fic!
This fic has been sitting on my harddrive for years, but I finally finished it! I wanted to write a tiny fic about Brian, Frank, Jamia and their many dogs. But it just kept growing and growing, and now there's this.
A Slice Of Life (aka Mama Goes To The Vet)
Domestic Frank/Jamia/Brian (short mention of Gerard/Lindsey), R, ~4700 words. Not real, never happened.
Brian knows how much she hates going to the vet alone, ever since they lost Sinatra.
Brian gets jostled awake when one of the dogs -- he cracks an eye open, and yeah, Peppers, no surprise there -- jumps on the bed. She crawls over his hip and rolls down to the niche between his crotch and Frank's ass, peering up at him with a stupidly adoring face. He sighs into the pillow, smushing his face there. With nine dogs in the house it's impossible to teach them any basic dog manners like not jumping on the bed, so he doesn't even try to reprimand her. It's just as well. None of them ever do what they're told to do. He picks his head up from the pillow, blinking the blurry film from his eyes. The curtains are already pulled aside and it's so light in the room that Brian's surprised he hadn't woken up earlier.
Frank makes a grunt then, hand swatting behind him as he says with a sleep-rough voice, "I wouldn't stick my tongue in my ass if I were you, baby, I haven't showered since Saturday."
Brian snorts, resting his head back on the pillow. Frank's fucking gross sometimes. "Did you just call Peppers 'baby'?"
Frank makes a confused noise in the back of his throat. His head bobs on the pillow before he gingerly wriggles away from Peppers who's still trying to nose at the stripe of bare skin between his boxers and t-shirt.
Frank wipes his wet skin on the back of his hand and giggles, bright and sharp, and Brian thinks how well the sound fits in a morning like this. "I guess I did. But I thought she was Jams."
Brian grins because Frank'll never learn. "You know what she does to you when you call her baby," he snickers, stretching out an arm, wriggling his fingers before grabbing a tight hold of Frank's balls. Frank yelps and tries to wrestle Brian off all the while moving as little he can, yelling at him to get the fuck off or he's gonna pee on both of them. Brian buries his face into Frank's armpit and laughs a while, gives a final tug at his genitalia before he releases Frank from his hold, pressing the nearest pillow over Frank's face instead so hard that Frank's yelps get muffled almost completely. Peppers leaps over Frank and starts yapping enthusiastically, poised and tail wagging.
"Get the fuck off, dickhead," Frank wails, flapping his arms and kicking until he's pushed Brian almost off the bed. "Goddammit," he groans with a raspy voice, face flushed behind his stubble, his short hair somehow equal parts messy and glued to greasy clumps on his forehead.
"Pussy," Brian grins, rolling back up to fit himself behind Frank's back. He grips under his elbow and pulls Frank close enough to bump his head with the tip of his nose and kiss his earlobe as an apology.
Frank grumbles. "Don't underestimate pussies, dude. Pussies are fucking tough," he says, pushing Brian away again, voice so menacing that they both crack up.
Brian considers this for a while and kind of sees the logic there. "Man, you're right." He snickers, shaking his head. "Pussies are invincible!"
"What the hell," Jamia laughs, breezing into the room. "Are you guys seriously talking about pussies again?" She's got the house phone pressed to her ear and Brian makes a silent prayer at the ceiling that it's not his mom on the line. She goes around the bed and sits next to Frank, eyes twinkling, clamping her free hand over Frank's mouth when he opens it to say something.
"It's Gerard," she says with a quirk of her lips. "He says -- and let me quote -- pussies are badass." Frank raises his eyebrows and gestures at Brian, mumbling something incomprehensible that Brian just knows is along the lines of 'I fucking told you so.'
"He wants you to talk to the baby," Jamia says, holding the phone out for Frank as she detaches her hand from his mouth. Frank's already making grabby gestures at the phone and grinning like a maniac.
"What? Again?" Brian says. "That kid's gonna be so confused when she gets older."
"Shut up," Jamia says, picking Peppers up and holding her to her chest. She's wearing one of Frank's t-shirts, too short to cover the black panties with the stupid lacy flower band that turns both Brian and Frank into fucking brainless idiots. "I think it's sweet that he wants to familiarize Bandit with everyone at an early age." She scratches behind Peppers' ears and makes a face. "If she happens to prefer uncle Frankie to us then, well, it's her loss."
"You said it, sweetheart."
"Guys, c'mon," Frank says with a self-important tone, flapping at Brian's forearm with a loose wrist. "I'm on the phone!"
Brian exchanges a look with Jamia while Frank props himself up on the pillows and starts telling the kid a story. This time it's shaping up to be about the Many Awesome Adventures of Peppers the Dog. Brian can just imagine Lindsey and Gerard cuddled up on the couch with the phone on speaker and Bandit cradled in the middle, both sporting identical happy parental smiles. He loves them both to bits but goddamn, new parents are the worst.
Brian gets up because this can take hours. He sniffs at his left armpit -- gross -- and then eyes at Jamia, belly aflutter. "You wanna shower now?" he asks, extending an arm for her to take.
"Sure."
She glances at Frank and smiles, her expression soft and affectionate. He's getting really into the story, gesturing wildly with his free hand and making faces as though the baby's right there. She lets Peppers back on the bed and leans down, planting a kiss on Frank's shoulder and another on his cheek, ruffling his hair. A grin stretches Frank's mouth like a stadium, and he winks at Brian as Jamia takes his hand and lets him pull her out of the bedroom.
Mama makes him stumble in the hall when he almost steps on her, which in turn makes him almost step on Texas' outstretched leg. Jamia squeezes his hand and laughs, jumping over dogs like a steeplechaser, getting her balance back by propping herself up against his back, gripping his waist.
"Man, it's like a fucking mine field in here," Brian says.
"Death by lapdogs!" Jamia smiles into his neck.
In the bathroom Brian takes a long, satisfying piss while Jamia fiddles with the shower faucet.
"Mama's appointment with the vet is at two-thirty," she comments while Brian's toying with his toothbrush, sticking it between the row of teeth and the inside of his cheek so that he can wash his hands. Frank's convinced that Mama has worms because she's been losing weight lately. Brian's pretty sure it's just 'cause of all the additional exercise. Brian's trying to make the dogs look like real dogs again, so he's been taking them out into the backyard to play every night. This also wears them out so much that they sleep through the whole night instead of whining miserably outside the bedroom door. Brian's a fucking genius.
"I was thinking... you wanna come with me?" Jamia asks a little too brightly. Brian knows how much she hates going to the vet alone, ever since they lost Sinatra.
He spits toothpaste into the sink and connects eyes with Jamia in the mirror. "Sure thing," he says. "Frank not coming?"
Jamia shrugs, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's got the show tonight. I think he might wanna hang out with the guys before that."
"Oh, right," Brian says. He forgot about the show. It's not every day you get to see the 'Souls in LA, and Frank is Frank. "Point."
"Don't worry, I'll be there," he says and kicks his boxers off, not caring where they land. They end up hitting Jamia on her calf. "I wasn't worrying!" she insists, glancing at Brian over her shoulder. With a sudden playful grin she flicks ice cold water at Brian's bare legs and his groin.
Brian jumps back and yelps, his toothbrush falling out of his mouth. It hits his thigh before it connects with the floor, leaving a stripe of peppermint paste on his hairy skin. But oh, that just brings her into hysterics.
They kiss in the shower and Brian offers to wash her boobs with a suggestive grin. Frank squeezes in some time later and says, "Bandit's throwing a hissyfit so we had to leave it short this time."
It's a tight fit with the three of them, which works with Brian just fine. He jerks Frank off while Jamia lathers Frank's chest with the funny-smelling, funny-looking soap that she bought from a real honest-to-god soap shop the last time they were all out in the city.
Frank leans his head on Brian's shoulder who presses his mouth to the wet skin of his cheek. He slides his hand along Frank's dick with lazy strokes, rubbing with the pad of his thumb. Jamia's lashes are clumped together, her face pink and open. Frank moans softly, his hips stuttering, and Brian pulls his earlobe into his mouth, feeling the same way that Jamia looks like: fond and lusty and so terribly in love that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. She presses closer, biting her lip. Brian leans in and kisses her with teeth and tongue, dick growing in the crease of Frank's ass.
"Come on, you guys," Frank demands, fumbling to grip Jamia's thigh, bringing it up and around their hips. She sighs and gasps against Brian's mouth while Brian guides Frank's dick into her folds. The lack of condom and the phone call with the Ways makes some part of Brian that's still stuck in high school sex ed freak the fuck out, but rationally he knows that they're all tested and Jamia's been on the pill for fucking forever. Frank's head is pressed against her wet hair as he keeps fucking into her. Brian palms himself, kissing above Frank's shoulder blade and Frank comes with a sudden yelp, shaking in their arms. Jamia smiles in that gentle way of hers, and leans in to kiss Frank's temple and lips.
"You guys are the best," Frank huffs out a laugh and arches his back, stretching muscles. He's got water droplets stuck to his stubble and a sleepy smile on. "The best."
"We know," Jamia says and then turns to Brian, "You wanna get in or what?" No nonsense and straight to the point. Her eyes twinkle at Brian as she nudges Frank to the side, towards the hot shower cascade.
Brian says, "Fuck yeah I do," grabbing Jamia's hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the blue vein in her wrist and the cup of her palm. He pushes her up against the wall and starts mouthing at her neck and collarbones while nudging her legs open and bringing her thigh up to his waist. Under all that soap she still smells like yesterday's perfume. Brian fucks her while Frank washes his own hair, humming something distantly familiar, although he's fucking up the melody pretty hard. Jamia snorts and stretches out one arm to pull at Frank's ear.
"What the hell is that?" she asks him and then starts laughing. "Oh my god, that's fucking Lion King! Frank, you dork!"
"Hey," Frank says, eyes squeezed shut and shampoo trails on his face. "Lion King's the cultural phenomenon of our time, so don't fuckin' start that shit with me!"
Jamia laughs harder, even when Brian brushes his fingers over her clit. "Can we please focus for one fucking minute so I can fucking get off already?" Brian grunts, but he's scraping the insides of his cheeks with his teeth, trying real hard not to burst out laughing with these two morons.
"Oh my god," Frank yells between hia giggles. "I can't believe you fucking said that to her, you dick."
"I know, right!" Jamia exclaims, rocking her hips menacingly, pulling a groan out of Brian. "We should just start cockblocking him from now on for pulling shit like that."
"You kinda already are," Brian remarks, but he's already belly-laughing, his whole body shaking with it.
"Shut your fucking mouth, Schechter!" Frank says with defiance while scrubbing at his armpits. In the crook of Brian's neck, Jamia is dying of laughter.
"You both suck," Brian says, grinning at the shower wall.
In the kitchen Frank pushes the slovenly row of dog bowls out of his way with his big toe. He's back to humming Lion King, now with a more distinctive beat. Brian leans against the sink, watching Frank circling around, collecting bags of kibble for the dogs that are waddling into the kitchen with their tongues lolling out of their moths and bellies almost trailing on the floor. Frank keeps saying that it's not his fault that all of his dogs have unnaturally short legs.
Jamia sits in the chair by the wall, listening to the radio. She's been bothering Gerard and Lindsey fucking forever to help them paint the walls but it's taking Gerard a long time to decide on the design. He takes these things with the same air of seriousness that he puts into all of his work, claiming that he still needs to do more research and sketch more outlines, and Brian's always surprised when the band gets anything done. He's just relieved that he doesn't have to worry about their shit anymore.
Frank's stooping down, one hand on Brian's thigh holding him steady as he empties kibble into the bowls. Brian catches Jamia's eye and winks at her. Frank's talking to Mama about the vet, patting her head while she pants and lolls her tongue and smiles big and dumb and adoring up at him.
"You're coming with us?" Jamia asks. She's unwrapping the see-through toast packaging, pulling out three pieces of toast and arranging them in the slits of the toaster.
Frank frowns. "Why wouldn't I go with you?"
Jamia says, "'Cause of the show tonight?" and Frank gets this exasperated, you-so-cute look on his face and tells her that she's silly and that he loves her. She rolls her eyes and says, "Whatever, just checking, okay? I'm allowed to make small talk with my guys at breakfast, okay? Or am I not?" She turns to Brian. "Brian didn't think you were coming either!"
Brian spreads his hands and shrugs, what do you want from me? He presses a kiss on Jamia's cheek and then walks to the cupboards, getting the half-empty pack of coffee out and slapping Frank on the ass while making his way to the coffee pot. Almost all the dogs are in the kitchen now. The floor's like a clogged up pipe, nothing gets through.
Frank drops the bag of kibble on the floor, recoiling, and the red-yellow-brown pellets roll out. It's like an early Christmas for the mutts. "Frank," Jamia complains. "You're making a mess."
"Fuck you!" Frank says to Brian, slapping Brian over the back of his head, not even hard enough for it to sting. Brian ducks his head and grins. "I'm gonna fuckin' t-bag you for that, motherfucker!"
"What's the point? I've already had your balls in my mouth," Brian says with a grin. "For the record? They're pretty disgusting."
"Shut up," Frank snorts with laughter and grabs his crotch. "You love these babies."
"Jeez, really? Do you have to talk about your balls while we're eating?" Jamia says, exasperated. Daisy is sitting on her feet, begging for scraps.
"Aw," Frank says, giving Brian a smirk. Brian slowly smirks back at him.
Frank hops onto Jamia's lap and nuzzles his stubbly cheek against hers. She scrunches up her face. "I'm sorry, baby, but we already covered pussies earlier," he says and kisses her cheek.
"Don't call me baby, baby," Jamia says with a poorly suppressed grin, wrapping her arms around his waist, rubbing at his belly. "And clean up that shit."
"Yes, ma'am," Frank drawls, bumping her forehead with his nose.
Brian fake-gags into his fist.
"What?" Jamia and Frank ask in synch.
"Your teenage crushes are fucking disgusting. I kinda want to puke all over you guys."
"Well there goes my breakfast," Jamia says and pushes Frank out of her lap.
Frank attaches himself to Brian instead, wrapping his arms around Brian and dancing them in a circle for a few rounds -- Brian barely tolerating him -- then kissing the corner of his mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about. He just called us cute."
"Whatever," Jamia says and stands up to get the coffee.
More dogs pile into the room and Frank pulls away from Brian, sitting him in the chair opposite to Jamia's. He scoops Peppers up in his arms and sits heavily down onto Brian's lap. Brian sighs into his hand as Frank takes a piece of toast and lets Peppers sniffle and lick at it before he starts feeding it to her.
Frank talks animatedly in the car with one arm on the steering wheel, one hanging out of the window and a cigarette pinched between his fingers. He likes to drive like a lunatic, but the traffic is making him drive like grandpa.
"You drive like grandpa," Brian comments from the backseat. He smirks into the front mirror when Frank gives him the finger.
"And look like one," Jamia says. Her head is resting on Brian's shoulder, fingers scratching absently at the back of Mama's neck.
"Fuck you both," Frank drawls, glaring through the mirror. He's wearing Jamia's gray granny sweater over his black t-shirt. It's got shoulder pads and everything. It's kind of real sweet but also goddamn hilarious, which is just the epitome of Frank.
They're only ten minutes late for the vet, which has got to be a personal record. Frank parks the car and Brian grabs Mama from Jamia and starts walking towards the sliding doors. Frank's walking behind him with Jamia, holding her hand while still smoking.
Inside the clinic there's a plethora of animals, which is such bullshit because it's never been this full before.
Frank pulls away from Jamia and starts walking around, wringing his hands. He's getting nervous, too, now that they're finally here. Brian sighs and can't stop that affectionate smile from spreading over his face. These two.
He slinks closer to Jamia and hooks his jaw over her shoulder, murmurs, "Relax, it's just a fucking checkup to get Frank outta my hair." Mama pants wetly by Brian's ear and he gives her back to Jamia to hold.
"I know," Jamia says, arranging Mama so that she's pinched under her arm like a handbag. "I mean, rationally I know that, but. It's Mama." She looks at Brian a little helplessly.
"Hey, check this out." Frank comes jogging down the hall. He's got a tiny yellow rubber duck in his hand that he's holding out for Mama with a huge grin.
Mama wufs her acceptance and tries to reach for the toy with her flat muzzle.
"Frank," Jamia hisses. "Tell me there's not a little puppy out there somewhere looking for his toy duck."
Frank huffs with indignation. "Stealing from a puppy? You wound me! Although there was this mean old Rottweiler back there that--"
"Frank!"
"Relax, I got it from that little store back there, jeez."
Frank fiddles with the duck and drops it on the floor. Brian moves behind him as he's bending over picking it up, grabs Frank's hips and does a few over-the-top pelvic thrusts, earning snickers from his new audience -- the people in the waiting room -- and an eyeroll and a slow grin from Jamia, her worry not so evident in her eyes anymore.
Frank ends up calling the vet a dickhead. Brian's just got his mouth open to spit out something along those lines, but Frank got there first, up in this jerk's face, practically growling, his neck lobster-red.
"Tell me you didn't just call our dog fucking obese," Frank's bark would make Mama proud. Jamia's face is pink and she's gripping Frank's sweater, kinda trying to hold him back but she doesn't seem to be very into it. She looks equal parts embarrassed and pissed off.
Mama sits on the examination table with her round belly protruding between her stubby legs, her tongue lolling from the side of her mouth. She looks good, healthier than a month ago when Brian first started exercising the dogs. Brian doesn't really understand where this idiot is coming from, but he'd like to teach him a few lessons in subtlety, with the help of his fist.
Five minutes finds Frank, Jamia, Brian and Mama in the parking lot, navigating through the concrete sea of parked Jeeps and old Sedans back to their minivan. They pile in the car and drive off. No one's really talking, in the mirror Brian watches as Frank holds Mama to his chest and peppers kisses to the sausage-wrinkles of her neck.
When they get back to the house, no one still hasn't said anything and the silence is starting to get to Brian. Living with Frank and Jamia, quiet is not something Brian has gotten used to during these past couple of years. It's not in their vocabulary. When Frank doesn't talk he plays his guitars or snuffles in his sleep or laughs at the dogs or at something Jamia's saying. Jamia is just always there to talk to, so easy and open, always there for her guys.
Brian jostles his keys and unlocks the front door. The white paint is peeling from the jamb, greyish blue peeking underneath. They bought the house only months after Jamia had told Brian to stop dicking around and to just move in with them, dilapidated and backyard overgrown with weeds. There had been something really charming about the place, even with all of its imperfections -- or maybe that's exactly what had charmed them in the first place.
Frank storms in as soon as Brian gets the door open. He lets Mama down on the floor and she runs into the kitchen right away. Frank sighs and picks Daisy up instead, tucks her under his chin and walks away.
"I'll make us tea," Jamia says. She reaches up to cup the side of Brian's head, running her thumb along the shell of his ear as she presses a brief kiss to his cheek .
"Okay," Brian says, and when Jamia makes to leave he pulls her back in by her wrist, hugging her close to him, kissing her on the lips and smushing his nose into her cheek. Her skin smells like moisturizer. "Okay. You okay?"
"I'm fine. I mean, let's face it. We all know our dogs are fat." This is where she gives a small laugh and pulls away from Brian. Brian cracks a smile and nods, tugging some of her hair behind her ear. It's soft and smooth, just like the rest of her. "I'm mostly just worried about Frank. It kills me seeing him like this."
"He'll be alright," Brian assures. "I swear, if he doesn't stop sulking soon, I'm bringing fucking tickle monster out and then I'm going to force the emo out of him."
It's always Frank with the fucking tickle monster, at least ever since he saw how great an effect it had on Worm's kid. The sole purpose of the tickle monster so far has been to harass Brian whenever he's working or making important phone calls so Brian's kind of dying to take his revenge on him anyway.
Jamia laughs, which is totally what Brian was going for. "He better watch out."
"Oh, you know it."
There's something incredibly calming in watching Jamia bustling in the kitchen. Brian's leaning against the doorjamb, studying the flicks of her wrist as she measures the right amount of tea leaves into the strainer, the tangy smell of the leaves already wafting to his nose. Texas and Peppers run through the doorway, slide off course on the carpet in the hall and disappear behind a corner. Brian chuckles, he's so damn fond of everyone and everything in this house.
"What are you thinking about," Jamia asks, putting the tea package back into the tin box. Brian reaches up and grabs the teapot from the top shelf. It's deep blue like the evening sky, white, handpainted flowers like stars scattered all around. The purpose of cute teapots is definitely one thing Brian can't wrap his head around, they fit in the same category with creepy porcelain animals, but Jamia adores them and that's good enough for him.
"Your fixation with teapots." Brian hands her the pot. "How I kinda need coffee more than tea right now. The fucking vet," he adds, because there's still this irritating knot in his gut and he knows it won't go away for a while.
"I don't have a fixation with teapots," Jamia says after a while with a small quirk to her lips. "And coffee is the last thing you need right now."
Brian gladly takes the easy way out. "Tea is for pussies."
Jamia tsks, takes the tin box from the counter and breaths in the smell of Emperor's Bride.
"And the Brits, I guess," he adds. "Can't forget the Brits."
"Not this again," Jamia groans and then abruptly burst into a laugh. She starts pushing Brian out of the kitchen, grinning at him. "Go talk to Frank, I'm sick of your face."
"I don't know what you're talking about, this face could bring world peace!" Brian ducks in to steal a kiss from her before she can chase him away. "And move mountains!"
"That doesn't even make sense, you idiot."
"Oh yeah? Well, guess what else doesn't make sense? Your mom!"
"Oh, snap!" Jamia laughs and pushes Brian out into the hallway, still grinning when she returns to the kitchen and starts bustling with her tea again.
"You know why they say shit like that, right?"
Brian found Frank sitting out on the porch stairs, knees drawn up and chin resting on his knuckles. Mama is lying on her side next to Frank, and she gives Brian one of her dumb, adoring looks when Brian shifts closer.
"'Cause they hate to see people abusing their pets."
"You're not abusing your pets," Brian says with a voice to be reckoned with, dropping down to sit next to Frank. "No one can accuse you of that."
"And when Mama dies from gluttony--"
"You need to shut up now," Brian says, placing his hand on Frank's shoulder, scooting closer. Frank smells like wet dog and grass. "Were you playing with her in the yard?"
"For a while. I made her fetch her ball until it started to drizzle."
"See? If she was in too bad shape, she wouldn't have played fetch with you, yeah?"
"I guess." Frank's shrug makes Brian's head bob on his shoulder. "I mean, I guess I could exercise them a little more. Maybe we all could--"
Brian grins, relieved at last. "Yeah, definitely." He decides not to tell Frank about his late night exercise sessions with the dogs, let Frank think he came up with the idea first.
Frank turns his head to drop a sloppy kiss on the bridge of Brian's nose, and Brian chuckles, squeezing Frank's chest.
Jamia comes to sit on the porch swing with a steaming cup of tea, and Brian catches her huge smile before he buries his own into Frank's shoulder blade, mouthing at his shirt.
"You should get ready for the 'Souls," Jamia says after a while, watching the gentle drizzle wetting the porch railing.
"I was thinking," Frank starts, turning around to see her face. "What if I stayed home this time?"
"Only if you really want to," Jamia says, "Although I think you should go, to help clear your head, lose some steam."
"I agree with Jamia," Brian says, giving Frank's shoulder a nudge. "You're gonna be so mad at us tomorrow if you don't go."
Frank wears his lip between his teeth, looking down at Mama, scratching behind her ears.
"We'll make sure she runs around the yard some more when it stops raining," Brian adds.
"But the others--"
"Frank, sweetie. Everyone'll get their fucking exercise tonight," Jamia says while Brian rolls his eyes and pushes Frank up from the stairs. "Now go, seriously."
"Okay, okay, jeez, I'm going," Frank mock-complains through a huge grin. "Everyone's so fucking bossy today."
~end~
A Slice Of Life (aka Mama Goes To The Vet)
Domestic Frank/Jamia/Brian (short mention of Gerard/Lindsey), R, ~4700 words. Not real, never happened.
Brian knows how much she hates going to the vet alone, ever since they lost Sinatra.
Brian gets jostled awake when one of the dogs -- he cracks an eye open, and yeah, Peppers, no surprise there -- jumps on the bed. She crawls over his hip and rolls down to the niche between his crotch and Frank's ass, peering up at him with a stupidly adoring face. He sighs into the pillow, smushing his face there. With nine dogs in the house it's impossible to teach them any basic dog manners like not jumping on the bed, so he doesn't even try to reprimand her. It's just as well. None of them ever do what they're told to do. He picks his head up from the pillow, blinking the blurry film from his eyes. The curtains are already pulled aside and it's so light in the room that Brian's surprised he hadn't woken up earlier.
Frank makes a grunt then, hand swatting behind him as he says with a sleep-rough voice, "I wouldn't stick my tongue in my ass if I were you, baby, I haven't showered since Saturday."
Brian snorts, resting his head back on the pillow. Frank's fucking gross sometimes. "Did you just call Peppers 'baby'?"
Frank makes a confused noise in the back of his throat. His head bobs on the pillow before he gingerly wriggles away from Peppers who's still trying to nose at the stripe of bare skin between his boxers and t-shirt.
Frank wipes his wet skin on the back of his hand and giggles, bright and sharp, and Brian thinks how well the sound fits in a morning like this. "I guess I did. But I thought she was Jams."
Brian grins because Frank'll never learn. "You know what she does to you when you call her baby," he snickers, stretching out an arm, wriggling his fingers before grabbing a tight hold of Frank's balls. Frank yelps and tries to wrestle Brian off all the while moving as little he can, yelling at him to get the fuck off or he's gonna pee on both of them. Brian buries his face into Frank's armpit and laughs a while, gives a final tug at his genitalia before he releases Frank from his hold, pressing the nearest pillow over Frank's face instead so hard that Frank's yelps get muffled almost completely. Peppers leaps over Frank and starts yapping enthusiastically, poised and tail wagging.
"Get the fuck off, dickhead," Frank wails, flapping his arms and kicking until he's pushed Brian almost off the bed. "Goddammit," he groans with a raspy voice, face flushed behind his stubble, his short hair somehow equal parts messy and glued to greasy clumps on his forehead.
"Pussy," Brian grins, rolling back up to fit himself behind Frank's back. He grips under his elbow and pulls Frank close enough to bump his head with the tip of his nose and kiss his earlobe as an apology.
Frank grumbles. "Don't underestimate pussies, dude. Pussies are fucking tough," he says, pushing Brian away again, voice so menacing that they both crack up.
Brian considers this for a while and kind of sees the logic there. "Man, you're right." He snickers, shaking his head. "Pussies are invincible!"
"What the hell," Jamia laughs, breezing into the room. "Are you guys seriously talking about pussies again?" She's got the house phone pressed to her ear and Brian makes a silent prayer at the ceiling that it's not his mom on the line. She goes around the bed and sits next to Frank, eyes twinkling, clamping her free hand over Frank's mouth when he opens it to say something.
"It's Gerard," she says with a quirk of her lips. "He says -- and let me quote -- pussies are badass." Frank raises his eyebrows and gestures at Brian, mumbling something incomprehensible that Brian just knows is along the lines of 'I fucking told you so.'
"He wants you to talk to the baby," Jamia says, holding the phone out for Frank as she detaches her hand from his mouth. Frank's already making grabby gestures at the phone and grinning like a maniac.
"What? Again?" Brian says. "That kid's gonna be so confused when she gets older."
"Shut up," Jamia says, picking Peppers up and holding her to her chest. She's wearing one of Frank's t-shirts, too short to cover the black panties with the stupid lacy flower band that turns both Brian and Frank into fucking brainless idiots. "I think it's sweet that he wants to familiarize Bandit with everyone at an early age." She scratches behind Peppers' ears and makes a face. "If she happens to prefer uncle Frankie to us then, well, it's her loss."
"You said it, sweetheart."
"Guys, c'mon," Frank says with a self-important tone, flapping at Brian's forearm with a loose wrist. "I'm on the phone!"
Brian exchanges a look with Jamia while Frank props himself up on the pillows and starts telling the kid a story. This time it's shaping up to be about the Many Awesome Adventures of Peppers the Dog. Brian can just imagine Lindsey and Gerard cuddled up on the couch with the phone on speaker and Bandit cradled in the middle, both sporting identical happy parental smiles. He loves them both to bits but goddamn, new parents are the worst.
Brian gets up because this can take hours. He sniffs at his left armpit -- gross -- and then eyes at Jamia, belly aflutter. "You wanna shower now?" he asks, extending an arm for her to take.
"Sure."
She glances at Frank and smiles, her expression soft and affectionate. He's getting really into the story, gesturing wildly with his free hand and making faces as though the baby's right there. She lets Peppers back on the bed and leans down, planting a kiss on Frank's shoulder and another on his cheek, ruffling his hair. A grin stretches Frank's mouth like a stadium, and he winks at Brian as Jamia takes his hand and lets him pull her out of the bedroom.
Mama makes him stumble in the hall when he almost steps on her, which in turn makes him almost step on Texas' outstretched leg. Jamia squeezes his hand and laughs, jumping over dogs like a steeplechaser, getting her balance back by propping herself up against his back, gripping his waist.
"Man, it's like a fucking mine field in here," Brian says.
"Death by lapdogs!" Jamia smiles into his neck.
In the bathroom Brian takes a long, satisfying piss while Jamia fiddles with the shower faucet.
"Mama's appointment with the vet is at two-thirty," she comments while Brian's toying with his toothbrush, sticking it between the row of teeth and the inside of his cheek so that he can wash his hands. Frank's convinced that Mama has worms because she's been losing weight lately. Brian's pretty sure it's just 'cause of all the additional exercise. Brian's trying to make the dogs look like real dogs again, so he's been taking them out into the backyard to play every night. This also wears them out so much that they sleep through the whole night instead of whining miserably outside the bedroom door. Brian's a fucking genius.
"I was thinking... you wanna come with me?" Jamia asks a little too brightly. Brian knows how much she hates going to the vet alone, ever since they lost Sinatra.
He spits toothpaste into the sink and connects eyes with Jamia in the mirror. "Sure thing," he says. "Frank not coming?"
Jamia shrugs, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's got the show tonight. I think he might wanna hang out with the guys before that."
"Oh, right," Brian says. He forgot about the show. It's not every day you get to see the 'Souls in LA, and Frank is Frank. "Point."
"Don't worry, I'll be there," he says and kicks his boxers off, not caring where they land. They end up hitting Jamia on her calf. "I wasn't worrying!" she insists, glancing at Brian over her shoulder. With a sudden playful grin she flicks ice cold water at Brian's bare legs and his groin.
Brian jumps back and yelps, his toothbrush falling out of his mouth. It hits his thigh before it connects with the floor, leaving a stripe of peppermint paste on his hairy skin. But oh, that just brings her into hysterics.
They kiss in the shower and Brian offers to wash her boobs with a suggestive grin. Frank squeezes in some time later and says, "Bandit's throwing a hissyfit so we had to leave it short this time."
It's a tight fit with the three of them, which works with Brian just fine. He jerks Frank off while Jamia lathers Frank's chest with the funny-smelling, funny-looking soap that she bought from a real honest-to-god soap shop the last time they were all out in the city.
Frank leans his head on Brian's shoulder who presses his mouth to the wet skin of his cheek. He slides his hand along Frank's dick with lazy strokes, rubbing with the pad of his thumb. Jamia's lashes are clumped together, her face pink and open. Frank moans softly, his hips stuttering, and Brian pulls his earlobe into his mouth, feeling the same way that Jamia looks like: fond and lusty and so terribly in love that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. She presses closer, biting her lip. Brian leans in and kisses her with teeth and tongue, dick growing in the crease of Frank's ass.
"Come on, you guys," Frank demands, fumbling to grip Jamia's thigh, bringing it up and around their hips. She sighs and gasps against Brian's mouth while Brian guides Frank's dick into her folds. The lack of condom and the phone call with the Ways makes some part of Brian that's still stuck in high school sex ed freak the fuck out, but rationally he knows that they're all tested and Jamia's been on the pill for fucking forever. Frank's head is pressed against her wet hair as he keeps fucking into her. Brian palms himself, kissing above Frank's shoulder blade and Frank comes with a sudden yelp, shaking in their arms. Jamia smiles in that gentle way of hers, and leans in to kiss Frank's temple and lips.
"You guys are the best," Frank huffs out a laugh and arches his back, stretching muscles. He's got water droplets stuck to his stubble and a sleepy smile on. "The best."
"We know," Jamia says and then turns to Brian, "You wanna get in or what?" No nonsense and straight to the point. Her eyes twinkle at Brian as she nudges Frank to the side, towards the hot shower cascade.
Brian says, "Fuck yeah I do," grabbing Jamia's hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the blue vein in her wrist and the cup of her palm. He pushes her up against the wall and starts mouthing at her neck and collarbones while nudging her legs open and bringing her thigh up to his waist. Under all that soap she still smells like yesterday's perfume. Brian fucks her while Frank washes his own hair, humming something distantly familiar, although he's fucking up the melody pretty hard. Jamia snorts and stretches out one arm to pull at Frank's ear.
"What the hell is that?" she asks him and then starts laughing. "Oh my god, that's fucking Lion King! Frank, you dork!"
"Hey," Frank says, eyes squeezed shut and shampoo trails on his face. "Lion King's the cultural phenomenon of our time, so don't fuckin' start that shit with me!"
Jamia laughs harder, even when Brian brushes his fingers over her clit. "Can we please focus for one fucking minute so I can fucking get off already?" Brian grunts, but he's scraping the insides of his cheeks with his teeth, trying real hard not to burst out laughing with these two morons.
"Oh my god," Frank yells between hia giggles. "I can't believe you fucking said that to her, you dick."
"I know, right!" Jamia exclaims, rocking her hips menacingly, pulling a groan out of Brian. "We should just start cockblocking him from now on for pulling shit like that."
"You kinda already are," Brian remarks, but he's already belly-laughing, his whole body shaking with it.
"Shut your fucking mouth, Schechter!" Frank says with defiance while scrubbing at his armpits. In the crook of Brian's neck, Jamia is dying of laughter.
"You both suck," Brian says, grinning at the shower wall.
In the kitchen Frank pushes the slovenly row of dog bowls out of his way with his big toe. He's back to humming Lion King, now with a more distinctive beat. Brian leans against the sink, watching Frank circling around, collecting bags of kibble for the dogs that are waddling into the kitchen with their tongues lolling out of their moths and bellies almost trailing on the floor. Frank keeps saying that it's not his fault that all of his dogs have unnaturally short legs.
Jamia sits in the chair by the wall, listening to the radio. She's been bothering Gerard and Lindsey fucking forever to help them paint the walls but it's taking Gerard a long time to decide on the design. He takes these things with the same air of seriousness that he puts into all of his work, claiming that he still needs to do more research and sketch more outlines, and Brian's always surprised when the band gets anything done. He's just relieved that he doesn't have to worry about their shit anymore.
Frank's stooping down, one hand on Brian's thigh holding him steady as he empties kibble into the bowls. Brian catches Jamia's eye and winks at her. Frank's talking to Mama about the vet, patting her head while she pants and lolls her tongue and smiles big and dumb and adoring up at him.
"You're coming with us?" Jamia asks. She's unwrapping the see-through toast packaging, pulling out three pieces of toast and arranging them in the slits of the toaster.
Frank frowns. "Why wouldn't I go with you?"
Jamia says, "'Cause of the show tonight?" and Frank gets this exasperated, you-so-cute look on his face and tells her that she's silly and that he loves her. She rolls her eyes and says, "Whatever, just checking, okay? I'm allowed to make small talk with my guys at breakfast, okay? Or am I not?" She turns to Brian. "Brian didn't think you were coming either!"
Brian spreads his hands and shrugs, what do you want from me? He presses a kiss on Jamia's cheek and then walks to the cupboards, getting the half-empty pack of coffee out and slapping Frank on the ass while making his way to the coffee pot. Almost all the dogs are in the kitchen now. The floor's like a clogged up pipe, nothing gets through.
Frank drops the bag of kibble on the floor, recoiling, and the red-yellow-brown pellets roll out. It's like an early Christmas for the mutts. "Frank," Jamia complains. "You're making a mess."
"Fuck you!" Frank says to Brian, slapping Brian over the back of his head, not even hard enough for it to sting. Brian ducks his head and grins. "I'm gonna fuckin' t-bag you for that, motherfucker!"
"What's the point? I've already had your balls in my mouth," Brian says with a grin. "For the record? They're pretty disgusting."
"Shut up," Frank snorts with laughter and grabs his crotch. "You love these babies."
"Jeez, really? Do you have to talk about your balls while we're eating?" Jamia says, exasperated. Daisy is sitting on her feet, begging for scraps.
"Aw," Frank says, giving Brian a smirk. Brian slowly smirks back at him.
Frank hops onto Jamia's lap and nuzzles his stubbly cheek against hers. She scrunches up her face. "I'm sorry, baby, but we already covered pussies earlier," he says and kisses her cheek.
"Don't call me baby, baby," Jamia says with a poorly suppressed grin, wrapping her arms around his waist, rubbing at his belly. "And clean up that shit."
"Yes, ma'am," Frank drawls, bumping her forehead with his nose.
Brian fake-gags into his fist.
"What?" Jamia and Frank ask in synch.
"Your teenage crushes are fucking disgusting. I kinda want to puke all over you guys."
"Well there goes my breakfast," Jamia says and pushes Frank out of her lap.
Frank attaches himself to Brian instead, wrapping his arms around Brian and dancing them in a circle for a few rounds -- Brian barely tolerating him -- then kissing the corner of his mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about. He just called us cute."
"Whatever," Jamia says and stands up to get the coffee.
More dogs pile into the room and Frank pulls away from Brian, sitting him in the chair opposite to Jamia's. He scoops Peppers up in his arms and sits heavily down onto Brian's lap. Brian sighs into his hand as Frank takes a piece of toast and lets Peppers sniffle and lick at it before he starts feeding it to her.
Frank talks animatedly in the car with one arm on the steering wheel, one hanging out of the window and a cigarette pinched between his fingers. He likes to drive like a lunatic, but the traffic is making him drive like grandpa.
"You drive like grandpa," Brian comments from the backseat. He smirks into the front mirror when Frank gives him the finger.
"And look like one," Jamia says. Her head is resting on Brian's shoulder, fingers scratching absently at the back of Mama's neck.
"Fuck you both," Frank drawls, glaring through the mirror. He's wearing Jamia's gray granny sweater over his black t-shirt. It's got shoulder pads and everything. It's kind of real sweet but also goddamn hilarious, which is just the epitome of Frank.
They're only ten minutes late for the vet, which has got to be a personal record. Frank parks the car and Brian grabs Mama from Jamia and starts walking towards the sliding doors. Frank's walking behind him with Jamia, holding her hand while still smoking.
Inside the clinic there's a plethora of animals, which is such bullshit because it's never been this full before.
Frank pulls away from Jamia and starts walking around, wringing his hands. He's getting nervous, too, now that they're finally here. Brian sighs and can't stop that affectionate smile from spreading over his face. These two.
He slinks closer to Jamia and hooks his jaw over her shoulder, murmurs, "Relax, it's just a fucking checkup to get Frank outta my hair." Mama pants wetly by Brian's ear and he gives her back to Jamia to hold.
"I know," Jamia says, arranging Mama so that she's pinched under her arm like a handbag. "I mean, rationally I know that, but. It's Mama." She looks at Brian a little helplessly.
"Hey, check this out." Frank comes jogging down the hall. He's got a tiny yellow rubber duck in his hand that he's holding out for Mama with a huge grin.
Mama wufs her acceptance and tries to reach for the toy with her flat muzzle.
"Frank," Jamia hisses. "Tell me there's not a little puppy out there somewhere looking for his toy duck."
Frank huffs with indignation. "Stealing from a puppy? You wound me! Although there was this mean old Rottweiler back there that--"
"Frank!"
"Relax, I got it from that little store back there, jeez."
Frank fiddles with the duck and drops it on the floor. Brian moves behind him as he's bending over picking it up, grabs Frank's hips and does a few over-the-top pelvic thrusts, earning snickers from his new audience -- the people in the waiting room -- and an eyeroll and a slow grin from Jamia, her worry not so evident in her eyes anymore.
Frank ends up calling the vet a dickhead. Brian's just got his mouth open to spit out something along those lines, but Frank got there first, up in this jerk's face, practically growling, his neck lobster-red.
"Tell me you didn't just call our dog fucking obese," Frank's bark would make Mama proud. Jamia's face is pink and she's gripping Frank's sweater, kinda trying to hold him back but she doesn't seem to be very into it. She looks equal parts embarrassed and pissed off.
Mama sits on the examination table with her round belly protruding between her stubby legs, her tongue lolling from the side of her mouth. She looks good, healthier than a month ago when Brian first started exercising the dogs. Brian doesn't really understand where this idiot is coming from, but he'd like to teach him a few lessons in subtlety, with the help of his fist.
Five minutes finds Frank, Jamia, Brian and Mama in the parking lot, navigating through the concrete sea of parked Jeeps and old Sedans back to their minivan. They pile in the car and drive off. No one's really talking, in the mirror Brian watches as Frank holds Mama to his chest and peppers kisses to the sausage-wrinkles of her neck.
When they get back to the house, no one still hasn't said anything and the silence is starting to get to Brian. Living with Frank and Jamia, quiet is not something Brian has gotten used to during these past couple of years. It's not in their vocabulary. When Frank doesn't talk he plays his guitars or snuffles in his sleep or laughs at the dogs or at something Jamia's saying. Jamia is just always there to talk to, so easy and open, always there for her guys.
Brian jostles his keys and unlocks the front door. The white paint is peeling from the jamb, greyish blue peeking underneath. They bought the house only months after Jamia had told Brian to stop dicking around and to just move in with them, dilapidated and backyard overgrown with weeds. There had been something really charming about the place, even with all of its imperfections -- or maybe that's exactly what had charmed them in the first place.
Frank storms in as soon as Brian gets the door open. He lets Mama down on the floor and she runs into the kitchen right away. Frank sighs and picks Daisy up instead, tucks her under his chin and walks away.
"I'll make us tea," Jamia says. She reaches up to cup the side of Brian's head, running her thumb along the shell of his ear as she presses a brief kiss to his cheek .
"Okay," Brian says, and when Jamia makes to leave he pulls her back in by her wrist, hugging her close to him, kissing her on the lips and smushing his nose into her cheek. Her skin smells like moisturizer. "Okay. You okay?"
"I'm fine. I mean, let's face it. We all know our dogs are fat." This is where she gives a small laugh and pulls away from Brian. Brian cracks a smile and nods, tugging some of her hair behind her ear. It's soft and smooth, just like the rest of her. "I'm mostly just worried about Frank. It kills me seeing him like this."
"He'll be alright," Brian assures. "I swear, if he doesn't stop sulking soon, I'm bringing fucking tickle monster out and then I'm going to force the emo out of him."
It's always Frank with the fucking tickle monster, at least ever since he saw how great an effect it had on Worm's kid. The sole purpose of the tickle monster so far has been to harass Brian whenever he's working or making important phone calls so Brian's kind of dying to take his revenge on him anyway.
Jamia laughs, which is totally what Brian was going for. "He better watch out."
"Oh, you know it."
There's something incredibly calming in watching Jamia bustling in the kitchen. Brian's leaning against the doorjamb, studying the flicks of her wrist as she measures the right amount of tea leaves into the strainer, the tangy smell of the leaves already wafting to his nose. Texas and Peppers run through the doorway, slide off course on the carpet in the hall and disappear behind a corner. Brian chuckles, he's so damn fond of everyone and everything in this house.
"What are you thinking about," Jamia asks, putting the tea package back into the tin box. Brian reaches up and grabs the teapot from the top shelf. It's deep blue like the evening sky, white, handpainted flowers like stars scattered all around. The purpose of cute teapots is definitely one thing Brian can't wrap his head around, they fit in the same category with creepy porcelain animals, but Jamia adores them and that's good enough for him.
"Your fixation with teapots." Brian hands her the pot. "How I kinda need coffee more than tea right now. The fucking vet," he adds, because there's still this irritating knot in his gut and he knows it won't go away for a while.
"I don't have a fixation with teapots," Jamia says after a while with a small quirk to her lips. "And coffee is the last thing you need right now."
Brian gladly takes the easy way out. "Tea is for pussies."
Jamia tsks, takes the tin box from the counter and breaths in the smell of Emperor's Bride.
"And the Brits, I guess," he adds. "Can't forget the Brits."
"Not this again," Jamia groans and then abruptly burst into a laugh. She starts pushing Brian out of the kitchen, grinning at him. "Go talk to Frank, I'm sick of your face."
"I don't know what you're talking about, this face could bring world peace!" Brian ducks in to steal a kiss from her before she can chase him away. "And move mountains!"
"That doesn't even make sense, you idiot."
"Oh yeah? Well, guess what else doesn't make sense? Your mom!"
"Oh, snap!" Jamia laughs and pushes Brian out into the hallway, still grinning when she returns to the kitchen and starts bustling with her tea again.
"You know why they say shit like that, right?"
Brian found Frank sitting out on the porch stairs, knees drawn up and chin resting on his knuckles. Mama is lying on her side next to Frank, and she gives Brian one of her dumb, adoring looks when Brian shifts closer.
"'Cause they hate to see people abusing their pets."
"You're not abusing your pets," Brian says with a voice to be reckoned with, dropping down to sit next to Frank. "No one can accuse you of that."
"And when Mama dies from gluttony--"
"You need to shut up now," Brian says, placing his hand on Frank's shoulder, scooting closer. Frank smells like wet dog and grass. "Were you playing with her in the yard?"
"For a while. I made her fetch her ball until it started to drizzle."
"See? If she was in too bad shape, she wouldn't have played fetch with you, yeah?"
"I guess." Frank's shrug makes Brian's head bob on his shoulder. "I mean, I guess I could exercise them a little more. Maybe we all could--"
Brian grins, relieved at last. "Yeah, definitely." He decides not to tell Frank about his late night exercise sessions with the dogs, let Frank think he came up with the idea first.
Frank turns his head to drop a sloppy kiss on the bridge of Brian's nose, and Brian chuckles, squeezing Frank's chest.
Jamia comes to sit on the porch swing with a steaming cup of tea, and Brian catches her huge smile before he buries his own into Frank's shoulder blade, mouthing at his shirt.
"You should get ready for the 'Souls," Jamia says after a while, watching the gentle drizzle wetting the porch railing.
"I was thinking," Frank starts, turning around to see her face. "What if I stayed home this time?"
"Only if you really want to," Jamia says, "Although I think you should go, to help clear your head, lose some steam."
"I agree with Jamia," Brian says, giving Frank's shoulder a nudge. "You're gonna be so mad at us tomorrow if you don't go."
Frank wears his lip between his teeth, looking down at Mama, scratching behind her ears.
"We'll make sure she runs around the yard some more when it stops raining," Brian adds.
"But the others--"
"Frank, sweetie. Everyone'll get their fucking exercise tonight," Jamia says while Brian rolls his eyes and pushes Frank up from the stairs. "Now go, seriously."
"Okay, okay, jeez, I'm going," Frank mock-complains through a huge grin. "Everyone's so fucking bossy today."
~end~