Pairing: Frank/Gerard (Pete/Mikey)
Disclaimer: Not real.
Summary: “Hey everybody,” Frank spoke into the microphone, voice echoing into the corners of the room. “You all know me, and I think I know all you. But right now, I’m not your friendly neighborhood barista. Tonight, I’m just a guy, and I just have one thing I want to say. So I hope you’re all listening, especially that guy at the back table.” [Sequel/coda to Foreclosed]
A/N: I hope y'all enjoy.
Gerard whined, the noise catching in his throat as his whole body tensed, hand tight over Frank’s shoulder, fingers digging into his skin through his tee-shirt. It wasn’t really comfortable, pressed up against the counter top that ran the length of the room, but Frank’s leg braced most of his weight as he pushed a slick finger in and twisted.
“Fuck,” Gerard panted, pushing back against Frank, grip tightening on his shoulder. He wondered briefly why Frank still had his shirt on, but he couldn’t really talk seeing as how several cans of paint lay open scattered around the studio, releasing fumes into the room while he was edged against the counter, one hand pressing against the cold tiles to keep himself up while the other trembled against Frank. “Frankie.”
Frank only grunted in response, pushing in a second finger, thrusting it into the tightness and pressing closer. Eyes flitting up, they paused on the dark red mark blossoming on Gerard’s neck, the teeth marks along his color bone where the neck of his shirt dipped low.
He liked the way Gerard looked, shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, pale skin spreading under his other hand as he traced the lines of his stomach. Thumb grazing over Gerard’s pelvis, he watched the shudder and heard the slow exhale, warm breath on his ear when Gerard whined again, pushing against his fingers.
Gerard could feel the flush on his skin, the heat spreading from where Frank touched him, fingers thrusting, fucking him slowly and not really enough. Clinging to Frank, he sought out his mouth, lips grazing over smooth skin until Frank tipped up to meet him, hot and wet, melting his rational thoughts into a puddle.
The studio was empty, not surprising since it was nearly two AM on a Saturday night. Even art students had lives. Gerard’s paints were scattered around them and the canvas was half-finished on its stand. His bag was dumped by the door where it had been since about two in the afternoon the previous day when he’d been basically kicked out of his dorm by Ray, who said if he had to be a nocturnal art genius, he had to do it somewhere else. It might also possibly have been because Ray had found green paint on his favorite pair of chucks the day before. Gerard almost couldn’t blame him.
Especially when Frank’s fingers pushed in like that and hit that spot that made Gerard’s eyelashes flutter and the sharp breath he took, legs shaking.
Groaning into the kiss, he pushed at Frank’s shoulders, trying to send him a nonverbal message. He didn’t try to tell him, just let Frank bite his lower lip and drag it into his mouth, sucking the skin until Gerard whined yet again and panted against his mouth.
“Frank,” he whispered desperately, hand slipping off the counter with a significant drop in leverage. He brought it to Frank’s neck instead, sliding into his dark hair and tugging lightly.
“Turn around,” Frank muttered roughly, fingers already sliding out, leaving Gerard even less fulfilled than before. But Frank’s fingers dragged over his ass, ghosting over his aching cock as he stepped back to let Gerard move.
Gerard didn’t hesitate to turn, feeling only slightly exposed as he spread his legs and felt Frank’s hands gliding up his sides, pulling the hem of his shirt up and off. Frank’s mouth pressed, hot and easy, to the back of his neck, knee nudging Gerard’s legs further apart.
Frank didn’t ask if he was ready, and Gerard was glad. He was glad that he didn’t feel the need to ask every time, that he would just take the initiative and ambush him in the art room at two in the morning and shove him up against the counter and stick his hand down his pants.
The crinkle of plastic brought Gerard back from where his head was spinning from how Frank’s hands stroked down his sides and his lip ring slid down his back, metallic and cold. It was usually followed by the slow, warm scrape of Frank’s mouth, which made it all the more better.
Frank’s grunt was quiet as he pulled Gerard’s hips down and Gerard felt the tip of Frank’s cock nudging his entrance. His own prick gave a long throb and he bent his head forward into the darkness of the wall. The countertop was cool under his fingers as he gripped it tightly, feeling the warmth of Frank pressing against his back, the first push that sent shockwaves down his spine and he groaned, biting his lip and stopping himself from pushing back too fast.
Frank’s breath was hot against the back of his neck, his fingers tight over his hips, pressing long bruises into the flesh. He rocked forward, cock pushing through the tight, hot slide of Gerard around him. Inside completely, he paused to take a breath, rocking forward against Gerard slowly.
It felt good, Gerard admitted, to feel Frank inside him, filling him in way that hadn’t happened in a while. He liked how hot everything felt, like sparks flying off his skin, tingles in his fingertips. Pushing back, he let out a hard breath, feeling the familiar stretch and burn. The noise Frank made scraped down his spine, a low growl, coupled with the way his fingers pressed into his hips, and Gerard wasn’t going to hold on for long.
“Fuck,” he gasped down at the counter when Frank moved first, a hard thrust through the muscles, slick and sliding in while Gerard gulped for breath and attempted not to make any stupid noises.
“Gee,” Frank muttered, lips pressed against his shoulder, hips pushing up with enough force that Gerard moved with him and immediately pushed back for more, more.
The room was spinning and Gerard didn’t care at all, throwing his head back and panting into the dim room and feeling how Frank licked at his throat, biting into the top of his shoulder. His prick begged for more friction, more attention as he was fucked over the counter, a little too rough, a little too fast, but it felt good and he wanted more.
“F-Frank,” he managed to whisper, choke into the otherwise silent room aside from the slip-slide of skin against skin, hand scrabbling back to anchor in the hem of Frank’s shirt. “Harder.”
Frank hardly needed to be told as he slammed in harder and Gerard lurched back, fingers tightening, needing just a little more.
“Fuck,” Frank muttered against his spine, one hand releasing Gerard’s hip and slipping to his front, wrapping firmly around his cock and pulling. “You’re so fucking hot. God. Can’t wait. Want you.”
Gerard shook his head quickly and bit back the groan when Frank jerked him off jerkily, not really as finessed as it could be, but it felt so good, the slide of his hand, warm and tight.
“Don’t-d-don’t,” he panted, squeezing his eyes shut as the warmth coiled in his stomach, tight and jumbled. “Don’t wait,” he finished in a rush of air, moaning at the sharp change in thrusts, the arch to his back and Frank’s hand squeezing.
“Don’t wanna,” Frank mumbled and Gerard wished he could see him when he let go, shuddering out a breath against his skin, hips pushing in recklessly as he came.
Gerard reeled as Frank came down and his hand moved faster and Frank mumbled things into the back of his neck, his free hand tracing circles on his hip until Gerard gasped, grip tightening on Frank’s shirt as he came, hot and wet on Frank’s hand.
Panting, he didn’t release the shirt for several seconds until Frank wiggled behind him, pulling out and gently dislodging Gerard’s hand. Gerard bit back the stupid smile when Frank brushed his lips against his knuckles.
Glancing back, his eyes scraped over Frank’s appearance, ruffled and flushed, eyes bright as he raked back his hair and pulled away, letting Gerard turn around. He didn’t let Gerard pull up his pants, though, just crowded him back against the uncomfortable counter.
“Why are you painting at two in the morning?” he asked, mouth brushing dangerously close to Gerard’s, and Gerard almost wondered if he really wanted an answer.
“I always paint at two in the morning,” Gerard mumbled back, softly.
Frank cracked a quiet smile, hand going for Gerard’s hair. Gerard was sure there were flecks of paint in it somewhere.
“There are other things you can do at two in the morning,” he replied instead, stretching up to kiss Gerard, soft and slow.
“I’m finding that out,” Gerard mumbled when Frank pulled back.
Frank smiled. “Well, what are you doing tomorrow at two in the afternoon?”
Gerard paused, wondering if he’d forgotten something. But then Frank gave him a look and he realized. “Uh, nothing.”
“You should come by Foreclosed. We’re having a themed reading.”
“What kind of theme?” Gerard’s fingers were tracing the tattoo on Frank’s arm without even noticing at this point.
He’d been back to the coffee house several times on his own now, without the help of Mikey or Ray. Mostly he didn’t actually want to admit to Mikey that he’d been a good influence. Plus, if Pete ever got wind of it, Gerard was sure it would somehow end up in a song.
“Grand declarations,” Frank replied after a minute, kissing Gerard again before he could really process it.
When Frank slid away, biting his lip, Gerard felt his chest tighten a little and he didn’t know what to say.
“A-are you reading?” he asked finally, a nervous flutter in his stomach spreading to his fingers and he felt like he needed to be doing something right then to distract himself.
“I was thinking, maybe,” Frank admitted carefully, watching Gerard. Gerard didn’t say anything, though, so he swallowed and grabbed his pants off the floor, pulling them on. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Gerard didn’t know what to say, so when Frank came back, fully clothed and waiting, he let out a breath. “Yeah.”
“Good,” he said quietly, stretching up to kiss him, harder than usual. He slid away with a last peck to his lips and left before Gerard could really think of what to say or what he was going to do.
“I am fucked.”
Ray, it turned out, was actually a pretty great listener, but not when it was nine in the morning and he was barely awake, having woken up to Gerard banging in the dorm room door, dropping his bag in a heap by the door and flopping onto his bed facedown.
Disoriented, Ray stirred, and Gerard eyed his hair annoyedly out of the corner of his eye and sighed into his pillow.
“What?” Ray asked, voice grumbly with sleep as he peered blearily out at Gerard. It smelled like paint with him back again. “You mean you got fucked?”
“No,” Gerard mumbled. “Well, yes, but no.”
Ray yawned loudly, curling into his pillow. “What do you mean?”
Gerard rolled over onto his back with a flop, staring up at the ceiling and frowning. “Frank.”
“What did he do?” Ray mumbled tiredly, sounding resigned now.
Casting him a glance, Gerard’s frown deepened. He didn’t really know why he was telling Ray anyway since Ray was friends with Frank, but it was better than telling Mikey, who would just laugh and give him secretive smiles for the rest of forever.
“Nothing.” Gerard sighed. “I shouldn’t…”
Ray rolled over now, clearly awake, no thanks to Gerard. He rolled his eyes. “You woke me up, from a very good dream about that girl at the coffee shop. What did Frank do?”
Gerard sighed again. “He didn’t do anything, yet. But I think he loves me or something, maybe…”
Sitting up, Ray arched an eyebrow at Gerard. “Why do you think that?”
Gerard cast him a look, sure Ray knew more than he was letting on. Since he’d actually started talking to Ray, he’d discovered a multitude of interesting facts about him, including that he often knew more than he said.
“He invited me to a themed reading today, grand declarations,” Gerard muttered, thinking back on the way Frank had looked when he said it; sort of a hopeful, open expression. “Said he was performing.”
Ray lay back down, tugging at the ends of his hair and yawning again. “Frank performs a lot.”
“I’ve never seen him do it.” Gerard frowned.
“You’ve only known him two months,” Ray pointed out. “And you never go to the House.”
“I do,” Gerard tried to argue, but it was true. For the most part, Frank sought him out and rooted him out of his dorm. But there had been times when Gerard went out looking for Frank. It was a big step for him.
Ray ignored him. “It’s probably nothing. But if I were you, I’d bring something to read too.”
Gerard stared after him even as Ray rolled out of bed and padded to the door, heading down the hall for the bathroom.
It was chilly as Gerard stood outside the door to Foreclosed, fingers clutching around his notebook and waiting nervously. He wasn’t waiting for anyone, just something. Something to happen, maybe, he wasn’t sure.
The minute hand ticked closer to two the longer he stood there, seriously debating turning back and hiding in his dorm, but then a voice behind him startled him, almost making him drop his notebook.
“What are you doing?”
Turning, Gerard found Mikey standing behind him, hands pushed deep in his jacket pockets, although he removed one to push his glasses up his nose.
“Mikey,” he stuttered, like a kid caught with his hands in the cookie jar. He knew he looked guilty as he shuffled his notebook behind his back and glanced nervously between Mikey and the door.
Mikey raised a suspicious eyebrow as he stepped closer. “Why are you here?”
“Why are you here?” Gerard countered but knew it wouldn’t distract Mikey for long.
“Pete invited me,” Mikey replied slowly, and of course, Gerard thought.
“Well, then, you shouldn’t keep him waiting,” Gerard said awkwardly, reaching for the doorknob before he could stop himself. He knew Mikey was watching him as he led the way down the dark hallway to the room at the end.
Pete was already there and he waved at Mikey the moment they got inside. Gerard seized the opportunity. “I’m gonna get a coffee,” he said quickly, leaving Mikey on the way to Pete and veering off. He prayed to God that Mikey wasn’t watching as he weaved through the cluttered tables up to the counter.
Frank and Jamia were there. Frank looked bored, twirling a pen in his fingers and chewing on his lip ring while Jamia picked at her nail polish – purple this time.
Frank lit up immediately, though, when Gerard appeared, tugging at his hair nervously.
“Gerard,” he greeted him, a smile spreading over his face, and the coil in Gerard’s stomach tightened, but not really in a bad way.
“Hi,” Gerard replied quietly, shuffling so he was blocking Frank from Mikey’s view, if Mikey was looking. He didn’t look to check.
Frank bounced up on his toes a little, looking slightly anxious as Jamia shot him a look from under her bangs. “Ready for the reading? Should be good. Pete came.”
“Yeah,” Gerard muttered. “He’s probably going to declare his undying love for my brother.”
“Mikey’s your brother?” Frank asked curiously, head tilted to the side as he craned to look at Mikey behind Gerard. “I guess you kind of look alike.”
Gerard shrugged. “Yeah. Um. So I’ll go sit down?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as a question but it did anyway.
Frank smiled. “Sure. We have to start the reading now anyway.”
Gerard nodded, turning from Frank’s smile and joining Mikey and Pete at their table. Pete looked surprised to see him, but he was too busy grinning at Mikey to really comment.
Sinking into his chair, Gerard sighed and was grateful when Mikey didn’t ask why he had no coffee.
Frank started the readings today, and Jamia stayed behind the counter. The introduction was fairly similar as all the times Gerard had seen it, but Frank’s eyes strayed to Gerard more times than Gerard cared to notice, feeling the flush on his skin every time it happened. Mikey glanced at him too by the end when Frank left the stage to man the sign-ups and Pete went over.
“What was that?” Mikey asked when Pete was gone and Gerard slunk in his chair.
“What?” he asked, avoiding Mikey’s eyes and hovering his hand over the candle instead.
Mikey arched an eyebrow but didn’t push it as Pete climbed on stage.
Sighing, Gerard tried to pay attention, but Pete just made no sense except the part where he said something about tall, dark, and wearing glasses, the windows to my soul. Gerard purposefully chose to ignore that, clutching to his notebook tightly.
A few more people went on after Pete finished and waded back to the table where he immediately whispered something in Mikey’s ear and Mikey whispered back. Gerard definitely ignored the way Mikey’s hand moved to Pete’s thigh under the table after that.
Gerard sat nervously, knowing he should get up and go sign up. But he didn’t. He remained in his seat, watching person after person go up and make some sort of big declaration, from love to hate to regret and everything in between.
He was just thinking about slipping out unnoticed when Frank climbed on stage and perched on the stool as the room quieted.
“Hey everybody,” he spoke into the microphone, voice echoing into the corners of the room. “You all know me, and I think I know all you. But right now, I’m not your friendly neighborhood barista. Tonight, I’m just a guy, and I just have one thing I want to say. So I hope you’re all listening, especially that guy at the back table.”
Gerard’s eyes widened, and Mikey definitely shot him a look this time. Swallowing, he tried to sink lower, but there was nowhere else to go, and Frank was watching him now as he paused, biting his lip.
“So I’m not a poet,” Frank said after a minute, “and I’m not an artist, and I don’t know a lot of things about the world or the people in it, or even myself. But the things I do know are important, and I’ll never forget them. Just like I’ll never forget you, even if this ends in a horrible, fiery clash of coffee and paint. But I hope it won’t because I like you, a lot, and my declaration here is that…” Frank paused and smiled into the microphone as Gerard felt the blush creeping up his cheeks. “Next time it’s two AM, I’m gonna know exactly where to find you because I know where you’ll be. Two AM is our time now, I hope you get that.”
The crowd applauded quietly as Frank slid off the stool and returned to his post at the sign-ups. Gerard was just staring at the stage, and only winced internally when Mikey turned to him.
“Frank?” he asked curiously, and Gerard scowled.
Mikey smiled, quietly sly, and Pete leaned over. “Are you and Frank fucking?”
Mikey clapped his hands over his ears. “Pete, no.”
Pete didn’t look bothered, and Gerard didn’t reply, turning away and pushing out of his chair. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but he found himself pushing past whoever was next as the last person left the stage. Climbing up, he felt the flash of the spotlight shimmer on him and he almost faltered as he grabbed the microphone.
“Uh, hi,” he said, voice reverberating around him. No one responded, and he could only see the vague reflection of faces. Mikey looked smug in the back. He ignored him, instead, searching out Frank near the stage. “Um. I don’t really have anything to read, but I have a drawing.” He fumbled for a second, pulling a piece of paper out of his notebook. “You probably can’t see it, but it’s of this guy that I met about two months ago and I haven’t stopped drawing him since. Um.” He paused, staring down at the drawing of Frank, a sketch he’d made two weeks ago when he’d stayed over at Frank’s and watched him sleep. The curves of Frank’s body molded onto the page, rumpled in sheets, smudged by fingers, lip ring glinting against the paper, finally just right. “And I don’t want to stop drawing him,” he admitted finally, eyes darting to Frank. “So… that’s all.”
The crowd applauded slowly, a smattering as Gerard climbed awkwardly off the stage and was met by Frank just off as the next person went on.
“Here,” Gerard muttered, half-shoving the drawing at Frank, who took it and smoothed it out carefully, eyes studying the page.
Gerard waited nervously, gripping the notebook tightly. He wasn’t sure why he felt so anxious. It wasn’t as though Frank hadn’t seen his other drawings, but this one felt somehow more intimate.
Finally, after two agonizing minutes, Frank calmly folded the paper and looked at Gerard. Then he smiled slightly. “You know why I’m gonna know where you are next two AM?”
Gerard shook his head slowly.
Frank was biting his lip ring again as he slid his arms around Gerard’s waist, tugging him forward. “’Cause you’re coming home with me tonight, not your paints.”
Frank’s lips were soft as he kissed Gerard, and Gerard was pretty sure he could get used to it.
“I could do that,” he murmured when Frank pulled back and smiled at him.
“And you can keep drawing me for as long as you want, forever if that’s okay.”
Gerard smiled slowly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Frank nodded, sliding his hand down to Gerard’s. “So when were you planning on telling Mikey about me?”
“Never,” Gerard scoffed, leaning into Frank’s side, burying his face in Frank’s neck. “He’ll never let it go.”
“Let what go?” Frank asked curiously, and Gerard groaned.
“Nothing.” He paused. “Who says we have to wait until two?”
Grinning, Frank shifted closer, snaking a hand under the back of Gerard’s shirt. “Absolutely no one.”
Gerard didn’t hesitate to pull Frank away from his post and did his best to ignore Mikey’s smug look as he did so. After all, a little privacy never hurt anyone.