Inseparable

“Guys?” Gerard calls into the house. He listens for a moment, and is greeted with silence.

“I’m fucked,” He calls at a louder volume.

Those appear to be the magic words.

All at once, a stampede of feet race from all corners of the house to the front door, where Gerard is.

“I will still unload a gun in your ass now what the fuck happened?” Oli yells, racing in front of the other boys by a long shot, grabbing Gerard and pinning him against the door.

“Whoa, whoa, no one’s dead. Well, Andy might be. Just a little bit. On the inside,” Gerard says, pretending he doesn’t want to laugh when he sees Andy’s scowl of disapproval.

“Motherfucker, don’t you dare do that thing right now where you avoid talking about the actual situation because that loaded gun is still an option,” Oli growls. Gerard raises his hands in surrender.

“Can I elaborate in another room? You know, maybe in the one with all the chairs? Let me in the goddamned house, Sykes.”

Oli reluctantly releases Gerard, who upon his release walks into the living room and collapses into the chair. He runs his hands through his short blonde hair, sighing heavily.

“Do we need to kill somebody? Maim them? Politely eviscerate?” Tony says. Gerard looks around the room, and finds himself genuinely shocked that everyone in the room portrays concern in some form. Even Andy, and he is a master of poker faces.

“No. No one needs to die. It’s just...” Gerard begins, and then finds that he can’t make his voice work.

“What, Gee? What is it?” Mikey says. He notices then that Mikey is most definitely the most worried out of this entire group, and these guys are their family. That’s a hell of a lot of worry stored inside one tall, lanky, skinny teenage boy. It can’t possibly be healthy.

Gerard forces his brain to shut the fuck up and finally decides to just say it.

“IthinkIlovehim,” He spews rapidly. Confusion ripples around the room.

“Dude,” Ashley says. “In English.”

Gerard breathes deeply for a second. He becomes painfully aware of the blush increasing and spreading across his face.

“I think I love him. I mean, I really, really like him,” He says at last.

Silence falls. Gerard begins to panic, every fear one can possibly have in this situation magnified and definitely more intense, bubbling and rising inside of him.

“You sure?” Andy says, breaking the silence. Gerard audibly swallows.

“Y-yeah. I’m sure.”

Mikey looks at him, admittedly a little skeptical. “You’ve been on one date Gerard. One. How can you know this? You’re jumping to conclusions.”

Gerard sighs heavily and runs his hands through his hair again. “I know, I know. I just... I can’t imagine a future without him. I’m crazy, aren’t I, oh god-”

“No, Gerard. No. You’re not crazy. Maybe a little over infatuated, and possibly a little too fast paced, but not crazy. We’re not gonna ship you off to therapy, I promise,” Oli interrupts him, reassuring him and subduing his panic, albeit minimally, but just enough so that Gerard stops shaking.

“Are you really, really positive that you feel like this?” Andy says again, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, completely absorbed and slightly afraid of the situation unfolding in front of him.

Gerard pauses for a second, searching his mind for any sign that he doesn’t truly feel like this. The answer is no. He really does feel like this.

God, is he screwed.

“I am positive.”

“Fuck, Gerard,” Vic says. “You know how this could end. Do you really want this?”

All Gerard can do is breathe. He counts his breaths, in, out, marking each breath by the decreasing pound of his heart.

“No. I don’t want him... To end up like Juliet. I want to have a relationship with him, as long as possible... But I don’t want... that,” Gerard says at last.

Andy shakes his head. “Gerard, this is almost impossible and way too fucking risky. Not wanting him to end up like her is like looking at a door and telling it to stay shut. It’s not gonna fucking happen.”

“I know, I know… but can’t we hope?”

“Living in a delusion isn’t healthy,” Andy replies.

“Biersack, shut the fuck up. He isn’t living in a fucking delusion. He wants to be happy. Name the last time you saw Gerard with someone in a romantic sense. If this is as potent as Gerard says it is, then you need to step the fuck down and let him risk this all on his own. He’s the one with the cards in his hands. Not you,” Mikey interjects, jumping to his feet, standing up for Gerard and challenging Andy with the most intense ‘come at me, I dare you’ face he has, the face that Gerard has seen only once or twice in a handful of years.

Everyone is shell-shocked, especially Andy. Mikey is usually peaceful and calm, never truly as enraged as he is now. To be honest, it scares him. He makes a mental note to not ever make Mikey extremely pissed, if he can avoid it.

Gerard reaches forward and locks his fingers around Mikey’s wrist, and slowly pulls him backwards until he’s sitting next to Gerard in the chair. Mikey’s anger drops abruptly, nearly immediately, leaning into his brother, resting his head on his shoulder. Gerard mutters his thanks into Mikey’s hair, pressing a kiss there.

“Okay Gerard, we can try this. But you have to give him the speech, okay? I don’t want to see either of you hurt. And especially not because of us, and what we do.”

Visibly relaxing, Gerard collapses against Mikey and exhales in relief.

“Alright. Thank you so much for this Andy.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up, I wanna hold up a gas station. We’re a little low on street cred, plus I wanna try this shit out with our new numbers,” Andy says, waving his hand.

He pulls out his phone and taps out a quick message, and within moments every phone in the room buzzes or chirps (or, in Oli’s case, plays the first few lines of Baby Got Back) with the same message:

Meet @ G’s house. #590 on Grand St. Get here right the fuck now. Or as quick as possible. –Andy

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The motley crew of people currently situated in Gerard’s living room kind of intimidate him, if he were to be honest. There are multiple people Andy’s height and taller, some heavily tattooed and pierced, others blank canvases like Gerard, but nonetheless menacing.

“Right. So. I need to know your names, and what you’re good at. We’ll just go around the room like this is the first day of kindergarten,” Andy says. He points to a taller boy, who appears so nonchalant that he looks almost unimpressed with the group around him.

“You start.”

The boy suddenly comes to life then, looking a little caught off guard before clearing his throat and answering. “Um, I’m Bob, and I’m pretty good with a gun.”

“Excellent. Next?”

“I’m Ashley, and I prefer knives,” Ashley turns to the girl next to him, who smiles this creepy, menacing grin that gives Gerard chills.

“I’m Lindsey, and I’m a master of hand-to-hand combat and manipulation.”

The room tenses around her, the only people who seem relaxed are Bob and the girl next to her. The girl, to be honest, almost looks bored with Lindsey’s statement.

“I’m Kitty and Lindsey is an overdramatic cunt. I like knives and other sharp things.”

“I’m Patrick and uh... I...”

Patrick is small, smaller than Frank (which really throws Gerard for a loop. He doesn’t think that was even possible) and is obviously very shy. It completely eludes Gerard as to how the hell he wound up in a gang.

Thankfully, another boy with wild and crazy hair speaks up for him. “Patrick is really shy, sorry. He doesn’t talk much. I’m Ray, and Patrick and I specialize in explosives.”

Andy makes a look of surprise.

“Explosives?” Oli pipes up. “Fuck yes. Andy let’s blow up a church. No wait the school. Actually both. Yes let’s blow up both.”

Rolling his eyes, Andy shoots Oli down.

“Oli, we’re not blowing anything up. Yet. Anyway, next?”

“I’m Chris and I’m a firearms expert.”

Gerard decides then and there he is slightly afraid of Chris. He’s tall, with chin length greasy black hair and terrifyingly pale skin, as well as three lip piercings and a look in his eyes that says ‘fight me motherfucker’. Gerard tells himself he was going to hide behind Oli if this guy ever got pissed.

“I’m Oli and I like stabby things and shooty things. Also cake. And harassing Andy.”

“My name is Tony and I sell drugs. Sometimes I shoot things.”

“I’m Ricky and I’m good at racing and maybe shooting if the planets are aligned.”

“Vic, and I shoot things.”

Gerard tries his best to not be nervous when he notices that he’s next after the boy next to him. He tries to listen to what he says, he really does, but the most he catches is the boy’s name (Brendon) and that judging by his tone of voice he’s an extremely bubbly and perky person and his personality leaves Gerard in the same puzzlement that Patrick’s had.

“I’m Gerard and I’m practically useless if I don’t have a gun.”

Immediately, his brain is swamped with worries and concerns that he’d said the wrong thing and that everyone else is going to make fun of him or tease him from now on. He relaxes, albeit only slightly when Patrick notices his worry and sends him a small reassuring smile.

“Right, well I’m Andy and I’m the fucker in charge of all you fucking fucks. Now that we all know each other’s names, let’s discuss how we’re going to do this.”

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“Kells you fucking asshole! GET BACK HERE!” Frank shouts after Kellin, who is running away and up the stairs of Kellin’s house. Kellin’s laugh (more like cackle) echoes down the hallway and a door slams. Frank swears under his breath and races up the stairs after the fucking gazelle-legged weirdo that is Kellin Quinn.

“Kellin?” He calls into the hallway. “Kellin? Come on you little shit, where are you?”

The whoop of laughter gives away Kellin’s location. It is immediately followed by a frustrated exclamation of ‘goddammit’, and Frank can’t help but grin to himself.

Frank flies down the hallway to Kellin’s room. He throws open the door and suddenly find himself thrown over Kellin’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes, watching the staircase disappear behind them as Frank uselessly beats his fists against Kellin’s back and only receives Kellin’s cackle in response.

“Gah!” Frank shouts as he is literally thrown onto the couch. Kellin gives him less than ten seconds to breathe before sitting on his chest and staring blankly at the movie playing on the TV.

“Get off of me fucker! You weigh a ton! Jesus Christ what do you eat?!” Frank yells, pushing at Kellin’s back and getting no response.

“Get. Off. Of. Me. Goddammit,” He protests again, each word punctuated with a sharp squeeze to Kellin’s ribs, where Frank knows he’s ticklish. Kellin squawks and wiggles on Frank’s chest, effectively crushing Frank’s lungs and ribs further, causing Frank to push at Kellin once again while choking out that he can’t breathe. Finally, Kellin relents and shifts off of Frank’s chest and onto his legs, which isn’t any more comfortable, but it did hurt less, and it doesn’t impair Frank’s breathing or (potentially) endanger his life.

“That’s what you get for being a stuck up douchewad, Frankie,” Kellin says, gaze never leaving the television screen. Frank huffs and crosses his arms.

“I wasn’t being a douchewad,” He protests.

“Uh huh,” Kellin replies, jabbing a finger at Frank’s stomach. “I told you I wasn’t going to deal with your bitching ass when you realized you smoked all your cigarettes, and yet, despite my warning, you proceeded to moan and groan like you were an old white guy whose favorite football team just lost. So you had it coming when I dumped the water bottle on your head.”

Frank rolls his eyes. “Just because I bitched a little bit doesn’t entitle you to giving me a shower in the middle of the fucking kitchen.”

Kellin snorts and jabs Frank’s stomach again.

“It so fucking does. Besides, you wouldn’t shut up about Gerard either, and you needed to close your stupid fucking mouth,” He declares, wiggling a little more on Frank’s legs.

“Fine. Fine, goddammit. If I get up and get you skittles will you stop trying to break my kneecaps?”

“It’s a possibility. We won’t know until I have some in my hand though.”

Frank sighs heavily and pushes himself up on his elbows. “Get off my legs then fucker, and I’ll get you some.”

Kellin shifts again, finally releasing Frank’s legs. Frank scrambles off of the couch and stumbles, lacking any coordination he has ever possessed, into the kitchen.

He throws open various cabinet doors, searching for the godforsaken skittles. When he finally finds some, he did an internal victory dance. Frank walks back into the living room and throws the skittles at Kellin’s head, the small candies making a rattling noise in the package as they finds their target.

“Ow! Ooo, skittles! Thank you Frankie,” Kellin chirps, tearing open the package and popping a few in his mouth.

“Yeah yeah. Just don’t sit on me again,” Frank replies. Kellin sighs heavily before agreeing that he won’t.

“Good Kellin.”

“I should sit on you.”

“You won’t though.”

Kellin sighs in defeat. “You’re right, I won’t.”

Frank grins and steals a skittle.

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“So Vic, myself and Creepy McFuckerpants are gonna walk inside the gas station, alright? Then Lindsey and Kittycat are gonna call the cashier. When he picks up, Creepy, Vic and I are gonna pull our guns and run up front. Lindsey and Katkat will hang up, then Gerard and Andy will chain the front door shut. Creepy will jump over the counter next to the cashier to ensure he doesn’t hit the alarm, and like, get him in a headlock, gun to his forehead and shit. Keep in mind that has to be done very quickly, before he notices he’s got guns on him. Vic will go let everyone else in through the back door while Creepy and I take the cashier to the back room and duct tape his mouth shut and chain him to a chair. Once everyone, minus Gerard, Andy, Ricky, Lindsey and Kitty, are inside, Creepy and I will empty the register and then it’s a free for all. Ransack the shit out of the place. Graffiti, spill, break, empty, crush anything and everything you feel like. Once we’re done, we exit through the back entrance. Bob, Creepy, Vic and Gerard will get in the car with Ricky. Ashley, myself and Tony will get in the car with Kitty and Lindsey. Brendon, Patrick, and Ray get in the car with Andy.” Oli concludes, capping the expo marker and turning his back to the whiteboard with various poorly drawn stick figures and arrows and x’s littered messily across its surface.

“Questions?” Oli asks.

Chris puts his hand in the air first. “Why am I Creepy McFuckerpants?”

Oli raises his eyebrows. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? Dude, you’re the shit out of my nightmares.”

That statement earns him a soda can to the face from Andy. “You’re not any better, fuckface,” Andy argues.

“Who are you to be judging?” Oli says, and he sticks out his tongue and flips Andy off.

Slowly, and very, very shakily, Patrick raises his hand.

“W-would it be o-okay if I s-stayed outside?” He stutters bashfully, meeting Oli’s gaze for a flicker of a second before looking down at his folded hands.

“That would be fine. Anyone else who’d rather stay outside who isn’t already out there?”

No one says anything. The room stays quiet.

“Perfect. Alright. Vic, Gerard, would you throw together the supply backpacks? Tony, would you hand out bandannas and hoodies? Oli, can you go make sure the gas tanks are full and that the phone Lindsey and Kitty are going to use has full minutes?” Andy says, taking charge.

There is a chorus of nods and ‘yes, sir’ s and the boys set out on their assigned missions.

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The sun has begun to sink below the sky. Mike keeps his gaze locked on it, the light burning his retinas so that when he looks away there are bright spots of light flickering in and out of his vision. The baggy of acid tablets sits not too far from him, tempting his so far successful sober existence.

But Mike knows that he isn’t a strong person, no matter what Tony thinks. Mike is a weak, weak man, who caves at the powdery taste of pills, the thick bitter taste of alcohol, the burning sweet slide of cough syrup.

He pulls the Ziploc baggy open and takes out one of the tablets, setting it on the windowsill a few inches from his fingertips.

The tablet seems to glare at him, challenging him. Take me, it seems to say, I dare you.

Mike stares at the tablet for a little longer. The image of Felix the Cat grins up at him, taunting him.

What would Tony say? The tablet asks, He’d be so disappointed in you.

He swears at the tablet and puts it back in the baggy. Mike throws it into the top drawer of his dresser and collapses onto his bed, rubbing his eyes.

All Mike can do is pray for sleep.

Eventually it comes, in the form of a burning desire for any form of intoxication, and in an equal and possibly stronger feeling, a sense of shame and disgust.

//////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Sirens. Fucking. Sirens.

It is nearly one in the morning and Frank’s neighborhood is alive and loud with a cacophony of sirens. Kellin is curled up next to him again, stirring slightly when the impending sirens get louder and closer. Frank runs his hand gently through Kellin’s hair, propped up on his elbow, doing his best to soothe him and possibly send him back to sleep.

His efforts prove useless, however, when Kellin turns his face into Frank’s hand and licked it.

“Ew!” Frank says and wipes his hand off on Kellin’s shirt.

“Stop petting me. I’m not a cat,” Kellin mumbles, turning over and pressing his side to Frank’s front.

“You are so a cat. Don’t lie,” Frank says as he recommences petting Kellin’s hair.

“Purr purr, motherfucker.”

Frank laughs and lays down next to Kellin, tugging on the blanket and pulling it over their shoulders. Kellin makes a noise of protest.

“You’re stealing the entire fucking blanket.”

“You have more of it than I do!” Frank complains.

“Fine. Fucking fine,” Kellin says. He shifts over and nudges his way under Frank’s arm, laying his head on his chest, tangling their legs together.

“No homo,” Kellin says with a yawn, nuzzling into Frank’s chest, pulling the blanket tight over them.

Frank chuckles and feels himself slowly and peacefully lose consciousness.

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“WE ARE FUCKING KINGS!” Oli shouts, throwing his leg gracelessly through a shelf. The replies his exclamation earn in response are similar in nature, Chris standing in the middle of the same aisle, dumping case after case of alcohol onto the floor while cheering with Oli maniacally.

“Aw c’mon, that’s such a fucking waste!” Ashley shouts when he sees what Chris is doing. Chris grins and pops the tab of another beer and begins pouring it on the floor.

“Such a waste,” Ashley says again, before dropping to his knees and sticking his mouth beneath the bottle in a fluid and unbroken motion.

“Ash, I hope you know you look a little bit like a whore,” Chris says as he opens another bottle.

“I’m a beautiful whore. Now gimme beer,” Ashley says, making grabby hands upwards at the beverage.

Chris simply chuckles and hands Ashley the beer. “You’ve got it all over you. Just take the bottle.”

“Thanks. As you were,” Ashley says, standing up and chugging the drink.

“FUCK! SIRENS! GET GOING! NOW! OUT OUT OUT OUT!” Andy shouts above everyone else. The store abruptly falls silent, and then comes alive once more with the sound of falling items and running footsteps. They fly out of the back entrance like a man escaping prison, running past the bound and gagged cashier (who is screaming against the tape) and throws themselves into the cars, the drivers already in position, the engines on and running.

They tear out of the parking lot like madmen, racing down the highway in the opposite direction the sirens are coming from, laughing and whooping like maniacs. Brendon is singing ‘We Are The Champions’ at an obnoxious volume, and when Andy tells him to shut the hell up, Brendon responds with a very loud, very musical ‘Fuck you’. Even Patrick is laughing, a grin stretched wide on his face.

Once they reach Gerard’s house, everyone collapses in the living room floor. Mikey and Pete choose then to make an appearance, Pete flailing and squawking and waving his arms when he gets an eyeful of a booze covered and adrenaline hazed Ashley.

“Mikey! Mikey, they’re going to take you to burn down children’s hospitals! Mikey, Mikey, listen to me! Bad people!” He says, flapping his arms and bouncing around the room, gesturing wildly, holding his hands out as if to say ‘exhibit a’ when he stands next to Chris.

Mikey rolls his eyes and walks into the kitchen.

“So the bouncy crazy one who thinks we burn down children’s hospitals is Pete. The silent one is Mikey, he’s my brother,” Gerard explains.

“One time Pete wiggled a hole through me,” Oli says, playing with a bag of gummy bears he stole idly. Lindsey sits up from her previous position of laying in Kitty’s lap to give him a look that clearly states ‘what the fuck?’.

“He wouldn’t let Mikey leave, so we had to take him with us. Pete didn’t want to go willingly, so I carried him. He’s a squirmy fucker,” Oli says, popping a gummy bear into his mouth casually.

“Speaking of siblings, Vic, where’s Mike?” Tony asks.

“Oh shit,” Vic says. “I don’t know. Fuck. Mikey, where’s Mike?” Vic calls out.

“Upstairs, I think. He came over earlier and passed out on the couch. He’s been doing a lot of sleeping lately,” Mikey calls back, reappearing in the doorway with a sandwich in one hand and the other on Pete’s shirt, preventing him from moving.

“Okay, good. I’m a shitty older brother, I don’t even have the slightest clue where he could have been. Thanks for not losing him Mikey,” Vic replies.

Mikey waves the hand with the sandwich in it at him. “It’s nothing. Someone’s gotta be the responsible one around here.”

“Hey, I’m responsible!” Andy protests. Mikey rolls his eyes.

“You’re as responsible as Gerard that one time when we had to take care of our neighbor’s fish.”

“I thought we weren’t ever gonna talk about that!” Gerard shouts, color rising in his cheeks.

Mikey shrugs. “Whoops.”

He walks away, dragging Pete with him.

“So what happened with the fish?” Ricky asks.

“I um. Forgot to feed them. And they all died, except for one fish that survived by eating its dead brethren’s carcasses.” Gerard says bashfully, ducking his down and not looking at anyone.

“What did you tell your neighbor?” asks Ray.

“That I didn’t know how it happened, it must have been some sort of malfunction in the heater for the tank,” Gerard admits.

“I can see the headlines now. ‘Fish comes forward with shocking story of murder and being forced to resort to cannibalism; Perpetrator Gerard Way arrested, charged with fishslaugher and animal cruelty,” Andy says, manipulating his voice so it sounds official, like a reporter’s.

“Ugh, that’s it, I’m fucking done with you guys. Does anyone want a ride home, I’ll play taxi service and drive you back myself if you feel like you are too tired to drive,” Tony says, standing up and holding his hand out to Andy, indicating that he needs the keys. Andy fishes around in his pockets a moment before pressing them into Tony’s palm.

“Yeah, I’ll take a ride.”

“Me too.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“You can drop me and Kitty off together.”

“Same for me and Chris. “

“I guess we’ll need a second driver. Gerard, you up for driving?” Tony says.

“Yeah, I can do it.” He confirms.

“Patrick, would you like us to give you a ride back to your house?”

Patrick fidgets nervously as the attention in the room is drawn to him.

“N-no, I’ll walk. My house isn’t too far from here. Thanks for the offer though,” He says, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

Tony nods. “Alright, let’s head out. Gerard, will you take everyone that’s getting dropped off together?” Tony asks. Gerard nods and pushes himself off of the floor.

“Alright. Everyone say goodnight!” Tony calls to the group that is following himself and Gerard out the door. A chorus of goodnights drift through the house, and one “It’s technically morning. Good morning!” .

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Gerard listens intently to the directions Lindsey is giving him. She is being very patient, and for that Gerard is thankful, because truthfully, yes he feels awake enough to drive, but he is in no mental state anywhere near fit for trying to drive under someone else’s directions.

“Turn here, okay?” She says, pointing to Gerard’s left, onto a small cul-de-sac.

He does as instructed, and she tells him to stop in front of the house with the blue door. It’s slightly difficult to see the color of the doors from where he currently is, seeing as it’s dark and his eyes are progressively becoming uncooperative and being pushed downward with sleep, but he manages to find the house, bringing the truck to a stop and bidding Kitty and Lindsey goodnight.

“Gerard, man, if you’re too tired I can drive us to my house,” Ricky offers, leaning forward and putting a hand on Gerard’s upper arm.

“It’s fine, if I stop driving now I’ll fall asleep. Just tell me how to get to your house and I’ll be okay from there,” Gerard says.

Ricky sighs and begins to give Gerard directions with obvious amounts of doubt and hesitation heavy in his voice.

Thankfully, Ricky’s house isn’t too far from Lindsey’s, although Gerard does have to make a few risky turns, his lack of motor skills so early in the morning becoming increasingly more and more apparent.

Gerard sits in the car for a moment, watching Ricky and Chris’s backs, making sure they get inside the house alright. When the door finally closes and a few lights come on, Gerard breathes a sigh filled with exhaustion and rests his forehead against the steering wheel. He stays like that for a few moments, summoning the willpower to shift the car out of park and into drive and finally make it back home.

He uses the thought of a warm bed and soft pillow as motivation to finally drag his forehead off of the unforgiving rubbery wheel and pull out of Ricky’s driveway.

When his house finally comes into view, Gerard has to stop himself from crying out in relief. Andy’s truck is already parked in its usual spot, signifying that Tony is already back.

Gerard cuts the engine of the truck and staggers into the house, rubbing his eyes and fighting down the tsunami of yawns that keep threatening to happen.

After fiddling with the doorknob for a moment (so he’s forgotten how doors worked, sue him) Gerard finally stumbles inside, practically collapsing onto the couch the second it comes into view.

“Gerard, you do realize you have a much more comfortable bed upstairs, right?” Andy says. Gerard makes a noise that probably can’t be classified as human and flaps his arms.

“Too sleepy. Can’t legs. Sleep,” He says.

“Oli, will you carry him upstairs please? I don’t trust him to come anywhere near walking up those on his own.”

“Yeah, I’ve got him. C’mon Gee, let’s get you upstairs and in your warm bed, yeah?” says Oli, scooping Gerard up bridal style and grinning when Gerard loops his arms around Oli’s neck and mutters “sleepy” into his chest.

Oli walks up the stairs carefully, ensuring he doesn’t jostle the Sleeping Beauty too much. Fighting with the door for a moment (much like Gerard had) Oli finally gets inside Gerard’s room and gently places him on the bed.

Immediately upon feeling his blankets, Gerard says ‘Bed!’ quite cheerfully and burrows under his mound of blankets. Oli chuckles and pats his head, whispering his goodnight to the pile of blankets that is now happily and peacefully asleep.

When he gets downstairs, Andy has already blown up the air mattress, and Tony is already curled up in his chair. Vic and Ashley are having a very animated discussion on whether or not Ashley should fucking shower, Ashley protesting that he shouldn’t because he doesn’t have a change of clothes, and that it isn’t that bad, whereas Vic claims he smells like a goddamned liquor store and he’s pretty sure Mikey has some sweatpants and a tee that would fit him.

“I’m with Vic here,” Andy chimes in. “You should really fucking shower. I’ll go see if Mikey has some spare clothes right now,” He says, turning around and disappearing up the stairs.

“Fine. Fucking fine. You win. I’ll take a motherfucking shower.” Ashley says, raising his arms up in defeat.

Vic lets out a noiseless cheer of triumph, to which Ashley rolls his eyes and peels off his liquor-scented shirt and throws it in Vic’s face. Vic makes a noise of disgust and throws it in the corner.

“Don’t throw that shit at me again motherfucker, or I swear to god one morning you will wake up castrated,” Vic says, jabbing a finger at Ashley’s bare chest.

“Ladies, stop fighting. Here’s the clothes Ash, now go fucking get all that booze off of you,” Andy says, reappearing and handing Ashley some of Mikey’s old clothes.

“But what if I like smelling like a tavern?” Ashley disputes.

“Good for you. But we don’t like it, and majority rules. Get your ass in the shower,” Andy says, shoving Ashley in the direction of the bathroom.

“Fine. You win. But this is the first and only time it will ever happen. Ever,” Ashley says.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Oli chimes in, knowing full well that Andy never loses an argument. In fact, the only time he’s ever lost an argument was one with Oli. He isn’t trying to be self-centered or anything, but Oli kinda takes pride in that fact.

Ashley grumbles one last time before closing the door of the bathroom behind him.

“I dunno about you guys, but I’m tired as fuck,” Vic says, crawling down on to the air mattress after grabbing a pillow and a blanket.

“I’m fucking beat,” Oli agrees, grabbing his own blanket and pillow.

“Yeah, same. Goodnight guys,” Andy says as he settles into the mattress himself.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

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