The Ultimate Bet

Dating. Boyfriend.

These were two words that Gerard Way did not have much experience with. He'd dated, but never beyond three dates. Three was always the magic number: if nothing happened by the third date, he would cut his losses. But any noun ending with the suffix ‘friend’ indicated long-term.

Long-term.

Another phrase he didn't like to use, even with his friends. Oh, hello, this is my long-term friend. Who the fuck said that? And he never used the word 'boyfriend' either.

Unfortunately, the word he hated to identify himself with seemed to be the most appropriate word to use in this occasion, which he would have loved to stay in denial about but his kid brother had to make that impossible:

"You're fucked," Mikey said as he passed by, candy bar in one hand and a soda in the other. Gerard envied him at that exact moment because two weeks ago, this same scenario had been reversed: Mikey was standing in front of the living room mirror, fidgeting and constantly running his fingers through his hair, asking if he looked 'all right'. "You know, no matter how much times you stare at yourself in the mirror, you're still ugly."

Gerard ignored his little brother’s jeers; he was the elder and he refused to let Mikey ruin his concentration.

"I hope you don't end up watching a chick flick if he's too scared to go to that horror movie with you," Mikey droned on, and Gerard practiced his older brother skills of tuning of him out. "Because that would be fucking embarrassing."

"You went to a chick flick," Gerard pointed out.

"Yeah, with a chick," Mikey retorted, shooting him a cocky smile. "Somehow, I think I got luckier than you're gonna get. But I could be wrong. He might accidentally jump out of his seat and into yours." Gerard licked his lips at his brother's overactive imagination. As disgusting as it was to think about something Mikey had envisioned, it was probable.

"Or," Mikey said, "he might get scared and accidentally spill his drink in your lap instead. Ouch. Nothing is worse than a cold crotch."

"Maybe I won't buy him a drink. Maybe he doesn't even drink soda?"

"Yeah, he drinks soda. It's the only proof I have that he's not an alien," Mikey joked.

"Michael Way, you had better not be snacking before dinner!" Mrs. Way's voice called out from upstairs, and moments later their mother appeared at the foot of the stairs, glaring at her youngest son angrily. "If you don't eat dinner, you're making dinner next time."

"Mom-"

"Mom," Gerard cut in desperately, "Mikey can't even make Mac-n-Cheese without burning the noodles. I hope you and Dad have updated your wills."

Mikey shrugged nonchalantly. "I told Mom I couldn't cook."

"Mac-n-Cheese isn't cooking, it's more like...boiling!" Donna exclaimed, walking to Mikey and ripping the half-eaten candy bar out of his hand. "You got into the Halloween candy, didn't you?"

Mikey blushed, "Last year's Halloween candy?"

Donna thumped him on the head. "Get out of my sight and do something productive. Don't you boys ever have homework?"

Both of them looked at their mother with stunned expressions, "It's Friday!"

"So? I'm sure plenty of kids are doing homework on Friday nights--"

"Frank Iero," Mikey muttered. "and demons do homework on Friday nights. Aren't you glad we're not demons?"

"No, Gerard, should be studying. SATs less than a month," Donna ignored Mikey's smartass remark and focused on her eldest. "You haven't even touched that book I bought you."

"Wait, what? I haven't signed up-"

"I took the liberty myself," Donna said, waving a hand in dismissal, "you're taking it in two weeks from now."

"Mom, you're not my favorite person right now."

Donna opened her mouth and Mikey cut in, "Can I have his room when you kill him?"

"Don’t you mean when you kill me with your gourmet skills?" Gerard responded angrily.

**

"Top or bottom, kid?" he asked when they walked into the theatre. Frank sucked in his bottom lip, looking around and finally responded with an enthusiastic cry, "Top!"

Gerard chuckled, I hope you're on top when we do other things too

Throughout the entire movie, Frank was enthralled with the special effects--everything just jumped out and took on a whole new level of realism. It wasn’t like reading the scenes; he’d always envisioned them in his mind but it was a completely different experience seeing the scenes come to life through the director’s perspective. He didn’t jump; he knew when surprises were coming. The music gave away whenever a supposedly ‘surprise’ scene was coming. The acting could have been better too, he thought.

“You enjoyed it?” Gerard asked, his tone light and friendly though the question was pretty unnecessary since Frank looked like he had just died and gone to Disneyland.

“Yeah, I did,” Frank responded, still munching on the leftover popcorn. His fingers were sticky from the butter running down his fingertips and onto his palm but he didn’t care. Movie theater popcorn always tasted much better than the generic brand his mom always bought from the store. He settled for throwing the bag in the trashcan on the way out and wiping his dirty hands on his jeans.

“Wanna make-out?” Frank asked in a timid voice the moment they got settled in the car, as if he just asked Gerard if he could borrow a pencil. It was the same naïve tone he’d used when he’d asked if they were boyfriends. Did this kid not know that those words weren’t meant to be spoken in such a naïve, innocent manner? Most people would say it seductively or just make a move. But no, Frank asked for permission, looking at him expectedly, almost afraid Gerard would reprimand him.

“What?” Gerard responded in bewilderment, wondering how he would proceed with Frank's sudden suggestion. He couldn’t remember the last time he fooled around in his car; he preferred to take it outside the vehicle. Frank seemed satisfied with his answer as he unbuckled his seatbelt and Gerard was positive his eyes almost bugged out of their sockets when it dawned on him exactly what Frank was about to do.

“Wait, now?” he inquired uncertainly, waiting with a bated breath as Frank scooted over the middle compartment between them and half-way onto him, his knee dangerously close to Gerard’s crotch.

Frank hesitated, gazing at him with a hurt look. “You don’t want to?”

“No, I do, I just…never mind,” he breathed, leaning over and placing an unsteady hand on his left shoulder, reaching with his other hand to take off the boy's glasses; he didn’t want the his glasses poking him in the face the entire time. He pressed his lips over the other boy’s lips; reminding himself to start out slow, knowing that last time he had freaked out the younger teen with his urge to deepen the kiss.

Kissing is the simplest, most chaste thing in any relationship. But there are different levels and they were turning it up a notch. This time, however, Gerard wasn’t instigating. This time it was Frank; shy, innocent Frank who couldn’t stop shaking or stuttering, was directing the kiss and demanding entrance to his mouth with the probing of his tongue. Gerard didn’t have much time to ponder this newfound zeal. He was surprised, no, he was pleasantly surprised to find he’d finally invoked a response in the younger boy. Now Frank was wanting it almost as much as he did, and he sure didn’t seem to have any objections about French-kissing anymore.

“Really….like…” Frank’s lips trailed off to the corner of Gerard’s mouth, his breathe moist on his cheek, “Kissing you. A lot. Even…though I shouldn’t.”

Gerard wasn’t sure what he’d meant by that and was about to ask, but Frank had plunged back into the kiss and his mind closed off and focused on pressing his lips fervently back on the younger boy’s. He brought a hand up to tangle in Frank’s soft brown locks and tugged him closer, nipping on his bottom lip and feeling his body’s natural instinct take over. He wanted him more than he had wanted anybody but at the same time, he knew this wasn’t going to go very far. It was frustrating, but he wasn’t going to force himself on the kid either.

Frank’s elbow fell precariously onto the steering wheel, sending the horn blaring and making them both jump in shock.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Frank lamented, looking down in embarrassment, “and I think I got butter on your shirt."

"It's all right, Tide works wonders," Gerard responded dryly. He hoped that the kid would realize that the moment was dead and start moving off of his lap since he didn't think he could keep squirming without it going unnoticed.

"S-sorry," Frank blushed, moving himself back into the passenger seat. He looked around nervously. "I can't find my glasses," the younger teen frowned, looking down at the ground and squinting. "I think they fell onto your side. I can get them--"

"Really, just let me--" Gerard choked out and Frank ducked below the steering wheel. Gerard could do nothing but stay tense, feeling the kid move underneath him and this was so not what it looked like.

"I can't--" Frank's hand landed on his knee and Gerard almost choked. "--Find them. Hey, can you move your leg over?"

Gerard bit his lip, thinking that Frank asking for him to move his leg over while looking at him from between his legs was nothing to get freaked out about. Nothing at all.

"Frank, just let me get out of the car--"

"No! It's fine! I found them!" the younger boy yelped triumphantly, emerging from underneath the steering wheel and fixing him with a satisfied smile. Gerard breathed in relief, thankful that the moment was over.

"You okay?" Frank tilted his head to the side, putting his glasses back on and examining him closely. "Your leg was shaking a bit earlier, you know."

"Frank--"

"I'm sorry. That was horrible wasn't it?" Frank questioned, noting his expression, having mistaken it for disappointment.

Horrible that you were down there and didn't blow me? Gerard thought in frustration. He forced himself to smile, shaking his head.

"No, it wasn't horrible," Gerard insisted, wishing he didn't have an overactive imagination. All he could concentrate on was how he could persuade Frank to get back down to where he had just risen from, but for an entirely different purpose.

Frank didn't look satisfied with his breathless answer, and kept probing, "Am I a bad kisser?"

Oh my god, Gerard thought, realizing he just didn't get it. He made a quick decision and tugged the kid back into his seat with a jerky hand movement, descending his lips on Frank’s, then pulled back so that their lips barely touched before whispering, "You're an amazing kisser. But don't you think this is a little...too much?"

He never figured Frank instigating all the moves. He was taken aback by the sudden change in Frank's bashful personality and it worried him. Frank kept looking at him expectedly.

Frank frowned, "I thought that's what you wanted?"

The bespectacled boy pushed on, mumbling, "At school you're always wanting to make out. I thought that's what you wanted? I'm sorry; I just...want to be a good boyfriend. I've never done this. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Frank's confession was both endearing and painful to hear. God, he was a complete bastard. And he couldn't figure out why he wasn't jumping at this very blunt opportunity.

"Frank, I'm sorry for making you think that," Gerard eventually found his voice, finding it difficult to meet the younger teen's brown eyes that continued to search his. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was worse than he originally thought, finding himself deflated.

"What do you want then?" Frank tried to decipher the elder teen's expression but to no avail.

"I..." He had no fucking clue. It definitely wasn't what he wanted in the beginning.

**
"How'd it go?" Mikey asked the moment he heard the front door slam. He glanced at his brother's unkempt appearance, scrunching his nose, "And what is on your shirt?"

Gerard looked down, seeing that it was worse in the light. "Butter."

"Butter? You don't like butter..." Mikey faltered. "How the fuck did you get butter on your shirt?"

"Must've been when he was pawing at it," Gerard gave a small smile as he walked off to the laundry room, calling behind his back, "couldn't keep his hands off of me."

Mikey followed him, still puzzled, "Are we talking about the same kid?"

"Nah. I'm just messing with you. But I realized something."

The brother raised a brow, realizing Gerard was going to indulge him with something interesting. Gerard rarely shared anything serious with him. And judging by his older brother's tone, this was serious.

"Please don't tell me you're drinking again--"

Gerard groaned. "Geez, thanks. Here I am, trying to have a heart to heart talk with my brother, and you jump to conclusions--"

"Sorry, sorry!" the younger Way said fast, wincing. "It's just, you know, you never really talk to me."

"What? I talk to you everyday!" Gerard said in confusion, losing his train of thought. "We still fucking beat the shit out of each other on a daily basis, don't we?"

"Roughhousing and talking about zombies isn't really...talking. I'm sorry, uh, what were you going to tell me?" The younger brother scratched the back of his head awkwardly; not able to help thinking that he really didn't want to know what was going through his brother's head at that moment.

Gerard shot his little brother a hurt look. "All I was going to say was that…erm…I realized that this is going to be harder than I thought. That's all."

Mikey shuffled from one foot to another, trying to process what he'd just heard. "Oh. Well, that's unexpected."

Gerard let out a forced laugh. "You tell me. I mean, tonight…Frank...just the way he fucking looked at me...it scared me. He really trusts me, Mikey. And, uh, I don't want to fuck that up. I don't think anyone has ever trusted me that much, but Frank is so...innocent. I don't want to break that."

Mikey mused to himself. He would thought that this whole thing was bullshit if Gerard didn't look absolutely grave. "Uh, that's good then, I guess. Y’know, that for once, you're thinking with your other head..."

Gerard picked up on his hesitant tone. "What the fuck, Mikey? I thought you'd be....happy for me. You know, maybe I can really try for this and not fuck it up?"

"But what about the fucking bet?" Mikey pressed, "you know, the reason why you did any of this?"

Gerard shrugged. "Doesn't matter now."

"What about your age? I mean, would you be willing to date a high school student after you graduate?" Mikey took another route, a logical one. Gerard couldn't be serious; he had to see that it wouldn't work out.

"I'm not really thinking that far ahead, Mikey," Gerard replied honestly, furrowing his brow, seeing Mikey's point.

"Exactly! You never fucking think," Mikey exclaimed in irritation. "Other than the fact this is illegal," the younger brother replied, "because you don't ever think about anything else but yourself. "

"Now I remember why I don't talk to you," Gerard said, his tone sullen. "You make me feel like shit."

The younger brother gloated, "It's in my job description. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, you're right, you fucking piece of shit," Gerard muttered under his breath. "I...I do like him. You know, he's really fucking adorable and he just...it's kinda bad, too. He'll do anything I'll ask. He just wants acceptance, maybe he's just better off without me fucking him up."

"For once you're using your brain. I'm surprised it's still functional after eighteen years of no use." He took a bite of the buttercup in his hand and Gerard flicked him off.

"Mom is gonna kill you."

"Nah. I let it slip that all the porn on the computer is yours." Mikey smiled triumphantly at his brother, watching Gerard just sigh and walk off in the direction of his room in the basement.