Ink

Maybe charging blindly into the basement wasn't Frank's smartest idea, but hell, he could have walked into worse things. Things like Gerard changing, or Gerard jerking off, or Gerard fondling a poster of Liam Neeson. Well, maybe seeing Gerard change or jerk off wouldn't have been so bad, but the thought of Gerard having an old guy fetish was a little off putting.

But that wasn't the point, damnit.

After charging blindly into the basement, Frank almost pissed himself when he came face to face with Iron Maiden's Eddie almost jumping from the life-size poster on the wall. Not only was it startling, but Frank irrationally thought that this was what Gerard was hiding under all that fabric. As a result, Frank yelped loudly and tried to scramble back up the stairs, only to have Mikey standing behind him with his expression of complete I-am-done-with-your-bullshit in place, which scared Frank more than the Eddie poster. Mikey was one scary freshman.

Gerard appeared from inside his closet, wearing more casual but just as concealing clothes and a smirk on his face. He put his hands on his hips and cocked one to the side and-- goddamn, why doesn't he have ovaries instead of Frank? He obviously has the girlish figure here. "Yeah, Eddie tends to do that," he said, waving a hand backwards dismissively.

"Dad shouldn't be back until Sunday afternoon," said Mikey. "He's with his latest girlfriend."

Gerard sighed heavily and rubbed his face, muttering a quiet "fuck" that had Frank yearning to hug him and rub his face for him. "Want to stay down here?" he asked after a moment, a smile pulling at his lips again.

"Sure," Mikey answered for the other three, seeing as Ray was too busy gazing at Eddie dreamily, Bob was shifting from foot to foot while looking at a small picture of a cat on the wall, and Frank was daydreaming about sleeping in Gerard's bed.

Gerard started looking through a cabinet on the floor and waved his hand back again. "You know where my stash is, Mikes."

Frank snapped to a moment later and jumped onto Gerard's bed without invitation, inhaling his scent and resisting the urge to hump the mattress into nonexistence. Gerard turned back to the group, holding some obscure horror movie and grinning mischievously.

As Gerard sat on the other side of the bed (which seemed like the other side of the world to Frank), Frank wondered what the hell Mikey was talking about when he said Gerard was the troubled artist type. From what Frank could tell, Gerard was not at all angsty and moaning (don't think about it don't think about it) and shit. He seemed rather friendly and optimistic, clingy even, despite all the harassment he got at school. Then again, that not-a-single-fuck-was-given facade may not have been a facade at all.

Mikey passed a bottle up to the bed and cracked open one on the floor, chugging what seemed to piss-water beer and coughing when he finally tasted it. Gerard picked up the bottle on his bed and grinned, casting a glance at Frank, who almost died from excess emotions. "Vodka?" offered Gerard. Frank took it and practically inhaled half of it; he would need to be pretty shitfaced to get through a night on Gerard's bed.

An hour through the movie (some girl got hit by a demon RV and they saw a creepy little girl who was not okay with being left out) Frank was pretty far along on his goal to be completely wasted. He had the majority of his body draped over Gerard, who was content with petting Frank's face softly with his gloved hands. It took all of Frank's drunken willpower to not purr loudly. By then, Mikey and Bob had begun yelling at the TV, things such as "Get the fuck away from car!" or "The hell you still on the road for?". Ray found it quite irritating it seemed, considering his occasional eye twitch or smacking of the other drunk idiots. Frank didn't mind, and neither did Gerard for that matter, seeing as they were both content with clinging to each other and wandering in their own minds.

"Hey Gee?" Frank slurred, turning his head to the taller boy. Gerard raised an eyebrow. "Why do you wear so much clothes?"

Gerard smiled and patted Frank's head gently. "Skin problems, my dear Frankie. S'not pretty."

"Nah," Frank said, grinning, "your face is really pretty; I'm sure the rest is too. Will you show me some day?"

Sighing, Gerard glanced down at him. The light from the TV was casting sharp shadows across his face, accenting his eyes and his cherub nose. Those bright eyes suddenly turned intense, shifting the atmosphere. Gerard leaned down after a long moment and kissed Frank's forehead (his lips were blistering, and soft, and overall pleasant, and Frank wanted more, so much more), murmuring against the warm skin, "Okay, Frank. Some day."