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schmericaWhat does it say about me that this is the only Gerard/Frank I have ever written?
*****
Frank's been in the band for the better part of a year, and he's jerked off thinking about Gerard more times than he count by the time he gets around to bringing up the subject. Everybody in this band loves each other, he knows that, and they're all pretty affectionate, but ...
But Frank's spent nine months cuddling with his head resting in Gerard's lap, kissing on stage and in private, easy lazy make-outs, and God knows they've grabbed at each other for a quick grope enough times. It's like it's been months and months of endless foreplay, and as nice as it is, Frank doesn't get it. It's all homoerotic tension and no actual homoerotic fucking and he doesn't know why.
So eventually he does the obvious. He brings it up to Gerard.
The van's parked at a rest stop. Mikey and Matt both practically ran to the bathroom, and Ray is off somewhere trying to trick the soda machine to actually give him a pop, despite the fact that he's a quarter short of the price. Gerard's sitting on the curb of the sidewalk, near the green green grass where people walk their dogs, and Frank's standing, leaning back against the driver's door of the van.
Gerard is lighting his cigarette, blinking up into the sunlight like he's surprised by the brightness. He's two sweaters and a heavy jacket over, even though it's like sixty degrees out.
Frank says, "So, Gee."
"Hm?" Gerard says, glancing his way.
Frank takes the three steps over to the sidewalk and sits down next to Gerard. Gerard slings his arm around his shoulders automatically, not even thinking about it.
"You notice we fool around a lot?" Frank says.
Gerard scrunches up his face and blows out smoke.
"Why the hell aren't we having sex?"
It makes Gerard laugh. Frank pokes him really hard in the ribs and Gerard goes, "Ow, shit, that hurt, Frankie!"
"Hey, fuck you."
Gerard rolls his eyes. "I wasn't laughing at you, jackass. It's not you. Fuck." He shakes his head. "Look, I'm just not that into it, okay?"
"You're not into it," Frank repeats.
"Yeah," Gerard says. "Like I said, it's not you. It's the same with anybody."
"I don't get it," Frank says. "What exactly is it that you're not into? Sex? You're not into sex?"
"Yeah, basically." Gerard shrugs. "Whatever, I mean. I don't have that high of a sex drive to begin with, you know, and then I'm on all these meds right now. It's one of the big side effects."
"Wow," Frank says. He stares at Gerard's face like it's something new and weird. "So, what, you don't even like jerk off?"
"Sometimes," Gerard says. He puffs his cigarette. "Not that often. I just don't think about it much, you know?"
Frank doesn't know, actually. Frank can't imagine going more than a couple minutes without thinking about it. Frank hasn't gone more than a day and a half without jerking off since he was fifteen.
"I don't know," Gerard continues. He gives Frank a serious look. "I mean, I'll give you a handjob or something if you want, but I'm not really going to get much out of it."
Frank stares out at the ugly tiled roof of the rest area across the parking lot, speechless for a long minute. Finally, he says, "Well, fuck."
"Yeah," Gerard says thoughtfully. He pats Frank's shoulder and then stands up, crushing his cigarette under his sneaker. "I'm gonna go piss before we leave."
Frank stays seated on the curb and watches Gerard's ass the entire time he crosses the parking lot, until he disappears from view behind the wall. Then he lies down onto his back on the sidewalk and frowns up at the wispy clouds until Mikey comes back and sits on his chest, yelling, "King of the mountain!" until Frank shoves him off and climbs onto his back and Ray butts in, taking Mikey's side and trying to cheat by being tall and strong, and they're all busy with that tuffle right up to the time they're back on the highway, and Frank's in the middle seat, next to Gerard, who falls asleep on his shoulder within fifteen minutes, and it's just like normal.
*****
Frank's been in the band for the better part of a year, and he's jerked off thinking about Gerard more times than he count by the time he gets around to bringing up the subject. Everybody in this band loves each other, he knows that, and they're all pretty affectionate, but ...
But Frank's spent nine months cuddling with his head resting in Gerard's lap, kissing on stage and in private, easy lazy make-outs, and God knows they've grabbed at each other for a quick grope enough times. It's like it's been months and months of endless foreplay, and as nice as it is, Frank doesn't get it. It's all homoerotic tension and no actual homoerotic fucking and he doesn't know why.
So eventually he does the obvious. He brings it up to Gerard.
The van's parked at a rest stop. Mikey and Matt both practically ran to the bathroom, and Ray is off somewhere trying to trick the soda machine to actually give him a pop, despite the fact that he's a quarter short of the price. Gerard's sitting on the curb of the sidewalk, near the green green grass where people walk their dogs, and Frank's standing, leaning back against the driver's door of the van.
Gerard is lighting his cigarette, blinking up into the sunlight like he's surprised by the brightness. He's two sweaters and a heavy jacket over, even though it's like sixty degrees out.
Frank says, "So, Gee."
"Hm?" Gerard says, glancing his way.
Frank takes the three steps over to the sidewalk and sits down next to Gerard. Gerard slings his arm around his shoulders automatically, not even thinking about it.
"You notice we fool around a lot?" Frank says.
Gerard scrunches up his face and blows out smoke.
"Why the hell aren't we having sex?"
It makes Gerard laugh. Frank pokes him really hard in the ribs and Gerard goes, "Ow, shit, that hurt, Frankie!"
"Hey, fuck you."
Gerard rolls his eyes. "I wasn't laughing at you, jackass. It's not you. Fuck." He shakes his head. "Look, I'm just not that into it, okay?"
"You're not into it," Frank repeats.
"Yeah," Gerard says. "Like I said, it's not you. It's the same with anybody."
"I don't get it," Frank says. "What exactly is it that you're not into? Sex? You're not into sex?"
"Yeah, basically." Gerard shrugs. "Whatever, I mean. I don't have that high of a sex drive to begin with, you know, and then I'm on all these meds right now. It's one of the big side effects."
"Wow," Frank says. He stares at Gerard's face like it's something new and weird. "So, what, you don't even like jerk off?"
"Sometimes," Gerard says. He puffs his cigarette. "Not that often. I just don't think about it much, you know?"
Frank doesn't know, actually. Frank can't imagine going more than a couple minutes without thinking about it. Frank hasn't gone more than a day and a half without jerking off since he was fifteen.
"I don't know," Gerard continues. He gives Frank a serious look. "I mean, I'll give you a handjob or something if you want, but I'm not really going to get much out of it."
Frank stares out at the ugly tiled roof of the rest area across the parking lot, speechless for a long minute. Finally, he says, "Well, fuck."
"Yeah," Gerard says thoughtfully. He pats Frank's shoulder and then stands up, crushing his cigarette under his sneaker. "I'm gonna go piss before we leave."
Frank stays seated on the curb and watches Gerard's ass the entire time he crosses the parking lot, until he disappears from view behind the wall. Then he lies down onto his back on the sidewalk and frowns up at the wispy clouds until Mikey comes back and sits on his chest, yelling, "King of the mountain!" until Frank shoves him off and climbs onto his back and Ray butts in, taking Mikey's side and trying to cheat by being tall and strong, and they're all busy with that tuffle right up to the time they're back on the highway, and Frank's in the middle seat, next to Gerard, who falls asleep on his shoulder within fifteen minutes, and it's just like normal.
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