More Than You Could Ever Know 8/8
*
The end of the tour was rushing towards them, and Frank was resolutely not thinking about it. Jon and Spencer were constantly talking to people at Island and having video chats with producers, trying to pick someone for their album, and that was great, but dealing with it meant dealing with that fact that in about a week, this was all going to be over. Short of shoving his fingers in his ears and going "lalala," Frank did what he could to avoid anything that might remind him of the fact.
Gerard was a problem in that he was Frank's number one distraction and number one reminder. They'd sneak off to some dark corner or just crowd in Gerard's bunk when the other guys were gone or making lots of noise in the front lounge, which was awesome and totally got Frank's mind off the other shit.
Except Gerard was never quiet, even in the fucking afterglow, and he was excited about tour ending, talking with his hands about all the plans they had for the Killjoys, and how Grant fucking Morrison was going to be in their video. He talked like Frank was going to be in it too, though Frank knew that was sort of up in the air and dependent on too many factors right now, but he smiled and went along with it anyway, even though it made him irrationally angry and hurt.
Frank wanted to fucking enjoy this. He didn't know what Gerard was thinking. Gerard sort of had this way of taking for granted that everyone was on the same page as he was, which was endearing 90% of the time, but really goddamn frustrating when Frank was trying to figure out if they were having a summer tour fling, or if this thing had potential to be something more.
It wasn't like Frank could fucking ask him. He didn't necessarily have a problem with talking about feelings, but he wasn't good at it, and it was a little early in the relationship for him to be making a total ass out of himself. Plus, if Gerard was just looking for something casual, it might freak him out if Frank brought up their 'relationship.' So he just kept his damn mouth shut.
Except that made enjoying it pretty fucking impossible. There was an expiration date looming ever closer, and no one seemed bummed out about it besides Frankie.
Gerard and Mikey's mom called late after one of their shows to see when they'd be coming to town, and Gerard came back into the bunk after ringing off, beaming and bouncing.
"I can't wait for you to meet her," Gerard said. He kissed Frank quick on the corner of the mouth. "I can't wait for her to meet you. She's gonna love you."
Frank shifted uncomfortably. No one's mom was ever loved him. Well, Patrick's mom had been indulgent of all of them, and Pete's mom loved everyone, but Frank's poor mother had been long-suffering, and Brendon and Greta's mothers wouldn't let him come around. Gerard was smart and creative, and Mikey was quiet and thoughtful, and they were both so fucking polite. Donna probably expected a lot better for her oldest son than a tattooed ex-Christmas elf freak who drank and cussed too much.
"Why ya frowning?" Gerard asked. His long fingers brushed over Frank's brow. Frank shook his head and rolled on his side to face Gerard, kissed him so he didn't have to answer. Not that kissing Gerard was any hardship. When there wasn't any intent behind it, Gerard's kisses were lazy and soft, and impossible to anticipate--one second nipping gently at Frank's lip, the next sliding his tongue over the roof of his mouth, or just fitting their mouths together in a slow, slick slide. Frank could spend hours kissing him like this.
"She's going to love you, trust me," Gerard said, several minutes later. "She's already excited; I've never brought a boyfriend home before."
Boyfriend, Frank's mind repeated helpfully. Gerard's eyes slanted away, towards the foot of the bunk. "I mean--you don't--"
"Gerard," Frank said, "shut up."
Gerard's cheeks flushed red and he met Frank's gaze again, biting his lip. "You're gonna come visit us out in California, right?"
"Of course," Frank said quickly. "It's just--we both have to record and then we'll be touring."
"Mikey and Gabe make it work," Gerard said. "Gabe comes with us when he's not on tour, and Mikey goes with them. They're only apart a few months of the year."
Frank knew it wasn't as perfect as Gerard made it sound. Gabe had told Frank about the year that both MCR and Cobra had put out albums and gone touring, and they'd seen each other a weekend here and there, sometimes three months or more between, for over fourteen months. But even that seemed preferable to not seeing Gerard again, or seeing him--at award ceremonies and crossing paths at shows--and not being able to touch him like this. And Gerard wanted Frank enough to try to make it work.
"I've always wanted to go to a beach," Frank mused.
Gerard laughed, open and beautiful. "There're lots of beaches near my place."
Frank rolled as much as he could in the bunk, head bumping the ceiling, and settled in place straddling Gerard's hips. "Yeah?"
"And about a billion vegan restaurants," Gerard said. His hands came up to rest lightly on Frank's waist. Frank hummed in interest as he pressed his face into Gerard's neck, tasting the skin. "And my yard is like, a doggy heaven."
"You don't really need to convince me," Frank said, but he was thinking about the implication of his dogs in Gerard's yard, and it was just crazy and too much, and probably better if he didn't really address it at the moment. "I'm already there."
"I was gonna drive the Trans Am to see you in Vegas, ya know, for an authentic experience of driving it through the desert, but Bob and Brian vetoed the idea. They said I'd end up being eaten by buzzards somewhere off the I-15 when the car inevitably broke down." Gerard sounded wistful and chagrined at the same time.
Frank patted him on the shoulder. "They're probably right."
Gerard bit the nearest part of Frank he could reach, which ended up being the inside of his arm. It turned into something of a wrestling match, which was just asking for pain, in a moving bus. "Remember what we said about no concussions this tour," Ray called, in what Frank had come to think of as his mother hen voice.
"You never let us have any fun," Frank shouted back, but he settled down, curled up on the edge of the mattress. It wasn't a big deal for him to fall out--his floating generally kicked in if he started to fall, even if he wasn't awake. Still, it was nice when Gerard wrapped an arm around him in a firm hold.
For the first time since they started this thing, Frank wasn't kept awake thinking about what they were doing or what it meant or where it was going. He was asleep in no time, lulled by Gerard's weird not-snoring and the sound of Mikey and Ray's game playing softly from the lounge.
*
Spencer was on the MCR bus pretty much the minute they pulled into the venue, tugging a still half-sleeping Frank out of Gerard's bunk and onto the Northern Downpour bus. The rest of the band was waiting on the sofa and there were a bunch of papers spread out over the table, covered in highlighter.
"I get that you're having some issue here," Spencer told him. "But unless you're quitting the band, we need some fucking input from you."
"I'm not quitting the band," Frank said, quick and defensive. He tugged his hoodie tighter around him and hunched his shoulders.
Ryan rolled his eyes and Jon gave an exasperated sigh, and Brendon just looked miserable and nervous, which made Frank feel like the world's hugest asshole, so he plopped down next to him and said, "Okay. What are we doing?"
"We're picking a producer," Spencer said, like it was going to happen before the day was over, or he was going to murder someone. Probably Frank.
"Thomas helped us narrow it down to these three," Ryan said. There were a couple pages for each of the three contenders, listing the names of albums they'd produced and artists they'd worked with, as well as hand-written notes by Spencer about pros and cons. "He's got a studio lined up in Burbank for us, if everything works out alright."
"In Burbank?" Frank said. "That's in California?"
Ryan gave him an odd look and nodded. "We kinda thought it would be good to work out there. We've been talking about maybe moving out there. Vegas is okay, but if we're going to be doing this for real, it's basically the worst place in the world to be a musician. This way we can check out LA while we're there, and if we like it, maybe find a house."
"We were just talking about this yesterday," Jon told Frank gently. Frank vaguely remembered them talking about house-shopping, and he thought maybe they wanted a bigger place, but then they'd mentioned a recording studio and he'd gone into his bunk and shoved in his headphones.
"Right," Frank said. "Burbank. LA. Awesome."
"We wouldn't move without you," Brendon said, misreading Frank's tone. "You could help pick the place."
Frank gave him an easy smile. "I think it's possible that if our record's going to sell as well as our EP as, I can probably afford to get my own place and let you guys have back some of your privacy." Besides, he could probably convince Gerard to let him crash at his place, in a pinch.
Brendon looked mildly distraught by that until Spencer said, "Maybe in the same neighbourhood," and Frank said, "Definitely."
"So, producer," Spencer said. Frank bent over the lists to read more clearly. The music they'd each produced before was at least decent--no bands or albums that made Frank cringe or automatically veto anyone.
Brendon and Jon had apparently already asked a lot of questions about the different instrumentation they wanted to play with, and Ryan and Spencer had covered the like, artistic aspect or some shit. The notes talked about integrity and how much input they'd have as artists, but Frank trusted them to figure that out. All he was really interested in was getting in there and writing and recording their music.
Gerard would understand these notes better, no doubt. Just thinking about Gerard made Frank bounce in place. He wanted to go find him and tell him about the studio in Burbank. Or maybe that would make him seem needy? Maybe Gerard would think Frank was following him home or something. Except Gerard wanted him to visit. God, Frank really fucking sucked at this.
Spencer and Brendon obviously had their heart set on one producer in particular, and Ryan and Jon were just sort of hemming and hawing over it. Ryan, Frank knew, was being weird because he probably didn't think he could trust anyone, and Jon was being supportive of his neurosis, which was sweet, but sort of counterproductive.
So Frank sided with Brendon and Spencer on Mathes. He seemed like a pretty laid-back dude, equally able to help them with writing if they were stuck, or just give input here and there if they needed it, and his list of artists the most impressive by far.
"Can I go back to my boyfriend, now?"
Jon smiled, all wide and mischievous. "So it's boyfriend, now?" he said, bumping his shoulder into Frank's.
The rest of them were giving Frank expectant looks. His band were nosy, gossipy whores. Who loved him. And wanted him to be happy. He gave them a quick smile and jumped up. "I get it, guys. I've been stupid, okay?"
"Yeah," Spencer agreed, nodding. He grabbed Frank in a rough, half-hug. "I wasn't going to put any bets on whether you or Mikey would win in a death match, but I'm glad it's not going to come to that."
Frank gave him a blank look. He might have been uncertain about where the relationship was going, but he hadn't been an asshole in a really long time. Well, over a week, anyway.
"Seriously," Ryan said. "Perfect for each other. You're both so fucking clueless."
Frank flipped him off on his way off the bus.
Gerard was still sleeping when Frank got back, and mumbled something unintelligible when Frank crawled into the bunk with him. "Hey," Frank said. He nosed at Gerard's shoulder and pressed a kiss to the sweaty skin.
"Hey," Gerard said. He threw an arm over Frank, smoothed a hand down Frank's back and groped at his ass.
Frank squirmed closer and tugged on Gerard's hair. "I have a confession," he said. Gerard made a sleepy, curious noise. Frank focused on the red blur of Gerard's hair and the contrasting pale of his skin, instead of wondering whether it was a good idea or not.
It was only a matter of time before someone in his band teased him about it in front of Gerard, and he'd rather just beat them to the chase, so to speak, and get it over with. Plus, if Gerard had been as worried about things as Frank, it was only fair. "So. You know I'm a huge MCR fan."
"Yeah," Gerard agreed, all drawn out, rising intonation at the end.
He just needed to say it. The longer he waited, the bigger a deal he made it seem. "I sorta had a thing for you."
"I'm shocked," Gerard said blandly. "Scandalised. I feel so dirty."
"Shut up," Frank said. He sighed and snuggled closer and Gerard slid a hand down the back of Frank's boxers. Frank rolled into his side, burying his face in Gerard's neck and breathing in. Gerard smelled like oranges and mold, and it was fucked up, that that scent was starting to turn Frank on.
"I just thought I should tell you, ya know. In case it was weird or freaky. I was like, your internet stalker. And then your real life stalker, and now we're fucking, so. Some people might be bothered by that."
"It's kinda flattering," Gerard said. "And hot."
"God, you're such a freak," Frank said.
Gerard squeezed him closer. Frank felt the light pressure of a kiss against his hair and it made him smile goofily. "Exactly," Gerard said. "Which is why you shouldn't have worried."
Frank nodded. "Yeah, but. It's different now," he said, because he needed Gerard to understand. "Before you were just. I thought I knew who you were, but you're nothing like that person. I mean, you are, but not in the way I imagined." He leaned up on an elbow and rubbed at his face, frustrated.
Gerard just looked up at him, patient and expectant. Frank touched his cheek, brushed his fingers over Gerard's lips and Gerard kissed them. Frank didn't think about what he was going to say, just said it before he had a chance to doubt if it was the right thing. "I just mean, I had a stupid crush on that Gerard Way, but I think I'm in love with this one."
"Yeah?" Gerard asked. The corners of his mouth were turned up, ever so slightly, and Frank took that as a good sign. He leaned down, nodding, and kissed Gerard softly. Gerard sighed and slid his free hand into Frank's hair, tilting his head and kissing him deeper. The whole bunk was lit up with a gentle glow when they parted. "Me too, Frankie," Gerard said. He traced his thumb over Frank's cheekbone.
"Dude," Ray mumbled from across the narrow hallway. "Mikey, did you turn the fucking ac down again?"
Mikey gave a muffled response that sounded a lot like "Fuck off," and Frank hid his laughter in Gerard's shoulder.
"We should probably just tell them," Gerard whispered. "If you're gonna be around, they're going to notice anyway, eventually. I mean--if it's okay with you."
Frank traced his fingers in a star shape on Gerard's collarbone. "It's not like it's a big secret, or something. Like that we have to keep it hidden from our friends, or something. We just--who's gonna believe something like that. It's easier not to tell people."
Gerard nodded, a serious expression on his face. "Mikey and the guys will believe you."
"You didn't," Frank said.
"I--" Gerard stopped short. "But you--"
Frank giggled. "It's okay, Gee. We can tell 'em, if you think it's a good idea. And you're right. It'll probably make things less awkward when I accidentally float out of your bunk in my sleep, or something."
"That is never going to stop being awesome," Gerard said.
"Oh my god, assholes, just because you're awake doesn't mean everyone else should be," Bob said from above.
There was some dramatic sheet-rustling and Gabe's obnoxious snickering and someone jumping out of their bunk and humphing before stomping off to the lounge. "You should totally make it snow," Gerard said. His grin was infectious.
Frank didn't have Brendon's easy way with their magic, able to just throw it around whenever, but he was so content right now that it didn't take much concentration to start a flurry of snow drifting through the bus.
The responses were varied and pretty immediate, from Bob's, "What the fuck?" to Gabe's gleeful attempt at starting a snowball fight with a mere dusting of snow, to Matt muttering about how, in this band, nothing surprised him any more.
"Come on," Gerard said. He nudged at Frank's hip. "Let's go make Mikey float."
*
The dinner with Gerard and Mikey's family turned out to be more like a party, with all of MCR and Northern Downpour, plus half of Cobra and Adam, Eddie, and John from Taking Back Sunday. Frank figured that would help take some of Donna's attention away from him, but he really needn't have worried.
Donna turned out to be oddly attentive and supremely laid-back and dismissive at the same time, like a weird combination of both her sons. She greeted Frank with a warm hug that made him miss his own mother and put him more at ease.
Gerard and Mikey's pictures decorated almost every surface in the living room and Donna delighted in telling Frank the story behind every one he pointed to. She had a dry, sarcastic sense of humour but it couldn't colour her fondness or pride for her children. Gerard put up with it good-naturedly for the better part of an hour before he whined, "Jesus, Mom, can't you leave a guy a little dignity," and dragged Frank off by the arm.
Downstairs the sounds of the party were muffled. The staircase and hallway were bare concrete and drywall, but the door to Gerard's bedroom was painted blue and covered in posters and stickers and an oil painting of a finger pointing back the way they'd come. Inside was pretty much what Frank had imagined.
Donna hadn't touched it in Gerard's absence. The sheets were rumpled and there were dirty clothes piling the floor and spilling from the dressers. Limited edition figurines of superheroes and comic book characters lined most of the surfaces, and the art table was littered with unfinished sketches and paintings.
"I haven't had the time to move everything out west yet," Gerard said. He looked a little sheepish, which was adorable, considering that his bus was in way worse condition than this room.
Frank sat down heavily on the bed, bouncing a few times. He leaned back on his hands and gave Gerard a once-over before patting the comforter beside him. It was a narrow bed, but far roomier than a bunk, for fucking sure. Gerard blushed, but he crowded Frank back on the bed, hands on either side of Frank's hips as their lips met. "This is so fucking naughty," Frank whispered. "Sex in your mom's house."
Gerard made a face. "Not if you don't shut up," he said and kissed Frank more forcefully. Frank let himself be pushed back on the pillows, fingers twining in Gerard's greasy hair. Gerard parted from him to struggle out of his t-shirt and hoodie, and Frank immediately reached out to touch. He'd only seen Gerard shirtless a few times, but he was already greedy for all that bare skin. When he came out to California, they were going to go days without getting dressed. Frank had plans.
The rest of their clothes came off in fits and starts; they kept getting distracted between one article and the next. When Gerard fumbled in his bedside drawer for a bottle of KY, Frank was struck with the image of teenaged Gerard in this same bed with that same bottle, desperate like Frank had been back in Christmastown, when he'd jerked off thinking about Gerard.
Frank wanted to know every part of Gerard, even the ones that had passed. He propped the pillows up between his back and the wall and sat up a little, and when Gerard tried to pass the bottle to him, Frank gave a slight shake of his head.
Gerard looked at a loss, sitting back on his heels, still in his socks, cock hard between his thighs. Frank grinned. "I wanna see," he said. He didn't know someone could get that red, but Gerard slowly popped the cap and poured the lube into his palm. Frank bit his lip and settled in for the show. Gerard's reached down jerky and hesitant, but when he wrapped his slick fist around his own cock, his hips stuttered into the touch and he let out a low groan.
"Fuck," Frank whispered. Gerard's hand stilled and Frank touched his wrist. "Keep going."
The blush spread down Gerard's throat and his chest. He started slow, but after a minute Gerard's shoulders relaxed and his movements were less forced, more natural, like Frank imagined he might look alone.
Frank grabbed the abandoned bottle of lube and smeared it over his fingers. He reached a hand between his own thighs, skipping past his aching hard-on and circling a finger around his hole. He made a small noise when he pushed two fingers inside and Gerard's eyes snapped open, his mouth falling open at the sight. Frank grinned and spread his legs wider, making a show out of it. Gerard's pace quickened, the wet sound of his hand on his cock all Frank could hear over the distant thrum of bass.
"Frankie," Gerard said, low and desperate.
Frank grinned, head thrown back on a moan. "Gee," he answered, working his fingers frantically, but the angle wasn't right. He hooked a foot behind Gerard's ass and gave a tug. Gerard fell off balance, landing between Frank's splayed thighs. "You have any condoms down here?"
Gerard shifted his weight forward, his cock nudging Frank's as he leaned in for a kiss that made Frank wriggle beneath him. Honestly, Frank could probably get off just like this, rubbing against Gerard, even with his fingers not quite deep enough, but that wasn't what he wanted.
Frank pulled his fingers free and wrapped them around Gerard's cock, positioning him lower, the head nudging Frank's hole. Gerard pushed into the touch, straining against Frank's wrist. "Condoms, Gee," he said, and bit Gerard's bottom lip.
"Yeah," Gerard said absently. "In the drawer, right there. Hurry up--oh fuck."
Frank flailed around with his free hand to grab one, tore the package open with his teeth and managed to roll it down Gerard's cock in what had to be record time. "Come on," he urged, but it was really unnecessary; Gerard was already slowly pushing inside, each inch burning up Frank's spine.
"Fuuuuck," Frank groaned. Fingers twisted in the sheets, he pushed his hips up to meet Gerard. It wasn't enough leverage and Gerard didn't have a headboard for Frank to grab. Instead, he planted one foot on the bed at Gerard's hip and slung the other around his waist, hands clawing slickly at Gerard's neck and down his shoulders.
Mostly Frank was used to being on the bottom with elves who thought it wasn't as gay if they were doing the fucking, and some of them had been pretty decent. Gerard was better. Frank was still working to reconcile the confident, hyper-sexual onstage Gerard with the sort of shy, but eager bedroom Gerard; this Gerard fucking him now was yet another facet: smooth controlled movements that were driving Frank sort of crazy and this intense look that made Frank want to turn his head. He made himself meet it head-on, instead.
Frank snapped his hips up to meet every thrust, sweat dripping in his eyes, muscles burning from the strain. This could go on forever and Frank would totally be okay with that, but there was a party upstairs and people wandering around the house, and maybe it was way better than stealing a quick handjob on the bus, but it wasn't exactly the ideal location for taking their time.
Gerard reached between them to touch him and Frank said, "No, just like this," which just made Gerard fuck him harder, fingers bruising on Frank's hips, and yeah, it didn't take long after that.
They cleaned up the best they could in the tiny, spider-ridden bathroom under the stairs, but Frank was a little to terrified one of the fuckers was going to climb on him to do a thorough job of it, and there was no way they were going to fool anyone anyway. Bob gave them a short, perfunctory round of applause when they stumbled into the backyard, and Ray and Brendon kept fucking giggling all over each other about it. Everyone else looked amused, including, Frank noticed, Donna. At least she wasn't pissed off, but Frank still sort of wanted to die of shame.
"I didn't make it snow, at least," Frank said, vaguely affronted.
Mikey shot Frank this suspicious, narrow-eyed look. He'd been doing it ever since Gerard had outed Frank to the band, like he suspected Frank was going to come up from behind and send him floating off into the starry night, or something.
Frank gave him a reproachful look, and Mikey heaved a sigh and said, "Dude, far more embarrassing things have happened in that basement during parties, trust me." Which? not as reassuring as Mikey might have meant for it to be, but it was the thought that mattered.
*
There was a park down the block from the venue and Frank and Gerard had snuck out before most of the others began to stir. On tour, that meant close to noon. Gerard was pacing under a nearby tree, talking to some guy from Warner on the phone and Frank was drifting lazily between sleep and wakefulness.
He was so not ready to go back to the real world and the change that would mean to his sleep schedule. They'd be in the studio recording within two weeks, and now, with deadlines and a label, they couldn't just fuck around. There would be a schedule to abide by, which would probably mean long hours. Frank could deal with that knowing that at the end of the day, most nights he'd be going home to an equally exhausted Gerard.
Tonight was their second to last show. Tomorrow after NYC, the bands were scattering. Most of MCR, plus Gabe and the Taking Back Sunday guys--everyone with New York, Jersey and Long Island ties--were staying for a few extra days, but everyone else left early the morning after the show for home.
Frank was actually sort of excited for the week of downtime Northern Downpour had in Vegas before heading out to Burbank. It would be nice to sleep in his own bed, and maybe it was sad to be viewing that week at home as a vacation, but after the tour, it was exactly what Frank needed.
It was time to figure out what songs they wanted to use, and what direction they wanted to take. It would be good for them. Plus, Crystal had been house-sitting during their absence, and Frank trusted her with his pets, but he just missed them like burning.
"Hey." Frank blinked his eyes open when Gerard dropped down on the blanket next to him, legs crossed. "So guess what?" Gerard said, knee bouncing against Frank's hip. He was so adorable. When Frank was feeling less lazy, he'd have to kiss him.
"What's up?" he asked.
Gerard rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to guess."
"Mmmm." Frank pursed his lips. "Grant Morrison confessed his undying love for you and the two of you are moving to Europe and adopting a bunch of African babies."
"Frank," Gerard said, around his laughter, and shoved at Frank's shoulder. "As incredibly awesome as that would be--" Frank made an indignant noise, "I'm afraid I'd have to tell him that my heart belongs to another."
"Good," Frank said decisively.
"Ray and I have been talking to Rob about supporting acts for the tour. We're pretty set on Neon Tree and Circa Survive for half each, but we needed a second opener, and after talking this over with Thom, we've been given the go-ahead to formally invite Northern Downpour to join us once they've finished recording."
Frank sat up so quickly his forehead bumped Gerard's chin. Gerard grunted in pain, holding his lip, but smiled anyway. "I mean, we'll have to make sure your band actually wants to go--"
"Are you kidding?" Frank said. Sure they had other friends that might be a better fit--The Academy Is..., for one, but both TAI and Cobra had obligations at festivals throughout the rest the summer, and then were back in the studio in the fall and winter for recording, and it wouldn't match up.
Given how insular a group they were, and generally mistrustful of others, Frank knew his band would jump at the chance to tour with friends. "How did you even manage this?"
"Being your label's favourite helps," Gerard admitted. "But the fact that you guys are fucking awesome is a nice bonus."
Frank got to his feet, shoving on his shoes carelessly. "I gotta go wake up my band. I'd invite you along, but seeing as how they had the bus to themselves last night, you might be scarred for life at what we'd find."
Gerard caught him by the belt loop and pulled him into a quick kiss. "Come by the bus after. Me and the guys are going to this awesome consignment shop this afternoon, get a head start on costume pieces--you still need something for the video."
The video. Of course. Because Frank was going to be in a My Chemical Romance video, and then he was going to go on tour with them--not even to mention the whole dating-Gerard-Way thing. How was this even Frank's life? It was July; he hadn't left Christmastown six months ago. The whole thing was still pretty surreal.
"Right," he agreed, and leaned in for another, longer kiss, let himself get distracted for a minute. Then Gerard smacked him on the ass and Frank flipped him off over his shoulder as he jogged towards the venue lot.
Frank's band was asleep in the back lounge, but they were all thankfully, mostly dressed. It was actually sort of cute. Frank let himself just look from the doorway for a moment, smiling, before he took a running leap at them, throwing himself in the middle of the pile. There were groans of protest and a very precise and painful frog punch to the thigh from Spencer. Brendon just grabbed a handful of hair and twisted hard. "Asshole," he grumbled.
"If you don't get off my bladder, I'm going to piss all over you," Jon said.
Frank leapt to his feet. "Come on, lazypants," Frank said gleefully. "I'm calling an official band meeting."
They looked unimpressed, but attentive, and they started to get up. Frank could deal with that. Proving what a great bandmate he was, Frank went into the kitchenette to start the coffee brewing.
The list of tour dates on the fridge was mostly obscured by the red lines Ryan drew through each venue name after the show, only Burgettstown and Uniondale left at the very end. For the first time looking at it felt more like a beginning to Frank, than an end.