The Ultimate Bet

Frank followed Gerard, wondering where he was going. Maybe they would finally talk.

But his thoughts were turn to mush when Gerard unexpectedly pushed him against the hallway wall, kissing him. He could taste the alcohol and couldn’t help turning his head at the foul taste.

“Frank, I’m trying to make out with you right now,” Gerard said impatiently, leaning in once more.

Brushing Gerard’s upper lip with his own, Frank sighed, “Ger—“

“Mmm?” he responded, his hand preoccupied underneath Frank’s shirt.

“T-Talk to you,” Frank stuttered, feeling his stomach jump up at the feeling of Gerard's hand underneath his shirt, and he let out a low gasp when Gerard nipped at his neck.

“Let’s talk in private, then,” Gerard suggested, pleased with Frank's reaction and pulled him in the direction of the nearest room. Before Frank could flip the switch in the pitch-black room, Gerard had pushed him up against the door. Gerard’s lips descended on his once more, only this time it was a bit rougher and less gentle, as if he’d wanted this for so long he couldn’t help himself.

Gerard traveled down the empty hall, wondering what the hell he had just done. He thought about turning back, he really did, but he already had another hard-on, and Frank's wrath would not help Gerard's aforementioned condition, whereas getting wasted and forgetting what he'd just done could. It was kind of difficult to stay...hard when you drank too much. He had too many embarrassing memories of making out and just when he was getting into it, his dick would deflate on him. It sounded funny in retrospect, but it was downright humiliating at the time.

Gerard felt like some kind of mindless animal, thinking only with his cock and not his brain. He knew he was hurting Frank, and he didn't feel good about it. So he kept going, hating himself for being such an idiot in the first place.

“Stupid, stupid... you're so stupid, Gerard... why'd you have to tell him you love him? You fucking dumbass, douche bag, cock sucking, minor fucking, idiot!” he said to himself under his breath, which was all right because there was no one around to give him strange looks.

"Man, you should hear yourself, amusing shit," came a bemused voice from around the corner, a figure emerging from the bathroom. Gerard groaned inwardly once he saw who exactly it was. Great. Maybe tonight just wasn't his night. He wondered if God was playing some cruel joke on him, throwing everything at him he least wanted to deal with.

God, I swear on my brother's grave, I will never watch porn again. Or at least until I get married and my wife doesn't put out anymore.

Bert was a friend, a real asshole, drunken idiot friend, but a friend nonetheless. They never really got along. In fact, Bert used to pick on Mikey in middle school, and Gerard would later find out that it was Bert McCracken's special antic to gain his attention. Once Gerard told Bert he wanted nothing to do with a guy who hurt his little brother, Bert had just simply replied,

"Yeah, but you still noticed me though, so it worked."

And since then, they'd been friends. Mikey eventually forgave him for befriending the boy who used to terrorize him and steal all his slushies after school, or maybe he forgave Bert after becoming the supplier of all the free alcohol.

"Cock-sucking, minor-fucking? Nice," Bert complimented, noticing Gerard's state of attire, breaking the older teen out his gaze. "So you did it, uh? I figured you eventually would."

"Wait, what?" Gerard asked, confused. He wondered how the fuck Bert even knew, but wait, Bert pretty much knew all the dirt on him. Besides, he was sure Bert saw right through it once he'd announced he was dating Frank Iero.

"Finally fucked the kid?" Bert asked, smiling lazily.

"Bert, you're a real--" Asshole, he thought. No, dipshit.

"Yeah, I don't blame you. He looks like he'd be a good fuck."

"I am so close to punching you in the fucking face."

"You know the old saying: It's always the quiet ones," Bert laughed, ignoring Gerard's threatening expression. "So, are the myths true? Are they freaks in bed or am I in for a major disappointment? I bet he was all eager and shit, all moaning--"

"Bert, I didn't--" He blushed in embarrassment, catching Bert's eye and nodded. God, this was embarrassing. "And would shut the fuck up? Jesus, when was the last time you got laid?"

"Oh," the other teen said, surprised. "So what did you do then? Play bingo and watch re-runs of Rosie O’Donnell?"

"Nah, we just--we humped?" God, that sounded so middle school. "I was a little drunk; I fucking took advantage of him, humped him, and left him. Oh, and lied and said I loved him before I left him, too." Do I get a prize now?

"You--What?" Bert broke into peels of laughter. "Dude, people still do that shit? I mean, god. At least a handjob, man. At least."

"God, he's a fucking kid! Did you expect me to whip it out and be all, 'here Frank, hold this for a second?’?”

"Oh, he has dick-phobia then?" Bert inquired, his eyes twinkling with mirth and Gerard shot him an annoyed look. "Nah, I'm serious! My ex-girlfriend had dick-phobia. Like, she wouldn't even look at it. She was so freaked out by it. But I quickly got her over it, if y'know what I'm saying."

"Uh, if I were near your dick I'd have dick-phobia, too," Gerard replied. "I just...fuck, I really gotta go."

"You just fucking left him though? Is that all you treat all your boyfriends? Fuck them and leave them? Damn," Bert called after his retreating back, his tone in awe. "I thought I was a douche, I always cuddle with them a little and wait for them to go sleep before I leave. That's really fucking low."

"Shit, I am the epitome of a douchebag. I need to..." Gerard brushed past Bert, with every intention to returning to the room he just left and fucking do what? He didn't know, but he knew it was wrong to just leave Frank here, all alone with people he didn't know.

Bert's hand shot out of nowhere, grasping onto Gerard's collar frantically.

"Don't," Bert fixed him a serious look, pulling Gerard back.

Gerard irritably brushed Bert's offending hand off. "Why the fuck not? You just said so yourself it's fucking low to just leave him."

"You already fucking left him! Going back isn't going to change that, man!" Bert hissed to him frantically, his expression solemn. "Think about it, rationally, okay? You just left him, what do you think he'll do when you walk back through that door? Run into your fucking arms and happily ever after?"

"You don't know Frank-"

"He's a naive kid. Trust me; you're not the only one who's done this shit. No, he'll cry, he'll be mad, he'll...Dude, you don't even wanna know. You'll end up being in there for hours, and it won't be fun, it'll be fucking awkward and miserable. Listen, he's gonna start...you know. Do you really love me and shit? And you're gonna be so fucking scared, you don't know what you'll do, man."

Gerard stayed silent, taking in what Bert was telling him. He had a point.

"He's gonna want an explanation, trust me, I've dealt with this relationshit before."

"But...I...fuck..."

"Uh huh. I thought this was just a bet, but you're acting as if..." Bert cocked his head, looking at him questionably, "you don't really...Do you?"

"What? No!" Gerard yelped, coming to his senses. "I'm...yeah, maybe this will work out in my favor anyway. I had been trying to find a way to dump him."

Bert's eyes widened and Gerard couldn’t see the big deal about his revelation. Did Bert doubt he would continue to date Frank? Really now, Bert had been one of his close friends, he knew him better than any-

"Bert, I thought you-"

"Gerard, shut the fuck up and turn around," Bert snapped, his voice eerily calm and low. Gerard stared into Bert's eyes and knew even before he turned around; there had been a third party to hear his last statement. Motherfucking shit.

"Frank, I, uh," Gerard stumbled to find words, any word, "...How much did you hear anyway?" Look at me, damn it.

The answer was the last thing Gerard wanted to hear.

"Obviously the part you didn't want me to."

Shit... "Frank..."

"So I guess is what you wanted all long, huh?" Frank words bit at him, and it took Gerard awhile to process Frank was mad at him, his voice no longer soft-spoken but instead more rough and low. Gerard thought Frank being upset at him would be no big deal, but Frank looked both hurt and mad, and the combination just didn't help Gerard keep a straight face.

"It's all right, I get it now," Frank said stiffly, looking at him with a defiant expression, almost pleading. "I just wanna go home now."

"I...Frank..." But Frank already turned away, walking purposely to the front only looking back to check if he was following. Gerard gulped, grateful at least Frank wasn't making a scene, although he almost wished Frank would so he could feel better.

It was cold outside, making him wish he'd brought a jacket, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. This, however, he could not. He had survived his mother's two-hour long conversation about safe sex, his father's talk about ways to tricking your wife to sleeping with you (Gerard had zoned him out after the first thirty seconds), and the one horrifying time when Mikey had walked in on him jacking off in the bathroom. No, this was right between listening to his mother talk about proper condom placement and his father discussing the ways to pleasure a woman. And both his parents were still bewildered when Gerard announced he had a liking to the same sex.

"Can we talk first?"

"I-I don't w-want t-talk to y-you right now..."

Gerard felt his stomach drop at Frank's words. "I can't, Frank. I...been drinking. Like, a lot. And I promised your mom--"

For a moment, Gerard wondered if the younger teen had ever heard his statement. Until the younger boy pushed at him, "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, just fucking take me home!"

Gerard choked at Frank's offending words, in disbelief Frank was now cursing at him and pushing at him like some raving lunatic. Frank was officially freaking him the fuck out. He glanced down, confirming Frank was, in fact, crying, but thank god it wasn't loud and obnoxious. No, his eyes were just a little red and he looked like he was sick. Somehow though, that only made him feel worse.

"I can't, Frank! Jesus!" he snapped, wanting to kick something. Desperately. God, this was fucking absurd. "You're just...Stop acting like a little kid with a fucking tantrum and calm the fuck down!"

Frank let out choked gasp. Gerard reached for Frank, to explain he hadn't meant for it come out so angry. He was just frustrated. Frustrated that this wasn't at all how he planned.

"Frank, I didn't mean..."

"N-no, I get it n-now, okay?" Frank moved to sit down on the steps, slinging his glasses off, and it only served to articulate the redness of his eyes even worse. "You're ashamed of me, right? B-because I-I'm y-"

"I'm not ashamed of you," Gerard whispered, crouching down to sit beside Frank, touching his tear-stricken face. Frank recoiled at his touch, turning away to stare at the asphalt.

"You act like it," Frank whispered.

"I'm sorry," he said, knowing he couldn't deny Frank's accusation, and he dared put a hand on Frank's hair, smoothing back the hair away from his moist eyes. "I'm really really sorry. I didn't mean to...Alright, I did, at first, but I never..." Meant to hurt you, I swear. I hate seeing you cry, it really fucking hurts to know you're crying because of me. I don't know what the fuck you saw in me, but I hope tonight shows you who I really am.

Frank didn't say a word, his eerie silence substituting everything words couldn't. Gerard bit down on his lower lip, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him right about now, or better yet; a giant squid would suddenly appear and rip him into pieces.

Gerard just sat next to Frank, mulling his thoughts over. If Frank didn't want to talk at him, then so be it. He deserved to give Frank what he wanted, after all he'd done.

Sighing in defeat, Gerard walked back into the house, on a mission to find someone to drive Frank home, or maybe call a cab if there wasn't someone sober. The party had completely died down by this point; countless bodies slouched all over the room along with empty beer cans and red cups, as if some huge massacre had swept across the house. The kitchen had, remarkably, remained intact. He walked in to find Ray, his brother, and a nearly clad Adam Lazzara chatting idly, as if Adam’s near nudity wasn't that much of a big deal. They looked bewildered at the sight of him.

"Holy shit, you look like hell froze over," Adam spoke first, his tone in disbelief. "Where the fuck have you been?"

Gerard swallowed thickly. "I, I kinda need someone to give Frank a ride home. I'd but--"

"What?" Ray cast him a confused gaze and Gerard ignored it, knowing they'd have plenty of time to discuss it later. Now he just had one focus, and he wasn't going to fuck up more than he already had. "A ride, or do I need to call a cab?"

"Why don't you take him home yourself?"

"Maybe because I don't trust myself to drive?" Gerard retorted irritably. "And I don't think I should. Is there someone sober here, or am I asking a rhetorical question?"

"I'll take him." Gerard swiveled his head at the volunteer, aggravated once he saw who it was.

"I'm serious. Sober, not buzzed. Meaning, not a single drop."

Mikey gave Gerard a look. "Fucking Jesus, I hadn't had a fucking drop! I'll drive him home, make sure he gets back to mommy safely and drive back to pick you up."

Gerard continued to eye his brother, wondering if he had another one of his stupid plans under his sleeve.

"Mikey, I'm fucking serious."

"Gerard, he's telling the truth," Ray cut in. "Mikey's a lightweight. One beer and he won't shut up. He's been pretty quiet the whole time."

"Thanks," Mikey grumbled, shooting Ray a disgruntled look before turning back to his brother. "Gerard, if you can't fucking trust your own brother, then you have bigger issues than I originally thought. I'm completely sober; do you want me to take a breathalyzer to prove it?"

"Fine." Without hesitation, he reached into his back pocket for the keys and practically shoved them in his brother's hand. "He's outside. I told him I wouldn't be long, so you should leave now."

Tangling the keys in his hands, Mikey considered asking what had happened. Gerard was normally never this quick to letting him drive the car.

"I--Okay," was all the younger Way could reply with, casting his brother one last worried glance before he left.

"Who wants to play strip charades?"

"Adam, you have to have clothes to play that game."

**

"Fuck, for the first time: I really wish I wasn't related to you," Mikey told Gerard angrily once they pulled out of Ray's driveway.

Mikey was close-lipped when Gerard pried him for information. Whatever Frank had told him, Mikey refused to tell him. It was odd for Mikey not to discuss something important like this with him, and Gerard kept running through several scenarios in his head. None of which helped his growing paranoia as to why it took nearly two hours for Mikey to return from Frank's. The versions went from Mikey simply comforting the kid to full out groping him, making some cheesy lustful confessions and Frank falling for it, and out of revenge, allowing Mikey to do everything Gerard had wanted from day one.

He was thinking too much into this. Mikey was his brother for Christ's sake. If Mikey knew him at all, he knew his boundaries. It didn't help any that it was Mikey who'd been the one to comfort Frank when he couldn't. Besides, he'd freaked out Frank earlier, there was no way any of his suspicions could remotely be plausible. But jealousy was a stupid, frickled thing.

Gerard tried to distract himself by looking at the passenger window. It wasn't helping any. It had only been an hour, and he only felt worse. "Family first?"

"Yeah, but what if your family is a complete dick? What the fuck is wrong with you? You were completely out of line."

Gerard knew that, as much as he loathed admitting it, Mikey was absolutely right. After discussing it with Ray, who had essentially told him the same thing but with less profanity and not so much with a disgusted tone. Mikey, on the other hand, sounded completely ashamed of him and weirdly enough, it felt worse than their parents being mad at him.

"I guess it's better to get this over with now, as opposed to later," he said, knowing he would've postponed this until the afterlife if such a thing were possible. He never wanted to hurt Frank, but none of that mattered now because he did anyway. "I'm pretty sure he hates me right about now and wants nothing to do with me. I...I did want this. I did want to break up with him, god, it was hard enough tonight with him...Maybe it's better this way."

Instead of feeling accomplished, Gerard just felt like shit. Actually, feeling like shit was an understatement. He felt, like, below the feeling of feeling like shit. He was what made the shit, well, shitty.

"Well, looks like you got what you wanted." Always the faithful consoling brother.

"Yeah, but I'm not happy about it. I really hurt him, Mikey. You...if you were there, you would've kicked me in the face."

"I wanna kick you in the face right now and I wasn't there," Mikey fumed.

"Join the club."

"I love to see you kick yourself in the face." Gerard knew his brother's anger had ceased, Mikey's playful nature taking over, prodding Gerard to take the punchline. When he didn't Mikey grew more worried. "Hey, Gerard, seriously, you're kinda scaring me right now. Let's just get you into bed and you'll be fine in the morning."

"I don't think a good night's sleep is gonna help, bro," Gerard rasped, "I...fuck, I really really fucked up."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Damn it, you fucking suck at this comforting shit! You're not supposed to fucking agree!"

"Fucking hell, Gerard! I didn't realize I had an older sister either! Christ, you're more feminine than a teenage girl on her period right now."

Mikey glanced over; still seeing his brother slumped against the car door. "I still love you, though. Unconditionally. Does that help?"

"You're just saying that."

"Nah, I'm kinda not," the younger Way admitted, "I mean, you're my brother and I love you. You have flaws and you bug the shit outta me. I mean, sometimes I have these urges to strangle you in your sleep but I'm too scared to because, fuck, I don't wanna go to prison, you know? But--"

"Wow, that's some brotherly love right there. Asphyxiation."

"Shut up, you know the feeling is mutual. We grew up together; we know everything about each other. You're my best friend; you know what makes me happy or sad, or just...yeah."

"Really? You still...want to be my best friend?"

"I sort of have no choice in the matter, I'll see you every holiday season and then some for the rest of my life."

"So you're my best friend by default?"

"No!" Mikey said quickly, exhaling in exasperation. "Can we just stop having this conversation? If we keep this up, I'm gonna have to go to the bathroom to check if I still have balls."

Gerard hummed in agreement, knowing this was probably the most awkward conversation he's had with his brother, talking about their feeling like a bunch of girls. Urgh.

"You know," Gerard thought, smiling to himself as he followed Mikey into the house, "I always wanted a sister."

**

"Can I ask you a favor, Mikes?" Gerard asked as Mikey struggled to take off his alcohol saturated shirt. It almost six thirty, and for the first time, Gerard was thankful his parents didn't care too much for curfews on weekends. But if they had, they knew he would sneak out anyway.

"I'm undressing you and you want a favor? That's incest and I'm not that drunk, sorry," Mikey said, flipping his brother to his side, so he wouldn't choke on his own puke.

"Yes, how did you know? I've secretly been harboring unbrotherly feelings for the last couple of years and only when I'm drunk do I have the guts to admit to it. How did you know? Michael James Way, I know you're my brother but the feelings I have for you are not of brotherly affections...I just can't take it anymore...!"

Mikey growled in irritation as Gerard laughed, his sides aching at the bewildered expression on his brother's face. "That wasn't funny, you incestuous faggot. What the fuck do you want?"

"Just...look after Frank for the next three years?" Gerard's tone turned oddly serious and Mikey couldn't believe his ears.

"What?"

"Mikey, you're just a year older. You'll be there more than I ever could. Just look after him? Please?"

"Fucking hell, you're really...?"

"I won't even get mad if you wanna, you know."

"No, I don't know. What the fuck are you on? Did someone slip you an estrogen pill or some shit? You know that shit shrinks your balls."

"Mikey! I'm fucking serious! I'm leaving after this year, and you'll still be there for Frank. Who else is gonna be there?"

"You fucking want me to...? I'm so fucking confused."

"I'm just saying! If you happen to...I won't be mad, but...just fucking look after him, okay! Jesus, you're making my head hurt more than it already fucking does."

"Gerard, just go to fucking sleep before I kick you in the face and force you into comatose."