Just Can’t Get Enough (1/1)
For: bexless
Title: Just Can’t Get Enough
Pairing: Frank/Gerard (Bob/Brian, and various stoner hippies wandering around the place as well)
Rating: PG-13 ish for brief sex
Warnings: Bunnies!
Summary: College life can be stressful. Luckily, Frank has plans.
Author's Notes: Holiday exchange fic! I can’t really explain just how intimidating it was to write Frank and Gerard for Bexless, so thank you to the all the people I emailed in a panic who emailed me back, "Oh my god, stop whining and just WRITE something." And thank you to elucreh for the awesome beta. ~9,000 words
"Gerard," said Frank.
Gerard didn’t look up from where he was wedged into the corner of the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table they had liberated from the sidewalk. He was chewing on his pen and he had a smear of ink dribbling out of the corner of his mouth, like an especially literary vampire.
"Nnn?" said Gerard.
Frank kicked the corner of the couch. It wasn’t very satisfying. "Gerard," Frank repeated, and he knew he was getting a little whiny but he couldn’t help it. "Where am I supposed to sit?"
Gerard waved his free hand to indicate that Frank had his choice of the couch, the floor, on top of the bookshelves… Anywhere he wanted. Except the couch was covered in take-out boxes from Gerard’s lunch, and everything else in the room was covered in paper or art supplies or books. Frank made a face that Gerard totally failed to notice and threw a bunch of stuff on the floor so he could sit.
"Hey," said Frank. "So. How about dinner?"
Gerard wasn’t listening, which Frank had gotten sort of used to in the last couple of years. This was kind of new, though, because Frank had assumed when they were living together he’d get a little more of Gerard’s attention, just by virtue of being around more.
It was a pretty brilliant solution to Frank’s constant need for Gerard to pay attention to him, in Frank’s humble opinion. It was also a pretty brilliant solution to how freaking expensive campus housing was, but Frank didn’t like to bring that up, because Bob always gave him the look. Then Frank would get all snippy and point out not all of them had the luxury of picking up their TAs and living with old people who were probably on social security, and Bob would hit him and say Brian was only, like, 25, and Gerard would have to separate them before there was a repeat of the Great War of Sophomore Year.
The Great War which Frank had won, by the way, fuck you very much.
"Dinner, Gerard. Dinner. Dinner dinner dinner dinner." Frank thought adding a poke to every repetition of ‘dinner’ was a good way to make sure Gerard started listening, but Gerard had, unfortunately, gotten pretty good at ignoring him.
Frank hated being ignored.
He edged between Gerard and his notebook - no mean task, there were advantages to being kind of small - and climbed into Gerard’s lap. Gerard blinked and looked startled. "Hey," he said. "Oh, you’re home from class?"
Frank bit him on the nose. Not hard or anything, but jeez, he’d been home for like, ten minutes. "What are you doing that’s more interesting than me?" Frank complained. "I wanna get dinner. You wanna get dinner?"
"Look at all the shit I have to do," Gerard said, waving pieces of paper around.
Pieces of paper were nowhere near as fun as Frank. He saw the word "graduate school" on a couple of them, and that was just stupid; they were almost done with school. Why would anyone voluntarily want to do more?
"Dinner," Frank whined. "Gee, I’m hungry."
"Order a pizza or something," said Gerard. "Look at this. I need three recommendations. I’ve never even spoken to half my professors. What am I gonna do?"
"Say ‘hi, I’m the weirdo in black who sits at the back and draws vampires. Can you write a letter about how good I draw vampires?’" Frank suggested.
Gerard frowned. "I hate you," he said.
"No, you don’t."
"No, I don’t," Gerard sighed. "If I eat dinner with you, will you leave me alone to get this done?"
"Maybe," said Frank. "Or maybe I’ll make you pick up some of the fucking trash off the couch so I have a place to sit when I wanna bug you."
Gerard looked a little offended. "It’s not that bad," he said.
Frank had seen Gerard’s single, when he was still living in Wesley Hall. Frank had always assumed that, as a guy who was into guys, he wouldn’t care about shit like messes and smells and things that girls worried about. Gerard, as it turned out, was an exception to pretty much every rule Frank had ever had. Some of Gerard’s laundry had been sentient, Frank was pretty sure.
When they moved in together, Frank had been pretty clear that Gerard was gonna have to throw out anything that was growing eyes. He hadn’t realized that Gerard’s shit was going to multiply and creep out until it covered every single surface in the apartment.
"It’s not as bad as that rathole in Wesley," Frank agreed.
"That’s not fair, I-" Gerard started, when the fucking upstairs neighbor started playing guitar.
The fucking upstairs neighbor was always playing his guitar. He started sometime around dinner and, if he wasn’t stopped, he would play all the way through until three or four in the morning. It would have been cool if it had been like, Zeppelin or something, but it was always folk songs and country shit and Frank wanted to strangle that hippie motherfucker and his hippie motherfucking friends.
"I’ll get the broom," said Gerard, wiggling out from underneath Frank.
"And when you’re done," said Frank happily, "You can sweep the floor."
Gerard glared at him balefully. He banged on the ceiling with the broom a few times until the guitar stopped, and then handed it to Frank. "Since you care so much," he said.
"How did you survive without me?" Frank said mournfully. "I can’t believe a stack of pizza boxes never fell over and crushed you to death."
Gerard got a slightly crazed look in his eyes. "That’s a good idea," he said, grabbing for a sketch book that was underneath a pile of soda bottles and ink pots and combat boots.
Frank sighed to himself and made plans to get his own dinner.
--
"It just doesn’t seem right," Frank said.
Bob grunted, which might have meant he was listening, and might have meant he wanted Frank to shut up. Bob was hard to parse sometimes. Bob pulled his scarf a little tighter around his hoodie and clutched his coffee.
"Don’t you think it’s not right? I think it’s not right." Frank shivered. His hoodie wasn’t really warm enough for October wind, and that part of the campus was a wind tunnel. Frank hated walking to classes in the upper quad because of all the wind. Also, because of all the classes.
Bob sighed. "Okay," he said. "What?"
Frank grinned and stole Bob’s coffee. Bob’s defense skills needed a lot of work. "I live with my boyfriend, now, right?" said Frank. "And yet, instead of having more sex, I’m having less. Less sex, Bob! That can’t be right!"
Bob made that eye-rolling purse-lipped face he made sometimes. "Things I don’t want to hear about: a short list, by Bob Bryar," he said. "Number one. Your sex life."
"I’m not telling you all the kinky shit we do," said Frank. "Which, by the way, we don’t." He sighed tragically.
"Number two. All the kinky shit you don’t do," said Bob.
"Bob!" Frank whined, tugging on Bob’s scarf. Bob took his coffee back and raised an eyebrow. "Bob, when you moved in with Schechter, did you or did you not start hitting that all the time?"
"Dude," said Bob. "Dude. "
"Right, right, I wouldn’t want to either, but I figure you make sacrifices to live in that sweet pad," said Frank, and then giggled like a maniac when Bob glared at him. "What?"
"At least Brian showers," Bob said. "Has Gerard ever seen the inside of your bathtub?"
Frank made a face. "Gerard is artistic," he said.
"That means ‘gross,’ right?"
Frank decided a quick tickle attack was the only way to handle that amount of smugness, so he launched himself at Bob. Bob had a coffee in one hand, which made it hard for him to fend Frank off. Frank ended up hanging off Bob’s neck by one arm. "I want a piggy back ride," he said.
"Yeah, you go ahead and want that," said Bob, but he didn’t seem super upset, as long as Frank wasn’t choking him too much.
"Don’t you think it’s weird?" said Frank. "We moved in, so that apartment should be our palace of erotic adventures." Bob groaned. "But things are pretty much just like last year, except Gerard’s all, I don’t know, busy." He made it clear through his tone that busy was a terrible, unforgivable thing that Gerard should stop being immediately.
"So?" said Bob. "You’ve been dating for like a year or something, right?"
"Twenty-three months," said Frank proudly.
Bob sighed and tried to shake Frank off, but Frank had a lot of practice clinging to Bob, and also it was less windy on Bob’s back than walking along the sidewalk. "So maybe you lost your spark, Iero," he said. "Maybe you guys are like, an old married couple and you’re gonna sit around on the couch and watch JAG and not have sex anymore."
Frank slid off Bob’s back so he could put his hands on his hips and make it clear just how unacceptable that idea was. "Bob!" he said. "Bob Bryar, you fucking take that back."
Bob shrugged.
"Did you and Brian stop having sex?" Frank asked suspiciously.
Bob grinned. "Me and Brian," Bob said, "are doing just fine, thanks for asking." He waggled his eyebrows a little bit.
Frank pretended to gag and fall over into the bushes along the sidewalk. The students walking past him stopped to give him funny looks, which Frank ignored. "Schechter has a mohawk," said Frank. "Not even a real one."
Bob shrugged. "Your boyfriend has girl hair," he pointed out. "And he doesn’t wash."
Frank mulled that over. "So what you’re saying--" he said finally, because they were getting near the English building, and Bob was going to abandon him for the wilds of the engineering quad, "--is I need to rekindle the spark."
"Eww," said Bob.
"We’re too young and hot to be an old couple watching bad TV on TNT," said Frank. "Maybe I should cook dinner naked."
"Okay, that’s number three," said Bob. "We are done with this conversation."
"Well, give me an alternative suggestion!" Frank yelled. "I don’t read Cosmo and all that girly shit you and Brian circle with your pink pens while you’re taking bubble baths and listening to Clay Aiken, okay?"
Bob stared at him a little. "What the fuck? What the actual fuck does that mean?"
Frank stomped his foot. "It means I wanna have sex with Gerard," he whined. "C’mon, Bob. You gotta help."
"I really don’t," said Bob. Frank gave him the puppy-eyes. Bob groaned. "Don’t cook dinner naked," he said. "You’ll burn yourself, you’re such a fucking spaz. Why don’t you, I don’t know, make dinner like a normal person? Something romantic? Or like, get him a present? Or plan a special night?"
"Special night?"
"Like. You know." Bob got kind of red. Frank cackled. Bob muttered, "Shut the fuck up, Iero."
"Ooooh, a special night," Frank giggled. "Is that how you and Brian keep the magic alive?"
"I’m leaving," said Bob.
"You spank him, right? You guys are into spanking? Do you dress up? Does Brian dress up like a bandito and pretend to kidnap you?" Frank started yelling because Bob was stomping away. "Who calls who daddy? I bet you call your fauxhawk boyfriend daddy, Bryar!"
After that it hardly seemed worth it to stay awake in class.
--
Frank wasn’t much of a cook, but his mom was pretty awesome. She had a secret Iero Family Recipe that she swore was the way every Iero woman in history had gotten her man, and although Frank already had his, it still seemed appropriate. Frank’s idea of cooking was spaghetti and sauce from a jar, which he didn’t mention to her because that was the kind of thing that made her pretend she was having a heart attack and fall over.
She sent him an email with the recipe that said, "I MADE THIS FOR YOUR FATHER ON OUR ANNIVERSARY. IT HELPED US RECONNECT. MRS. FRASCIO NEXT DOOR USED IT WHEN SHE WAS SEEING THAT NICE DOCTOR FROM THE CITY. SHE SAYS HELLO BY THE WAY."
Frank shuddered and tried not to think about his parents ‘reconnecting.’ He also made a mental note to show his mom how to get out of capslock again; she kept getting it stuck on and forgetting how to turn it back off.
Frank rolled his eyes and printed out the list of ingredients on the printer in the computer lab, because Gerard was always using theirs at home. Before they’d moved in together Frank had assumed that being an art student involved a lot more, well, art. It turned out he did most of his stuff on computers or with scanners or with programs that bored Frank so badly he wanted to curl up on the floor under the computer and go to sleep. He tried not to mention that to Gerard.
Shopping was not Frank’s favorite leisure activity. Actually, all of Frank’s preferred activities involved being naked, and they frowned on that at the grocery store. Also, apparently, "I got really drunk and lost my pants" wasn’t enough of an explanation to keep the cops from tossing you out into the parking lot on your ass.
Frank always referred to that story as one he’d learned at the school of hard knocks. Gerard liked to call it the school of see I told you so. Frank got drunk and fucked around a lot less since he’d started dating a guy who didn’t drink at all. Which was good for Frank’s general knowledge of where his pants were, but sometimes got a little boring - which was when he went and bothered Bob and Brian or Ray until they went out to a bar with him.
Anyway, the point was, Frank was going to cook, okay, he was going to cook something amazing, and Gerard was going to love it. It was going to help them reconnect, by which Frank totally meant take off their pants, and then they were going to have sex, like, all over the new apartment. (So far they’d only had sex in the bed, which was lame! So lame!) It would be totally romantic and awesome and Frank was obviously the greatest boyfriend to ever live.
It didn’t go quite as planned, actually. Frank walked away from the stove for thirty seconds - seriously, barely enough time to go and check his phone to see if Bob had texted him anything, which he should have, because Frank had totally texted him a picture of his ass earlier for Annoying Bob reasons - and when he got back the garlic was burned and smoking and there was fire.
Not a lot of fire. Plus, Frank wasn’t easily discouraged. Not when there was romance on the line.
He chopped tomatoes and basil and grated cheese - and a little bit of his knuckles, but whatever, that made him look badass, and Gerard was just weird enough to think that a little bit of blood in dinner made it more meaningful and romantic - and got things ready. He even remembered to assemble shit in almost the order his mother had said. Then he put it in the oven and went in to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, because Gerard was probably going to be super grateful and surprised and Frank wanted to be ready.
He heard the door open, so he yelled, "Hey!" with his mouth full of toothbrush.
"Hey," Gerard yelled back. "What smells so good? Did you order out?"
Frank grinned at himself and accidentally spit all over the mirror. "Dude, I cooked!" he said. He considered just taking off his clothes right then and walking out to get his totally well-earned blowjob for that, but decided that would be a little much. Let Gerard suggest that it was time for pants to come off. And if he didn’t, Frank would suggest it subtly, like a gentleman.
He walked back out in to the living room, and he knew he was grinning like a crazy person, but whatever; he had the best plans and he was so going to get laid.
Gerard was standing in the living room with his black hoodie up and his bag still over his shoulder, slumping like Quasimodo. Which was cool, except his brother was standing right behind him, being all skinny and pale and staring at Frank through this insane pair of glasses shoved down to the tip of his nose.
"Mikey?" said Frank, blinking. "Oh. Uh. Hey." The smile kind of dropped off Frank’s face.
"Yeah, he came by," said Gerard, waving a hand, and duh, Frank could see that. Frank was kind of glad he still had his pants on. "I’m all stressed and Mikey wanted to get out of the house and shit."
Frank loved Mikey, okay, on a scale of one to ten Mikey was a million on the awesome-little-brothers scale. Mikey was the super awesome bonus level to dating Gerard, because Mikey knew every band ever and Mikey could talk about unicorns for hours and Mikey knew every cool scene kid one earth.
Mikey was definitely not invited to Frank’s romantic pants-free evening, however.
"Oh," said Frank. "Mikey. Hey."
Mikey shrugged, like waving was way too much work, and flopped on the couch. "S’up," he sighed.
Gerard had a whole stack of papers in his arms. "Do you realize this whole thing is due in three weeks?" he asked. "I have three weeks! How am I supposed to get all these applications done in three weeks?"
That was not Frank’s main concern at the moment. "I only made dinner for two," he said, just a little rudely.
"I’m barely hungry," Gerard moped, flopping down next to Mikey. "What am I gonna do?" He looked up at Frank with his giant puppy-dog eyes, and Frank groaned, because Gerard’s puppy-dog eyes were killer.
Frank kicked his sneaker against the carpet. His only real suggestion for cheering Gerard up involved Mikey leaving and then Gerard taking his pants off. "I’ll go get dinner," he sighed.
"Awesome," said Mikey.
Frank had to work very hard not to scowl at Mikey and snap that it wasn’t for him. Mikey could go have pants-free time with whatshisname, Gabe, or whoever he was messing around with now. He dished dinner out and carried it into the living room, where Gerard picked at it with a fork and sighed a lot. It was less cute than normal.
"Nice," said Mikey. He looked up at Frank through his glasses. "So, was tonight a special occasion or something? How come you’re not eating Wheat Thins and Cheez-It for dinner?"
"Cheez-Its," corrected Frank.
Mikey looked at him pityingly. "Cheez-It," he said. "Check the box."
Frank did scowl, he couldn’t help it. "Cheez-It doesn’t make any sense," he said.
Mikey shrugged. "So?"
Gerard threw his head back on the couch. "Tonight wasn’t special, it was just another day filled with angst and despair," he said. "I don’t have a personal statement! How am I going to make an art major sound like a good first-step to social work school? I don’t know what to write about."
Their night could have been special, Frank thought a little bitterly, if it wasn’t for interfering little brothers. Maybe, possibly, Mikey was a little bit psychic, because he put his fork down to look curiously at Frank. "You’re here now," grumped Frank. "So eat."
"’Kay," said Mikey.
Frank needed a new plan.
--
"I think that sounds stupid," said Ray.
Frank made a face. "I could have asked Bob if I wanted someone to tell me I was stupid," he pointed out.
Ray made his hilarious conflicted face, like on the one hand he wanted to just be nice all the time, and maybe give Frank some soup and a pair of mittens, and on the other hand he wanted to smack Frank upside the head. Frank reached over and yanked on Ray’s hair, just because he could.
"Oww, fucker," said Ray. "Do you want my advice or not?"
"Not if you think I’m stupid," said Frank sulkily.
Ray shrugged and took a sip of coffee, and then made another face, crossing his eyes.
Frank giggled. "You burned your tongue," he said, a little bit delighted. "Hahahaha!"
"Shu’up," said Ray indistinctly. He was still making crazy faces, and the guy who was making coffee looked at them concernedly.
"You okay?" he asked, rubbing his beard.
"We’re gonna sue!" yelled Frank happily. "Stupid corporate big-chain bullshit!"
Ray sighed and pulled Frank back down into his chair. "You wanted to come here," he pointed out. "You’re the one who likes the mocha-frappa-whatevers."
Frank giggled.
"Nothing. Never mind. Ignore him," Ray said to the coffee guy, who shrugged and went back to what he’d been doing.
Frank took the top off his drink and licked all the whipped cream off. Some of it got on his nose, and it probably looked a little hilariously like he’d gotten jizzed on, so Frank started giggling and accidentally snorted chocolate sauce. That made him cough and choke.
Ray was a nice guy, but even he looked a little smug. "Ha yourself," he said. "No, I’m sorry. You okay? Anyway I think getting Gerard a present is dumb if it’s just a ‘hi, can I get in your pants?’ present. If it was a thoughtful, romantic gesture-"
Frank made an elaborate choking noise and pretended to fall out of his chair. "I’m a dude," he said. "Thoughtful and romantic is for girls."
Ray looked pained. "And also for dudes who want to keep their boyfriends around and happy," he said. "Gerard likes thoughtful and romantic."
"No," said Frank, "Gerard likes me."
Ray couldn’t come up with a counter-argument for that. He shrugged and took a cautious sip of his coffee. "Keep Gerard in mind when you buy stuff," he said finally. "That’s all."
"Pfffft," said Frank dismissively. "I keep Gerard in mind all the time."
"I don’t mean naked Gerard, I mean your living, breathing boyfriend," said Ray. "Jesus Christ."
If Frank got his way there wouldn’t be too much difference.
--
The bunny was staring at him.
Frank leaned down to stare back through the bars of the cage. The bunny twitched its nose in a way that made something deep down inside Frank get a little oogly. It was such a small bunny, and its nose was so twitchy, and it was this funny almost-orange color, and one of its ears flopped over cutely, and it was staring right at Frank.
"Do you teach them to do that?" Frank asked accusingly.
Greta looked up from her book. "Do I teach who to do what?" she asked.
There were a lot of kids wandering through the student union, but most of them were walking right past Greta and her SAVE THE ANIMALS! display without stopping to look at the bunny or the giant posters of fur coats and how they were made.
"To stare and wiggle like that," said Frank. "He’s staring at me."
Greta nodded solemnly. "They say rabbits can see deep into your soul," she agreed.
"They do?"
"No. It’s a rabbit, Frank. He’s staring because… Y’know, he’s a rabbit."
Frank didn’t believe that for a second. The rabbit was judging him, somehow. Frank felt weirdly self-conscious. "What do you want?" he asked the rabbit.
The rabbit twitched its nose and chewed on some hay.
"He wants a loving home," said Greta. "And maybe a field to hop in. What do you think he wants?"
"I don’t know," said Frank. "Maybe there’s something sinister going on."
Greta made a skeptical noise and went back to her book. "Confessions of a Shopaholic?" Frank asked, squinting at her. "That’s not hippie-ish."
"There is more to me than just the president of PETA on campus," said Greta loftily. "Are you done talking to Sherbet?"
Frank blinked. "The bunny’s name is Sherbet?" He was kind of sherbet colored; it made sense. Sherbet tilted his head and his other ear flopped. It was clearly some kind of bunny trick, Frank figured, and if he reached in to the cage and tried to pet the little thing it would rip his throat out, like in Monty Python.
"I rescued him from the shelter," said Greta, "But I can’t keep him because I’m sneaking him in to the dorm every day. This is my secret attempt to get him adopted."
"I knew there was an ulterior something going on," said Frank triumphantly. "Ha!"
Greta sighed and put her book down. "You’ve always been kind of weird and twitchy, Iero," she said. "But this week you seem totally nuts. Is something up with you?"
"My boyfriend is ignoring me," said Frank.
"Hmmmm," said Greta.
"We moved in together, right, and I thought that would mean way more sex time, you know? But instead he’s all… Busy. And since he sees me every day… I don’t know, I think he used to be more excited to see me when it only happened sometimes, but now it’s all the time, and he’s ignoring me."
Greta tilted her head. "I can’t really believe anyone has ever ignored you," she said. "You’re pretty loud. What it sounds like to me is you guys are moving in to a new phase in your relationship. The first glow wears off, and you have to find new ways to enjoy being together."
"I cooked dinner," Frank scowled. "He invited his brother."
"Huh," said Greta.
"Well, I mean, I didn’t tell him I was cooking dinner," Frank allowed.
Greta rolled her eyes. "And here I was going to go buy you a copy of ‘He’s Just Not That In To You.’"
Frank stuck a finger through the bars of the cage and wiggled it at the bunny. The bunny chewed on his hay and stared at him. "Gerard is all distracted," Frank moaned. "I miss my boyfriend."
"Well, you’re seniors," said Greta. "When you were juniors you had more time to fuck around."
"He’s all stressed out about something," said Frank. "Some application thing. It distracts him from stuff like me."
"What kind of application?" asked Greta.
It occurred to Frank that he didn’t really know, which made him feel guilty. Frank hated feeling guilty, so he shoved that down somewhere and ignored it. "Whatever," said Frank. "Bob and Ray think I should get him something romantic."
"Like flowers?" asked Greta.
Frank looked at the bunny. The bunny looked back at him. In fact, the bunny looked deep into Frank’s soul. "Hmmm," said Frank. "Yeah. Something like that."
--
Frank hadn’t thought much about getting Gerard a present, but obviously this was the most brilliant thing he’d ever come up with. Gerard had been sad lately, and a little bit down because whatever was stressing him out was… Well. Stressing him out. Frank couldn’t be home all the time, and Frank knew Gerard liked cute things (even though Gerard liked to pretend he was against cuteness, he had a secret calendar of baby animals Mikey had given him last year). It was positively the best of both worlds. Frank was fucking thoughtful, okay.
Gerard came home and looked a little tired, so Frank decided to kiss it better. Actually shutting the door would have been ideal, but Frank was too keyed up to wait. He threw his arms around Gerard’s neck and attached himself to Gerard mouth-first. Gerard made a startled noise as he staggered back and hit the wall, but he seemed happy about it. He tasted like coffee - no big shock there - and cigarettes, and Frank had really, really missed him.
"Doorknob," said Gerard indistinctly, biting Frank’s lower lip.
"Is that something kinky?" Frank asked hopefully. If he tried hard enough he could probably prop Gerard up against the wall and get his legs around Gerard’s waist. It’d take a little planning, though.
"Poking me in the back," Gerard clarified.
"Oh," said Frank. "Whoops."
Gerard grinned at him. "The couch would be more comfortable," he said, walking Frank backwards a step. "Or the bed."
"Or the floor, or the wall," Frank chimed in helpfully. Gerard dug a finger into his side, and Frank squeaked. "Or right here?"
"I haven’t even put my bag down yet," said Gerard. "Isn’t that a little awkward?"
"I like awkward," said Frank, and kissed Gerard again.
It was a pretty awesome kiss. Frank kept a mental list of all their best make-out sessions and number one was the first time Frank had gotten back from Christmas break and Gerard had met him at the airport and the entire lounge had applauded them making out. Number two was their first, awkward kiss in the back row of the student theater, watching a shitty play that Bob had done lighting for. But any kiss was a good kiss, and this one, messy and groping as it was, ranked right up there.
Gerard pulled away, though. "Uh," he said. "What’s on our couch?"
Frank had honestly forgotten. He turned and stared for a second. "Oh. Right. A bunny!" he said.
Gerard looked a little puzzled. "Why is there a bunny on the couch?" he asked. He let go of Frank to kneel by the couch. "Hey there, bunny-wunny. Who has a fuzzy widdle nose?"
Sherbet was sitting perfectly happily on the couch, one ear flopped over, nose twitching. He did not appear to have any strong opinions on Gerard’s presence.
"Because he needed a home," said Frank. "His name is Sherbet. He’s fucking adorable, right? He’s the cutest. I have a cage and stuff, too. Cool present, huh?" he added proudly. Obviously Gerard was totally in love, and Frank’s be-an-awesome-boyfriend-and-get-laid plan was working perfectly. Frank was a genius.
"Present for who?" asked Gerard, and sneezed. He scratched the bunny behind his ears.
Frank put his hands on his hips. "You," he said.
Gerard sneezed again. "I… You got me a bunny?" he asked, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Did I… Did I seem like I needed a bunny?"
"He’s cute," said Frank belligerently. Gerard had cooed at the bunny; that meant he liked it. Who wouldn’t want a bunny? "Don’t you think he’s cute?"
"The cutest," Gerard agreed, and sneezed again. "Oh man, so cute. If only I weren’t allergic."
It took Frank a second to realize just what that meant. He ground his teeth a little and clenched his fist and frowned, but he wasn’t going to pout. He wasn’t. Just because he’d gotten Gerard an awesome, impulsive, adorable, romantic present and they couldn’t keep it was no reason to pout.
Just. Gerard was supposed to like it. He was supposed to think Frank was awesome. "How allergic?" Frank asked finally. "On a scale of one to death."
"Half-way to death," said Gerard, rubbing his eyes again. "Pretty fucking-" he paused to sneeze "-allergic."
Sherbet regarded them both with his serious, adorable bunny stare.
Frank wasn’t pouting, but he was sure as hell going to stomp a little. "Fine," he said, knowing he was being unreasonable. "I’ll get rid of him."
"But he’s so cute," complained Gerard. His eyes were totally red and he was sniffling pretty badly. He’d barely even touched Sherbet, so obviously he was really allergic. Stupid Gerard and his stupid immune system, Frank thought grumpily, and snatched the bunny off the couch.
"It’s not like we can keep him, is it?" muttered Frank.
"Awww," said Gerard. And then, "Yeah, probably not, since I don’t know where my inhaler is."
Frank made a super-duper grumpy growling noise. Sherbet twitched his tiny bunny nose. "Fine," said Frank again. He stomped into the apartment hallway, holding Sherbet under his arm.
Frank must have looked ferocious, because the Fucking Upstairs Neighbor was walking down the stairs and stopped, wide-eyed. He was holding a guitar case in one hand, which was how Frank knew who he was. He was just about Frank-sized, but wearing glasses and looking generally terrified of Frank.
"You," said Frank.
"Uh… Hi," said the neighbor, pushing his black glasses up his nose.
Frank considered for a second, and then thrust Sherbet out at him. "Here," he said. "Have a bunny."
The upstairs neighbor squeaked a little. "Um," he said. "What?" Sherbet flopped his dangling paws around.
"A bunny," Frank said, like maybe the kid was slow. "You know, hippety hop, Easter eggs, and twitchy fucking noses?"
The kid just stared.
"For you. To take home. And like, feed him and shit." Frank thought about that for a second. "Wait, though, you have that weird homeless boyfriend who’s always lurking outside wearing a bathrobe and three scarves. This bunny is not for his dinner."
"I’m not gonna cook a bunny-- Ack," said the upstairs neighbor, as Frank handed him Sherbet. He dropped his guitar to get a good hold on the rabbit, who continued to be tiny and orange and to chew placidly on a piece of hay. "My actual boyfriend is downstairs, I was just going to meet him. He’s not really expecting me to have a bunny."
"Well Sherbet is a nice goddamn rabbit," said Frank firmly. "No eating him."
"I wasn’t going to!"
"Good," said Frank, and stomped back into his apartment. After a second he stuck his head out again. "And stop playing folk fucking music at three in the morning, fuck."
He slammed the door.
Gerard was sitting on the couch, looking contrite. "That was really sweet," he said, sounding a little confused.
"It was stupid," said Frank. He crossed his arms. "I got you a stupid present you couldn’t even pet without getting drippy."
"But you still got me a present," said Gerard. He walked over and wrapped his arms around Frank’s neck. Frank refused to relax into it. "Frank. Are you okay? You’re acting kind of weird."
"You’ve been kind of weird," snapped Frank.
Gerard blinked and considered that. "I have?"
Frank immediately felt bad. "No," he said. "Well, yeah, but like, in a totally Gerard-y way. So it’s cool."
"How have I been weird?" Gerard asked, putting his pointy little chin on Frank’s shoulder. "Did I talk too much about Star Wars?"
Frank squirmed, because that shit tickled. "Distracted," he said. "Ignoring me. I hate it when you ignore me."
Gerard giggled, all high-pitched and right in Frank’s ear. "You got me a bunny so I’d stop ignoring you?"
"Maybe."
Gerard leaned over and bit Frank gently on the ear. Frank shivered. "I’m sorry I ignored you," he said. "You know how busy I am. I have to get this grad school application done. It’s stressing me out."
Frank had heard Gerard talk about applications on and off, but the part of his brain that listened to Gerard wasn’t the same as the part that thought about the future. His future with Gerard was supposed to involve lots of sex and a whole lot of fat dogs and maybe Mikey stopping by a lot. It wasn’t supposed to involve more school.
"Why do you want to go to grad school?" Frank whined. "Grad school is lame."
"I’m going to grad school to be a social worker so I can save lives," said Gerard. He was starting to get that manic tone in his voice that always came out when he talked about helping people. "Frank. You know that’s the number one most important thing in the world to me."
"More important than me?" Frank muttered.
Gerard went really still. "Frank," he said. "No, you’re… You’re my boyfriend, you’re the most important person-"
"But not as important as getting recommendations and writing mission statements and stuff," Frank said, kicking the carpet with his sneaker. "Not as important as homework."
"That’s not fair-" Gerard started.
Frank turned around, shrugging away from Gerard, arms wrapped around his chest. "In six months I’m gonna be a guy who just barely survived college with a degree in American Studies that’s total bullshit. I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do next, except I want to be with you. But you’re gonna be studying and being smart and meeting smart people and having a whole big stupid smart life, and I don’t think people with PhDs date people who sit around on their mom’s couches."
"I’m not getting a PhD," said Gerard.
Frank wanted to hit him a little bit. "Well, I guess that’s just how dumb I am, then," Frank yelled.
"You’re not dumb!" Gerard yelled right back. His lower lip was wobbling a little bit, like he was about to burst into tears. "I don’t care if you don’t go to grad school!"
"You say that!" Frank hollered. "But you don’t even like bunnies!"
There was a minute of silence.
"I… I didn’t know the bunny was symbolic of our relationship," said Gerard uncertainly.
"Well, he was," Frank yelled. He was so mad that he could feel his eyes starting to burn, and he wasn’t going to do anything pussy like cry in front of Gerard. "He was and he’s gone and I can’t do anything right, okay?"
"Frank!" Gerard protested, and yeah, his weird little mouth was definitely trembling and in a second they’d both be crying and this would be the stupidest argument any two guys had ever had in the history of the world.
"What?" Frank said, clenching his fists.
Gerard bit his lip and stared at Frank with giant eyes.
Frank was immune to the pleading face, though. Or at least, he was mad enough that he could resist it for a couple of seconds. "I’m going," Frank said. He grabbed his coat.
"But you’re coming back, right?" Gerard asked in a tiny voice.
Frank slammed the door on his way out.
--
Bob was not as sympathetic as Frank would have liked, ideally.
"You’re a fucktard," said Bob, pointing at Frank. "What the fuck."
Frank made an angry noise and shoved past Bob, throwing himself dramatically on the couch. It was a nice couch, way nicer than anything Frank and Gerard could afford, because Brian had a Real Job when he wasn’t TAing, and Bob got paid for a lot of the sound gigs he did on weekends. "I just broke up with my boyfriend, Bryar, you’re supposed to be nice to me," Frank snapped.
Bob raised an eyebrow. "You broke up for real?" he said. "Or is this like that time last spring where you two had a big fight about the second Spiderman movie and Gerard went home and stayed in the basement with Mikey for two days until you admitted that Kirsten Dunst was a terrible actress and then you two had sex in the kosher cafeteria?"
"This is way more serious than Spiderman!" said Frank shrilly.
"Wow," said Bob. "Okay."
The cool thing about Bob was that he was pretty unshakeable. Show up at his door in the middle of the night with your face all red from crying and yelling, and he’d just shrug at you and call you a fucktard and let you sit on his couch. Actually just seeing Bob cheered Frank up; he was wearing hilarious capri sweat pants that were way too short, and a t-shirt that was obviously Brian’s because it was too small.
"Your knees are all knobbly," said Frank.
Bob turned a little red. "Shut up," he said. "My knees are awesome."
"They stick out funny," said Frank, and giggled. Then he remembered that he’d just had a big fight with Gerard and stopped again. "I think we’re star-crossed lovers," he moaned, sinking back into the couch.
"A guy takes one Shakespeare class," sighed Bob.
"We are," Frank insisted. "We are going different places in life! He has a future and stuff!"
Bob sat down next to Frank. "You have a future, too," he said. "I mean, it probably involves jail time, but maybe Gee can become a lawyer and help you out."
"You mock my pain," Frank moaned.
"Dude," said Bob. "What happened? I thought you just wanted to get laid, now you broke up?"
"Our lack of sex was symptomatic of deeper problems in the relationship," said Frank. "Also, he’s allergic to bunnies."
Bob blinked. "Okay," he said. "Are we talking real bunnies, or are bunnies a metaphor for something, and if so don’t tell me what."
"A real bunny," said Frank.
"Oh," said Bob. "Good."
The bedroom door opened and Brian walked out, looking mostly asleep. "S’up," he mumbled. "Yo, Bryar, you comin’ back to bed or what?"
"I’m talking Iero down from his tree," said Bob. "Be there in a sec."
"Nnn," said Brian, and vanished back into the bedroom.
"See?" moaned Frank. "Your boyfriend gets you. He doesn’t want to be a, a, a merman, when he knows you’re afraid of the ocean."
"That was a metaphor, right?"
"Obviously."
Bob sighed. "We talk, Frank. We talk and talk and talk until I swear to god Brian’s worried his jaw will rust over if he shuts up for ten minutes. ‘How do you feel about this, Bob?’ ‘How much personal space do you need, Bob?’ And I’m like, dude, I thought you were an econ TA, not a psych TA, and also shut up."
Frank looked at Bob with new admiration. "You said that?"
"Nah," said Bob. "Mostly I just nod and try to make him happy. But we totally fight. Like, he invited his sister to come stay with us for a month and he didn’t even ask me. What the fuck. So I took him aside, like a grown up, and told him next time he did that I was gonna punch him in the face. Communication is key."
"But I tried to communicate with him," Frank whined. "I got him a bunny. I cooked dinner!"
"But did you tell him why? Or did you get all huffy and storm out?"
Frank made a face. "Shut up," he said.
"Yeah, I thought so," said Bob. "Dude, he’s gonna go to grad school. He’s gonna go save lives. He wants to do it with you, I think, but you gotta be reasonable."
"I wanna be the most important thing to him!" Frank said.
Bob shrugged. "Maybe you have to figure out if you can live with being number two," he said, and then laughed. "Number two. You are kind of a little shit, you know?"
Frank turned around and tickled Bob until they both fell off the couch.
--
Frank went home the next afternoon feeling tired and wary. Apparently not as wary as the fucking upstairs neighbor, who was talking to some tall kid with a beard on the sidewalk outside the building, and who promptly tried to hide behind the kid with the beard when he saw Frank.
Frank didn’t really even have the energy to be mad. "Is Sherbet okay?" he said.
"Oh, fuck, that’s the dude-" started the kid with the beard, but their neighbor was nodding, so Frank ignored them both and shoved his way inside.
He was a little worried that Gerard would be there when he got home.
He was more worried that Gerard wouldn’t be there.
Frank thought about knocking, but it was his fucking apartment, so fuck that. He pushed the door open and came nose-to-chest with Mikey.
"Hmm," said Mikey, crossing his arms.
"Dude," said Frank. He couldn’t quite manage to look over Mikey’s shoulder, so he looked around him. Dude was about as wide as spaghetti. "Is your brother home?"
"That depends," said Mikey. "How much of a douche are you planning to be?"
Frank sighed. "Less than I was yesterday," he said.
Mikey stared. The glasses pushed down to the end of his nose made him look especially disapproving. "A lot less?" he asked. "Enough to notice? Because I know people, dude. Scary people."
"You don’t mean Bob, right?"
"Besides Bob. He’s only barely scary anyway."
They stared at each other for a minute. Frank shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Swear to god, Mikey, I am going to apologize, okay?"
Mikey made a humphing noise, but he let Frank walk by.
Gerard was sitting on the couch. Slumping, actually, staring at the television, which wasn’t actually on. He was wearing all black and looking pale - totally normal for Gerard, even on a good day - but he also looked listless and defeated, which was… Well. It wasn’t right. Frank felt intensely guilty.
"Hey," said Frank.
Gerard waved.
Frank waited a second, but Gerard didn’t turn around. "Um," said Frank. "Um, hi?"
"Hi, Frank," said Gerard dully.
Frank whimpered a little and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I’m sorry," said Frank. "Gee. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I’m so, so sorry-"
"It’s cool," said Gerard. He leaned forward a little bit, resting his arms on his knees. His head was still down. "The thing is, Frank. Um."
Frank’s stomach bottomed out completely. "What thing? There shouldn’t be a thing!" he said quickly. "I came back to get rid of all the things!"
Gerard shook his head miserably. "No, the thing is," he said, "that you’re right. If I had to choose, gun to my head, between you and going to grad school so I could save lives, Frank…" He looked up. His eyes were all shiny and sort of wet. "I don’t know what I’d do. What I’d pick."
Me, me, me! Frank almost yelled, but he caught himself. "I get it," he said instead, because he sort of did. He thought about Bob and Brian and being mature and how badly that probably sucked, and bit his lip.
"I love you," said Gerard sadly, and Frank did get it, abruptly.
"And I love that you wanna help people," said Frank. "You like me even though I’m kind of a jerk sometimes, when I’m not being the awesomest boyfriend ever. And I love you, even though you’re kind of a space cadet and you like helping people more than remembering to take a bath or run laundry or - Or hanging out with me."
Gerard’s stupid wonky mouth trembled a little bit. "But I do love you," he said again.
"I know," said Frank. "And I love you."
"No, I mean, I love you," Gerard said.
"Right, and I love you," Frank agreed.
"But I-"
"Oh my fucking god, we have established that we love each other!" Frank yelled.
"Seriously," said Mikey, from the hallway.
Frank had sort of forgotten Mikey was there, but whatever. "If you move to Africa to hand out condoms I will buy a safari hat and follow you," he said. "If you decide to live in a tree for six months so no one can cut it down and kill a baby owl I will build you a treehouse. If you adopt four hundred orphans I will think up stupid names for them and buy sleeping bags-"
Gerard lunged out of his chair and latched on to Frank, mouth-first. Frank made a muffled, surprised, happy noise, as his head banged into the wall and Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank’s neck. Frank opened his mouth to Gerard’s tongue and shoved one hand down the back of Gerard’s jeans, trying to brace himself against the wall with the other.
"Should I let myself out?" Mikey asked.
Gerard fumbled with the buttons on Frank’s jeans with one hand and shoved. Frank’s jeans and boxers went down, catching around his thighs, which were sort of widely spread since Gerard had his leg shoved between them. That wasn’t going to work at all.
"You guys are gonna have to lock the door after me," said Mikey.
"Want want want want," said Frank, sucking on Gerard’s neck. He smelled sweaty and dirty and amazing. "I missed you, I missed this."
"Too much pants," said Gerard, and kissed him again. It was sloppy and a little bitey. Frank almost had Gerard’s pants off, but they were a lot tighter than Frank’s, so they didn’t shove well.
"Okay," said Mikey. "Well. Bye."
Frank barely heard the door close behind him, because he was busy trying to pull Gerard’s pants off and get his tongue entirely into Gerard’s mouth at the same time. He rubbed against Gerard a little frantically, but the roughness of Gerard’s jeans didn’t feel that great, especially not the zipper. "Geee," he whined. He was hot all over and his hands were shaking a little bit. "Can we-"
"Here, hang on," said Gerard, and sank to his knees. Or tried; his jeans were really tight and he had a little trouble kneeling, but he managed to sort of crouch. And then he grinned, and started licking Frank’s dick.
Frank banged his head on the wall a couple of times. "I’m not-" he started. "I can’t-Ho, shit, I-"
Gerard pulled off for a second, just long enough to laugh at him. "It’s only been a couple of weeks," he said.
"Which is like, a million years in sex time," Frank pointed out.
Gerard rolled his eyes and went back to sucking Frank off. Frank’s knees felt a little weak and wobbly, so he pushed both hands back against the wall to try and brace himself. He felt a little bad that it was about to be over, but on the other hand his thighs were burning from trying to keep himself upright, and his toes and fingers were starting to tingle. Gerard wasn’t much for technique, but sometimes he read Cosmo for fun, and he did a thing with his tongue that was probably illegal in a couple of states.
"Shit, Gerard-" said Frank, waving a hand around to try and warn Gerard, but it was already too late; his hips jerked forward and his vision whited out.
Gerard made a muffled, annoyed noise. "You always get it in my nose," he complained. "Fraaaaaank."
Frank sank to the floor, breathing hard, trying to make his hands move again. "Okay, I need a sec," he panted.
"If we go over to the couch, I can fuck you," said Gerard helpfully, wiping off his face with his sleeve.
Frank’s brain still felt a little rattly. "I was talking to Bob," he said, "about like, spark in our relationship."
"We have spark," Gerard said. "That was totally sparkly."
"I was thinking we could have, like, a kinky sexfest. Whips and leather and chains and stuff," Frank said. "In case you were bored with me and that was why you were ignoring me."
"I am not bored of you and I wasn’t ignoring you," said Gerard. He squirmed a little. "I guess we could try that stuff if you want to, though."
"I bet Bob and Brian know where to get it," said Frank, and giggled. "You think they can lend us some shit?"
Gerard wrinkled up his nose. "Maybe," he said. "But… Eww. That’s unsanitary."
"Since when do you care?"
"Plus, I think we do okay just like we are," Gerard went on. "Don’t you?"
Frank smiled at him. "Yeah," he said. "We’re good." He leaned forward and kissed Gerard, trying not to trip over his jeans, which were still around his knees.
Gerard tasted like Frank, which was always kind of hot. "Can we go into the bedroom and fuck, then?" asked Gerard hopefully.
"Finally!" crowed Frank. He maybe pumped his fist a little, too.
"C’mon," said Gerard, yanking on his arm a little. "We have to be fast, because the deadline on my applications is tomorrow, and I still need to finish my personal statement."
"You are the soul of romance," said Frank.
Gerard shrugged unapologetically. "Take your pants off, I love you?" he suggested.
"That’s my boy," Frank agreed, struggling to his feet. "Let’s go."
Title: Just Can’t Get Enough
Pairing: Frank/Gerard (Bob/Brian, and various stoner hippies wandering around the place as well)
Rating: PG-13 ish for brief sex
Warnings: Bunnies!
Summary: College life can be stressful. Luckily, Frank has plans.
Author's Notes: Holiday exchange fic! I can’t really explain just how intimidating it was to write Frank and Gerard for Bexless, so thank you to the all the people I emailed in a panic who emailed me back, "Oh my god, stop whining and just WRITE something." And thank you to elucreh for the awesome beta. ~9,000 words
"Gerard," said Frank.
Gerard didn’t look up from where he was wedged into the corner of the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table they had liberated from the sidewalk. He was chewing on his pen and he had a smear of ink dribbling out of the corner of his mouth, like an especially literary vampire.
"Nnn?" said Gerard.
Frank kicked the corner of the couch. It wasn’t very satisfying. "Gerard," Frank repeated, and he knew he was getting a little whiny but he couldn’t help it. "Where am I supposed to sit?"
Gerard waved his free hand to indicate that Frank had his choice of the couch, the floor, on top of the bookshelves… Anywhere he wanted. Except the couch was covered in take-out boxes from Gerard’s lunch, and everything else in the room was covered in paper or art supplies or books. Frank made a face that Gerard totally failed to notice and threw a bunch of stuff on the floor so he could sit.
"Hey," said Frank. "So. How about dinner?"
Gerard wasn’t listening, which Frank had gotten sort of used to in the last couple of years. This was kind of new, though, because Frank had assumed when they were living together he’d get a little more of Gerard’s attention, just by virtue of being around more.
It was a pretty brilliant solution to Frank’s constant need for Gerard to pay attention to him, in Frank’s humble opinion. It was also a pretty brilliant solution to how freaking expensive campus housing was, but Frank didn’t like to bring that up, because Bob always gave him the look. Then Frank would get all snippy and point out not all of them had the luxury of picking up their TAs and living with old people who were probably on social security, and Bob would hit him and say Brian was only, like, 25, and Gerard would have to separate them before there was a repeat of the Great War of Sophomore Year.
The Great War which Frank had won, by the way, fuck you very much.
"Dinner, Gerard. Dinner. Dinner dinner dinner dinner." Frank thought adding a poke to every repetition of ‘dinner’ was a good way to make sure Gerard started listening, but Gerard had, unfortunately, gotten pretty good at ignoring him.
Frank hated being ignored.
He edged between Gerard and his notebook - no mean task, there were advantages to being kind of small - and climbed into Gerard’s lap. Gerard blinked and looked startled. "Hey," he said. "Oh, you’re home from class?"
Frank bit him on the nose. Not hard or anything, but jeez, he’d been home for like, ten minutes. "What are you doing that’s more interesting than me?" Frank complained. "I wanna get dinner. You wanna get dinner?"
"Look at all the shit I have to do," Gerard said, waving pieces of paper around.
Pieces of paper were nowhere near as fun as Frank. He saw the word "graduate school" on a couple of them, and that was just stupid; they were almost done with school. Why would anyone voluntarily want to do more?
"Dinner," Frank whined. "Gee, I’m hungry."
"Order a pizza or something," said Gerard. "Look at this. I need three recommendations. I’ve never even spoken to half my professors. What am I gonna do?"
"Say ‘hi, I’m the weirdo in black who sits at the back and draws vampires. Can you write a letter about how good I draw vampires?’" Frank suggested.
Gerard frowned. "I hate you," he said.
"No, you don’t."
"No, I don’t," Gerard sighed. "If I eat dinner with you, will you leave me alone to get this done?"
"Maybe," said Frank. "Or maybe I’ll make you pick up some of the fucking trash off the couch so I have a place to sit when I wanna bug you."
Gerard looked a little offended. "It’s not that bad," he said.
Frank had seen Gerard’s single, when he was still living in Wesley Hall. Frank had always assumed that, as a guy who was into guys, he wouldn’t care about shit like messes and smells and things that girls worried about. Gerard, as it turned out, was an exception to pretty much every rule Frank had ever had. Some of Gerard’s laundry had been sentient, Frank was pretty sure.
When they moved in together, Frank had been pretty clear that Gerard was gonna have to throw out anything that was growing eyes. He hadn’t realized that Gerard’s shit was going to multiply and creep out until it covered every single surface in the apartment.
"It’s not as bad as that rathole in Wesley," Frank agreed.
"That’s not fair, I-" Gerard started, when the fucking upstairs neighbor started playing guitar.
The fucking upstairs neighbor was always playing his guitar. He started sometime around dinner and, if he wasn’t stopped, he would play all the way through until three or four in the morning. It would have been cool if it had been like, Zeppelin or something, but it was always folk songs and country shit and Frank wanted to strangle that hippie motherfucker and his hippie motherfucking friends.
"I’ll get the broom," said Gerard, wiggling out from underneath Frank.
"And when you’re done," said Frank happily, "You can sweep the floor."
Gerard glared at him balefully. He banged on the ceiling with the broom a few times until the guitar stopped, and then handed it to Frank. "Since you care so much," he said.
"How did you survive without me?" Frank said mournfully. "I can’t believe a stack of pizza boxes never fell over and crushed you to death."
Gerard got a slightly crazed look in his eyes. "That’s a good idea," he said, grabbing for a sketch book that was underneath a pile of soda bottles and ink pots and combat boots.
Frank sighed to himself and made plans to get his own dinner.
--
"It just doesn’t seem right," Frank said.
Bob grunted, which might have meant he was listening, and might have meant he wanted Frank to shut up. Bob was hard to parse sometimes. Bob pulled his scarf a little tighter around his hoodie and clutched his coffee.
"Don’t you think it’s not right? I think it’s not right." Frank shivered. His hoodie wasn’t really warm enough for October wind, and that part of the campus was a wind tunnel. Frank hated walking to classes in the upper quad because of all the wind. Also, because of all the classes.
Bob sighed. "Okay," he said. "What?"
Frank grinned and stole Bob’s coffee. Bob’s defense skills needed a lot of work. "I live with my boyfriend, now, right?" said Frank. "And yet, instead of having more sex, I’m having less. Less sex, Bob! That can’t be right!"
Bob made that eye-rolling purse-lipped face he made sometimes. "Things I don’t want to hear about: a short list, by Bob Bryar," he said. "Number one. Your sex life."
"I’m not telling you all the kinky shit we do," said Frank. "Which, by the way, we don’t." He sighed tragically.
"Number two. All the kinky shit you don’t do," said Bob.
"Bob!" Frank whined, tugging on Bob’s scarf. Bob took his coffee back and raised an eyebrow. "Bob, when you moved in with Schechter, did you or did you not start hitting that all the time?"
"Dude," said Bob. "Dude. "
"Right, right, I wouldn’t want to either, but I figure you make sacrifices to live in that sweet pad," said Frank, and then giggled like a maniac when Bob glared at him. "What?"
"At least Brian showers," Bob said. "Has Gerard ever seen the inside of your bathtub?"
Frank made a face. "Gerard is artistic," he said.
"That means ‘gross,’ right?"
Frank decided a quick tickle attack was the only way to handle that amount of smugness, so he launched himself at Bob. Bob had a coffee in one hand, which made it hard for him to fend Frank off. Frank ended up hanging off Bob’s neck by one arm. "I want a piggy back ride," he said.
"Yeah, you go ahead and want that," said Bob, but he didn’t seem super upset, as long as Frank wasn’t choking him too much.
"Don’t you think it’s weird?" said Frank. "We moved in, so that apartment should be our palace of erotic adventures." Bob groaned. "But things are pretty much just like last year, except Gerard’s all, I don’t know, busy." He made it clear through his tone that busy was a terrible, unforgivable thing that Gerard should stop being immediately.
"So?" said Bob. "You’ve been dating for like a year or something, right?"
"Twenty-three months," said Frank proudly.
Bob sighed and tried to shake Frank off, but Frank had a lot of practice clinging to Bob, and also it was less windy on Bob’s back than walking along the sidewalk. "So maybe you lost your spark, Iero," he said. "Maybe you guys are like, an old married couple and you’re gonna sit around on the couch and watch JAG and not have sex anymore."
Frank slid off Bob’s back so he could put his hands on his hips and make it clear just how unacceptable that idea was. "Bob!" he said. "Bob Bryar, you fucking take that back."
Bob shrugged.
"Did you and Brian stop having sex?" Frank asked suspiciously.
Bob grinned. "Me and Brian," Bob said, "are doing just fine, thanks for asking." He waggled his eyebrows a little bit.
Frank pretended to gag and fall over into the bushes along the sidewalk. The students walking past him stopped to give him funny looks, which Frank ignored. "Schechter has a mohawk," said Frank. "Not even a real one."
Bob shrugged. "Your boyfriend has girl hair," he pointed out. "And he doesn’t wash."
Frank mulled that over. "So what you’re saying--" he said finally, because they were getting near the English building, and Bob was going to abandon him for the wilds of the engineering quad, "--is I need to rekindle the spark."
"Eww," said Bob.
"We’re too young and hot to be an old couple watching bad TV on TNT," said Frank. "Maybe I should cook dinner naked."
"Okay, that’s number three," said Bob. "We are done with this conversation."
"Well, give me an alternative suggestion!" Frank yelled. "I don’t read Cosmo and all that girly shit you and Brian circle with your pink pens while you’re taking bubble baths and listening to Clay Aiken, okay?"
Bob stared at him a little. "What the fuck? What the actual fuck does that mean?"
Frank stomped his foot. "It means I wanna have sex with Gerard," he whined. "C’mon, Bob. You gotta help."
"I really don’t," said Bob. Frank gave him the puppy-eyes. Bob groaned. "Don’t cook dinner naked," he said. "You’ll burn yourself, you’re such a fucking spaz. Why don’t you, I don’t know, make dinner like a normal person? Something romantic? Or like, get him a present? Or plan a special night?"
"Special night?"
"Like. You know." Bob got kind of red. Frank cackled. Bob muttered, "Shut the fuck up, Iero."
"Ooooh, a special night," Frank giggled. "Is that how you and Brian keep the magic alive?"
"I’m leaving," said Bob.
"You spank him, right? You guys are into spanking? Do you dress up? Does Brian dress up like a bandito and pretend to kidnap you?" Frank started yelling because Bob was stomping away. "Who calls who daddy? I bet you call your fauxhawk boyfriend daddy, Bryar!"
After that it hardly seemed worth it to stay awake in class.
--
Frank wasn’t much of a cook, but his mom was pretty awesome. She had a secret Iero Family Recipe that she swore was the way every Iero woman in history had gotten her man, and although Frank already had his, it still seemed appropriate. Frank’s idea of cooking was spaghetti and sauce from a jar, which he didn’t mention to her because that was the kind of thing that made her pretend she was having a heart attack and fall over.
She sent him an email with the recipe that said, "I MADE THIS FOR YOUR FATHER ON OUR ANNIVERSARY. IT HELPED US RECONNECT. MRS. FRASCIO NEXT DOOR USED IT WHEN SHE WAS SEEING THAT NICE DOCTOR FROM THE CITY. SHE SAYS HELLO BY THE WAY."
Frank shuddered and tried not to think about his parents ‘reconnecting.’ He also made a mental note to show his mom how to get out of capslock again; she kept getting it stuck on and forgetting how to turn it back off.
Frank rolled his eyes and printed out the list of ingredients on the printer in the computer lab, because Gerard was always using theirs at home. Before they’d moved in together Frank had assumed that being an art student involved a lot more, well, art. It turned out he did most of his stuff on computers or with scanners or with programs that bored Frank so badly he wanted to curl up on the floor under the computer and go to sleep. He tried not to mention that to Gerard.
Shopping was not Frank’s favorite leisure activity. Actually, all of Frank’s preferred activities involved being naked, and they frowned on that at the grocery store. Also, apparently, "I got really drunk and lost my pants" wasn’t enough of an explanation to keep the cops from tossing you out into the parking lot on your ass.
Frank always referred to that story as one he’d learned at the school of hard knocks. Gerard liked to call it the school of see I told you so. Frank got drunk and fucked around a lot less since he’d started dating a guy who didn’t drink at all. Which was good for Frank’s general knowledge of where his pants were, but sometimes got a little boring - which was when he went and bothered Bob and Brian or Ray until they went out to a bar with him.
Anyway, the point was, Frank was going to cook, okay, he was going to cook something amazing, and Gerard was going to love it. It was going to help them reconnect, by which Frank totally meant take off their pants, and then they were going to have sex, like, all over the new apartment. (So far they’d only had sex in the bed, which was lame! So lame!) It would be totally romantic and awesome and Frank was obviously the greatest boyfriend to ever live.
It didn’t go quite as planned, actually. Frank walked away from the stove for thirty seconds - seriously, barely enough time to go and check his phone to see if Bob had texted him anything, which he should have, because Frank had totally texted him a picture of his ass earlier for Annoying Bob reasons - and when he got back the garlic was burned and smoking and there was fire.
Not a lot of fire. Plus, Frank wasn’t easily discouraged. Not when there was romance on the line.
He chopped tomatoes and basil and grated cheese - and a little bit of his knuckles, but whatever, that made him look badass, and Gerard was just weird enough to think that a little bit of blood in dinner made it more meaningful and romantic - and got things ready. He even remembered to assemble shit in almost the order his mother had said. Then he put it in the oven and went in to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, because Gerard was probably going to be super grateful and surprised and Frank wanted to be ready.
He heard the door open, so he yelled, "Hey!" with his mouth full of toothbrush.
"Hey," Gerard yelled back. "What smells so good? Did you order out?"
Frank grinned at himself and accidentally spit all over the mirror. "Dude, I cooked!" he said. He considered just taking off his clothes right then and walking out to get his totally well-earned blowjob for that, but decided that would be a little much. Let Gerard suggest that it was time for pants to come off. And if he didn’t, Frank would suggest it subtly, like a gentleman.
He walked back out in to the living room, and he knew he was grinning like a crazy person, but whatever; he had the best plans and he was so going to get laid.
Gerard was standing in the living room with his black hoodie up and his bag still over his shoulder, slumping like Quasimodo. Which was cool, except his brother was standing right behind him, being all skinny and pale and staring at Frank through this insane pair of glasses shoved down to the tip of his nose.
"Mikey?" said Frank, blinking. "Oh. Uh. Hey." The smile kind of dropped off Frank’s face.
"Yeah, he came by," said Gerard, waving a hand, and duh, Frank could see that. Frank was kind of glad he still had his pants on. "I’m all stressed and Mikey wanted to get out of the house and shit."
Frank loved Mikey, okay, on a scale of one to ten Mikey was a million on the awesome-little-brothers scale. Mikey was the super awesome bonus level to dating Gerard, because Mikey knew every band ever and Mikey could talk about unicorns for hours and Mikey knew every cool scene kid one earth.
Mikey was definitely not invited to Frank’s romantic pants-free evening, however.
"Oh," said Frank. "Mikey. Hey."
Mikey shrugged, like waving was way too much work, and flopped on the couch. "S’up," he sighed.
Gerard had a whole stack of papers in his arms. "Do you realize this whole thing is due in three weeks?" he asked. "I have three weeks! How am I supposed to get all these applications done in three weeks?"
That was not Frank’s main concern at the moment. "I only made dinner for two," he said, just a little rudely.
"I’m barely hungry," Gerard moped, flopping down next to Mikey. "What am I gonna do?" He looked up at Frank with his giant puppy-dog eyes, and Frank groaned, because Gerard’s puppy-dog eyes were killer.
Frank kicked his sneaker against the carpet. His only real suggestion for cheering Gerard up involved Mikey leaving and then Gerard taking his pants off. "I’ll go get dinner," he sighed.
"Awesome," said Mikey.
Frank had to work very hard not to scowl at Mikey and snap that it wasn’t for him. Mikey could go have pants-free time with whatshisname, Gabe, or whoever he was messing around with now. He dished dinner out and carried it into the living room, where Gerard picked at it with a fork and sighed a lot. It was less cute than normal.
"Nice," said Mikey. He looked up at Frank through his glasses. "So, was tonight a special occasion or something? How come you’re not eating Wheat Thins and Cheez-It for dinner?"
"Cheez-Its," corrected Frank.
Mikey looked at him pityingly. "Cheez-It," he said. "Check the box."
Frank did scowl, he couldn’t help it. "Cheez-It doesn’t make any sense," he said.
Mikey shrugged. "So?"
Gerard threw his head back on the couch. "Tonight wasn’t special, it was just another day filled with angst and despair," he said. "I don’t have a personal statement! How am I going to make an art major sound like a good first-step to social work school? I don’t know what to write about."
Their night could have been special, Frank thought a little bitterly, if it wasn’t for interfering little brothers. Maybe, possibly, Mikey was a little bit psychic, because he put his fork down to look curiously at Frank. "You’re here now," grumped Frank. "So eat."
"’Kay," said Mikey.
Frank needed a new plan.
--
"I think that sounds stupid," said Ray.
Frank made a face. "I could have asked Bob if I wanted someone to tell me I was stupid," he pointed out.
Ray made his hilarious conflicted face, like on the one hand he wanted to just be nice all the time, and maybe give Frank some soup and a pair of mittens, and on the other hand he wanted to smack Frank upside the head. Frank reached over and yanked on Ray’s hair, just because he could.
"Oww, fucker," said Ray. "Do you want my advice or not?"
"Not if you think I’m stupid," said Frank sulkily.
Ray shrugged and took a sip of coffee, and then made another face, crossing his eyes.
Frank giggled. "You burned your tongue," he said, a little bit delighted. "Hahahaha!"
"Shu’up," said Ray indistinctly. He was still making crazy faces, and the guy who was making coffee looked at them concernedly.
"You okay?" he asked, rubbing his beard.
"We’re gonna sue!" yelled Frank happily. "Stupid corporate big-chain bullshit!"
Ray sighed and pulled Frank back down into his chair. "You wanted to come here," he pointed out. "You’re the one who likes the mocha-frappa-whatevers."
Frank giggled.
"Nothing. Never mind. Ignore him," Ray said to the coffee guy, who shrugged and went back to what he’d been doing.
Frank took the top off his drink and licked all the whipped cream off. Some of it got on his nose, and it probably looked a little hilariously like he’d gotten jizzed on, so Frank started giggling and accidentally snorted chocolate sauce. That made him cough and choke.
Ray was a nice guy, but even he looked a little smug. "Ha yourself," he said. "No, I’m sorry. You okay? Anyway I think getting Gerard a present is dumb if it’s just a ‘hi, can I get in your pants?’ present. If it was a thoughtful, romantic gesture-"
Frank made an elaborate choking noise and pretended to fall out of his chair. "I’m a dude," he said. "Thoughtful and romantic is for girls."
Ray looked pained. "And also for dudes who want to keep their boyfriends around and happy," he said. "Gerard likes thoughtful and romantic."
"No," said Frank, "Gerard likes me."
Ray couldn’t come up with a counter-argument for that. He shrugged and took a cautious sip of his coffee. "Keep Gerard in mind when you buy stuff," he said finally. "That’s all."
"Pfffft," said Frank dismissively. "I keep Gerard in mind all the time."
"I don’t mean naked Gerard, I mean your living, breathing boyfriend," said Ray. "Jesus Christ."
If Frank got his way there wouldn’t be too much difference.
--
The bunny was staring at him.
Frank leaned down to stare back through the bars of the cage. The bunny twitched its nose in a way that made something deep down inside Frank get a little oogly. It was such a small bunny, and its nose was so twitchy, and it was this funny almost-orange color, and one of its ears flopped over cutely, and it was staring right at Frank.
"Do you teach them to do that?" Frank asked accusingly.
Greta looked up from her book. "Do I teach who to do what?" she asked.
There were a lot of kids wandering through the student union, but most of them were walking right past Greta and her SAVE THE ANIMALS! display without stopping to look at the bunny or the giant posters of fur coats and how they were made.
"To stare and wiggle like that," said Frank. "He’s staring at me."
Greta nodded solemnly. "They say rabbits can see deep into your soul," she agreed.
"They do?"
"No. It’s a rabbit, Frank. He’s staring because… Y’know, he’s a rabbit."
Frank didn’t believe that for a second. The rabbit was judging him, somehow. Frank felt weirdly self-conscious. "What do you want?" he asked the rabbit.
The rabbit twitched its nose and chewed on some hay.
"He wants a loving home," said Greta. "And maybe a field to hop in. What do you think he wants?"
"I don’t know," said Frank. "Maybe there’s something sinister going on."
Greta made a skeptical noise and went back to her book. "Confessions of a Shopaholic?" Frank asked, squinting at her. "That’s not hippie-ish."
"There is more to me than just the president of PETA on campus," said Greta loftily. "Are you done talking to Sherbet?"
Frank blinked. "The bunny’s name is Sherbet?" He was kind of sherbet colored; it made sense. Sherbet tilted his head and his other ear flopped. It was clearly some kind of bunny trick, Frank figured, and if he reached in to the cage and tried to pet the little thing it would rip his throat out, like in Monty Python.
"I rescued him from the shelter," said Greta, "But I can’t keep him because I’m sneaking him in to the dorm every day. This is my secret attempt to get him adopted."
"I knew there was an ulterior something going on," said Frank triumphantly. "Ha!"
Greta sighed and put her book down. "You’ve always been kind of weird and twitchy, Iero," she said. "But this week you seem totally nuts. Is something up with you?"
"My boyfriend is ignoring me," said Frank.
"Hmmmm," said Greta.
"We moved in together, right, and I thought that would mean way more sex time, you know? But instead he’s all… Busy. And since he sees me every day… I don’t know, I think he used to be more excited to see me when it only happened sometimes, but now it’s all the time, and he’s ignoring me."
Greta tilted her head. "I can’t really believe anyone has ever ignored you," she said. "You’re pretty loud. What it sounds like to me is you guys are moving in to a new phase in your relationship. The first glow wears off, and you have to find new ways to enjoy being together."
"I cooked dinner," Frank scowled. "He invited his brother."
"Huh," said Greta.
"Well, I mean, I didn’t tell him I was cooking dinner," Frank allowed.
Greta rolled her eyes. "And here I was going to go buy you a copy of ‘He’s Just Not That In To You.’"
Frank stuck a finger through the bars of the cage and wiggled it at the bunny. The bunny chewed on his hay and stared at him. "Gerard is all distracted," Frank moaned. "I miss my boyfriend."
"Well, you’re seniors," said Greta. "When you were juniors you had more time to fuck around."
"He’s all stressed out about something," said Frank. "Some application thing. It distracts him from stuff like me."
"What kind of application?" asked Greta.
It occurred to Frank that he didn’t really know, which made him feel guilty. Frank hated feeling guilty, so he shoved that down somewhere and ignored it. "Whatever," said Frank. "Bob and Ray think I should get him something romantic."
"Like flowers?" asked Greta.
Frank looked at the bunny. The bunny looked back at him. In fact, the bunny looked deep into Frank’s soul. "Hmmm," said Frank. "Yeah. Something like that."
--
Frank hadn’t thought much about getting Gerard a present, but obviously this was the most brilliant thing he’d ever come up with. Gerard had been sad lately, and a little bit down because whatever was stressing him out was… Well. Stressing him out. Frank couldn’t be home all the time, and Frank knew Gerard liked cute things (even though Gerard liked to pretend he was against cuteness, he had a secret calendar of baby animals Mikey had given him last year). It was positively the best of both worlds. Frank was fucking thoughtful, okay.
Gerard came home and looked a little tired, so Frank decided to kiss it better. Actually shutting the door would have been ideal, but Frank was too keyed up to wait. He threw his arms around Gerard’s neck and attached himself to Gerard mouth-first. Gerard made a startled noise as he staggered back and hit the wall, but he seemed happy about it. He tasted like coffee - no big shock there - and cigarettes, and Frank had really, really missed him.
"Doorknob," said Gerard indistinctly, biting Frank’s lower lip.
"Is that something kinky?" Frank asked hopefully. If he tried hard enough he could probably prop Gerard up against the wall and get his legs around Gerard’s waist. It’d take a little planning, though.
"Poking me in the back," Gerard clarified.
"Oh," said Frank. "Whoops."
Gerard grinned at him. "The couch would be more comfortable," he said, walking Frank backwards a step. "Or the bed."
"Or the floor, or the wall," Frank chimed in helpfully. Gerard dug a finger into his side, and Frank squeaked. "Or right here?"
"I haven’t even put my bag down yet," said Gerard. "Isn’t that a little awkward?"
"I like awkward," said Frank, and kissed Gerard again.
It was a pretty awesome kiss. Frank kept a mental list of all their best make-out sessions and number one was the first time Frank had gotten back from Christmas break and Gerard had met him at the airport and the entire lounge had applauded them making out. Number two was their first, awkward kiss in the back row of the student theater, watching a shitty play that Bob had done lighting for. But any kiss was a good kiss, and this one, messy and groping as it was, ranked right up there.
Gerard pulled away, though. "Uh," he said. "What’s on our couch?"
Frank had honestly forgotten. He turned and stared for a second. "Oh. Right. A bunny!" he said.
Gerard looked a little puzzled. "Why is there a bunny on the couch?" he asked. He let go of Frank to kneel by the couch. "Hey there, bunny-wunny. Who has a fuzzy widdle nose?"
Sherbet was sitting perfectly happily on the couch, one ear flopped over, nose twitching. He did not appear to have any strong opinions on Gerard’s presence.
"Because he needed a home," said Frank. "His name is Sherbet. He’s fucking adorable, right? He’s the cutest. I have a cage and stuff, too. Cool present, huh?" he added proudly. Obviously Gerard was totally in love, and Frank’s be-an-awesome-boyfriend-and-get-laid plan was working perfectly. Frank was a genius.
"Present for who?" asked Gerard, and sneezed. He scratched the bunny behind his ears.
Frank put his hands on his hips. "You," he said.
Gerard sneezed again. "I… You got me a bunny?" he asked, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Did I… Did I seem like I needed a bunny?"
"He’s cute," said Frank belligerently. Gerard had cooed at the bunny; that meant he liked it. Who wouldn’t want a bunny? "Don’t you think he’s cute?"
"The cutest," Gerard agreed, and sneezed again. "Oh man, so cute. If only I weren’t allergic."
It took Frank a second to realize just what that meant. He ground his teeth a little and clenched his fist and frowned, but he wasn’t going to pout. He wasn’t. Just because he’d gotten Gerard an awesome, impulsive, adorable, romantic present and they couldn’t keep it was no reason to pout.
Just. Gerard was supposed to like it. He was supposed to think Frank was awesome. "How allergic?" Frank asked finally. "On a scale of one to death."
"Half-way to death," said Gerard, rubbing his eyes again. "Pretty fucking-" he paused to sneeze "-allergic."
Sherbet regarded them both with his serious, adorable bunny stare.
Frank wasn’t pouting, but he was sure as hell going to stomp a little. "Fine," he said, knowing he was being unreasonable. "I’ll get rid of him."
"But he’s so cute," complained Gerard. His eyes were totally red and he was sniffling pretty badly. He’d barely even touched Sherbet, so obviously he was really allergic. Stupid Gerard and his stupid immune system, Frank thought grumpily, and snatched the bunny off the couch.
"It’s not like we can keep him, is it?" muttered Frank.
"Awww," said Gerard. And then, "Yeah, probably not, since I don’t know where my inhaler is."
Frank made a super-duper grumpy growling noise. Sherbet twitched his tiny bunny nose. "Fine," said Frank again. He stomped into the apartment hallway, holding Sherbet under his arm.
Frank must have looked ferocious, because the Fucking Upstairs Neighbor was walking down the stairs and stopped, wide-eyed. He was holding a guitar case in one hand, which was how Frank knew who he was. He was just about Frank-sized, but wearing glasses and looking generally terrified of Frank.
"You," said Frank.
"Uh… Hi," said the neighbor, pushing his black glasses up his nose.
Frank considered for a second, and then thrust Sherbet out at him. "Here," he said. "Have a bunny."
The upstairs neighbor squeaked a little. "Um," he said. "What?" Sherbet flopped his dangling paws around.
"A bunny," Frank said, like maybe the kid was slow. "You know, hippety hop, Easter eggs, and twitchy fucking noses?"
The kid just stared.
"For you. To take home. And like, feed him and shit." Frank thought about that for a second. "Wait, though, you have that weird homeless boyfriend who’s always lurking outside wearing a bathrobe and three scarves. This bunny is not for his dinner."
"I’m not gonna cook a bunny-- Ack," said the upstairs neighbor, as Frank handed him Sherbet. He dropped his guitar to get a good hold on the rabbit, who continued to be tiny and orange and to chew placidly on a piece of hay. "My actual boyfriend is downstairs, I was just going to meet him. He’s not really expecting me to have a bunny."
"Well Sherbet is a nice goddamn rabbit," said Frank firmly. "No eating him."
"I wasn’t going to!"
"Good," said Frank, and stomped back into his apartment. After a second he stuck his head out again. "And stop playing folk fucking music at three in the morning, fuck."
He slammed the door.
Gerard was sitting on the couch, looking contrite. "That was really sweet," he said, sounding a little confused.
"It was stupid," said Frank. He crossed his arms. "I got you a stupid present you couldn’t even pet without getting drippy."
"But you still got me a present," said Gerard. He walked over and wrapped his arms around Frank’s neck. Frank refused to relax into it. "Frank. Are you okay? You’re acting kind of weird."
"You’ve been kind of weird," snapped Frank.
Gerard blinked and considered that. "I have?"
Frank immediately felt bad. "No," he said. "Well, yeah, but like, in a totally Gerard-y way. So it’s cool."
"How have I been weird?" Gerard asked, putting his pointy little chin on Frank’s shoulder. "Did I talk too much about Star Wars?"
Frank squirmed, because that shit tickled. "Distracted," he said. "Ignoring me. I hate it when you ignore me."
Gerard giggled, all high-pitched and right in Frank’s ear. "You got me a bunny so I’d stop ignoring you?"
"Maybe."
Gerard leaned over and bit Frank gently on the ear. Frank shivered. "I’m sorry I ignored you," he said. "You know how busy I am. I have to get this grad school application done. It’s stressing me out."
Frank had heard Gerard talk about applications on and off, but the part of his brain that listened to Gerard wasn’t the same as the part that thought about the future. His future with Gerard was supposed to involve lots of sex and a whole lot of fat dogs and maybe Mikey stopping by a lot. It wasn’t supposed to involve more school.
"Why do you want to go to grad school?" Frank whined. "Grad school is lame."
"I’m going to grad school to be a social worker so I can save lives," said Gerard. He was starting to get that manic tone in his voice that always came out when he talked about helping people. "Frank. You know that’s the number one most important thing in the world to me."
"More important than me?" Frank muttered.
Gerard went really still. "Frank," he said. "No, you’re… You’re my boyfriend, you’re the most important person-"
"But not as important as getting recommendations and writing mission statements and stuff," Frank said, kicking the carpet with his sneaker. "Not as important as homework."
"That’s not fair-" Gerard started.
Frank turned around, shrugging away from Gerard, arms wrapped around his chest. "In six months I’m gonna be a guy who just barely survived college with a degree in American Studies that’s total bullshit. I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do next, except I want to be with you. But you’re gonna be studying and being smart and meeting smart people and having a whole big stupid smart life, and I don’t think people with PhDs date people who sit around on their mom’s couches."
"I’m not getting a PhD," said Gerard.
Frank wanted to hit him a little bit. "Well, I guess that’s just how dumb I am, then," Frank yelled.
"You’re not dumb!" Gerard yelled right back. His lower lip was wobbling a little bit, like he was about to burst into tears. "I don’t care if you don’t go to grad school!"
"You say that!" Frank hollered. "But you don’t even like bunnies!"
There was a minute of silence.
"I… I didn’t know the bunny was symbolic of our relationship," said Gerard uncertainly.
"Well, he was," Frank yelled. He was so mad that he could feel his eyes starting to burn, and he wasn’t going to do anything pussy like cry in front of Gerard. "He was and he’s gone and I can’t do anything right, okay?"
"Frank!" Gerard protested, and yeah, his weird little mouth was definitely trembling and in a second they’d both be crying and this would be the stupidest argument any two guys had ever had in the history of the world.
"What?" Frank said, clenching his fists.
Gerard bit his lip and stared at Frank with giant eyes.
Frank was immune to the pleading face, though. Or at least, he was mad enough that he could resist it for a couple of seconds. "I’m going," Frank said. He grabbed his coat.
"But you’re coming back, right?" Gerard asked in a tiny voice.
Frank slammed the door on his way out.
--
Bob was not as sympathetic as Frank would have liked, ideally.
"You’re a fucktard," said Bob, pointing at Frank. "What the fuck."
Frank made an angry noise and shoved past Bob, throwing himself dramatically on the couch. It was a nice couch, way nicer than anything Frank and Gerard could afford, because Brian had a Real Job when he wasn’t TAing, and Bob got paid for a lot of the sound gigs he did on weekends. "I just broke up with my boyfriend, Bryar, you’re supposed to be nice to me," Frank snapped.
Bob raised an eyebrow. "You broke up for real?" he said. "Or is this like that time last spring where you two had a big fight about the second Spiderman movie and Gerard went home and stayed in the basement with Mikey for two days until you admitted that Kirsten Dunst was a terrible actress and then you two had sex in the kosher cafeteria?"
"This is way more serious than Spiderman!" said Frank shrilly.
"Wow," said Bob. "Okay."
The cool thing about Bob was that he was pretty unshakeable. Show up at his door in the middle of the night with your face all red from crying and yelling, and he’d just shrug at you and call you a fucktard and let you sit on his couch. Actually just seeing Bob cheered Frank up; he was wearing hilarious capri sweat pants that were way too short, and a t-shirt that was obviously Brian’s because it was too small.
"Your knees are all knobbly," said Frank.
Bob turned a little red. "Shut up," he said. "My knees are awesome."
"They stick out funny," said Frank, and giggled. Then he remembered that he’d just had a big fight with Gerard and stopped again. "I think we’re star-crossed lovers," he moaned, sinking back into the couch.
"A guy takes one Shakespeare class," sighed Bob.
"We are," Frank insisted. "We are going different places in life! He has a future and stuff!"
Bob sat down next to Frank. "You have a future, too," he said. "I mean, it probably involves jail time, but maybe Gee can become a lawyer and help you out."
"You mock my pain," Frank moaned.
"Dude," said Bob. "What happened? I thought you just wanted to get laid, now you broke up?"
"Our lack of sex was symptomatic of deeper problems in the relationship," said Frank. "Also, he’s allergic to bunnies."
Bob blinked. "Okay," he said. "Are we talking real bunnies, or are bunnies a metaphor for something, and if so don’t tell me what."
"A real bunny," said Frank.
"Oh," said Bob. "Good."
The bedroom door opened and Brian walked out, looking mostly asleep. "S’up," he mumbled. "Yo, Bryar, you comin’ back to bed or what?"
"I’m talking Iero down from his tree," said Bob. "Be there in a sec."
"Nnn," said Brian, and vanished back into the bedroom.
"See?" moaned Frank. "Your boyfriend gets you. He doesn’t want to be a, a, a merman, when he knows you’re afraid of the ocean."
"That was a metaphor, right?"
"Obviously."
Bob sighed. "We talk, Frank. We talk and talk and talk until I swear to god Brian’s worried his jaw will rust over if he shuts up for ten minutes. ‘How do you feel about this, Bob?’ ‘How much personal space do you need, Bob?’ And I’m like, dude, I thought you were an econ TA, not a psych TA, and also shut up."
Frank looked at Bob with new admiration. "You said that?"
"Nah," said Bob. "Mostly I just nod and try to make him happy. But we totally fight. Like, he invited his sister to come stay with us for a month and he didn’t even ask me. What the fuck. So I took him aside, like a grown up, and told him next time he did that I was gonna punch him in the face. Communication is key."
"But I tried to communicate with him," Frank whined. "I got him a bunny. I cooked dinner!"
"But did you tell him why? Or did you get all huffy and storm out?"
Frank made a face. "Shut up," he said.
"Yeah, I thought so," said Bob. "Dude, he’s gonna go to grad school. He’s gonna go save lives. He wants to do it with you, I think, but you gotta be reasonable."
"I wanna be the most important thing to him!" Frank said.
Bob shrugged. "Maybe you have to figure out if you can live with being number two," he said, and then laughed. "Number two. You are kind of a little shit, you know?"
Frank turned around and tickled Bob until they both fell off the couch.
--
Frank went home the next afternoon feeling tired and wary. Apparently not as wary as the fucking upstairs neighbor, who was talking to some tall kid with a beard on the sidewalk outside the building, and who promptly tried to hide behind the kid with the beard when he saw Frank.
Frank didn’t really even have the energy to be mad. "Is Sherbet okay?" he said.
"Oh, fuck, that’s the dude-" started the kid with the beard, but their neighbor was nodding, so Frank ignored them both and shoved his way inside.
He was a little worried that Gerard would be there when he got home.
He was more worried that Gerard wouldn’t be there.
Frank thought about knocking, but it was his fucking apartment, so fuck that. He pushed the door open and came nose-to-chest with Mikey.
"Hmm," said Mikey, crossing his arms.
"Dude," said Frank. He couldn’t quite manage to look over Mikey’s shoulder, so he looked around him. Dude was about as wide as spaghetti. "Is your brother home?"
"That depends," said Mikey. "How much of a douche are you planning to be?"
Frank sighed. "Less than I was yesterday," he said.
Mikey stared. The glasses pushed down to the end of his nose made him look especially disapproving. "A lot less?" he asked. "Enough to notice? Because I know people, dude. Scary people."
"You don’t mean Bob, right?"
"Besides Bob. He’s only barely scary anyway."
They stared at each other for a minute. Frank shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Swear to god, Mikey, I am going to apologize, okay?"
Mikey made a humphing noise, but he let Frank walk by.
Gerard was sitting on the couch. Slumping, actually, staring at the television, which wasn’t actually on. He was wearing all black and looking pale - totally normal for Gerard, even on a good day - but he also looked listless and defeated, which was… Well. It wasn’t right. Frank felt intensely guilty.
"Hey," said Frank.
Gerard waved.
Frank waited a second, but Gerard didn’t turn around. "Um," said Frank. "Um, hi?"
"Hi, Frank," said Gerard dully.
Frank whimpered a little and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I’m sorry," said Frank. "Gee. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I’m so, so sorry-"
"It’s cool," said Gerard. He leaned forward a little bit, resting his arms on his knees. His head was still down. "The thing is, Frank. Um."
Frank’s stomach bottomed out completely. "What thing? There shouldn’t be a thing!" he said quickly. "I came back to get rid of all the things!"
Gerard shook his head miserably. "No, the thing is," he said, "that you’re right. If I had to choose, gun to my head, between you and going to grad school so I could save lives, Frank…" He looked up. His eyes were all shiny and sort of wet. "I don’t know what I’d do. What I’d pick."
Me, me, me! Frank almost yelled, but he caught himself. "I get it," he said instead, because he sort of did. He thought about Bob and Brian and being mature and how badly that probably sucked, and bit his lip.
"I love you," said Gerard sadly, and Frank did get it, abruptly.
"And I love that you wanna help people," said Frank. "You like me even though I’m kind of a jerk sometimes, when I’m not being the awesomest boyfriend ever. And I love you, even though you’re kind of a space cadet and you like helping people more than remembering to take a bath or run laundry or - Or hanging out with me."
Gerard’s stupid wonky mouth trembled a little bit. "But I do love you," he said again.
"I know," said Frank. "And I love you."
"No, I mean, I love you," Gerard said.
"Right, and I love you," Frank agreed.
"But I-"
"Oh my fucking god, we have established that we love each other!" Frank yelled.
"Seriously," said Mikey, from the hallway.
Frank had sort of forgotten Mikey was there, but whatever. "If you move to Africa to hand out condoms I will buy a safari hat and follow you," he said. "If you decide to live in a tree for six months so no one can cut it down and kill a baby owl I will build you a treehouse. If you adopt four hundred orphans I will think up stupid names for them and buy sleeping bags-"
Gerard lunged out of his chair and latched on to Frank, mouth-first. Frank made a muffled, surprised, happy noise, as his head banged into the wall and Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank’s neck. Frank opened his mouth to Gerard’s tongue and shoved one hand down the back of Gerard’s jeans, trying to brace himself against the wall with the other.
"Should I let myself out?" Mikey asked.
Gerard fumbled with the buttons on Frank’s jeans with one hand and shoved. Frank’s jeans and boxers went down, catching around his thighs, which were sort of widely spread since Gerard had his leg shoved between them. That wasn’t going to work at all.
"You guys are gonna have to lock the door after me," said Mikey.
"Want want want want," said Frank, sucking on Gerard’s neck. He smelled sweaty and dirty and amazing. "I missed you, I missed this."
"Too much pants," said Gerard, and kissed him again. It was sloppy and a little bitey. Frank almost had Gerard’s pants off, but they were a lot tighter than Frank’s, so they didn’t shove well.
"Okay," said Mikey. "Well. Bye."
Frank barely heard the door close behind him, because he was busy trying to pull Gerard’s pants off and get his tongue entirely into Gerard’s mouth at the same time. He rubbed against Gerard a little frantically, but the roughness of Gerard’s jeans didn’t feel that great, especially not the zipper. "Geee," he whined. He was hot all over and his hands were shaking a little bit. "Can we-"
"Here, hang on," said Gerard, and sank to his knees. Or tried; his jeans were really tight and he had a little trouble kneeling, but he managed to sort of crouch. And then he grinned, and started licking Frank’s dick.
Frank banged his head on the wall a couple of times. "I’m not-" he started. "I can’t-Ho, shit, I-"
Gerard pulled off for a second, just long enough to laugh at him. "It’s only been a couple of weeks," he said.
"Which is like, a million years in sex time," Frank pointed out.
Gerard rolled his eyes and went back to sucking Frank off. Frank’s knees felt a little weak and wobbly, so he pushed both hands back against the wall to try and brace himself. He felt a little bad that it was about to be over, but on the other hand his thighs were burning from trying to keep himself upright, and his toes and fingers were starting to tingle. Gerard wasn’t much for technique, but sometimes he read Cosmo for fun, and he did a thing with his tongue that was probably illegal in a couple of states.
"Shit, Gerard-" said Frank, waving a hand around to try and warn Gerard, but it was already too late; his hips jerked forward and his vision whited out.
Gerard made a muffled, annoyed noise. "You always get it in my nose," he complained. "Fraaaaaank."
Frank sank to the floor, breathing hard, trying to make his hands move again. "Okay, I need a sec," he panted.
"If we go over to the couch, I can fuck you," said Gerard helpfully, wiping off his face with his sleeve.
Frank’s brain still felt a little rattly. "I was talking to Bob," he said, "about like, spark in our relationship."
"We have spark," Gerard said. "That was totally sparkly."
"I was thinking we could have, like, a kinky sexfest. Whips and leather and chains and stuff," Frank said. "In case you were bored with me and that was why you were ignoring me."
"I am not bored of you and I wasn’t ignoring you," said Gerard. He squirmed a little. "I guess we could try that stuff if you want to, though."
"I bet Bob and Brian know where to get it," said Frank, and giggled. "You think they can lend us some shit?"
Gerard wrinkled up his nose. "Maybe," he said. "But… Eww. That’s unsanitary."
"Since when do you care?"
"Plus, I think we do okay just like we are," Gerard went on. "Don’t you?"
Frank smiled at him. "Yeah," he said. "We’re good." He leaned forward and kissed Gerard, trying not to trip over his jeans, which were still around his knees.
Gerard tasted like Frank, which was always kind of hot. "Can we go into the bedroom and fuck, then?" asked Gerard hopefully.
"Finally!" crowed Frank. He maybe pumped his fist a little, too.
"C’mon," said Gerard, yanking on his arm a little. "We have to be fast, because the deadline on my applications is tomorrow, and I still need to finish my personal statement."
"You are the soul of romance," said Frank.
Gerard shrugged unapologetically. "Take your pants off, I love you?" he suggested.
"That’s my boy," Frank agreed, struggling to his feet. "Let’s go."