Gerard sat in his favorite arm chair on the bus, scribbling every so often in the little notebook that sat on his lap. Mikey and Ray were off somewhere in the back, probably reading comics, and Bob lounged on the couch, flipping through channels on the television.
They were rumbling somewhere down route 40, and they’d just passed through Nashville. The landscape outside the shuttered windows was mostly shockingly green trees and obscenely green grass. Occasionally, they would catch sight of a horse grazing in a pasture as they rumbled towards their next destination.
Gerard was concentrating on his notebook, occasionally glancing up and staring out the window for a few seconds before taking the pen from his mouth and scribbling something else down.
He barely heard the sound of the door to the bunks opening and the quiet footfalls behind him.
He was made aware, however, when Frank’s head appeared at his shoulder, peering into his lap and at the notebook there.
Gerard made a disgruntled noise but didn’t push his head away immediately.
“What are you doing?” Frankie asked curiously, his head hovering a few inches over Gerard’s shoulder.
“Writing Mikey a song,” Gerard replied shortly, putting his pen back to the paper as though waiting for some genius to strike him.
Frank’s head tilted to the side and a smile spread over his face.
Gerard frowned relaxing his pen for a second. “Because he’s my brother.”
“Why?” Frank’s voice was a little loud in Gerard’s ear, but that may have been because his mouth was inches from it.
Gerard tilted his head away from the warm breath ghosting over his neck.
“Because we’re related.”
Frankie’s head tilted again and his head moved forward, his chin brushing against Gerard’s shoulder.
Gerard let out a frustrated sigh and smacked his knee with the notebook so it made a little sound in the rumbling bus.
“Because our parents had one kid, fucked, and had another one.”
Frankie’s smile widened a little and he placed his chin on Gerard’s shoulder completely, now resting on him. His arm set heavily on the other shoulder as he stood there, bent over behind Gerard.
Bob was determinedly ignoring them from the couch, changing the channel again.
“Why?” Frankie’s tone was curious and almost teasing all at the same time.
Gerard scowled and his gripped his pen tightly.
“Why the fuck do you think?”
Frankie shrugged halfway, being difficult with one arm draped over Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard just sighed, annoyed.
“So why are you writing him a song?” Frankie asked again, his hand gliding down, almost to the notebook.
Gerard pulled it out of his grip and glared at his knees.
“Because I fucking want to.” He was getting more and more frustrated by Frank practically hanging off him and invading his space.
Then Frank moved, and Gerard though he might be free, but Frankie only moved around to his front and practically plopped right down in his lap.
Gerard’s glare could have melted glass as he held the notebook tightly to his chest.
“Can I see it?”
“Because it’s not done.” Gerard tried to push him off, but to no avail.
Frankie leaned in a little closer, trying to see the notebook that Gerard had pressed safely to his chest and away from Frank’s prying eyes.
Gerard literally growled a little as he glared at Frankie, who seemed to be even closer than before as he tried to steal the notebook from him.
“Because you interrupted me!”
Gerard stared. “I don’t know why!”
Frank’s head tilted to the side as the same curious smile spread across his face. Gerard merely scowled, and Bob changed the channel again and turned up the volume.
“Because I’m not fucking psychic!” Gerard snapped. He pushed again at Frank, but it was useless.
Frank just smiled at his dark expression and moved closer again, his fingers tugging at the notebook, though just barely.
“I don’t know!” Gerard glared daggers at him. “You’re invading my personal bubble, Frankie!” He gave one last shove and Frank was pushed to the floor.
Frank didn’t look upset and merely climbed to his knees, placing a hand on either of Gerard’s knees and leaning in close. His face was just inches from Gerard and his smile had turned from curious to a satisfied smirk.
Arching an eyebrow, he leaned into Gerard’s ear and whispered, “I’ll get inside much more than that.”
Smirking like the cat who got the fucking cream, Frankie slowly slid away and disappeared into the kitchen with only one glance back at Gerard, who sat frozen in his chair.
It only took him a second before the notebook was abandoned on the chair, the pen spinning uselessly on top.
Bob just rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, reaching for the remote and turning up the volume once more.