Gerard's Little (Big) Secret

The thing with Frank was that he hated spilling his guts. He hated to show emotion, and he hated to speak up when he had a problem, or needed help. The exact opposite of me. In the beginning of our relationship, those three years ago, it was extremely hard getting him to open up. Six months in, I finally got him to tell me when he needed help. A year in, he learnt it was okay to have a shoulder to cry on, and two years in, he learnt it was okay to just let everything go when it was the two of us.

This didn’t mean he opened up all the time. In fact, he still barely did. I think he liked to prove that he was strong.

Like he was the man in this relationship or something.

And now was one of those times, where I knew I’d have to pry and pry, until finally, he decided it was okay to tell me what was going through his twisted little brain.

“Spill, Frankie,” I repeated. His hand gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from the pressure, and I was afraid for the steering wheel suddenly.

“It’s nothing Gerard,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Lie!” I shouted. “And you know we have punishments for liars in this house—car.”

“Gee,” He whined.

“No sex,” I said simply. His eyes widened.

“GERARD! That’s for when you really lie!” He whined.

“You’re really lying,” I shrugged.

“No fair!”

“Is so,” I said, nodding my head. “You heard me.”

“I—urgh!” He growled, and put the car in gear, pulling out, driving towards our apartment.

“You could just tell me, and I’ll lift the punishment. This means I have to suffer too.” I said simply, smirking.

“Gee,” He whined again.

“Come on Frankie,” I purred, placing a hand on his thigh. He glanced down hurriedly, and then back up at the road.

“Don’t!” He said fast.

“We could have fuuuuun.” Inching closer.

“Gerard,” he warned.

“A lot of fun.” Even closer. Growing problem.

“Gerard Arthur Way, I swear to god—“

“Fine,” I said, and turned back in my seat, pouting. “Whatever. Keep your issues to yourself. I’m done trying to figure it out.”

“It’s not bad,” He said, sighing. “But you can’t know.”

“just remember Frank Iero,” I said. “Our anniversary’s in a week, and if you don’t tell me, you’re not getting anything. Pleasuring, or for a present.”

He glared at me, and turned the radio up loudly, ignoring my last statement. Obviously, I wasn’t breaking him.

XxX

“Wanna call for pizza?” Frank asked.

“No.”

“Chinese?”

“No.”

“Subway?”

“No.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“You have to eat.”

“And puke it back up?”

“Okay, you have a point. But I’m calling for pizza. And I’m going out for a smoke. I’ll be back.” He bent down to kiss me, but I stared straight ahead, and ignored him, causing him to sigh, and kiss my cheek, before walking out onto the balcony and lighting a cigarette.

Mikey came through the door, smiling. “Hey,” I said, turning the TV on. “Frank’s ordering pizza, if you want some.”

“Sure.” He answered, and sat down on the chair across the room. I searched through the channels, finally settling on Torchwood on BBC America. “I don’t get why you’re obsessed with these.” He rolled his eyes.

“Because they’re neat. And because I like it. Shut up! What’s Frank hiding?” I asked him quickly, after double checking Frank was still on the phone with Best Way Pizza.

Mikey looked at me, confused, before grinning. “Noooootttthhhhiiiinnngggg,” He sang.

“Michael James Way…” I warned.

“Not gonna work. I was sworn to secrecy. We did a blood oath.”

“Ew,” I whined, rolling my eyes. “Mikey please. I’ve tried everything and he won’t spill.”

“Maybe you don’t need to know then,” He simpered. I threw a pillow at him, and continued to watch Torchwood, whilst Frank called in pizza, and Mikey read the Rolling Stone sitting on the coffee table.

Frank finally came back in. “I called pizza in 2 minutes ago,” He announced, sitting down.

“What are we gonna do with the other twenty-eight minutes?” I asked, quoting the Dominoes commercial.

“Cute,” He growled, and went to lay his head on my shoulder. I pushed him off. “Please tell me you won’t have mood swings like this for the next nine months,” He sighed, sitting up straight.

“You could tell me what you were hiding.”

“Gerard…” he trailed off. “Just stop.”

“But Frankie—“

“It’s not happening. Look, I’ll tell in a little while.”

“Promise?”

“Just wait a few days,” He smiled. “And I promise.” He kissed me, and laid his head back on my shoulder. Mikey just did that grin where he knows what’s going on, but knows I don’t know what’s going on. Yeah, that one.

One Week Later

“Gee! Wake up!”

“Frank, go away,” I whined, pulling a pillow over my head, and groaning. He bounced up and down on the bed, and kissed my neck lightly, nipping down on it. I whined again.

“Come on Gee, I’ll tell you what I’ve been hiding,” He purred. I opened my eyes and turned to face him.

“Right now.”

“Well, I’ll show you what I’ve been hiding,” He shrugged. “If you get your ass in gear, and get dressed. Happy anniversary, by the way, babe.”

“Happy anniversary Angel,” I grinned, and kissed him, before pushing him away, and getting dressed quickly.

He was waiting in the living room as I came out, and grinning. “You’re getting blindfolded,” He told me.

“Frank! No!” I shrieked. “No way!”

“Please,” He gave a pout that I couldn’t resist, and I groaned, nodding my head.

….”How long will this take?” I whined, as we drove. It had felt like forever, and I was getting annoyed fast, as Frank giggled hysterically, and continued to drive, listening to the Misfits.

“Gee, calm yourself down.”

“But…But it’s been forever!” I whined some more.

“Okay! We’re here!” I went to take the blindfold off, but he grabbed my hand, and kept it away.

“Not yet!” He said.

“Frankie!”

“Sorry,” He said, and I could tell he was shrugging. “Sit still, and I’ll come get you out. Okay?”

“Fine,” I sighed.

A minute later, he pulled me out, and lead me up some steps, whilst I groaned some more about not being able to see. He opened up a door, and pulled me in. I inhaled a scent of what smelled like lasagna—my favorite—and some type of scented candle. “Frankie, where are we.”

“Okay, calm down, lemme get your blindfold off,” He laughed, as I fidgeted with my hands, and bounced on my feet a little. “Keep your eyes closed ‘til I say otherwise,” He warned.

“Open!” He shouted, and I opened my eyes.

Black leather furniture sat in some living room, a picture of Frank and I above the mantel, a fire roaring, and an area rug in the middle of a hardwood floor. Candles were lit on the mantel on either side, and my family sat on the furniture, smiling, as well as Frank’s mom and dad.

“What the hell’s this?” I asked, marveling. Frank grinned again, and I looked at him confused.

“Come see the rest of it,” He said, pulling my arm, and leading me to another room. We reached the kitchen, which was nice, dark cherry cabinets, dark granite, stainless steel, and fixture lights in the ceiling.

“It’s…beautiful. Frank, who’s house is this?” I said. He continued pulling me through the house, up the steps.

He pulled me into another room, that had a bedroom, fully furnished with a king sized bed, red curtains, three white walls, and one red wall with the bed against it. A chair sat in the corner, and a doorway led to the master bathroom, which had a walk in shower, and a Jacuzzi tub.

“One more room, and I’ll tell you what’s going on Gee,” He said, grinning, still.

He led me to the last room, and I gasped. A crib sat in a corner, the room decorated for little children, a rocking chair in another corner, a dressing table, and little unisex baby clothes folded neatly upon it.

“It’s ours, Gee,” He said. I felt tears spring to my eyes. “It’s our house…”