Forget About It

“Dude, I have like the worst fucking hangover of my life,” Gerard says walking into the kitchen where Brendon and Frank are sitting.

“Frank said you got plastered,” Brendon notes to him when he sees Gerard rubbing at his eyes.

“Don’t talk so loud,” Gerard says, and Brendon rolls his eyes. He was using an inside voice Gerard’s just that hung-over.

“So do you, uh, do you even remember what happened?” Frank asks gingerly. He doesn’t even know what to think. Gerard was coming onto him last night and there’s no way he can just pretend that didn’t happen. It happened, Frank was there. The weird part was the fact that he would totally have been into it were Gerard not completely wasted. He’d reeked of booze though and it would’ve been dubious at best to have done anything, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t think about it.

“No, not really,” Gerard replies, wondering why Frank isn’t taking advantage of his hypersensitive state. If it were Frank that was hung-over, it’s very likely that Gerard would’ve turned on all the lights and screamed in his ear.

“Oh, um... okay then,” Frank says in an odd tone. Before Gerard has time to question it or even let Frank’s words sink in, he’s left the room. Frank is a quick guy considering how short he is. He’s like The Flash, out of sight before Gerard noticed he’d stood up. Then again his response time is not in its best state at the moment, so the world has slowed down a fair bit.

“What was that about?” Brendon asks.

“Too loud,” Gerard says and sits down at the counter, resting his head against the cold laminate countertop. It’s not a very affective pillow, but leveling his head out makes it feel like his brain isn’t clinging on for dear life. His head is banging like there’s an overly energetic monkey with a gong in his head, making it hard to think straight. He’s pretty sure that his head is going to fall off if he moves around too much.

“I don’t know, am I an embarrassing drunk?” Gerard asks in response to Brendon’s question. “It’ll come back to me. I hope I didn’t do any dancing.”

“That would be a crime against us all,” Brendon remarks.

“You weren’t there, shut up,” Gerard snaps, and then regrets it instantly because it makes his head throb.

“Why were you even drunk in the first place? Like, dude, seriously?”

“Boobs,” Gerard says in response, and then realizes how vague that sounds, “lots of naked women. Yucky. Strip club. You know how it goes.”

“No, apparently I don’t. I thought the point of being gay was not liking naked women, and such, so it baffles me that you were at a strip club. I have never met a more flamingly homosexual in my entire life, so why, may I ask, were you at a fucking strip club?”

“Don’t take that tone, it’s too loud,” Gerard says, “we were following the guys ‘cross the street. They went to a strip club thingy. Frank thought maybe there was some sort of deal going on in one of the back rooms or something.”

“You’re very articulate today,” Brendon says sarcastically.

“Shhh,” Gerard says in response and puts his finger to his lips, then buries his head in his arms.

“Need an aspirin?” Brendon asks.

“Probably, but I’ll just hold off for now,” Gerard says. “Want to try to figure out what happened last night. Aspirin will numb my senses of memory.”

“I think that’s completely bullshit, but whatever you say,” Brendon rolls his eyes, and stands up to get himself some more coffee while Gerard groans into his arm. He thinks back to the times he’s seen an intoxicated Gerard, and can confirm that he’s definitely looser, but he’s not a particularly awful drunk. He’s much more flamboyant under the influence. He’s like Liberace with alcohol in his system. A little flirty.

When Brendon turns his back, Gerard has a bit of a realization.

“Oh!” Gerard’s head pops up and he looks completely surprised. He doesn’t look in pain either so it’s almost like his headache has been cured with whatever realization he’s had.

“What?” Brendon asks, and he turns around to look at him.

Gerard looks at Brendon for a minute then says, “Shit. Shit! Oh my fucking god, I did not.”

It looks like he’s having an argument with himself. Brendon just looks at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for Gerard to explain. He doesn’t he just keeps cussing and his eyes get wider by the second.

“Shit, motherfucking dammit!”

“That’s a lot of expletives, what the hell did you do?”

“Oh god, Brendon, I don’t even... ugh,” he says shaking his head in disgust.

“What? Did you puke or something?” Brendon questions, looking lost.

“Way worse. Really bad. Oh god, I must have been drunk to do that.”

“Do you need me to get a polygraph, because I am a cop, and I will do it,” Brendon says warningly.

“Oh fuck, Brendon! I tried to make out with Frank!”

Brendon stands there a little aghast for a moment before shaking his head, “no way. Even you aren’t that low.”

“What? What do you mean by that?” Gerard asks.

Brendon looks extremely unconvinced and sighs, “Well, you trying to make out with Frank would be like Harry Potter suddenly deciding to stick his tongue down Malfoy’s throat.”

“But it happened, Brendon,” Gerard says without faltering. “I legitimately, like actually, flirted with Frank Iero.”

Brendon looks at him again for a much longer instant and then his face falls like it’s striking him that Gerard isn’t lying. He can’t believe it though. He isn’t ruling out the possibility that he just stepped into the Twilight Zone.

“Dude? What! Duuuuuude.”

“I know!” Gerard says back.

“You, wow so,” Brendon looks at Gerard like he’s the fucking Rosetta Stone, but he’s incapable of deciphering Gerard in the slightest.

“What the hell do I do?” Gerard asks.

“This actually happened? You’re not playing me,” Brendon confirms and Gerard nods, “okay so I guess, you... did you actually kiss him?”

“Ew, no!” Gerard says, and then has a mini heart attack because he doesn’t actually know. He can’t be sure, but he doubts he would. Well, he really hopes he wouldn’t. At the same time he could do worse. That thought makes Gerard gag, because no, he really couldn’t do worse.

“Are you sure?” Brendon asks.

“No! Of course I’m not fucking sure,” Gerard says trying not to completely freak out on either himself or Brendon.

“Okay, calm down. This is, wow, I don’t know how to handle this,” Brendon says, looking nervous and empathetic.

“I can’t believe this,” Gerard says hopelessly, “What the hell do I do? What do I say? Should I like, apologize for practically sexually harassing him or-“

“What did he do?” Brendon asks.

“Don’t really remember. Pushed me away I think.”

“Okay, that’s good. I have another question though.”

Gerard tries to steady his heartbeat, and nods for Brendon to keep talking. He’s trying to figure out how he could’ve possibly swallowed down his inhibitions like that. Even he isn’t that stupid when drunk. Maybe he was possessed. Gerard likes that better than the obvious answer.

“You were piss drunk, and I get that, but do you think there’s any chance, even the tiniest, that you might actually have feelings for Frank? Like, no one changes into a different person when they’re drunk, so I mean, it can’t have just been this spontaneity. You’re the same person, just without as many inhibitions, like in that song by Natasha Bedingfield.”

Gerard’s looking at Brendon like he’s an alien or something, or just admitted his undying love of Joseph Stalin. Gerard is the gay one while Brendon just referenced a dead pop song? Definitely some Twilight Zone shit going on.

“I’m just saying! Maybe it’s buried. Really really really buried,” Brendon tries to justify, but the look he’s getting from Gerard is venomous.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Gerard asks.

Brendon sighs, “Maybe it's your subconscious telling you that you actually like the little punk.”

"No I find him attractive, but I also find him annoying as hell."

“But you do find him attractive,” Brendon raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, aesthetically. I also find you attractive, but I don’t want to get in your pants.”

“Oh really?” Brendon jokes, and Gerard scoffs at him.

“You wish. I am way out of your league,” he declares.

“I thought you had a headache,” Brendon says, trying to change the subject.

Gerard seems to remember the pain in his head because as soon as Brendon brings it up his head slams against the counter, and he moans something about his life being over.

“You are such a drama queen,” Brendon sighs looking down at him.

“I can’t tell him I know,” Gerard says through the muffled fabric of his sleeve. “I cannot let Frank know that I remember. I just need to pretend it never happened.”

“Oh come on, Gerard.”

“No! Brendon if you tell anyone about this I will throw your first born into an active volcano,” Gerard says without looking up.

Brendon frowns at him, rolls his eyes and says, while he’s walking out of the kitchen, “I’ll keep it between you and me. But just think about it.”

“There is nothing to think about!” Gerard screams after him.