Art Project

When Gerard first approached him with pleas for help with some new art project he was working on, Frank originally felt quite proud. As he continued babbling, the excitement faded away some. He was just talking about how no one wanted to help him and could Frank please, please do this for him? He would give him whatever he wanted if he did but please? Because it would be too weird with Mikey and Ray and Bob weren't into that kind of stuff and would definitely not help him out no matter how many times he asked. So please, Frank, out of all the good in his heart, please, please help?

Yet, despite the disappointment Frank really felt at being the absolute last resort when he was supposed to be his best friend, he acquiesced anyway because Gerard was making these stupid, stupid pleading faces and wringing his hands together and fidgeting nervously in place and he just wouldn't resist that at all. So he sighed and said yes, prompting an over-enthusiastic hug and probably a million "thank you"s shouted in his ear. Then suddenly he was alone and for the next day, the art project Gerard had been so excited about was just pushed to the back of his head. Honestly, with all the shows and interviews, he didn't have much time for himself, to put his thoughts in order and to even remember the strange event from the day before.

When all was said and done at the end of the day, though, Gerard had approached him again, simply grabbing his arm and tugging him in some random direction. He simply pushed him into a car, got into the driver's seat and began to drive away. Though he was brimming with questions, Frank refrained from saying anything, looking out the window and simply taking in the fact that fuck yes, they were back in their hometown once again and it just felt fantastic. He knew every road, every side street, every little neighborhood they passed and it felt so comforting, he couldn't even bother asking anything or even making any noise aside from little contented sighs.

He barely noticed they had reached their destination until he felt the car suddenly shudder to a stop and Gerard was getting out of the car, all smiles and energetic hand movements. He followed at a slower pace, just drinking in his surrounding and trying to figure out what they were going to do that involved going back to Gerard's house and not simply staying on the bus or the hotel or somewhere. He followed him all the way to the backyard and when he was about to simply come out and ask what the hell they were going to do, the other simply stopped and pointed. It was then that he noticed the giant sheet of paper laid out on the ground right in front of them with cans and bottles and gallons of paint littering the area around it.

He barely had time to register the fact that Gerard had stripped down to his boxers and was patiently expecting him to do the same. He couldn't even register it when his hands were tugging impatiently on Frank's hoodie, unzipping it and tossing it aside. When he did, however, he let out a grand, "What the fuck are you doing?" that was probably a lot harsher than it had to be. Gerard's smile dripped off his face slowly and suddenly he was a child, shrinking back and crossing his arms over his chest, head ducked down and gaze fixated on the floor. He immediately felt really, really guilty for having exploded and in an instant, he had wrapped his arms around him and hugged him really tightly, whispering gentle apologies in his ear.

It felt really weird and intimate but not necessarily bad to stand there, holding him, hands caressing his bare back because simply put, Gerard was really self-conscious. Even at the beach he couldn't bring himself to shed his clothes for some ocean fun. He simply seemed to hate his body and it made Frank feel like a total asshole for yelling at him when he had finally achieved the courage to do such a thing in front of him. For a long time, there was simply silence with Gerard's head tucked into the crook of Frank's neck and his hands gripping his shirt tightly, balled into fists and wringing the fabric nervously. With more apologies, he pulled away, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up over his head, tossing it aside to join the pile of clothes already on the floor.

He did the same with the rest of his clothing until he was exposed in his blue underwear, feeling really naked and hoping against hope that he wasn't completely hideous in the other's eyes. But then Gerard was smiling and every thing was pretty much forgotten as they stood there with Frank glancing frequently at all the paint and paper. "So," he began because it seemed the right way to do so, "what am I going to be helping you with?" That excited glint returned to those hazel eyes and Gerard immediately set to explaining what was going to happen.

"Okay, so we've got this set up right here and yeah, there's a reason we're like this. We're going to be painting with our bodies. We just get paint and pour them on ourselves and then we get to that paper and we fucking paint. It's really fun and well, that's what we're going to be doing." He had an air of childish excitement around him as he explained the goal, wringing his hands together again as he glanced over at Frank. Frank, on the other hand, was a little confused and just the slightest bit speechless.

"So, uh, why...why d'you need someone to help you?" he asked when he could speak again, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest. For a few moments, Gerard was actually deep in thought, as if coming up with some sort of valid excuse for bringing his best friend along with him for the task.

"Because it's a big sheet of paper," he answered as if that were the most obvious thing in the world, "and it's not as fun doing this alone, really. It's better to have someone there to talk with and shit and you are that person." He grinned again when that was resolved, heading over to the cans and gallons, prying open the lids and surveying them for a few moments, as if contemplating the best way they could get the paint inside on themselves. Finally, he simply beckoned Frank over, holding a can of light blue paint with one hand, a mischievous look in his eyes. He approached cautiously but was not prepared for the sudden stream of blue that trailed down over his hair and down his chest and into his underpants. He sputtered and stepped away, stopping the flow and simply staring agape at Gerard who merely motioned at the paper and told him to, "Get started."

He didn't, however, simply standing there with a big question mark hanging over his head, arms crossed over his slippery chest as he simply stared at Gerard, who was pouring red paint over himself. With a grin, he turned to Frank, holding out his arms to him and, though he thought it was a pretty strange time for a hug, Frank accepted only to be bodily thrown onto the giant sheet of paper. He was stunned for a few minutes to make anything more than a strange groaning/gasping noise, training his gaze on his best friend who was already happily trailing red paint onto the paper. "What'd you do that for?" he finally asked when he could form articulate sentences.

"So you'd get started," he replied and again he responded as if it were the most normal, completely obvious thing in the entire world. With a growl, Frank launched himself at him and the both began to wrestle on the paper, spreading blue and red paint on it. After a while, when they were both breathing heavily, Gerard stood up, surveyed the sight before him and positively beamed. "That looks great!" he exclaimed before heading towards some other paint can, opening it and pouring some out onto Frank. It was yellow and runnier than the blue paint, sliding easily down over his skin and soaking yet again into his underwear, making for a very uncomfortable situation. When he was able to get over the fact that his briefs were completely soaked, he was surprised to see that Gerard had drenched himself in different colors – purple and green – and was coming towards him with an evil look in his eyes.

He was pushed down into the paper and, because he couldn't stand someone pushing him around, the wrestling began again. By the time they were done, they were both breathing heavily and Gerard was wild with laughter, throwing his head back into the fresh paint, hands placed over his chest. "You did this on purpose, didn't you, you fucker?" Frank asked because it really just dawned on him that he had initiated the wrestling because he liked the effect it had on the painting. He got up from where he had been straddling his friend's body, walking towards a bottle of orange paint and squirting it over him and he really didn't even protest because he was still laughing too hard. And then he was tugged down and the wrestling began again until they couldn't bring themselves to move anymore, leaning on top of each other and simply breathing hard.

With a grin, Gerard suddenly got up, grabbing Frank and pulling him along, nearly making him tumble into the grass. He surveyed the paper, arms placed femininely on his hips, little noises sounding from deep in his throat as he contemplated the scene before him. "Needs more color," he finally decided, grabbing some hot pink can and dumping out the contents onto his friend, chuckling when he made a little noise of indignation. Then there was navy and white and this kind of pretty turquoise color that got poured all over their bodies and Frank was painted so many different colors and practically fuming because the fluid was dripping down into his mouth and over his eyes and sticking to him unpleasantly. So, just for the hell of it, he tackled his friend to the ground and the routine started up again.

They lay there for a long time once they deemed themselves spent, simply shielding their eyes against the unusually blinding hot sun, feeling the paint begin to adhere to their bodies. They barely cared, however and after a while of rest, Gerard finally muttered in a hoarse little voice, "I think we're pretty much done." Frank was never happier to get up off the floor and dash into the house for a shower making sure to get away before Gerard decided the paper needed more color again. He nearly slipped about a dozen times, the paint on the soles of his feet making him unsteady, making him lose his balance countless times. In seconds, he had reached the bathroom, stripped himself of his now-colorful briefs and sighed in relief at the feel. He entered the shower in another few seconds, turning the knob forcefully and yelping in surprise as the water tumbled down over his head in a strong, cold stream.

That was quickly forgotten as he watched the rainbow of colors dripping down from his body, swirling into the drain and staining the bathtub a virtual plethora of different shades and colors. He noticed, however, that some of the paint had adhered to his skin and that only picking furiously at it would make it flake away and join the rest of the paint down on the floor of the bathtub. He wrapped a towel around his waist once he had shut off the water, chuckling as he realized that the paint was rubbing off on it before going of to find Gerard. Once he found him, sitting in the backyard as he waited for Frank to finish, he shoved him. "Give me some clothes to wear you asshole." Gerard didn't even respond, shoving him back with a quick grin before racing off to the bathroom, locking himself in and ignoring Frank's requests for some kind of article of clothing to shield him.

Undaunted by his friend's refusal to offer him anything to wear, he simply took it upon himself to go into his room and grab a pair of underwear to shield himself. They were too big and he had to constantly tug them back up so they lay securely on his hips but he didn't particularly care as busy as he was with trying to remove the rest of the paint that was still stuck to his skin. When Gerard finally left the bathroom with only a pair of boxers on and a smile on his lips, Frank grabbed him by his paint-stained arm, tugging him into the living room and pushing him down onto the couch. "Since it's your fault I'm like this, you're going to be responsible for making sure I don't have any more color on me, got it?" With a smirk and a shrug, Gerard didn't refuse, motioning for him to sit down once he had grabbed a bottle of baby oil, explaining that it was really useful for removing paint and come on, Frank, don't laugh. It was uncomfortable and painful as his friend painstakingly began to scrape at every square inch of paint while pouring on the baby oil on Frank's body to get rid of it but it was necessary and hell, he wasn't about to leave the place when his beloved tattoos were covered with various colors.

For a long time, everything was completely silent as Gerard moved his hands over Frank's chest, arms, neck, face, back, torso and legs, trying to get rid of every little flake. "Was I really your last resort?" Frank asked, hissing softly afterwards as Gerard's nail scraped over a particularly stubborn patch that no amount of baby oil seemed to get to soften.

"No," he answered without any bit of hesitation, a grin forming on his face as he soothed the spot he had hurt with a smooth move of his thumb. "Worm would've been my last resort if anyone," he answered then, laughing outright as Frank slapped him half-heartedly on his shoulder. It was a touch awkward now and it felt wrong and Frank just wanted to crawl into a hole or something because every little touch suddenly felt a hundred times gentler and he really just didn't want to have to deal with that. "You were my first choice," Gerard finally admitted and it was obvious with his tone that he was completely brutally honest and serious and Frank wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"So you never asked Mikey or Ray or Bob?" he asked and he never even meant to actually ask it; it just slipped out. Again, there was no hesitation as Gerard automatically shook his head, fingers circling down lower to get a spot of yellow on one of the sparrows on his hips, the left one to be exact. They fell silent again as Frank leaned back against the couch, stretching out comfortably, placing his legs in his friend's lap and closing his eyes wearily. He didn't want to think or do anything; he was too tired to have any sort of inclination for anything at all. Gerard's hands were gentle as they traveled down to his legs, starting at his feet before trailing his hands up, trying to not pull at the leg hair but failing miserably, causing Frank to jerk and wince on the couch, grumbling about how all of it was completely unfair.