#22 - Enemies

#22; Enemies.

Gerard Way was a fucking dick.

"Who the fuck does he think he is?" Frank ranted. "With his fucking, like, goth hair and eyeliner."

"You're wearing eyeliner," Ray pointed out fairly. Frank glared at him.

"Fuck you," Frank told him, pacing up and down, fuming. Gerard fucking Way.

The feud had started when both of them had joined the company, well over three years ago. They'd been amicable at first - Frank had even found Gerard's stupid fucking hair and eyeliner and pallor kind of hot - but then The Incident happened.

Frank had walked in on Gerard and Frank's then-boyfriend (now long gone - Frank took great pleasure in firing him) going at it on Frank's fucking desk.

From that day onwards, Frank Iero and Gerard Way had been mortal enemies. Not just them, but their departments in the office as well. It was one long war between Finance and Marketing.

"Finance," Frank scoffed. "Finance."

"To be fair," Ray said, and no, Frank didn't want to be fair, was that too hard to understand? "They have the money."

"We bring in the money," Frank tossed back, sitting down at his desk and rearranging the things on his desk in an attempt to calm himself down. "Without Marketing, no one would fucking know who we are."

"Call a meeting," Ray suggested, seeing how agitated Frank was getting. "Department, of course," he added hurriedly, seeing Frank's disgusted face. He wasn't going to sit in a room and share oxygen with Way.
-
Frank did have one advantage over Gerard, though. Mikey, Gerard's younger brother, worked in Marketing - and was goddamn good at it as well. Gerard had made many attempts to transfer Mikey to Finance - in vain, Frank thought gleefully. Mikey liked his job in marketing, and he liked Frank. He wasn't going anywhere.
-
Frank hated the fact they had to share a coffee machine. Despite how much he varied the times he went to the coffee machine, Gerard was always there, grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat, sipping his stupid black coffee and just being a general waste of...well, everything. Frank tended to try and make his visits as quick as possible, and Gerard never hindered him, never even spoke to him, just sipped and grinned in silence.

That particular Tuesday, though, was a different matter.

Frank pressed the 'Coffee with Milk' button on the coffee machine. Fuck, he wanted coffee with sweetener. Why the fuck were the buttons so close? He didn't even like milk.

"If you ask me, the coffee with sweetener's better," a voice to his right said, and Frank jumped, whirling to see- to see Gerard.

"Yeah, well, no one did ask you, did they?" Frank snapped, and although he fucking wanted the coffee with sweetener, he couldn't get it, because then Gerard would be winning, and Gerard couldn't win.

"You're just going to throw this coffee out after you leave, and come back later, hoping I'm gone," Gerard guessed, waving his coffee cup in the air as he gestured. Frank scowled, because that had been exactly his plan. How the fuck did Gerard know that?

"Well done, motherfucker," Frank sneered. "Because your face curdles the milk."

"Aw, baby," Gerard cooed, moving so he was leaning against the table where the coffee machine stood. "Don't be like that." Frank wasn't a fucking child, okay, he didn't need to be patronised like that. Okay, so he was short, ha fucking ha. There was no need to be such a dick about it. Frank never mentioned Gerard's stupid voice, did he, the way it grated on his nerves of steel?

"Shut up," Frank said, waiting impatiently for the coffee to drip slowly down. "Just- just, shut up."

"Why?" Gerard said, a hint of coyness tinting his words.

"Because I hate your voice," Frank told him, grabbing a mixer. "You sound like a fucking three year old girl on helium. It drives me insane." He was suddenly pulled forward by his collar, clattering against a tray some imbecile (probably Gabe from Finance) had left, right into Gerard's face, his laughing hazel eyes.

"You're so fucking hot when you're angry," Gerard murmured, releasing Frank and sauntering out of the room.

What the fuck had that been?

New tactics, Frank decided, pushing all the other possibilities away. That's all it must have been. New tactics.
-
"Right," Frank said, addressing the assembled members of Marketing. Patrick, Mikey, Ray, Bob and Ryan all stared at him expectantly. "This thing. This thing we have with Finance, they've taken it too far."

"They've started some kind of new tactical thing," Ray piped up. "Gerard started flirting with Frank at the coffee machine." There was a smattering of shocked murmurs, and Frank called for silence impatiently.

"Whatever," he said. "Point is, we need to find a way to respond to their, like, fucking, flirting." He said the last word with as much disgust as he could muster, because Gerard Way. Flirting with Frank. He could dream the fuck on.

"Hit them?" Bob asked calmly. Frank scowled.

"I'm not going to make this into something violent," he said primly, although he fucking wanted to. He could take Gerard any day. Bob could take...well, Bob could take anyone, really. It was Mikey, Ray, Patrick and Ryan he was more concerned about.

"Ignore them?" Patrick suggested sensibly. Frank shook his head.

"Gerard pulled me right up to his fucking face," he said. "There's no way to ignore that."

"Why don't we just act like normal?" Ray said. "Insult them whenever they try it - if they even try it, it might just be a Gerard-Frank thing. They'll soon get bored of it." Frank nodded in agreement.

"So that's settled then?" he said, and everyone nodded, muttering between themselves as they left the room.

"Fucking hell," Frank groaned, holding his head in his hands. "He just had to play a new game."
-
Frank had been up to his fucking balls in suggestions for new slogans for their TV advert all morning, so he thought he deserved a coffee break. He ambled down to the coffee machine, hoping Gerard wouldn't be there.

He wasn't, for once, but Ryan was, backing away warily from an animatedly-chatting Brendon (Finance Brendon. They didn't deserve to simply be called by their name, they had to have the name of their department shaming them).

"I just wanted coffee," Frank heard Ryan say, muffled by the door.

"I just want you," Finance Brendon leered, and Frank decided it was time to intervene.

"Excuse me, Brendon," he said icily, banging the door open. "Stop harrassing my colleagues." Finance Brendon stared at him with huge, round eyes, and Frank glared stonily back.

"Well?" he demanded, after a few moments of the odd staring contest. "You gonna fucking leave, or do I have to make you?" Finance Brendon hung his head and scuttled out. Frank turned back to Ryan, all ready to bitch about Finance Brendon, but instead saw Ryan staring after Finance Brendon with a small smile and practically heart-shaped eyes.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Frank groaned. He was fucking fucked.
-
Someone knocked on Frank's office door. Frank looked up in surprise - no one ever knocked on his office door, they just barged the fuck in - and it was fucking Finance Pete, standing there grinning toothily at him like just two weeks ago he hadn't put laxatives in Frank's coffee.

"What the fuck do you want?" Frank spat. Finance Pete's smile wavered, but didn't dim.

"Can I come in?" he asked brightly, not even waiting for Frank's answer before plonking himself down on a seat, the rude-ass motherfucker.

"No," Frank said. "Go away."

"Gerard's right," Finance Pete winked, and Frank felt himself flush with anger. What the fuck was Gerard doing, talking about him behind his back? Although, Frank supposed, that was what he did. Twenty-four seven.

Whatever, it was Gerard. He wasn't allowed.

"What the fuck does he say?" he said furiously, hands balling into fists. Finance Pete shrugged.

"He said you're hot when you're angry," he said.

"If you've come here to, fucking, I don't know, flirt with me, you can go the fuck home, okay?" Frank told him fiercely. Finance Pete shrugged again.

"I didn't exactly come here to flirt with you," he said evasively. "I came to ask your permission to, uh. FlirtwithPatrick." The last three words were strung together, all in one breath, and Frank gazed at Finance Pete in shock.

"You," he said. "You. Fucking. What the- permission?" he said in disbelief. Finance Pete nodded earnestly.

"I thought," he said, biting his lip anxiously. "I thought, y'know, if I asked- maybe, um, you wouldn't be as angry?" Frank felt like laughing right in the kid's face - I'd never give you my fucking permission to flirt with my fucking secretary, what the fuck - but he thought reasonably. Finance Pete was probably going to flirt with Patrick anyway - Frank might as well allow it.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But this doesn't mean you're winning. It means I'm a reasonable person, unlike your Gerard asshole."

"You are," Finance Pete said sincerely, eyes bright. "Gerard's a dick, but that's why we love him." He twirled his hand in an odd, very non-heterosexual 'off to flirt with the person who organises your life now bye' movement, before he disappeared out of the door - probably to go straight to harrassing Patrick. Poor Patrick. He'd have his hands tied. Frank wouldn't get any calls rerouted to him, or any reminders for meetings...he wouldn't be able to do his job.

Well. At least there were some perks.
-
"I need a word with you," Patrick said, flinging open the door to Frank's office dramatically and stomping inside.

"Cool, sure," Frank shrugged, attempting to hide his grin. Maybe not all of Finance were dickheads.

"Pete fucking Wentz," Patrick hissed, glaring at Frank venomously. That kid looked like a fucking angel, but he could throw a tantrum like Mariah fucking Carey.

"Works in Finance," Frank nodded, going for the innocent me?-why-would-I-have-something-to-do-with-this? act.

"You fucking know what I'm here about," Patrick said, tossing his head back. "Wentz." Frank bit his lip. The giggles were bubbling up from his throat, threatening to burst out at any moment.

"Don't fucking laugh," Patrick said indignantly, and that was the last straw. Frank burst out laughing, doubled over. It wasn't just the whole Finance Pete-Patrick thing, Patrick's diva-hissy-fit just made it a hundred times funnier.

"Oh my God," Frank gasped. "It's the funniest thing, dude, you gotta see the funny side!"

"All of Finance have been harrassing all of us all day!" Patrick snapped, obviously not seeing the funny side. Frank suddenly sobered up - all of Finance? Pete had only asked for himself...

It must be Gerard, their ringleader.

"What?" he said coolly. "Explain."

"Schechter, Bob. Urie, Ryan. Saporta, Mikey," he said in disbelief.

"Ray?"

"Locked himself in a store closet."

"Is it Gerard?" Frank demanded, already out of his seat and about to venture into enemy territory.

"I'd guess so," Patrick replied.

"If anyone calls, tell them...tell them I died," Frank called over his shoulder, breaking into a sprint as he rounded the corner that seperated Finance from the sacred Marketing.

Gerard Way.
-
Finance Gabe spotted him from down the corridor, his face splitting into a grin.

"Oi," he yelled, banging on the window of the office behind him. "Your midget foe is here." Gerard's head appeared from the door, and he sauntered out, kicking Finance Gabe off his chair on the way, for no good reason.

"What brings you here?" Gerard asked, smirking, as Finance Gabe picked himself up, listening intently.

"You," Frank spat. "You fucking- I can't even think of a word bad enough to describe you. You're distracting my colleagues." Gerard looked genuinely surprised, like he had no fucking idea what was going on, or something.

"I have no idea what's going on," Gerard said, looking honestly confused, and there was such a hint of truth to his voice that if Frank didn't know Gerard to be the asshole he was.

"Don't act innocent with me," Frank said, prodding Gerard in the chest - hard. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to make it look like I can't hold my department together and then I get fucking fired when it's all your fault." Gerard blinked, his hazel eyes clear of any malice.

"I really honestly have no clue what the fuck you're on about," he said, and Frank growled, balling his hands into fists.

"Your employees are flirting with mine!" he yelled. "Fucking stop!"

"Wait," Gerard said. "My employees are flirting with yours? Finance? And Marketing?" He turned to look at Finance Gabe. "Saporta," he said. "Care to explain?"

"Your brother's got a hot ass," Finance Gabe smirked. Frank snorted.

"There is no ass," he assured Finance Gabe. "Trust me."

"And you'd know, would you?" Gerard said.

"None of your fucking business, dickwad," Frank snapped, folding his arms. "Sort your department the fuck out. If the boss doesn't know what's going on I don't know what the fuck sort of boss he considers himelf." Suddenly, Gerard pulled him into an office that branched off of the main corridor they had been standing in, kicking the door shut behind him. Frank backed away, feeling unsafe being this close alone with Gerard, and Gerard walked forwards, what the fuck, did he not know what personal space was, because he was centimetres from Frank's earlobe, a serious kink point that could become seriously awkward if exploited.

"You turn me on so fucking much when you get angry like this," Gerard said, as Frank tried to wriggle free of Gerard's grasp. He stilled at those words.

"You better be fucking lying," he spat. "You? Me? Dream the fuck on, you fucking dick."

"I imagine it, sometimes," Gerard whispered. "How you'd feel."

"Shut up," Frank said fiercely. "You- you fucking- sick-minded, perverted, asshole, you-"

"Rough?" Gerard whispered, breath ghosting over that spot on Frank's ear. Frank let out a little breathy sigh.

"You- shut up, fucking-" he tried, but he was faltering, goddammit. This was not supposed to happen.

"But maybe you'd like it soft," Gerard purred. "Gentle, sweet, loving." Frank bit his lip, holding back a whimper that threatened to escape, and felt disgusted at himself.

This was Gerard fucking Way, turning Frank Iero on.

"Get off me," Frank said, shoving Gerard with so much force he actually stumbled back. The shit-eating grin on Gerard's face never wavered.

"It turns you on too," he said. "I turn you on."

"You fucking wish," Frank spat, but his voice shook. He pushed past Gerard and yanked open the door to stalk out - but the whole of Finance were eavesdropping, proving Frank's point that they were assholes. Finance Gabe, Finance Brian, Finance Pete and Finance Brendon all fell backwards, all grinning, and Frank felt himself flush, glaring at all of them.

"You're all fucking fucked up motherfuckers," he hissed angrily, stomping off back down to his safe haven.

Marketing hated Finance. Finance hated Marketing. Frank Iero hated Gerard Way. Gerard Way was supposed to hate Frank Iero.

It was the ethics the two departments were built on, unhealthy rivalry. If it dissolved, the departments would collapse.

Gerard fucking Way didn't turn Frank Iero on at all.

No. The clenching in his stomach was disgust and hatred, not arousal.

Gerard wouldn't have his way.
-
Apparently, Gerard would have his way, because the first words that came out of Bob's mouth that morning were -

"Ryan and Urie are fucking." Frank nearly dropped his bag, just managing to regain his balance.

"Fuck," he said. "Are you sure?" Bob pulled a face.

"You wanna go hear them?" he offered sarcastically. "I hear Saporta's eavesdropping."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Frank muttered, dumping his bag of doughnuts on his desk and holding his head in his hands. "Fuck, it's happening, Bob. Next it'll be Saporta and Mikey, and you and Schechter, and Wentz and Patrick..."

"And you and Gerard," Bob said. Frank looked up sharply, a sudden burst of adrenaline coursing through him.

"Do you even work here?" he asked, ignoring a nagging feeling that was telling him he hoped there was some truth in Bob's words. "Do you even know me and Gerard? Do you- fucking, Jesus."

"Saporta's news spreads fast," Bob said nonchalantly, and Frank flushed.

"Nothing happened," he insisted hotly.

"Yeah, except for Gerard dirty-talking with you." Frank laughed, but the sound wasn't right, the tone was off.

"If that was his dirty talk, he's still a fucking virgin," he said bitterly. Bob shrugged.

"Shall I send Ryan to you when they're done, then?" he asked mildly, and Frank shook his head. He wasn't in the mood for people.
-
"Wentz won't lay off," Patrick grumbled, two days later, bursting into Frank's office without knocking. As usual.

"Ryan and Urie are fucking," Frank said, tragically, and Patrick dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"Old news," he scoffed. "Saporta and Mikey are the latest." Frank groaned, hitting his forehead on the desk.

"My department is breaking up," he moaned. Did no one understand how terrible this was, fuck?

"My desk," Patrick said, "is laden with flowers. I can't work." Frank could see the heap of flowers from his office - there were a lot, like, at least thirty bouquets.

"Move them," Frank said.

"Where to?" Patrick demanded, hands on hips like the fucking diva he was.

"Gerard's desk, fuck, I don't know," Frank groaned.

"I could probably blackmail Wentz into getting Saporta into getting Mikey to give me the key to Gerard's car..." Patrick mused.

"Why don't you just ask Mikey?" Frank asked. "None of this blackmail shit." Patrick scoffed again.

"Where the fuck is the fun in that?" he asked, sweeping out of the room.

Frank hated his job sometimes.
-
"You asshole," Gerard said, bursting into Frank's office. His voice was angry, but his eyes were glowing, betraying him.

"You get off on this," Frank said defeatedly. "I'm not giving you what you want."

"Okay, I know you're mad about Gabe and Mikey, and Ryan and Brendon, and Bob and Brian, but I swear I had no involvement whatsoever-" Frank looked up sharply.

"Bob and Schechter?" he asked.

"Haven't you heard?" Gerard asked, surprised.

"Oh, sorry, I'm not in Saporta's fucking rumour mill, pardon me, Jesus," Frank snapped.

"Pete's working on Patrick."

"Patrick has a heart of stone," Frank mumbled, laying his head on his desk again. "Now, fuck off."

"My car reeks of flowers," Gerard complained. Frank smirked.

"I told you. Patrick has a heart of stone."
-
Frank stood at the coffee machine with Patrick, watching all the happy couples giggle and be fucking soppy.

"What happened?" Frank murmured to Patrick, nursing the coffee he was holding. "We were supposed to be mortal enemies." Patrick shrugged, eyes lingering a little longer on Finance Pete chatting animatedly with Finance Gabe and Mikey than they should have, which Frank duly ignored.

"Gerard happened," Patrick said, raising the scalding coffee to his lips and taking a sip. Frank frowned.

"What d'you mean?" he asked, but Patrick was already gone.
-
"Back so soon?" Finance Gabe smirked as Frank approached the Finance department. Frank offered him a sarcastic sneer, heading for an office that said 'Pete Wentz' with a Sharpied picture of a cock underneath.

Wow, Finance were real classy.

"Frank," Finance Pete said, surprised, when Frank burst in. He probably should have knocked, but whatever.

"Hey, uh, Pete," Frank said, trying his best to be polite. "I need a favour." He figured it was fair - he'd granted Finance Pete one, though how he was getting along with that was...questionable.

"Sure," Finance Pete said easily, and Frank found himself wishing he'd hired Pete. He was...not an asshole, at least.

"Patrick mentioned something," Frank said awkwardly, rubbing his hands on his black skinnies. "About how Gerard was the reason for all this...havoc. Um. What...why?"

"Oh," Pete laughed. "Gerard's had the hots for you for years. He fucked your boyfriend to get your attention. All he's ever wanted was you." Frank was taken aback - he'd been prepared for lots of answers, but that- that was just...

"Fucked up," Pete nodded, as if he could read minds. "Gerard's never really been good at flirting." Before he could help it, Frank's mind flashed back to that day in the office, and a little voice in gis head whispered he's definitely good, sending a shiver down Frank's spine.

He needed a fucking psychiatrist.

"Wait, let me get this straight," Frank said. "He fucked Jake to get to me?" He laughed. "Well, that kinda fucking backfired."

"Yeah," Pete shrugged. "But he gets off on your anger. It's fucking disturbing. So recently we decided he needed to do something about it. Well, I say recently. It was about a year ago. It took him this long to pluck up the courage to speak to you." Frank found this incredibly endearing, for some reason - Gerard? Shy? - and another, much stronger, overwhelming pang of - desire, what the fuck? - flooded him. Something about shy Gerard really fucking did it for him.

Oh, God. There was no way this was happening to him, no.

"We'd all always liked members of Marketing," Pete shrugged. "Couldn't make a move until Gerard did, though." Frank blinked.

"Where's Gerard?" he asked, voice warped and about three octaves too high.

"Dude, are you okay?" Pete asked, and Frank nodded.

"Gerard," he repeated. He wanted Gerard, he needed Gerard.

Jesus, he was sick.

"Probably his office," Pete said slowly, and Frank was out of the room before he could add something else.

He stood outside Gerard's office a moment, composing himself, because, fuck, this was a new feeling, a weird feeling, but a not altogether bad feeling.

Maybe you should just admit it, the little voice whispered. You have the hots for Gerard Way.

He knocked on the office door.

"Come in," Gerard's voice said, muffled, and Frank pushed the door open, kicking it shut behind him.

"Frank," Gerard said in surprise, standing at an inhuman speed. "What are you doing here?"

"Why did you fuck Jake?" Frank demanded.

"You didn't know I existed," Gerard shrugged, eyes boring a hole in the floor. "I needed your attention."

"A year," Frank said, and his voice was still that odd, twisted thing. It sounded- wrecked. "It took you a year to get the courage to talk to me." Gerard blushed, but nodded.

"Three years, I stood by that coffee machine, hoping you'd talk to me," he said quietly, but his voice didn't falter. "I couldn't approach you first." Frank made an odd strangled noise - what shy Gerard did to him, it was fucking- unreal - and lunged for Gerard, causing him to stumble backwards in surprise as Frank pressed his lips to Gerard's soft ones hungrily.

"Jesus," Frank growled, because there was no way he could deny it now. "You- Jesus, Gerard, you fucking- you turn me on, so much, fuck, I want you, I need you, just- please-" Gerard moaned, and a shock of pleasure shuddered through Frank, directed straight to his cock, which stiffened, causing Frank to feel dizzy from the blood loss in his head.

"Fuck, Gerard, you waited three years, and I was such an asshole- fuck, fuck, fuck," Frank chanted, as Gerard ground filthily into him, denim against denim.

"You were," Gerard gasped. "But I like you- fuck, Frank, fuck - like that." Frank moaned, burying his face in Gerard's neck.

"They're fucking!" Gabe crowed outside, and Frank and Gerard froze.

"Shit," they said simultaneously.
-
"So," Patrick said a week later, tracing a pattern on the desk with his finger. "Is the sex good?"

"Is yours?" Frank shot back, and Patrick glowered at him.

"You're not supposed to know," he hissed. "Pete promised he'd keep it on the down low."

"Gabe knows everything," Gerard commented, pressing a swift kiss to his boyfriend's forehead as he passed.

"Gabe does know everything," Gabe commented, coming out of Bob's office. "Like that Frank and Gerard fucked in Gerard's office this morning." Frank flushed as Patrick snorted.

"How the fuck do you know that?" he demanded. They'd been so careful.

"I watched," Gabe winked, throwing an apple in the air and catching it as he wandered off, leaving Frank gaping behind him.

"You're a sick pervert!" Frank yelled.

"I totally am," Gabe called back.