yeah, Lindsey found him, and he’s more or less counting down the minutes until he can corner her alone again. “We were just talking.” He shrugs, and figures that whatever, they shouldn’t question that. People talk and get distracted all the time.
It seems to suffice for now, and they leave him alone while everything’s being set up. They get on stage and play something quick, easy and second nature, and Gerard sings when instructed to and otherwise thinks of Lindsey.
It’s halfway through their second song of the night that he spots her. He’s striding over to Frank’s side of the stage, singing his lungs out and feeling the music reverberate through his entire body. He can’t see much when he looks out off the stage, the lights blinding any chance of real sight, but he heads towards Frank, knowing that even if he can’t see them, they can see him, and anything he does with Frank is sure to get a reaction out of them. He’s halfway there, strutting and giving it all he has when his eyes drift to the side, to where the lights aren’t quite as blinding as they are straight ahead, and he can see her in the wings, grinning and tapping her foot along to the beat. Gerard catches her eye and grins straight back, and then he nuzzles his face into Frank’s neck, biting the skin when there’s a break in the vocals. Frank leans back against his shoulder and laughs, eyes wild and stage-crazed, and Gerard knows that Frank saw her too.
He powers through the rest of the set then, the knowledge that she’s watching, that she likes what she sees only fuelling his performance, encouraging him to give everything he has. To work the crowd more, to show off a little more, play the crazy motherfucker he can be on stage and occasionally glancing back over to wink at the woman just off to the side of the stage. And Lindsey grins back at him every single time, until she blows him a kiss during Give ‘Em Hell, Kid and he shakes his hips in response. The rest of the band have realised that she’s there by now, and Mikey keeps giving Gerard this warning look, mixed in with a smile.
It’s one of the most carefree, relaxed and fun shows Gerard remembers playing in a while, and the crowd feed off it. She stays until the end of their set, which is more than he could ask for. Mostly, they get a chance to maybe catch a couple of songs from someone else’s set before they’re being hauled off to do something else. And yet, somehow, she’s managed to avoid band members, managers, tour managers and everyone else on her back just to watch their show.
When they finish their set and head off stage, she’s disappeared. He’s a little disappointed he didn’t get a chance to talk to her, but he supposes it’s about time she got back to her own band. He can always try and catch her later anyway.
His opportunity comes later that night when Kitty and Lindsey knock on the door of their bus. Frank opens the door and when he spots who it is, he grins and calls for Gerard.
“Hey,” Lindsey greets him with a smile, and he returns it warmly. “So we were wondering if you anti-social geeks wanted to come out tonight. Everyone’s going - first night of tour and all.”
Gerard hesitates. There’s nothing he’d rather do than spend the night with her, but he also knows that everyone on tour going out will involve a lot of drinking. He finds it’s easier to avoid these situations altogether. They all respect his sobriety, but being the only sober person in the place gets depressing and lonely fast. And then there’s the added risk factor. Usually, he’s okay with people around him drinking. Hell, he lives his life on the road and seeing his own band mates or other bands drinking had become mundane. Still, in a room full of intoxicated people who wouldn’t notice if he slipped up, sometimes it’s hard to hold himself in check. As much as he likes Lindsey, he’s not about to go fucking up everything he’s worked for. He’s about to make an excuse not to go when something flashes across Lindsey’s face.
“Oh! You. Of course. Listen, um. Well, I’ll stay, if you’d like?”
Gerard doesn’t catch on right away, but then Frank’s nudging him in the ribs. “Awesome. I’ll go ask the guys,” he says before he disappears, leaving Gerard on the doorstep.
There’s an awkward silence before Gerard remembers he should probably invite them in. Kitty shakes her head and declines politely, assuring him that she’s following Jimmy and Steve out as soon as she picks up the MCR boys. On cue, the other four members of his band reappear and nudge Gerard out of the way so that they can climb off the bus.
Soon enough, it’s just him and Lindsey, and he finally clues in. “Oh! I don’t. Don’t let me keep you from going out, really.”
Lindsey rolls her eyes good-naturedly and pushes past him. “I invited you for a reason, Gerard.”
He falters, unsure of what exactly he’s supposed to say to that and realising that this is the first time in a long time that he’s been left without words. Having Lindsey on the MCR bus is one of those things Gerard doesn’t entirely know how to deal with. She’s awesome, and he’s totally looking forward to spending time with her without having to worry about interruptions or being on time to sound check or a show or quality time with band mates that he sees 24/7 and yet somehow still want to spend every waking minute with each other. He’s not sure exactly what she’s expecting.
“Relax, kid. I’m just here so that you don’t get so lonely.”
And maybe he’s overanalysing. Maybe he needs to calm the fuck down, but...“just”? She laughs, seeing the look on his face and understanding immediately.
“I want to be here, you over-thinking fuck. Stress less.”
Gerard forces a smile and makes for the kitchen. If he can keep moving, keep busy, maybe he won’t make a total idiot out of himself.
“Coffee?” he calls out and can hear her following him into the kitchenette.
“Would be great, thanks.”
And that gives him a few moments of distraction, of mundane activity. She potters around beside him, humming to herself and after a second or two, he realises it’s one of MCR’s songs.
“What did you think of the set tonight?” he asks, because there, that’s conversation. He can talk about the music, no problem. He does so in interviews every day, and he can get through this easily. Besides, it’s not like they’ve never talked before. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all of a sudden.
“I loved it. You guys are really something to watch on that stage,” she says, and she’s staring straight at him, a light smile on her lips. Gerard likes hearing that they played a good show, that they gave the audience what they paid for. And it means even more coming from her.
“I’m glad. Maybe I can swing by and watch you tomorrow,” he suggests, and she nods, sidling a little bit closer.
“I’d like that.”
He finishes making them coffee and hands her a mug, noticing briefly that it’s the one Ray normally uses.
“So, how would you like to spend the evening?” he asks her, feeling as though he should be entertaining her more than he is. This is his bus, his territory. He’s the host, and yet he’s at a complete loss as to how to amuse a gorgeous woman on a tour bus.
“Seriously, Gerard. Relax. Anyone would think you’d never been around people before. We can just talk, you know.”
He calms down a little, smiles at her thankfully, and leads her back into the living room. They end up lazing on the couch, and her knees bump against his. It doesn’t take long before conversation becomes easy, and he starts to remember how much of a geek she is, how much they have in common, how comfortable it is just to talk to her. It’s not long before they get into art, and when she asks him whether he’d like to see some of her stuff one day, his eyes light up.
In the time they’ve been talking, he’s barely noticed that she’s shifted a little closer, that their thighs are now rubbing together. Their empty coffee mugs are abandoned on the table to his right, and he’s too comfortable to bother getting up and putting them in the sink. Instead, he listens to her talk, adds in his own two cents every now and then, and lets himself get caught up in conversation without worrying. They get talking about past lovers, past relationships and she laughs a little awkwardly when she says she always ends up dating the assholes. There’s a surge of something in his stomach that makes him want to find anyone who ever hurt her and punch them in the face, but then she’s changing the subject as if it makes her uncomfortable.
He’s halfway through describing every detail about his favourite scenes in Little Miss Sunshine (“And you know, the part where he finds out he’s colour blind and can’t become a pilot? My god, it was just so perfectly soul destroying. Can you imagine that? Imagine having the one thing you want most in the world taken away from you?”) when Lindsey smiles, cocks her head to the side slightly and says, “I haven’t seen it.”
Gerard’s off the couch in seconds, rummaging through the drawer of DVDs they have to keep them relatively sane on the road, and after a moment, he pulls his head back up triumphant, clutching the movie in his hand. “We’re watching it. Right now.”
She looks a little bemused but she goes with it, settling back on the couch and nodding. “Put it in then.”
He does so as fast as he can before he rushes back to the couch and settles back down, hitting play on the remote.
An hour later and they’ve slipped down against the couch. The lights are all off and the light from the TV washes over them gently. Both caught up in the movie and hardly paying attention to who they’re sharing the couch with, both have resorted to the usual bus tendencies. When you live on a bus with the same people for so long, personal boundaries and space cease to become an issue, and without realising it, both of them are lying down on the couch, Lindsey’s legs dangling over the arm rest and Gerard’s head on her stomach. It’s only when she starts gently threading her fingers through his hair that he realises he’s not watching the movie with his band, and being this all up in her personal space is probably not a good idea. He startles, makes to move away, and when she laughs, he can feel the vibrations against his skin.
“Gerard, it’s fine. Really,” she assures him, and he smiles up at her before laying back down again. Her fingers immediately go back to playing with his hair and scratching gently against his scalp, and it’s soothing in all the best ways.
It’s not long before the credits are rolling, and she’s doing her best to stretch underneath him without jostling him too much. He sits up anyway, allowing her to shift a little and regain the feeling in her limbs. Her shirt rides up a little as she does and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s tracing fingertips gently against the sliver of exposed skin above her waistband. She shivers beneath his touch and he snaps his hand back, eyes catching hers immediately.
“I’m sorry, I-“
“It’s okay,” she says again, and this time she edges closer, pushes him back on the couch until he’s pinned against the armrest. Her right leg slots in between his thighs as she leans in close, and this is pushing the boundaries, this is going beyond casual movie-cuddling and relaxed friendship. Then she kisses him, and Gerard couldn’t give a fuck about personal boundaries.
He kisses back almost immediately, pressing forward and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Her fingers find their way back to his hair again, and this time she’s tangling, tugging, meeting his tongue with hers and pushing closer, closer.
When he breaks away to breathe, she’s grinning and her lipstick is a little smeared at the edges. He can’t help but laugh, reminded of teenagers making out on his parents’ couch once they’d gone to bed. She brushes her hair away from her face and kisses him again, simple but sweet.
“I’m not that guy,” he says a little breathlessly, his fingers sliding up the back of her shirt and touching skin.
“I know.” And she smiles, kissing him again.
When Mikey corners him the next day and gives him the usual lecture on being careful and not falling too fast, not getting hurt so easily, Gerard just shakes his head.
“She’s it, Mikes,” he says, simple as that, and Mikey hugs him tight.