Impulsive

Frank was a little impulsive.

Sometimes shit just happened that he didn’t even realise he was doing until he saw the after effects.

Like the time he thought it’d be awesome to climb on Bobs drum set, play a little and try and jump off. It seemed like a good idea at the time; something that couldn’t go wrong. That was until, of course, he jumped off and managed to take half of the drums crashing to the floor with him; and then later in the dressing room when Bob punched him in the back for it and threw his bunk duvet out of the window of the moving tour bus.

But Bob was a good guy and ended up letting Frank share his bunk that night because he felt bad. The next day he bought him a new duvet, too. A cooler one. With batman symbols on it.

So really, even when bad shit happened, something good came of it.

They were shooting the video for...well, it didn’t have a name yet, but they’d think of one before it came out. Obviously.

Even though Ray had suggested just calling it Untitled.

Gerard had almost had a heart attack at the prospect of leaving one of his babies unnamed.

But the name aside, it was ass O’clock in the morning, and they’d already been shooting for at least 12 hours on Welcome to the Black Parade, and they were all beginning to get a little fuzzy headed and delirious.

It was either that, or his impulses (or even a combination of the two), that made Frank think it’d be cool to tackle Gerard into the dust while he was doing this super dramatic pose, staring at the sky and belting out this amazing note that made Frank almost hesitate.

Almost.

Next thing he knew, he’s standing up again, over by Bob when the director shouts Cut!

He turned around, intent on getting a bottle of water to press against his face and help him cool down when he saw Gerard on the floor, stretching his right leg and flexing his foot with a pained look on his face.

Frank ran over and helped him stand, with a little effort, because Gerard was bigger than he was. He watched him limp away because he felt too guilty to actually go over to where Gerard was sitting while the medics checked him over.

Instead, he hid over by Ray until the next shot started.

Neither Frank nor Gerard said anything to one another for the rest of the shoot, but Frank tried not to take it personally, no-one had really talked to anyone except for Sam or the safety guys. They were too exhausted to actually form words to one another. Well, that’s what Frank told himself.

In the car on the way back to the hotel, there was complete silence, well, except Mikey snoring against Rays shoulder and Bob taking sharp intakes of breath every time his leg moved or was jolted by the car, or whenever he used his hands without thinking and jarred the blisters.

Frank picked at a couple of the scabs on his fingers, wincing slightly as one of them started bleeding. He hadn’t played that hard in a long time.

They all stumbled into the lobby of the hotel, Mikey still asleep against Rays shoulder...somehow, and the others on the verge joining him (somehow...) if they weren’t given a room quickly.

Frank shuffled over with three keys in his hand. “Two doubles and one single,” he muttered.

They all wondered upstairs together before they were decided who was sleeping where, because Frank couldn’t remember which key opened the single room. Couldn’t remember, or wasn’t listening, either one or the other. It turned out to be the first one they tried, and Bob claimed it with a “I set my legs on fire for you fuckers,” and closed the door. No-one could really fight him on that one.

In the end, Mikey and Ray shared one room, leaving Frank and Gerard to the other.

Typical.

Gerard limped into the room and collapsed on the closest bed to the door, raising his right leg and groaning. He pulled his boot and sock off slowly, and groaned. There was a considerable amount of swelling already. Frank could tell from his place on the other side of the room.

“Shit,” he hissed. “You want me to get a medic?”

Gerard narrowed his eyes and poked his big toe suspiciously. “No. It’s fine.”

“I’m really sorry, Gerard.”

That even caught Frank off guard. He never apologised for his impulses. Not even that time he kicked Gerard in the balls.

Gerard looked at Frank, and sighed. “I’m not mad at you or anything. It was kind of like old times.” He grinned a little.

“Yeah, but with more fire,” Frank added with a laugh, and then stared at Gerards swollen foot again. “But I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Yeah? How?”

“I don’t know. You think of something and let me know.”

--

Three days later, they were all back home in New Jersey.

Frank got a call. Well he got three, but the first two times his cell phone rang he ignored it. He was sleeping, goddamnit.

“Huuunhg.” He groaned into the phone.

“I’ve thought of how you can make it up to me...”

--

“You want me to what?” Frank stared in awe at Gerard.

“I’m not allowed to walk about a lot.” Gerard explained once again. “You tore the fucking ligaments in my foot, Frankie.”

“So you want me to do...everything?!”

“This isn’t me being an asshole. I just literally needed someone’s help.”

“And you couldn’t get a maid.”

“Okay, so maybe it is me being an asshole, but you promised you’d make it up to me, and since it’s your fault that I’m currently immobile, I figured this would be perfect.”

Frank frowned.

So far, nothing good was coming out of his shitty impulses.

Frank moved all the stuff he’d need into Gerards place later that day. Apparently his duties started as soon as he’d dropped his last bag in the spare room.

“Frankie! Can you get me a drink?” Gerard called from the living room.

Frank rolled his eyes and flipped Gerard off through the wood of the door while yelling. “Sure.”

--

Frank had only been at Gerards for a few hours, and already he was regretting apologising.

He’d made his bed, rearranged the cushions on Gerards couch to Gerards liking, dusted the coffee table and the shelves and the kitchen counters because Gerard hadn’t been here in a while, and he hated dust. He cleaned the bathroom, not because Gerard had asked him to, but because Gerard wasn’t the cleanest of guys all the time, and Frank figured that if he was going to live here, this sort of stuff would have to be clean.

He brought Gerard twelve cups of water, two bowls of popcorn, one bag of candy, made him two meals, and five cups of coffee.

He’d also helped Gerard to the bathroom four times...and helped him stand.

At nine O’clock that night, Gerard asked; “Frankie, can I have another cup of coffee, please.”

“Fuck you, cup of coffee. Coffee is a liquid, liquid makes you pee and currently, in order to pee, you need me.” He scoffed. “Plus, you’ll never get any sleep. Pfft. You’re not an insomniac; you just consume too much caffeine. Cup of coffee,” he muttered, going into the kitchen and starting up the coffee machine.

He still owed Gerard.

--

Being Gerard’s personal slave wasn’t all bad.

Gerard’s sixth cup of coffee meant that, yes, he was pretty awake, so when Frank said that he was going to bed, Gerard grabbed his sleeve and asked him if he wanted to watch a movie.

Frank said yes.

This time, not because he felt he owed Gerard, but because anytime spent curled up under a blanket with Gerard watching zombies devour people’s brains was time that Frank was not going to miss out on.

It was times like this that Frank wished he was actually scared of zombies, so he could have a reason to curl up closer to Gerard, maybe bury his face in his chest.

It wouldn’t be completely out of character for Frank to do that...but still.

He woke up at about 3am.

He didn’t remember falling asleep. The opening menu of the movie they’d been watching was looping on the screen.

Frank shifted to accommodate the pins and needles in his leg, and felt Gerards arm on his waist, his breath on his neck.

Frank smiled a little, and bit at his lip. He’d only wished for this for months.

Still, he felt that it was a little off-limits to snuggle up to, and knowingly fall asleep with the best friend that you rendered immobile, so very slowly he climbed out of Gerard’s embrace, tip-toeing across the apartment in order to get Gerard’s blanket, switching off the TV as he went.

He made his way quietly back to the living area, where Gerard was in the exact same position he’d left him in. He draped the blanket quietly over Gerard’s sleeping form and prayed that he didn’t wake up and forget about his sore foot on his morning quest for coffee.

Just as he turned to leave, a hand shot out and grabbed at Franks jeans, making him jump and curse.

“Stay,” Gerard muttered into the cushion his face was practically pressed into. “Stay.” He repeated.

So Frank did, because Gerard seemed to think that knowingly snuggling up to, and falling asleep with the best friend who had rendered you immobile was fine. Frank could deal with that.

Until he was woken up a couple of hours later that is.

“Frank...Frank. Frank, please wake up. Shit.”

Frank groggily opened his eyes, blinking them shut quickly when the sun shined straight thought at him, and gurgled out some insults to living and the sun, and Gerards shitty window placement even though Gerard didn’t actually design the apartment. So he took it back and groaned about Gerards shitty choice in apartments because “really, are you kidding me, who doesn’t fucking check the window placement in the living room?”

“Frank, fuck sake, your ankle is pressing down on my foot.”

“So,”

“Frank!”

Frank jolted, realising what the problem was and flailed his limbs a little. He flailed his legs because he wasn’t sure which one was on Gerard’s foot...but if he’s being honest, he’s not sure why he flailed his arms. It was unlikely that they’d also turned into legs over night.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“It’s fine, it’s cool, don’t worry.” He huffed.

“Shit. I really suck at this helping you thing.”

“You’re doing awesome.” Gerard grinned looking really sincere. Looking so sincere in fact that Frank kind of wanted to kiss his big dumb face.

It was this thought that made him realise that his face was really fucking close to Gerard’s, and he probably wouldn’t even have to move that far in order to kiss him.

Gerard’s eyes fluttered a little, and Frank flailed again.

“So, I’m gonna make some breakfast, what do you want?”

“I don’t eat breakfast,”

“Well, I’m going to get something.”

“Frank, you don’t eat breakfast either.”

And Gerard was right, Frank didn’t. Everything tasted like cardboard to him in the morning. It took at least two hours for his taste buds to decide that okay, yes, they are ready to do their job and make Franks tongue happy.

“I meant coffee, I’m going to get coffee.”

Gerard frowned. “Well, I’ll have some coffee...”

Frank nodded and hurried out of the room feeling like the biggest idiot to have been put on the face of the planet.

The rest of the day continue much like the day before, only it became a lot more eventful when Gerard announced he needed a shower.

“Since when do you shower?”

“Fuck you.”

And that was that.

They sat at the kitchen table, and tried to see if there was any way that they could achieve this without Frank having to see Gerard naked.

Not that Frank was necessarily opposed to this...

They ruled out the shower straight away, because Gerard couldn’t even stand up by himself long enough to pee, and showering would be counterproductive to the whole ‘how to not see Gerard naked when he needs to be clean’ thing they had going on.

So far they had that Frank could fill the bath, leave, help Gerard in, leave again so Gerard can remove his clothing.

This seemed awesome, and they went ahead with it.

They didn’t plan it very well.

“Frank!” Gerard called from the bathroom.

“What?” Frank replied from the other side of the door.

“I can’t get in the bath.”

“I know you kinda hate being clean Gee, but—”

“No, I can’t get in. If I put my left leg in first, it means I gotta put all my weight on my right foot, which...obviously won’t work, and if I put my right leg in first, I’ll have to put all my weight on it when I lift my left leg in.”

Franks eyes clouded over a little.

He was fully aware that Gerard was naked, and the idea of him lifting his legs—

“So...”

“So come in here and fucking help me!”

Frank cringed.

He’d seen Gerard naked a bunch of times before...but that wasn’t weird because Gerard was drunk and didn’t care that he was naked...and Frank wasn’t in love with him.

Frank pushed the door open and saw Gerard standing awkwardly with all his weight on his left leg and his right hand covering himself as much as he could.

Frank tried not to stare. He really did.

It took a few minutes, a few long, painfully awkward minutes in which Frank got completely fucking drenched, but they managed to get Gerard in the bath.

He closed the lid of the toilet and sat on it sighing out. “That was fucking traumatic.” He laughed. All he could feel on his hands was Gerard’s skin. He wanted to feel it some more.

Luckily, Gerard was covered by the bubbles in the bath.

“You’re not the one who’s naked!” Gerard laughed.

Frank managed to restrain himself from saying something painfully inappropriate.

--

It was three days later when Frank became more accustomed to living with Gerard. He was actually starting to enjoy it.

He was doing a lot less work, and a lot more sitting in front of the TV with Gerard watching movies and mindless reality shows.

Gerard said it was because he was bored of sitting all the time, and would take a walk or something if he could, but he figured since he couldn’t, he’d rather have company than a clean apartment and coffee.

Well company and coffee, over a clean apartment.

Gerard was starting to walk around a bit on his own, because he was rebellious like that, and he was slowly improving. He said that his foot was beginning to hurt less.

Frank knew that meant he’d probably have to leave soon.

“My doctor called today,” Gerard said during the adverts of...whatever it was they were watching.

“Oh yeah, what’d he say?”

“He says I should probably start walking around some more tomorrow. By myself.”

“You’ll finally get to piss in private.” Frank laughed, causing Gerard to swat at his arm.

The adverts finished and the show came on again, and while both stopped talking to watch, Frank felt like there were a million words floating around on his tongue that he wanted to say. He kind of thought that Gerard felt the same.

“It’s going to be quiet without you around.” Gerard said suddenly.

“It’s going to be quiet back at mine when I leave.” Frank laughed nervously.

“I want you to do one last thing for me before you go.” Gerard said, chewing nervously at his lip.

“Yeah, sure, anything.”

“I want...” Gerard paused and looked at Frank, his teeth still gnawing at his lip. “I want you to kiss me.”

“I...” Frank felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He all of a sudden couldn’t speak, and his vision was whiting out to the point where all he could see was Gerard. Gerard...and his lips.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—” Gerard started, but was cut off by Frank launching himself and him, mouth first.

He missed on his first attempt and caught Gerard’s chin, but didn’t let that phase him as he moved his lips up to Gerard’s kissing him furiously. Gerard made a happy sound in the back of his throat, and moved his hands to tangle in Frank’s hair.

Frank smiled a little into Gerard’s lips, and licked his way into his mouth, their tongues meeting slowly and hesitantly at first, until Gerard made another of those happy little noises and Frank just wanted to hear it again so kissed him harder.

The hands on Gerard’s waist were moving under his shirt to caress the skin there. The skin he’d felt just a few days earlier and had felt awkward about it.

Gerard made a strangled noise and pulled away from Franks mouth, panting, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes while Frank moved on to suck and bite on his neck. He didn’t even remember moving to lie down.

Frank didn’t go home that day. Or the next...or the next.

Something good always came of his impulses.