I'll Never Be What You Need.

Frank woke up next to Mikey, as he expected. What he didn't expect was to wake up cuddled into his side like a little puppy. His arm was around his thin waist, and Mikey's arm was around him as well.

Frank scooted out from under Mikey's arm, standing up from the bed slowly and stretching his muscles. Frank had gone to sleep shirtless, and he had advised Mikey to do the same, considering the fact it got massively hot in there at night. But, Mikey was stubborn and insisted on sleeping in a black long-sleeved shirt and long pants.

He scratched at the waistband of his pants and slipped on a random t-shirt, turning back to look at Mikey. Mikey was snuggled comfortably into the blankets, even though his forehead glistened with sweat. Frank shook his head. After only knowing Mikey for a week, he already knew that he could be stubborn at times. He wondered briefly why he was so set on wearing the long sleeves...

Mikey looked so cute while sleeping, yet so different without his glasses. He looked much older without them... more like a man than a teenager. Mikey frowned his his sleep. He wondered if maybe he was dreaming about something. Frank inched over to him carefully and leaned over him. He wished Mikey was awake so he could see those beautiful hazel eyes.

After Frank had played the guitar, they had asked each other more questions until the were tired. Frank found up some facts about Mikey, including his favorite animal. Frank chuckled at the memory.

"What's you favorite animal?" Frank asked.

"Unicorns," Mikey replied without hesitation.

Frank snorted. "I said animal, Mikey, not mythical creature," he pointed out.

"What?! Unicorns are so real! They use them for weapons of mass destruction," Mikey replied.

"Do not," Frank argued.

"Uh huh ! They like fart rainbows and shit. I looked it up on Wikipedia," Mikey said.

Frank shook his head. "I don't think so."

Mikey crossed his arms over his chest. "Non-believer," he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Isaid 'NON-BELIEVER!" Mikey shouted.

Frank tackled Mikey and began tickling his sides. "Take it back!"

"No!"

"Take it back!"

"Never!"

"Take it back!"

Mikey was trying hard not to laugh before, but he couldn't help it now. His loud infectious giggle slowly filled the room. It was like music to Frank's ears. "Okay okay!" Mikey replied.

Frank got up from Mikey. "Good," he said.

Quickly, he leaned down and kissed Mikey's forehead. He couldn't resist. Mikey was just always so adorable. He loved the fact that he could see him without make-up at least one. His skin tone wasn't that far off from the white paint; he must have stayed indoors a lot. Frank cocked his head to the side. He wanted to do something nice for Mikey.

Getting an idea, he sprinted toward the kitchen.

Frank Iero and a stove? Only bad things can come from this...

* * * *

Mikey woke up groggily, not really realizing he wasn't in his own bed. After a few seconds though, he realized the sheets were much softer and the bed much larger. He was sprawled not only over his own side, but Frank's as well. Where was Frank? His smell clung to the sheets, along with something else that was making him sneeze.

The second thing he noticed that he was incredibly hot. Frank was right. He was sweating. He tore off his long-sleeved shirt, forgetting the reason he had it on in the first place. He scooted out of the bed and grabbed his glasses from the side table, slipping them on. There. Now he could see better.

He scratched his wrist absently and sniffed, sneezing once more. He smelt food... burning food that is. He went into the direction of the kitchen, but not before smoothing his hair down. He didn't want Frank to see him with bed head.

"HOLY FUCK!"

"SHIT!"

"GOD DAMMIT!"

Those were the screams Mikey heard, and they made him go a little faster to the kitchen. There was Frank, standing in front of the stove and attempting to cook. "GOD DAMN FUCKING TOAST!" he screeched and the toast didn't pop out of the toaster.

"Um... Frank?" Mikey asked.

Frank turned his head toward Mikey, and he nearly fell over. Mikey Way was standing in his kitchen, shirtless. "H-hey Mikey," he stammered.

"You need some help?" Mikey offered.

"Ya... The toast won't come up..." explained Frank sadly.

Mikey walked over to the toaster, giggled the switch, and the toast popped up. He put the two pieces on a plate.

Frank hung his head. "I really suck at cooking. But I figured, you know, it'd be nice or whatever..." He tried to flip over a pancake with his fork.

"Frank, use this," Mikey told him, grabbing a spatula from a hook on the wall.

"Right," Frank replied.

"FRANK ANTHONY IERO JR.! WHAT'S GOING ON IN THERE?!" a voice demanded from the other room.

"Nothing Mom! Just don't come-" He was cut off by the action of his mother arriving in the room.

Mikey looked at Frank's mother. The looked a lot alike, except for the eyes. Hers were a dark chocolate brown, while Frank's were a melted hazel. She was pretty; he could see where Frank got it from.

"Frank, how many times have I told you? You are not aloud to use the stove! Don't you remember last time?" she asked.

"Ya, ya," Frank mumbled. He remembered. He tried to pry open a jar of spaghetti sauce with an extremely large knife, and had ended up stabbing his thumb, resulting in him passing out.

"You must be Mikey," she greeted him, trying not to wonder why this boy was standing shirtless in her kitchen.

Mikey shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you... um..." he wasn't sure what to call her.

"Linda is fine," she told him, smiling.

He nodded.

"Frank, let me take over the cooking so you don't kill yourself," Linda said.

"All right," Frank muttered, leaving the kitchen, Mikey not too far behind.

"Don't worry about it, Frank," Mikey said. "You tried."

Frank shrugged. "I just burn everything and call it Cajun."

Mikey laughed. Down right laughed. Sure, Frank had forced him to laugh my tickling him before, and he had heard soft chuckled here and there, but he never heard him actually laugh. It was a nice sound.

"You should do that more often," Frank told him.

Mikey blushed, and it was clearly visible without any make-up on whatsoever. Frank always had that effect on him.