fic: Drive Faster, Boy (frank/ray)
Drive Faster, Boy
frank/ray (background mikey/pete/alicia)
PG-13
AU. frank, ray and bob are mechanics.
~4500 words
this is for
thundercloud, who won me in help_haiti. oh man, i'm so sorry this is so much later than intended! i was busy drowning in essay city for a while there. i'm also sorry it's so vague about the actual mechanic parts, but once i'd started writing, i realised that i don't actually know anything about the world of mechanics or, in fact, cars, but i liked the idea anyway. i hope you enjoy it regardless! ♥ also, a huge thank you to cool_rain_kiss, who is a MASTER of commas and sentences, for the beta!
The thing about Ray Toro is that he has hands.
It seems like an inconsequential thing to notice, and Mikey certainly doesn't seem to understand what the big deal is when Frank tries to tell him about it. “He's got these hands,” Frank says one night when he gets home from work, and Mikey doesn't even look away from his Sidekick, just carries on furiously texting like Frank hasn't said a word.
“I have hands,” Mikey says after a few seconds, clearly missing the point entirely. Mikey does have hands, and they're not even bad hands. He's got these long fingers that Frank imagines would be kind of attractive if they were on someone else and not Mikey Way, who Frank has been living with ever since their first year of college and is basically related to now that they've graduated and are trying to pretend that they're really adults.
Mikey's hands aren't like Ray's, though. They aren't that fucking huge, don't look like they could do some serious damage if Ray wasn't such a chilled out guy. Don't look like they could hold him up, hold him down like Ray's could. “Like seriously, they're like, just - really fucking good hands,” Frank finishes, kind of lamely.
“Uh huh,” Mikey says, fingers still flying across the keys on his phone.
“You're just jealous no one likes your hands,” Frank tells him.
Mikey rolls his eyes. “Hey, do we have any plans tonight?”
“Nope,” Frank says. His own personal plans involve eating take out food, watching TV, showering, jerking off and then going to bed and trying to get a decent night's sleep for once. Aside from the food, Mikey probably doesn't want to get all that involved.
“I think I'm gonna go see Alicia,” Mikey says.
This time Frank rolls his eyes and reaches across Mikey to grab the remote from the other end of the couch.
-
Frank first notices Ray when Bob employs Frank with the reasoning that Frank is tiny enough to fit under the cars a lot more easily than he or Ray will ever be able to, and they're suddenly co-workers. He knew Ray before in the vague way he knows a lot of people who are on the edges of the local music scene, mostly because he meets them through Mikey, who knows everyone; they all go to a lot of the same shows. Back when Frank was still just looking for a part time job to tide him over until one of his bands took off, Ray probably even saw him play before they knew each other.
He doesn't get to know Ray until they're working together, though, and he's pleasantly surprised at how well they get along. Beneath all his good will and all the hair, he's got a wicked sense of humour and he puts up with all of Frank's shit. He blushes when he tells dirty jokes, which still cracks Frank up more than the jokes themselves even now. Ray's a good guy. Frank likes him.
Frank first notices Ray's hands when Ray is sorting through a toolbox, organising the mess that is probably mostly Frank's fault - he tends to haphazardly throw everything back in there and expect it to rearrange itself. It's not too busy and Frank is sitting around, harassing Ray about his taste in music, even though they like a hell of a lot of the same stuff. Ray's telling him about the guitar he plays in his spare time, and Frank zones out for a couple of minutes, just staring at Ray's hands as they move, really taking in for the first time how long and dexterous his fingers are. He imagines Ray playing guitar the way he does everything else, the way he works with the cars, intense and focused, fingers firm on the frets.
“Frank?” Ray asks, and Frank realises he hasn't said anything for a while now.
He blinks, comes back to himself. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “That's an impressive song to play if you're like, fourteen.”
“Dude!” Ray says, and even his hair looks indignant, and Frank's gotten away with it.
-
The thing about Ray Toro is that he has no idea that even though he can be a little goofy looking at times and has a kind of funny voice, he's also really fucking hot.
“It's like he's never fucking looked in a mirror,” Frank tells Mikey a few nights later. “Like, he's totally clueless.”
Mikey leans over to steal one of Frank's chips. “Clueless that he's hot or clueless that you want to get in his pants?” he asks. His Sidekick buzzes loudly on their cluttered coffee table, inching across the surface toward the edge, and he leans forward to grab it.
“I don't want to get in his pants,” Frank says automatically. He thinks about it for a few seconds. “I want his hands down my pants, though.”
Mikey hums thoughtfully, already texting back. “You could just ask him out,” he suggests without looking up.
Frank snorts incredulously. In all the years that he's known Mikey now, he's never actually seen him ask anyone out - he usually just kind of lurks around and stares a little bit and then suddenly seems to get lucky.
“If he's clueless,” Mikey continues, “then like, maybe he seriously doesn't know. Gerard's clueless about that stuff, he only got with Lyn 'cause she asked him on a date like three times before he finally got it.”
“I work with him,” Frank says, deciding not to mention that he's pretty sure Ray - or in fact anyone else in the world - is nowhere near as clueless about these things as Gerard. “And he's just like, cool. I dunno, man, it'd be fucking weird if it didn't work out.”
“Whatever,” Mikey says. He puts his Sidekick back in his pocket. “You should just go for it, he's pretty hot. Hey, can you leave the chain off the door tonight? I'm going to see Pete later, I'll probably get back late.”
-
The thing is, Frank seems to be developing a problem. It's not even a problem so much as it's just a weird, heightened sense of awareness. It's not like he has spider senses or anything; it's more like a Ray sense, like his brain just goes into overdrive whenever Ray is around.
Considering they work together, it's all the fucking time.
He gets a streak of oil across his face without noticing it one day because he forgets his hands are still all messy from the last engine he was looking at when he scratches at his cheek. Ray laughs at him for it, eyes crinkling at the corners, and rubs his thumb across Frank's cheek when Frank is trying to figure out where to wipe it away. It's totally casual, a perfectly innocent gesture that could come from anyone, just enough to point out where he should be wiping. Frank's skin feels like it's buzzing afterwards, though, a sweep of heat following Ray's touch.
Another time, Ray leans over him to grab something off of one of the shelves that Frank is standing near. All of a sudden, Frank is keenly aware of how much bigger than him Ray really is. For a few moments he just stands there uselessly, imagination going crazy. He breathes in the distinct, slightly chemical smell that's coming off of Ray because he's been getting so close to the engines. It's not until Bob walks past on the way to his office and throws an old rag at his head that he snaps back to reality.
Ray bends over to pick a wrench up off the floor and gives Frank a curious look when he straightens up and turns around to find Frank staring straight at him. Frank leers automatically, waggling his eyebrows totally ridiculously in Ray's direction, and curses himself silently when Ray just shakes his head at him and laughs.
-
Frank has been describing, in some detail, the finer points of Ray's ass in jeans when he bends over for about five minutes when Mikey shoots him a disgruntled look and says, “Are you even like, flirting with him at all?”
“What?” Frank says.
“Dude,” Mikey says. He's wearing his expression of disappointment, which Frank has finally learnt to recognise after years of warning Mikey that his brilliant new idea will maybe just electrocute him. “If you're not gonna ask him out, try and let him know you're at least interested.” He shakes his head solemnly. “Seriously, how the fuck do you ever get laid if you don't do anything?”
“What are you, fucking Cosmo?” Frank asks. “You never do anything,” he adds, “and you get laid all the time.”
“I'm subtle,” Mikey tells him loftily. Frank snorts. “Stop being lame.”
“You stop being lame.” Frank elbows Mikey in the side. Mikey keeps watching the TV and ignores him. “You're wrong anyway, I totally flirt.” Mikey gives him a long look. Mikey's seen Frank's flirting before; Frank has to admit he probably has a point. “Oh, fuck you,” Frank adds, “it's not like I can, I dunno, get him flowers and fucking woo him and shit. Shouldn't you be out with Alicia or Pete or someone totally new by now anyway?”
Mikey, the fucker, just smirks smugly at him.
-
The problem is that Frank hasn't really progressed in the flirting department since he was first attempting to simply get any kind of attention from anyone he thought was hot. Short of going up to Ray and actually pulling on his hair like Ray's secretly wearing it in pigtails, he couldn't be a whole lot less successful.
He thinks that Bob might actually be the only one who notices - not because Frank's finally managing to drop hints like a normal person while Ray is still being oblivious, but simply because he starts hanging off of Ray's shoulders a lot more instead of climbing all over Bob. Bob gives him an odd look out of the corner of his eyes one day when Frank laughs loudly at a joke Ray cracks that isn't even funny by bad joke standards, but he doesn't say anything. He rolls his eyes and reminds them both that there's still work to be done without sounding as though he's too bothered either way whether they get back to it straight away or not.
Frank tries holding more eye contact with Ray, but it doesn't go so well when they're both working and Frank is bad at standing still anyway. He tries finding more reasons to casually touch Ray, too, but that doesn't work either because Frank's a tactile guy anyway, has pretty much always got some form of point of contact with whoever he's talking to. He asks Ray more questions than usual when they talk - he keeps starting them all with “so” and sounds just like Pete used to every time he was around to hang out with Mikey before they finally started hooking up on a semi-regular basis. When he listens to himself, thinks about how he sounds and the things he's saying, he's actually kind of embarrassed.
Ray remains clueless.
-
Frank is just dragging himself out of bed when Mikey gets in a few nights later. His hair is the ruffled in a way that Frank's pretty sure has more to do with not having brushed it yet as opposed to the way it looks when he spends an inordinate length of time making it into an artful mess, and there's a large love bite creeping out from under his collar.
“Good night?” Frank asks needlessly as they both stare at the coffee machine, equally useless at this hour until it starts working.
“Alicia,” Mikey says in answer to the unspoken question. “Had to come back to change before work though.” He smiles faintly, fingers tapping at the kitchen counter, and then turns to face Frank all of a sudden. He even stops tapping, as though whatever he's just thought of is so brilliant it's taken over all other thought processes. “We should go out,” he says, completely out the fucking blue.
Frank shrugs. It's too early in the morning for him to try and work it out. “Mikey, dude, I know I'm hard to resist and all but I don't think that's gonna help.”
“No,” Mikey says. He's being kind of freakishly animated for Mikey in the morning before coffee. He even waves his hands around a little, although whatever point he's trying to demonstrate is lost on Frank. “No, it's an awesome idea, 'cause then - I want them to meet, you know? Alicia and Pete. So if a bunch of us go out we could like, go to a show or something, something they'd both like, and it wouldn't be weird that they were both there.”
“Dude,” Frank says. The aroma of coffee is beginning to fill the kitchen, which is better than the weird smell that wafted out when Frank opened the fridge just now, but it's clearly not enough to make him understand Mikey's pattern of thinking. “What? Why?”
“They'd totally get along,” Mikey continues. “It'd be awesome.” For a few moments he goes quiet, eyes unfocused as though he's thinking about exactly how and why it would be awesome. Frank has to admit that it probably would be. It'll probably all work out, too, because it's fucking Mikey. “And you could make Ray come.”
Frank snickers. “I'd like to make Ray come.”
“'Cause like, everyone ends up close when the bands are on, you can totally go for it then, it'll be awesome,” Mikey finishes around a yawn.
Frank spends a couple of seconds trying to formulate some sort of excuse until he realises that really would be shooting himself in the foot, completely and utterlyl pointless. “Worth a try,” he says instead, giving in with a shrug just because it's Mikey logic. It's always easier to go along with Mikey logic than really think about it, and maybe it'll help to be outside of the work place with Ray for once, who knows.
Maybe it'll just help to have Mikey around, he thinks, grabbing his mug and then rinsing it out after giving it a quick once over. Maybe he can share around all his luck.
-
Mikey manages to find them a show to go to the very next week. Frank's actually pretty impressed: it's meant to be one of the secret shows barely anyone knows about until it's happening, a few of the bigger and better local bands teaming up together, but Mikey finds out about it anyway because he knows everything that's going on. Frank really loves Mikey's job at Eyeball sometimes.
He invites Ray and Bob along without really worrying too much that they won't want to go - he knows their music tastes well enough by now to know it's the sort of thing they'd both be interested in. He doesn't really think about it that much at all until the day they're actually going, when Ray calls out, “See you later, Frankie,” as Frank is leaving work that night and Bob shoots him a little knowing smirk over Ray's shoulder.
Mikey's brother comes over a couple of hours before they're planning on leaving. Frank thinks it's kind of weird that Mikey invited Gerard to come out with them all when Mikey's pretty much just planning on orchestrating a threesome, but they're both kind of strange like that. Frank's just glad he has someone to talk to. Gerard's weird, but he's fucking awesome with it.
Gerard settles down to drink half their coffee before they leave, laughs loudly as Mikey explains Frank's crush in so much detail that it's actually quite embarrassing, talking loudly from his room while he gets ready and Frank shouts back at him to fuck off. Gerard looks at Frank confusedly. “How are you even meant to like, woo him when he won't be able to hear what you're saying?”
Frank is pretty sure that Gerard is the only person in the last hundred or so years to use the word woo in complete and utter sincerity. He says, “I don't know, man, ask your brother. He's the one with all the fucking moves.”
“He doesn't need to talk to him,” Mikey calls from his room, clearly listening in on everything they say, “he needs to grow some balls and make a move.”
“I've still got more balls than you,” Frank shouts back automatically.
Gerard pulls a face. “Maybe you could bond over music,” he suggests doubtfully.
Frank shrugs. He's not going to worry about it, he decides. He's an adult, he's mature; he doesn't need to obsess over tonight like it's a first date and he's back in high school and desperately hoping he won't embarrass himself. “Whatever. It's a night out, right?”
Gerard grins, showing all his teeth. “Totally. It'll be awesome. Lyn was telling me about one of the bands, it's these three girls and they're like, all inspired by the sixties...”
Frank settles back against the cushions of the couch, listening to Gerard talk.
-
The three of them are the first out of their group to get there, which is maybe the first time ever for them, Frank thinks - Gerard is perpetually absent-minded and Mikey does the fashionably late thing so well that no one ever gets offended. It's kind of weird being there before it's so crowded it's hard to move. Frank never realised how big this venue actually is before, how different the atmosphere is when it isn't thick with heat and his shoes aren't yet sticking to the floor as he walks.
“I'm going to get a drink,” he says finally, when after a few minutes of the three of them standing around awkwardly nobody else has turned up yet. “You guys want anything?”
Gerard shakes his head while Mikey nods without saying anything, pulling his Sidekick out of his pocket instead of paying Frank any attention. Frank goes over to the bar and orders for Mikey anyway. He gets them two beers each with the vague idea of avoiding the long line that will form as soon as more people show up and have to wait around for the opening band, and he hands Mikey's over and says, “You owe me later.”
“Sure,” Mikey says absently. He's still texting. Gerard has disappeared off somewhere, probably outside to smoke. Frank faces the stage, despite there being nothing more exciting to see than the rearranging of amps.
By the time Gerard gets back inside and everyone else they're waiting for shows up, the first band is already up on stage - it turns out there was more of a queue outside than anyone had been anticipating - and Frank's nursing his fourth beer. There's no way he's drunk yet, but he's definitely feeling a lot more buzzed than he was earlier, the blood flowing warmer through his veins. When he spots Ray's hair and then Ray himself through the crowd, he can't help grinning, wide and pleased.
“Hey!” he yells over the music. He can feel the steady beat of the drum vibrating all the way through his chest; he feels fucking great. This was a great idea. He stretches up to wrap an arm around Bob's shoulder just to piss him off for a moment, laughs as Bob shoves him calmly away and lets himself rest a little against Ray as he regains his balance.
He feels Ray's quiet laugh more than he hears it, the music too loud for him to catch the soft sound as Ray's breath ruffles the top of his hair. Ray's is warm and solid and strong at his side. He and Bob obviously hit the bar before they found them, and Frank stares for a few moments at Ray's long fingers curled around the neck of his bottle before forcibly turning his attention back at the stage.
He's going to have to congratulate Mikey on his talented planning, when Mikey looks a little less deeply involved in conversation with Pete and Alicia.
-
The headlining band is a lot better than Frank remembers them being. He's seen them before, although it was a while ago now; whether they've improved or the memory of them has just faded over time, he's impressed. They're clearly into what they're playing, and the crowd is too, and Frank manages about two songs of standing at the back with everyone else before the sight of the pit forming at the front of the crowd is too tempting.
The crowd is a good range of ages, and even if he's not necessarily the youngest there, one of the kids with too much eyeliner and wearing too many layers, Frank is one of the smallest, so he doesn't feel as though he has to hold back. He throws himself into the middle of it and somewhere in between the thick press of bodies coming in from every side, the elbows in his ribs and the knees knocking into the back of his legs, he wonders why they don't go to shows more often anymore. It's easy to fit this sort of thing around work. They could all go together some more, make it a regular thing. Hanging out with Ray more, spending more time with all his friends, seeing more bands - it could definitely work.
It's definitely been too long since he was in a decent mosh pit, anyway. A few songs later he turns around at a tap on his shoulder to find Pete there, grinning at him widely. It's one of the first times Frank's seen him without him being attached to Mikey's side, and they jump around wildly together for the rest of the set; by the time the band go off after their encore, Frank's having trouble catching his breath in the hot air. He feels awesome, though, adrenaline coursing through him and stopping him feeling the inevitable ache yet, and he doesn't think twice before bounding over to Ray. Ray just watches, clearly amused, as Frank takes his drink out of his hands to finish almost half of it in one gulp.
“Still no manners, Iero,” Bob says while Pete goes back over to Mikey and Alicia as though as soon as he's close enough to them he gets pulled in by some weird kind of gravitational force, and Frank and Ray both laugh.
It's when they're on their way back that the exhaustion finally kicks in. Frank's had a long day, and he's not used to so much exertion all at once anymore. He's in the back of Bob's car, between Ray and Gerard because Mikey always bitches if he can't ride shotgun and they've both had too much to drink to drive themselves home. (Pete and Alicia have gone back in Pete's car, but Frank's pretty sure he's going to see them back at his and Mikey's anyway, even though he's pretty sure they both actually live in the opposite direction.)
“I feel fucking old,” he groans, ignoring the way that he is, in fact, the youngest one in the car, and slumps sideways so he's leaning against Ray. It's not even like he's taking advantage of the situation to get close to him anymore. He really is just that tired and worn out all of a sudden, the buzz he'd had going from the music and the beer completely gone now, and he closes his eyes and turns so his cheek is resting more comfortably against Ray's shoulder when Mikey twists around to give him a significant look from the front seat. Ray is so fucking comfortable that Frank kind of never wants to move again.
It feels like it's only been about two minutes when they pull up outside his and Mikey's apartment building. Gerard's staying in the car because he lives pretty close to Ray and it's easy enough for Bob to drop him off on the way, so Frank makes Ray get out of the car so he can clamber out from the middle seat. Mikey's already inside - he didn't even wait for Frank to get out of the car, just headed straight in after saying bye - probably, Frank suspects, because Pete's car is parked a few feet away from where Bob pulled up.
“I have the keys,” Frank says, digging in his pocket with a grin as the cool air hits him, “so he's gonna have to wait anyway,” and Ray laughs, walking with Frank to the front of the building.
For a few seconds, Frank thinks that maybe Ray is going to make some kind of move, that that's why he got out of the car, but when he pauses outside the door Ray just stands there with him, and he doesn't even look as though it's something he's thinking about. He probably just got out the car to stretch his legs, Frank thinks. It's probably way more uncomfortable being crammed in the back when your legs are as long as Ray's are rather than the length of his own, and then, in the same moment, Frank thinks - fuck it. Mikey's advice clearly doesn't work for anyone except Mikey, and he's fucking fed up of feeling like a teenager again, clumsy and lame whenever he tries to drop a hint around Ray. If he doesn't do anything now, he really does need to grow some balls. If he doesn't do this now, Mikey will have more balls than he does.
He steps forward, and he just has time to clock the surprised expression on Ray's face as he grabs the front of Ray's shirt and then tugs him down while he pushes himself up on his toes to kiss him. Ray doesn't kiss him back straight away; Frank pulls back while Ray is still standing still, clearly shocked.
“So,” Frank says, forging ahead anyway, “I've wanted to do that for fucking ever, Ray Toro.”
Ray blinks at him, still looking startled. “I thought Bob was just fucking with me when he told me you were flirting,” he says, and Frank bursts out laughing even though his heart is pounding away in his chest again because Ray hasn't even really reacted yet.
“He knows everything that goes on at work,” Frank says. He's surprised at how normal he's managing to sound, as though his insides aren't all twisted up in anticipation. “Or that goes on ever, even, he's like, I dunno, fucking omniscient or something.”
Ray laughs too, then, a slow smile spreading over his face, and this time he closes the gap between them to move forward and kiss Frank.
-
The thing about Ray Toro is that he is a fucking awesome kisser.
Neither Mikey, Pete or Alicia seem all that interested or suitably impressed as he tells them this the next morning while they're all waiting around for the coffee machine.
“I'm an awesome kisser,” Mikey mutters sleepily, and Pete and Alicia both nod.
“It's his mouth,” Frank says happily, “and the way he's just really good,” and he keeps on talking until the coffee is ready, looking forward to getting to work.
frank/ray (background mikey/pete/alicia)
PG-13
AU. frank, ray and bob are mechanics.
~4500 words
this is for
thundercloud, who won me in help_haiti. oh man, i'm so sorry this is so much later than intended! i was busy drowning in essay city for a while there. i'm also sorry it's so vague about the actual mechanic parts, but once i'd started writing, i realised that i don't actually know anything about the world of mechanics or, in fact, cars, but i liked the idea anyway. i hope you enjoy it regardless! ♥ also, a huge thank you to cool_rain_kiss, who is a MASTER of commas and sentences, for the beta!
The thing about Ray Toro is that he has hands.
It seems like an inconsequential thing to notice, and Mikey certainly doesn't seem to understand what the big deal is when Frank tries to tell him about it. “He's got these hands,” Frank says one night when he gets home from work, and Mikey doesn't even look away from his Sidekick, just carries on furiously texting like Frank hasn't said a word.
“I have hands,” Mikey says after a few seconds, clearly missing the point entirely. Mikey does have hands, and they're not even bad hands. He's got these long fingers that Frank imagines would be kind of attractive if they were on someone else and not Mikey Way, who Frank has been living with ever since their first year of college and is basically related to now that they've graduated and are trying to pretend that they're really adults.
Mikey's hands aren't like Ray's, though. They aren't that fucking huge, don't look like they could do some serious damage if Ray wasn't such a chilled out guy. Don't look like they could hold him up, hold him down like Ray's could. “Like seriously, they're like, just - really fucking good hands,” Frank finishes, kind of lamely.
“Uh huh,” Mikey says, fingers still flying across the keys on his phone.
“You're just jealous no one likes your hands,” Frank tells him.
Mikey rolls his eyes. “Hey, do we have any plans tonight?”
“Nope,” Frank says. His own personal plans involve eating take out food, watching TV, showering, jerking off and then going to bed and trying to get a decent night's sleep for once. Aside from the food, Mikey probably doesn't want to get all that involved.
“I think I'm gonna go see Alicia,” Mikey says.
This time Frank rolls his eyes and reaches across Mikey to grab the remote from the other end of the couch.
-
Frank first notices Ray when Bob employs Frank with the reasoning that Frank is tiny enough to fit under the cars a lot more easily than he or Ray will ever be able to, and they're suddenly co-workers. He knew Ray before in the vague way he knows a lot of people who are on the edges of the local music scene, mostly because he meets them through Mikey, who knows everyone; they all go to a lot of the same shows. Back when Frank was still just looking for a part time job to tide him over until one of his bands took off, Ray probably even saw him play before they knew each other.
He doesn't get to know Ray until they're working together, though, and he's pleasantly surprised at how well they get along. Beneath all his good will and all the hair, he's got a wicked sense of humour and he puts up with all of Frank's shit. He blushes when he tells dirty jokes, which still cracks Frank up more than the jokes themselves even now. Ray's a good guy. Frank likes him.
Frank first notices Ray's hands when Ray is sorting through a toolbox, organising the mess that is probably mostly Frank's fault - he tends to haphazardly throw everything back in there and expect it to rearrange itself. It's not too busy and Frank is sitting around, harassing Ray about his taste in music, even though they like a hell of a lot of the same stuff. Ray's telling him about the guitar he plays in his spare time, and Frank zones out for a couple of minutes, just staring at Ray's hands as they move, really taking in for the first time how long and dexterous his fingers are. He imagines Ray playing guitar the way he does everything else, the way he works with the cars, intense and focused, fingers firm on the frets.
“Frank?” Ray asks, and Frank realises he hasn't said anything for a while now.
He blinks, comes back to himself. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “That's an impressive song to play if you're like, fourteen.”
“Dude!” Ray says, and even his hair looks indignant, and Frank's gotten away with it.
-
The thing about Ray Toro is that he has no idea that even though he can be a little goofy looking at times and has a kind of funny voice, he's also really fucking hot.
“It's like he's never fucking looked in a mirror,” Frank tells Mikey a few nights later. “Like, he's totally clueless.”
Mikey leans over to steal one of Frank's chips. “Clueless that he's hot or clueless that you want to get in his pants?” he asks. His Sidekick buzzes loudly on their cluttered coffee table, inching across the surface toward the edge, and he leans forward to grab it.
“I don't want to get in his pants,” Frank says automatically. He thinks about it for a few seconds. “I want his hands down my pants, though.”
Mikey hums thoughtfully, already texting back. “You could just ask him out,” he suggests without looking up.
Frank snorts incredulously. In all the years that he's known Mikey now, he's never actually seen him ask anyone out - he usually just kind of lurks around and stares a little bit and then suddenly seems to get lucky.
“If he's clueless,” Mikey continues, “then like, maybe he seriously doesn't know. Gerard's clueless about that stuff, he only got with Lyn 'cause she asked him on a date like three times before he finally got it.”
“I work with him,” Frank says, deciding not to mention that he's pretty sure Ray - or in fact anyone else in the world - is nowhere near as clueless about these things as Gerard. “And he's just like, cool. I dunno, man, it'd be fucking weird if it didn't work out.”
“Whatever,” Mikey says. He puts his Sidekick back in his pocket. “You should just go for it, he's pretty hot. Hey, can you leave the chain off the door tonight? I'm going to see Pete later, I'll probably get back late.”
-
The thing is, Frank seems to be developing a problem. It's not even a problem so much as it's just a weird, heightened sense of awareness. It's not like he has spider senses or anything; it's more like a Ray sense, like his brain just goes into overdrive whenever Ray is around.
Considering they work together, it's all the fucking time.
He gets a streak of oil across his face without noticing it one day because he forgets his hands are still all messy from the last engine he was looking at when he scratches at his cheek. Ray laughs at him for it, eyes crinkling at the corners, and rubs his thumb across Frank's cheek when Frank is trying to figure out where to wipe it away. It's totally casual, a perfectly innocent gesture that could come from anyone, just enough to point out where he should be wiping. Frank's skin feels like it's buzzing afterwards, though, a sweep of heat following Ray's touch.
Another time, Ray leans over him to grab something off of one of the shelves that Frank is standing near. All of a sudden, Frank is keenly aware of how much bigger than him Ray really is. For a few moments he just stands there uselessly, imagination going crazy. He breathes in the distinct, slightly chemical smell that's coming off of Ray because he's been getting so close to the engines. It's not until Bob walks past on the way to his office and throws an old rag at his head that he snaps back to reality.
Ray bends over to pick a wrench up off the floor and gives Frank a curious look when he straightens up and turns around to find Frank staring straight at him. Frank leers automatically, waggling his eyebrows totally ridiculously in Ray's direction, and curses himself silently when Ray just shakes his head at him and laughs.
-
Frank has been describing, in some detail, the finer points of Ray's ass in jeans when he bends over for about five minutes when Mikey shoots him a disgruntled look and says, “Are you even like, flirting with him at all?”
“What?” Frank says.
“Dude,” Mikey says. He's wearing his expression of disappointment, which Frank has finally learnt to recognise after years of warning Mikey that his brilliant new idea will maybe just electrocute him. “If you're not gonna ask him out, try and let him know you're at least interested.” He shakes his head solemnly. “Seriously, how the fuck do you ever get laid if you don't do anything?”
“What are you, fucking Cosmo?” Frank asks. “You never do anything,” he adds, “and you get laid all the time.”
“I'm subtle,” Mikey tells him loftily. Frank snorts. “Stop being lame.”
“You stop being lame.” Frank elbows Mikey in the side. Mikey keeps watching the TV and ignores him. “You're wrong anyway, I totally flirt.” Mikey gives him a long look. Mikey's seen Frank's flirting before; Frank has to admit he probably has a point. “Oh, fuck you,” Frank adds, “it's not like I can, I dunno, get him flowers and fucking woo him and shit. Shouldn't you be out with Alicia or Pete or someone totally new by now anyway?”
Mikey, the fucker, just smirks smugly at him.
-
The problem is that Frank hasn't really progressed in the flirting department since he was first attempting to simply get any kind of attention from anyone he thought was hot. Short of going up to Ray and actually pulling on his hair like Ray's secretly wearing it in pigtails, he couldn't be a whole lot less successful.
He thinks that Bob might actually be the only one who notices - not because Frank's finally managing to drop hints like a normal person while Ray is still being oblivious, but simply because he starts hanging off of Ray's shoulders a lot more instead of climbing all over Bob. Bob gives him an odd look out of the corner of his eyes one day when Frank laughs loudly at a joke Ray cracks that isn't even funny by bad joke standards, but he doesn't say anything. He rolls his eyes and reminds them both that there's still work to be done without sounding as though he's too bothered either way whether they get back to it straight away or not.
Frank tries holding more eye contact with Ray, but it doesn't go so well when they're both working and Frank is bad at standing still anyway. He tries finding more reasons to casually touch Ray, too, but that doesn't work either because Frank's a tactile guy anyway, has pretty much always got some form of point of contact with whoever he's talking to. He asks Ray more questions than usual when they talk - he keeps starting them all with “so” and sounds just like Pete used to every time he was around to hang out with Mikey before they finally started hooking up on a semi-regular basis. When he listens to himself, thinks about how he sounds and the things he's saying, he's actually kind of embarrassed.
Ray remains clueless.
-
Frank is just dragging himself out of bed when Mikey gets in a few nights later. His hair is the ruffled in a way that Frank's pretty sure has more to do with not having brushed it yet as opposed to the way it looks when he spends an inordinate length of time making it into an artful mess, and there's a large love bite creeping out from under his collar.
“Good night?” Frank asks needlessly as they both stare at the coffee machine, equally useless at this hour until it starts working.
“Alicia,” Mikey says in answer to the unspoken question. “Had to come back to change before work though.” He smiles faintly, fingers tapping at the kitchen counter, and then turns to face Frank all of a sudden. He even stops tapping, as though whatever he's just thought of is so brilliant it's taken over all other thought processes. “We should go out,” he says, completely out the fucking blue.
Frank shrugs. It's too early in the morning for him to try and work it out. “Mikey, dude, I know I'm hard to resist and all but I don't think that's gonna help.”
“No,” Mikey says. He's being kind of freakishly animated for Mikey in the morning before coffee. He even waves his hands around a little, although whatever point he's trying to demonstrate is lost on Frank. “No, it's an awesome idea, 'cause then - I want them to meet, you know? Alicia and Pete. So if a bunch of us go out we could like, go to a show or something, something they'd both like, and it wouldn't be weird that they were both there.”
“Dude,” Frank says. The aroma of coffee is beginning to fill the kitchen, which is better than the weird smell that wafted out when Frank opened the fridge just now, but it's clearly not enough to make him understand Mikey's pattern of thinking. “What? Why?”
“They'd totally get along,” Mikey continues. “It'd be awesome.” For a few moments he goes quiet, eyes unfocused as though he's thinking about exactly how and why it would be awesome. Frank has to admit that it probably would be. It'll probably all work out, too, because it's fucking Mikey. “And you could make Ray come.”
Frank snickers. “I'd like to make Ray come.”
“'Cause like, everyone ends up close when the bands are on, you can totally go for it then, it'll be awesome,” Mikey finishes around a yawn.
Frank spends a couple of seconds trying to formulate some sort of excuse until he realises that really would be shooting himself in the foot, completely and utterlyl pointless. “Worth a try,” he says instead, giving in with a shrug just because it's Mikey logic. It's always easier to go along with Mikey logic than really think about it, and maybe it'll help to be outside of the work place with Ray for once, who knows.
Maybe it'll just help to have Mikey around, he thinks, grabbing his mug and then rinsing it out after giving it a quick once over. Maybe he can share around all his luck.
-
Mikey manages to find them a show to go to the very next week. Frank's actually pretty impressed: it's meant to be one of the secret shows barely anyone knows about until it's happening, a few of the bigger and better local bands teaming up together, but Mikey finds out about it anyway because he knows everything that's going on. Frank really loves Mikey's job at Eyeball sometimes.
He invites Ray and Bob along without really worrying too much that they won't want to go - he knows their music tastes well enough by now to know it's the sort of thing they'd both be interested in. He doesn't really think about it that much at all until the day they're actually going, when Ray calls out, “See you later, Frankie,” as Frank is leaving work that night and Bob shoots him a little knowing smirk over Ray's shoulder.
Mikey's brother comes over a couple of hours before they're planning on leaving. Frank thinks it's kind of weird that Mikey invited Gerard to come out with them all when Mikey's pretty much just planning on orchestrating a threesome, but they're both kind of strange like that. Frank's just glad he has someone to talk to. Gerard's weird, but he's fucking awesome with it.
Gerard settles down to drink half their coffee before they leave, laughs loudly as Mikey explains Frank's crush in so much detail that it's actually quite embarrassing, talking loudly from his room while he gets ready and Frank shouts back at him to fuck off. Gerard looks at Frank confusedly. “How are you even meant to like, woo him when he won't be able to hear what you're saying?”
Frank is pretty sure that Gerard is the only person in the last hundred or so years to use the word woo in complete and utter sincerity. He says, “I don't know, man, ask your brother. He's the one with all the fucking moves.”
“He doesn't need to talk to him,” Mikey calls from his room, clearly listening in on everything they say, “he needs to grow some balls and make a move.”
“I've still got more balls than you,” Frank shouts back automatically.
Gerard pulls a face. “Maybe you could bond over music,” he suggests doubtfully.
Frank shrugs. He's not going to worry about it, he decides. He's an adult, he's mature; he doesn't need to obsess over tonight like it's a first date and he's back in high school and desperately hoping he won't embarrass himself. “Whatever. It's a night out, right?”
Gerard grins, showing all his teeth. “Totally. It'll be awesome. Lyn was telling me about one of the bands, it's these three girls and they're like, all inspired by the sixties...”
Frank settles back against the cushions of the couch, listening to Gerard talk.
-
The three of them are the first out of their group to get there, which is maybe the first time ever for them, Frank thinks - Gerard is perpetually absent-minded and Mikey does the fashionably late thing so well that no one ever gets offended. It's kind of weird being there before it's so crowded it's hard to move. Frank never realised how big this venue actually is before, how different the atmosphere is when it isn't thick with heat and his shoes aren't yet sticking to the floor as he walks.
“I'm going to get a drink,” he says finally, when after a few minutes of the three of them standing around awkwardly nobody else has turned up yet. “You guys want anything?”
Gerard shakes his head while Mikey nods without saying anything, pulling his Sidekick out of his pocket instead of paying Frank any attention. Frank goes over to the bar and orders for Mikey anyway. He gets them two beers each with the vague idea of avoiding the long line that will form as soon as more people show up and have to wait around for the opening band, and he hands Mikey's over and says, “You owe me later.”
“Sure,” Mikey says absently. He's still texting. Gerard has disappeared off somewhere, probably outside to smoke. Frank faces the stage, despite there being nothing more exciting to see than the rearranging of amps.
By the time Gerard gets back inside and everyone else they're waiting for shows up, the first band is already up on stage - it turns out there was more of a queue outside than anyone had been anticipating - and Frank's nursing his fourth beer. There's no way he's drunk yet, but he's definitely feeling a lot more buzzed than he was earlier, the blood flowing warmer through his veins. When he spots Ray's hair and then Ray himself through the crowd, he can't help grinning, wide and pleased.
“Hey!” he yells over the music. He can feel the steady beat of the drum vibrating all the way through his chest; he feels fucking great. This was a great idea. He stretches up to wrap an arm around Bob's shoulder just to piss him off for a moment, laughs as Bob shoves him calmly away and lets himself rest a little against Ray as he regains his balance.
He feels Ray's quiet laugh more than he hears it, the music too loud for him to catch the soft sound as Ray's breath ruffles the top of his hair. Ray's is warm and solid and strong at his side. He and Bob obviously hit the bar before they found them, and Frank stares for a few moments at Ray's long fingers curled around the neck of his bottle before forcibly turning his attention back at the stage.
He's going to have to congratulate Mikey on his talented planning, when Mikey looks a little less deeply involved in conversation with Pete and Alicia.
-
The headlining band is a lot better than Frank remembers them being. He's seen them before, although it was a while ago now; whether they've improved or the memory of them has just faded over time, he's impressed. They're clearly into what they're playing, and the crowd is too, and Frank manages about two songs of standing at the back with everyone else before the sight of the pit forming at the front of the crowd is too tempting.
The crowd is a good range of ages, and even if he's not necessarily the youngest there, one of the kids with too much eyeliner and wearing too many layers, Frank is one of the smallest, so he doesn't feel as though he has to hold back. He throws himself into the middle of it and somewhere in between the thick press of bodies coming in from every side, the elbows in his ribs and the knees knocking into the back of his legs, he wonders why they don't go to shows more often anymore. It's easy to fit this sort of thing around work. They could all go together some more, make it a regular thing. Hanging out with Ray more, spending more time with all his friends, seeing more bands - it could definitely work.
It's definitely been too long since he was in a decent mosh pit, anyway. A few songs later he turns around at a tap on his shoulder to find Pete there, grinning at him widely. It's one of the first times Frank's seen him without him being attached to Mikey's side, and they jump around wildly together for the rest of the set; by the time the band go off after their encore, Frank's having trouble catching his breath in the hot air. He feels awesome, though, adrenaline coursing through him and stopping him feeling the inevitable ache yet, and he doesn't think twice before bounding over to Ray. Ray just watches, clearly amused, as Frank takes his drink out of his hands to finish almost half of it in one gulp.
“Still no manners, Iero,” Bob says while Pete goes back over to Mikey and Alicia as though as soon as he's close enough to them he gets pulled in by some weird kind of gravitational force, and Frank and Ray both laugh.
It's when they're on their way back that the exhaustion finally kicks in. Frank's had a long day, and he's not used to so much exertion all at once anymore. He's in the back of Bob's car, between Ray and Gerard because Mikey always bitches if he can't ride shotgun and they've both had too much to drink to drive themselves home. (Pete and Alicia have gone back in Pete's car, but Frank's pretty sure he's going to see them back at his and Mikey's anyway, even though he's pretty sure they both actually live in the opposite direction.)
“I feel fucking old,” he groans, ignoring the way that he is, in fact, the youngest one in the car, and slumps sideways so he's leaning against Ray. It's not even like he's taking advantage of the situation to get close to him anymore. He really is just that tired and worn out all of a sudden, the buzz he'd had going from the music and the beer completely gone now, and he closes his eyes and turns so his cheek is resting more comfortably against Ray's shoulder when Mikey twists around to give him a significant look from the front seat. Ray is so fucking comfortable that Frank kind of never wants to move again.
It feels like it's only been about two minutes when they pull up outside his and Mikey's apartment building. Gerard's staying in the car because he lives pretty close to Ray and it's easy enough for Bob to drop him off on the way, so Frank makes Ray get out of the car so he can clamber out from the middle seat. Mikey's already inside - he didn't even wait for Frank to get out of the car, just headed straight in after saying bye - probably, Frank suspects, because Pete's car is parked a few feet away from where Bob pulled up.
“I have the keys,” Frank says, digging in his pocket with a grin as the cool air hits him, “so he's gonna have to wait anyway,” and Ray laughs, walking with Frank to the front of the building.
For a few seconds, Frank thinks that maybe Ray is going to make some kind of move, that that's why he got out of the car, but when he pauses outside the door Ray just stands there with him, and he doesn't even look as though it's something he's thinking about. He probably just got out the car to stretch his legs, Frank thinks. It's probably way more uncomfortable being crammed in the back when your legs are as long as Ray's are rather than the length of his own, and then, in the same moment, Frank thinks - fuck it. Mikey's advice clearly doesn't work for anyone except Mikey, and he's fucking fed up of feeling like a teenager again, clumsy and lame whenever he tries to drop a hint around Ray. If he doesn't do anything now, he really does need to grow some balls. If he doesn't do this now, Mikey will have more balls than he does.
He steps forward, and he just has time to clock the surprised expression on Ray's face as he grabs the front of Ray's shirt and then tugs him down while he pushes himself up on his toes to kiss him. Ray doesn't kiss him back straight away; Frank pulls back while Ray is still standing still, clearly shocked.
“So,” Frank says, forging ahead anyway, “I've wanted to do that for fucking ever, Ray Toro.”
Ray blinks at him, still looking startled. “I thought Bob was just fucking with me when he told me you were flirting,” he says, and Frank bursts out laughing even though his heart is pounding away in his chest again because Ray hasn't even really reacted yet.
“He knows everything that goes on at work,” Frank says. He's surprised at how normal he's managing to sound, as though his insides aren't all twisted up in anticipation. “Or that goes on ever, even, he's like, I dunno, fucking omniscient or something.”
Ray laughs too, then, a slow smile spreading over his face, and this time he closes the gap between them to move forward and kiss Frank.
-
The thing about Ray Toro is that he is a fucking awesome kisser.
Neither Mikey, Pete or Alicia seem all that interested or suitably impressed as he tells them this the next morning while they're all waiting around for the coffee machine.
“I'm an awesome kisser,” Mikey mutters sleepily, and Pete and Alicia both nod.
“It's his mouth,” Frank says happily, “and the way he's just really good,” and he keeps on talking until the coffee is ready, looking forward to getting to work.