Chapter Text
“Jesus it stinks here,” is the first thing Gerard says as soon as he walks into the bus.
Frank lifts his head and grunts, while Ray discreetly tries to sniff himself. He doesn’t think he stinks, but maybe he is too used to it to notice.
“That’s rich coming from you,” Frank replies under his breath.
If Gerard hears, he pretends not to.
Everybody knows Gerard’s been on a short fuse lately. Hence, everyone is walking on eggshells around him. Ray doesn’t know what it is, but he can guess that the heat and the touring and the rigorous cycle is getting to all of them.
“I’ll take a bird bath soon,” Ray replies, “But I’m out of clean laundry.”
“Don’t fucking bother,” Gerard says petulantly. He is opening cupboards and then slamming them shut. “It stinks fucking everywhere on this tour. I’m sick of it.”
“Sorry,” Ray says.
“Not our fault,” Frank shoots back. “You stink too, man. Like fucking pennies and pickles.”
“At least I don’t smell like dick and balls, like you do,” Gerard snaps. He turns around and puts his hands on his hips, his face stormy. “You fucking asshole alphas don’t know how to control your fucking pheromones, fucker, and it’s pissing me the fuck off!”
With that, he leaves, going to the bunks, and Frank whistles watching him leave.
“He needs to calm the fuck down,” Frank mumbles, as soon as Gerard is out of earshot.
Ray tenses, hoping Gerard didn’t hear that, isn’t about to storm back in and yell some more.
Gerard’s smell sticks to the room though, lingering in the air along the path that he took as Ray inhales a little, trying to be discreet. Ray doesn’t think Gerard smells like pennies and pickles. Sure, that’s what his sweat smells like, but underneath that, it’s like a fucking rose garden—if Ray wanted to stick his dick into a pile of roses, that is.
“We all have to,” Ray replies. “And a shower wouldn’t hurt.”
“No surprise that you take his side,” Frank says with a grin. “He keeps you on a short leash, man. At this point, I’m not sure if he chopped off your knot and is wearing it.”
“Whatever.”
Ray doesn’t even comment on the fact that he would let Gerard do that, no questions asked. Frank knows that already, that’s why he is saying it.
*
It, unsurprisingly, doesn’t get much better. Ray guesses that it won’t, until the tour ends, at least.
Everywhere he goes, he can smell that alpha scent himself, and he thinks Gerard’s right that it’s strong. Sometimes, he feels like plugging his nose, only some semblance of decorum left stopping him. And no matter how many showers he takes, he knows he still smells like shit to Gerard.
It’s not his fault though, that his scent is so strong whenever Gerard is around—Gerard probably doesn’t know that he is, in fact, the number one cause.
Any time he walks into a room, the first thing he notices is Gerard, even if he isn’t even there yet. His nose can track Gerard for miles by scent alone. That fact isn’t helped much by the fact that Gerard barely showers.
It’s true that omegas don’t smell as strongly as alphas—or when they do, most alphas don’t mind anyway, some thinking it’s even a good thing to have an omega around to smell. Ray has never been one of those disgusting freaks. And while he hasn’t ever minded the scent of an omega, he is always acutely aware of Gerard’s.
He’s not the only one inhaling secretly any time Gerard walks in too.
Being one of the few omegas in the scene—something Gerard gets a lot of shit for and takes a lot of pride in at the same time—means that most people, when he comes around, are all but desperate to smell anything other than dick and balls as Gerard put it.
Maybe that’s the part Ray minds. Maybe, he doesn’t like the way everybody raises their heads and lifts their noses for a better angle to sniff when Gerard walks by, alphas following them with their eyes until he disappears from view.
It makes Ray want to put his hands on Gerard’s waist and pull him in until their scent is mixed enough for the alphas to stop liking it so much. He knows that Gerard would probably chop off his knot for real if he did that though. Something something about Gerard’s image and something something about him already getting enough shit.
Sometimes, it can’t be helped though.
They are walking to the bus, the sun beating down on them, burning Gerard’s skin some more to get him tanner, so Ray can ogle the pale parts of his chest in contrast with his arms whenever he takes his shirt off, when it happens.
“It’s too goddamn hot,” Gerard complains. “And I’m sick of drinking water. But coffee is just too hot to drink. I hate instant iced coffee, man.”
It’s all things Ray has heard a million times. Still, he understands the urge to complain. If he could do it as well as Gerard, he’d be complaining every day too.
“And I’m fucking out of underwear—these jeans are chafing my fucking dick.”
Ray hums noncommittally, trying not to think about Gerard going commando. Before he can reply and say he’s going to do laundry soon and he can take care of Gerard’s dirty clothes too, just out of the kindness of his heart and for no other reason, somebody chuckles.
“You even got anything in there to chafe, man?” the guy asks.
When Ray turns to look, it’s fucking Dennis, sitting outside their band’s bus on a camping chair, nursing a bottle of beer that’s sweating in his hand.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Gerard shoots back, grabbing his package and shaking it in Dennis' way.
Dennis throws his head back and laughs, showing off his pale neck, still so goddamn pale in the relentless sun.
“I sure would,” he replies. Then, lowering his voice, “I really, really would.”
Gerard rolls his eyes but he is smiling a little. Ray knows Gerard doesn’t mind these comments, not from Dennis at least, who is an asshole but a good one—
Maybe, his body doesn’t know that.
For a second, he is confused when he hears the growl, almost ready to look around and locate it—before he feels the vibrations in his chest, the way his face is all screwed up, his bared teeth and the hot air hitting them.
He is so surprised that the growl cuts off right in the middle and he just stands there like an idiot, mouth dropped open. “Uh.”
When he looks at Gerard, he doesn’t look much different from Ray. His face is pink, from his forehead to his neck, his lips looking paler in comparison. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows are up, tiny teeth in his open mouth.
“Damn, dude,” Dennis says. Ray’s eyes stay on Gerard even when he turns away, closing his mouth and swallowing. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah, well,” Gerard replies for Ray, and then waves a hand. “Yeah.”
And then… he just walks away. Ray has no other choice but to follow, fumbling a little to match Gerard’s wide, fast steps.
“I don’t know what that was,” he says, and his voice comes out a little shaky. A mix of embarrassment, and fear of Gerard’s reaction. “G, seriously, like, maybe I’m getting sick or something—uh, maybe the stomach bug that Frank had?”
Gerard is still walking so fast that Ray is out of breath trying to catch up and he is taller than Gerard and more athletic on any given day for fuck’s sake.
“A stomach bug doesn’t cause people to—to growl, man,” Gerard replies, then he waves a hand, the same way he did with Dennis. “It’s fine.”
“No,” Ray says. Then, he doesn’t know what else to say. “No, like, I wasn’t—I didn’t mean that—or mean to do it at all, even.”
“I said it’s fine.”
Gerard opens the door to the bus, gets in, and then closes it behind himself, right in Ray’s face.
Ray stands there, shaking. Heat crawls up his neck.
He doesn’t think he has done anything like that since fucking high school, and even back then, that was only when he got into a fight. He hasn’t done anything like that with any of his girlfriends—let alone do it over a fucking joke.
He drags in a slow breath and walks into the bus. Gerard isn’t in the main area, probably already in his bunk with the curtain closed, but Ray can smell him anyway.
He just can’t believe how much he just screwed up.
*
Good news is that Gerard doesn’t address it, not even a little.
Bad news is that Gerard doesn’t address it.
Ray is ready to apologize, he even has a speech planned, about how much of an asshole move that was and how much he knows Gerard hates that but also how Ray was probably actually sick and he even threw up a little and so that must be the reason why anyway—
But Gerard just smiles at him that evening, patting him on the shoulder, and says, “Let’s roll, Toro.”
And then they don’t talk about it.
Maybe that’s for the better, but Ray can’t just let it go as easily as Gerard seems to have. He keeps wondering what Gerard must have thought—is thinking—about the kind of guy Ray is. Everybody, every fucking body who knows Gerard even a little, knows how much he hates all that macho alpha bullshit.
Hell, they’ve talked countless times about how much they hate it together, late at night, sitting outside the van, speaking with hushed voices, always with that undertone of Gerard being glad Ray isn’t like the rest of those dicks.
And now Ray ruined it, ruined it all, and he has no idea how to fix it.
When he tries, he just fucks it up some more.
“Have you guys heard about this?” Gerard asks, right after banging the door to the bus open. Mikey is unfazed while Ray and Frank jump in shock. “These assholes—asking girls to show ‘em their tits and stuff—for fucking backstage passes—again!”
Ray doesn’t fucking know how that conversation spirals into what it does. They talk a little bit about asshole alphas, asshole venue owners, asshole fans who support that shit. Until they get to the girls’ perspectives.
“I just don’t even understand why anybody would do that,” Gerard says, nose in the air. “Like, I wish everybody in the world knew that they are worth more than that.”
“They’re young,” Frank comments. “And, y’know, when you’re a huge fan of something, you don’t really consider them to be evil even when they ask for something like that.”
Ray nods along, surprised at how wise Frank sounds. Most of the time, Frank doesn’t take anything that seriously to be spewing out wisdom like that, but there come subjects where he sounds ten years older than his age.
“Yeah, don’t tell me you wouldn’t do it if it was, say, Grant Morrison asking you,” Mikey jokes with a shrug.
Gerard rolls his eyes. “Grant would never ask for that,” he replies, and he says Grant like they are fucking buddies or something.
Ray sits forward a little. “And nobody would ask Gerard for something like that anyway,” he adds.
It’s true. People always think twice about bothering Gerard, with the way he walks around, head up high and a confidence in his eyes that Ray knows has been hard-earned and is still half-fake.
Mikey and Frank’s face slowly turn towards him while Gerard’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?”
“‘Cause, y’know,” Ray gestures towards Gerard vaguely. “You’re you. Nobody would have the balls to ask you that, man.”
“What is that supposed to mean, dog?”
Ray clicks his tongue, fumbling for an answer. Frank clears his throat very loudly. “I’m just trying to say, like, nobody would, y’know, think they could do that to you.”
“Let’s stop talking about this,” Mikey says, cutting in.
“No, let’s not,” Gerard says, and his face has gone a pale shade of pink as he sucks his cheeks in. “Man, a lot of people would ask me—I have been asked, okay? Asked out, or, or to show my tits, and not just from like, losers either!”
Sweat gathers in Ray’s palms. “I’m not trying to say—all I meant is that, they wouldn’t—that, like, you’re almost… an alpha, when it comes to presence, or, to vibes, or something—”
“I think he gets it,” Mikey interrupts with a wince.
Gerard is looking off to the side with his arms crossed and his chin jutted out. For all talks of him being a diva, for a second, he really does look like one.
Ray presses his lips together, wondering where he went wrong.
“I’m gonna—cigarette,” Gerard says, getting up and speedwalking outside while fumbling for the package in his pocket.
“Oh, my god,” Frank says when the door closes behind him. He turns to Ray. “Man, you can’t say that to him!”
“Why?” Ray asks, “Oh, my god, I didn’t mean to piss him off—it was a compliment!”
“It’s fine,” Mikey replies, his nose already buried in his flip phone. “Gerard’ll get over it.”
“But what did I do wrong?” Ray whines, trying to catch Frank’s eyes.
Frank just shrugs with a grimace and opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Argh!” He says in the end. “Don’t even worry about it, man.”
He pats Ray twice on the shoulder before he leaves.
*
Ray’s pretty sure that Gerard tries to take revenge that very evening, by amping up the crowd so much that he has everybody eating off the palm of his hand, and half the people howling when he even dares to smile.
What nails it in for Ray is the way Gerard keeps looking at him, from the corner of his eye, any time he does something that makes the crowd roar. He announces that he is not wearing any underwear—gives a smug smirk to Ray. He talks about the weather and how hot it is and how it’s so, so hard not to just take his clothes off—he swings his hips and walks right in front of Ray, making direct eye contact the whole time.
He drops to his knees in front of Frank and fans himself while screaming, eyes rolled back, and then rolls on the floor, seizing almost, but it must work - obviously, it works for Ray too - and the people just go crazy against the barricade, trying to get a closer look at Gerard’s fish out of the water impression.
In the end, Ray is left strung out and tense, his jaw aching from clenching it so much. His brain is all scrambled like eggs.
Doesn’t help that Gerard stinks to high heaven in the green room too, using a threadbare towel to wipe off the sweat on his face before throwing it towards the corner of the room, sending it flying right past Ray’s face.
With all the self-control Ray possesses, he manages to hold his breath just in time, but it’s fruitless anyway, since every breath he takes is full of Gerard.
“My knees hurt,” Gerard complains, rubbing one with his open palm.
“Well, no wonder,” Ray says. Ray says. He did not mean to say that. Fuck.
Gerard looks at him with a little surprise on his face that swiftly turns into a grin instead. “Think we’re getting old, Toro.”
For all the revenge tactics he pulled on stage, he doesn’t seem to hold it against Ray—or maybe, he is biding his time to destroy Ray at the perfect moment. Ray can’t quite tell.
“Nah,” Ray replies. “You look 20 now, you’ll look 30 when you’re 40, and so on, so on. You’re gonna be fine, man.”
“Doesn’t feel like 20,” Gerard mumbles, stretching his legs out.
“Y’know what I think?” Frank asks. “I think you two are going to get rich and have servants do all your bidding so you can spend all your time playing video games and all your joints will rot inside your bodies.”
“That was too detailed to be a flyaway thought, man,” Mikey says.
“I worry for you guys.” Frank shrugs. Then, putting on a voice, “With your Sims, and WOW, and DND... that’s the problem of the new generation, man.”
Before Gerard can start explaining the history of DND for maybe the hundredth time, Ray chuckles. “Don’t say the name,” he whines. “Just makes me crave it more.”
“Like with cigarettes,” Gerard says. “Fuck, and saying that, now I want a cigarette.”
Gerard lights one up, and then he leans back on the couch, lying down, head towards Ray.
“Jesus, this couch is made of bricks.”
“Here,” Ray says, holding out the ashtray for Gerard.
Gerard doesn’t take it, just ashes his cigarette, as if he expects Ray to hold the ashtray there the whole time. He isn’t fucking wrong.
Taking advantage of Ray’s new proximity, Gerard scoots up a little so his head ends up on Ray’s leg instead, and sighs contentedly. “Much better, Toro.”
Ray exhales through his nose, blinking against the cigarette smoke. “No problem, man,” he replies. As much as he hates the way cigarettes smell, he much prefers the heavy taste of nicotine to Gerard’s scent.
At least, nicotine doesn’t make him lose his mind and do stupid things.
“Not fair that I have to lie down on Mikey’s thighs,” Frank complains, “He’s all bones, dude.”
“Nobody’s forcing you to,” Mikey replies, but he does raise his elbows to make room for Frank, still texting at lightning speed on his phone.
“I’m so tired,” Gerard whispers, just loud enough for Ray to hear. “I miss… I miss being home.”
Considering he is pretty much homeless at the moment, that’s a loaded sentence.
Ray flinches slightly, burying his hands into Gerard’s hair to pet him, scratching at his scalp in a way that would make a cat purr. “You want a massage?” He asks.
Gerard’s eyes fall closed and he nods gently. “And I’ll give you one, too. For your hands.” He wiggles his fingers.
“Can’t really do that while I’m giving you a massage.”
“Well, we don’t have to 69 it,” Gerard says, and then moans when Ray presses down a little too hard at the crease between his eyebrows, smoothing it out. “I’ll do it after.”
“Sure,” Ray says. He isn’t going to hold Gerard to it, half because he doesn’t trust Gerard to not break every bone in his hand in the name of a massage and half because he doesn’t trust himself, period.
That night, when he goes to the bathroom, he sniffs and sniffs his hand, all but humping the fucking sink. Just before I wash my hands, he thinks. I deserve this, he thinks.
When his knot swells up without even anything—without even pressure on his dick, what the fuck—his hand drops down in fear. He opens his eyes and looks at himself in the mirror, all crazy eyes and red face, and he washes his hands up to his shoulder almost, several times, to get rid of that scent.
By the time he comes out, Frank is almost ready to piss his pants, and curses Ray out a bunch of times before running in.
But even in the bunk, Ray can’t stop himself from lifting his hand up to his nose, smelling his fingers. It’s only the scent of his skin and soap mixed in together, but he is imagining Gerard’s smell there.
It’s no wonder he has uneasy dreams.
*
The tour continues to be relentless, no matter where they are.
They keep complaining about meaningless shit, even though deep down, they all love this and want to do it forever. Once you get home, that’s when you realize, though. While in the depths of touring, it can get pretty cruel.
When the AC breaks, a war almost breaks out.
“Move the fucking fan,” Frank complains, his nose plugged up. “All I can smell is your—your armpits, Mikey Way.”
“You fucking love it,” Mikey replies, raising his arm to reveal a pit stain the size of Jersey.
Frank groans and gags.
Ray’s pretty miserable too, sitting on the couch, about to melt into it, slimy all over his body with sweat. No way out of this either, other than to bear it.
Gerard’s been pretty silent, but he keeps opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out. Whenever Ray hands him a bottle of water, he downs it in desperate gulps, but if Ray doesn’t give him water, he doesn’t reach for it himself, like he forgets.
He smells really, really strong, but nobody dares to comment on it.
“You okay?” Ray asks, after maybe the fifth sigh Gerard lets out.
“I’m fine,” Gerard replies. With a grunt, he leans forward, the movement wafting pheromones Ray’s way until he thinks his eyes might roll back in his skull. “Just a headache.”
This is the place where Ray would offer a head rub, but he isn’t feeling that brave.
Gerard’s scent is so hard to describe. It’s something metallic, musky, all that sweat on his body that he barely washes off. Something chemical from his hair, the box dye and the bleach. Sometimes, graphite on his hands, if you’re close enough. And always, the smell of coffee and cigarettes sticking to him.
Underneath all that, there is something distinctly omega. Sweet, but so much so that it’s like rotten fruit, with a musk to it much different than how Gerard’s sweat or skin smells like. Flowers, trees, grass, a cold spring evening, a hot summer night—pure fucking sex.
Ray might be addicted.
He also wonders, from time to time, how he must smell to Gerard. To himself, he just smells like any other alpha. But from the way Gerard complains about their stink sometimes, he is guessing it’s a little off-putting, especially when Ray has been sweating so much.
One time, he walked right in front of the AC and saw Gerard’s whole face screw up in what he could only describe as disgust. He made sure not to miss too many showers after that.
Gerard’s fucking lucky that no matter how much he stinks, he always stinks so good. That way, he doesn’t have to worry about personal hygiene so much.
“Ray,” Gerard says, rolling onto the ground and getting up on his knees. He sticks his tongue out again and pants like a dog for a second, making Ray clench his thighs as he feels fire shoot off in his belly. “I want an iced coffee, man.”
“That’d be pretty good, yeah.”
“You like going on walks, right? You wanna go for a walk?”
Ray perks up at the word. He could do with some time alone, and he doesn’t mind fetching Gerard a coffee on the way back.
“Sure, man,” he says, and he gets up.
For a second, he is hit with a dizzy spell, and he has to lock his knees and take a deep breath of the same, muddy air, full of scents that make him even more dizzy.
A hand, on his thigh, and then Gerard literally uses Ray to climb up to his feet. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Ray replies. He tries to step back from Gerard without making it too obvious—but Jesus, Gerard truly does smell. “Um. I’ll be back with your coffee.”
Gerard’s brows furrow and he clicks his tongue. “I was thinking we’d go together,” and then turning back towards the guys, he adds, “Get away from these losers a little.”
Frank and Mikey don’t even bother to reply, but Frank does flip them the bird.
“Oh, yeah,” Ray replies. “Okay.”
So much for getting some alone time, then.
On the walk, Gerard makes mindless conversation, things Ray can just reply to with a hum or a nod, so he doesn’t have to think too much about it.
Until, Gerard stops in his tracks and scoffs. “What are you looking at, asshole?” he asks, raising his voice.
When Ray follows his sight, he sees a young alpha with a red face lower his head, his eyes on his shoes. They watch him scurry away.
“I don’t even think he was looking at you, man,” Ray comments, smiling a little at the way Gerard just scared the shit out of the poor guy.
“Yeah, well, you would think that,” Gerard replies, putting his chin up, suddenly the venom directed at Ray. “Relax, man. I know I’m not exactly alpha-bait in your eyes—but he was looking at me.”
“What is that even supposed to mean?” Ray asks, feeling his stomach drop.
What does Gerard know about being alpha-bait anyway—and who told him that he isn’t?
If Ray was like, way more of an asshole than he is, he could use the metaphor of himself being a hungry cat and Gerard being a piece of steak, conveniently dropped onto the floor right into the range of Ray’s greedy paws.
Gerard purses his lips, his cheeks dusted a little pink. “Whatever,” he says. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Okay… but, like, what?”
“I know I’m like, y’know, a brother to you, or whatever,” Gerard tries to explain, while Ray is stuck watching his face get redder.
Ray’s face, in turn, warms up, as all the sweat on his body goes cold at the same time. A brother. Ray doesn’t think that Gerard could be further off the mark.
Gerard continues, “So, you don’t… oh, my god, this is stupid.”
“No,” Ray replies, “Just, tell me, man.”
Gerard rolls his eyes and huffs and puffs a little. He waves a hand between them. “I know that you don’t think I’m hot, man, but some people do think so, y’know? So, I notice.”
Ray feels his eyebrows climb up his forehead and he makes an effort to close his mouth so he is not just gaping at Gerard like a fish.
“Oh,” he breathes out. “Um.”
“I told you,” Gerard says, crossing his arms. “It’s stupid. I mean, I wouldn’t expect you to, to notice or whatever, but I do—I mean, I would know, so.”
He sounds weirdly proud and insecure at the same time, like he really wants to make Ray believe him even though maybe he himself doesn’t.
“I don’t think that you’re not hot,” Ray says, before his brain can catch up. “I mean, that makes sense. Of course, I’m sure a lot of people think you’re hot, man.”
Ray barely stops himself from adding not me, like you said, of course, ‘cause I would never, G, trust me because he doesn’t even know how to open that can of worms and probably, his face and tone of voice would make everything obvious to Gerard anyway, who at the moment, seems clueless.
He watches as Gerard’s shoulders drop, head turning to the side to avoid Ray’s gaze, a distinct downward pull to his lips, making him look like he is frowning and smiling at the same time.
“Thanks, man.”
Ray grimaces. “No, I mean it!” He argues. “I mean, you’re, y’know,” he waves a hand down Gerard’s body in a vague way, “You’re like…” the most beautiful person I’ve ever met? He finishes off the sentence with a voice crack, “Y’know?”
Gerard exhales slowly, pressing a thumb and index finger to the corners of his eyes. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I get it, man.”
“Okay…” Ray replies, shifting on the spot.
Fuck.
“Anyway,” Gerard says, smiling again. Ray knows Gerard, and Ray knows that smile is fucking fake, but he doesn’t know how to fix that. “I need my iced coffee, fucker.”
The rest of the walk is pretty silent, even though Gerard tries to smile any time Ray looks at him. It’s really creepy actually, how fast that smile comes and then falls as soon as Ray looks away. Like a little demon possessed Gerard and has to play it cool or something.
Ray’s too busy to talk. He’s thinking about whether Gerard actually considers him a brother or not. That’s something people say all the time, and with Frank, that’s Ray’s brother, one hundred percent, and Mikey too, who happens to actually be Gerard’s brother, so Gerard considers him to be a brother for sure as well—
But Ray… He kicks at a small stone and exhales softly, forgetting for a second that Gerard is right beside him giving him those creepy smiles.
Ray really, really hopes he is not in the brother category to Gerard.
*
They’re backstage when Ray gets to witness Gerard being pursued.
Ray’s not blind. He sees Gerard, and he sees the way people look at Gerard—all the fucking time, actually.
That still doesn’t make it easier when he has to watch somebody flirt with Gerard, engines on full, the brakes cut. And the worst part is, she doesn’t even wait for Ray to leave as she does it.
It starts off innocent enough.
“Hey,” she says, “I’m Leah.”
“Oh, hey,” Gerard replies, turning around on the spot to talk to her.
She doesn’t even acknowledge Ray, just smiles sweetly at Gerard as she waxes poetic about the show and My Chem and how great it has been to see them like this.
Gerard nods along and laughs at all the right places, the way he does when he’s trying to be polite without committing to anything, offering a sentence about how he has been meaning to see Leah’s band play for a while now, all the while Ray stands there, watching with a bitter taste in his mouth.
“That’d actually be pretty cool,” she replies, looking up at Gerard under her eyelashes. Her eyes are very, very blue, and they catch the light in the most beautiful way. “And I’d love to have you backstage as well. To see the process and all.”
When she winks, Gerard goes pink and giggles, trying to tuck his hair behind his ear, even though it’s way too short nowadays. “Oh, man,” he mumbles, clearly flustered. “Yeah, that’d be, um, cool.”
“So, it’s a date?” she asks.
Gerard looks at Ray for the first time, like he’s checking for something, his eyebrows up, and whatever he sees on Ray’s face makes the smile dim a little. “Yeah!” he replies, and he steps a little to the side, closer to Ray without seeming to realize he’s doing it. “The whole band actually—like, Frankie and Mikey too, would love that.”
“Aw,” she pouts, her eyes landing on Ray for a millisecond. “I don’t get you all to myself?”
Gerard’s face goes even pinker, all the way to his neck, and he shrugs helplessly. “Well, maybe, like, another time, for sure.”
“Another time.” She clicks her tongue, sticks out her bottom lip. “Y’know I’ll hold you to that?”
“Hah!” Gerard says, like that.
“Well, it was nice to meet you,” she offers, finally, taking a step forward to crowd into Gerard’s space.
Ray gets a whiff of alpha pheromones so strong that even he wrinkles his nose but Gerard doesn’t seem to mind.
“And it was nice to meet you too, uh,” she looks at him with her brows furrowed.
“Ray,” Gerard offers, grabbing him by the arm.
Ray hasn’t said one sentence during this whole interaction and it makes heat crawl up his neck a little thinking about it.
He knows how it goes, he’s been there while the other guys have flirted with girls, he is used to it. Still, it lacks fucking… decorum. He thinks it’s just rude. And no matter how blown away Gerard is by her big blue eyes, it sucks that he would forget Ray’s whole fucking existence just like that.
Being a brother to Gerard Way sucks.
He holds his hand out and smiles. “Nice to meet you, Leah.”
Her face lights up a little and she shakes his hand a little too animatedly, making him jostle. “Ray,” she says, testing out his name. Maybe that would be charming under any other circumstance but at that moment, a growl almost claws its way out of Ray’s throat, on fucking purpose this time. “I’ll see you guys soon, then?”
Her eyes on Gerard again, running up and down his body, this time with her tongue peeking out of her lips.
Gerard nods with a grin. “Yeah. See you!”
She leaves, and Ray tries really hard not to watch her hips swing even though he can see Gerard take a peek.
“Um,” Gerard says once she is gone, and his hand is still gripping Ray’s arm. “Wow.”
Ray wants to rip his shirt off and scream. “Yeah, wow, man,” he replies instead, and hopes his voice doesn’t betray the rage brewing inside him.
Fucking Gerard. Of course he would turn out to be into petite redheads with blue eyes. Fuck.
“Let’s just go to the bus, man,” Gerard says, half dragging Ray by the arm. “Was she like, super intense, or was I imagining that?”
Ray really, really doesn’t want to talk about it. But he has to be a good friend. “Yeah, a little,” he replies. “She really liked you, I guess.”
Gerard giggles, a little delighted. “Wow.”
If Gerard says wow one more time Ray might just start crying.
Ray breathes out through his teeth and separates his arm from Gerard’s grip discreetly. “Yeah, so, cool, then.”
“You will come with me, right?” Gerard looks up at him with a little frown. “I don’t wanna be alone with her and… give the wrong impression.”
“What is the wrong impression?” Ray asks, instead of saying no, because he doesn’t wanna be there during their actual date too. He can guess that it’ll go similar enough to this.
“I don’t know, like, a date, y’know?” Gerard replies, shrugging. “She was insistent on that.”
Right at that moment, someone bumps into Gerard in the tiny hallway so hard that he goes flying back into Ray with a small groan.
Ray scrambles to hold him and not let him fall, as Gerard stumbles to get his footing right. His hands slide up, up, all the way to Gerard’s chest, right over his shirt, and that’s where he finally manages to get a grip so he can pull Gerard upright until he is standing okay.
Then, he realizes where his hands are, and it feels like somebody poured boiling water over his head. He pulls his hands back so fast that he gives himself whiplash, all the while everything in his body kicks into gear—chanting at him, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Watch where you’re going, dude,” the guy says, barely sparing Gerard a glance.
Gerard scoffs, pulling his shoulders back. “Hey! You—”
“You fucking watch where you’re going, asshole!” Ray yells, shoving the guy on the shoulder until he crashes into the wall with a grunt, wide surprised eyes planted on Ray the whole time.
Ray’s voice does crack while saying that, and his hand trembles a little, because he is not a confrontation person, let alone a physical one—but the asshole fucking deserves it.
“Fucking… sorry, dude. Jesus,” the guy mumbles, pulling his shirt down and huffing. He looks a little embarrassed as he walks away.
Ray almost chases him down just to punch him but he knows it’s not because of the guy or anything, he is just mad for no reason.
When he looks at Gerard, he is already staring at Ray.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says with a frown. “I had it, man.”
“I know,” Ray replies, “But, like, he was an asshole, y’know?”
“Well, that’s what I was going to tell him too.” Gerard sighs, rubbing his shoulder a little. “And nice going,” he adds, too fast, “Copping a feel like I wouldn’t notice.”
Ray lets out a strained sound, deep from his chest, something completely out of his control, and primal. A little, desperate whine.
His feet feel like they are drenched in lava as his whole body goes cold this time, like a glass of water freezing over, turning into a block of ice.
“I, I, I,” Ray says. That’s all he says.
Gerard opens and closes his mouth a bunch of times, going red, in that embarrassed way he does, where his blush is all splotchy.
“That was a joke,” Gerard tries to explain. He punches Ray lightly on the shoulder. “Dude.” He winces. Then he rolls his eyes. “Jesus. Let’s just go.”
The whole walk back to the bus, heat clings to Ray’s face, refusing to fade, and his shoulders are so heavy, like he will never walk proudly again. The Gerard Way effect. He has become a beaten down man.
*
It’s crowded in the hallway, and Ray just wants to close his eyes and disappear for a bit but he can’t. It’s loud as well, everybody talking to each other about different topics. Gerard is at his right, a little far away, talking in a low voice to Mikey, something about zombies and hatchets and football helmets for protection.
He doesn’t notice when somebody slides in next to him and leans against the wall, copying his position, until he notices the scent.
It’s somebody he knows and Ray hates himself for not remembering his name. Maybe Aaron or something.
“Hey,” he says, giving the guy some more room.
“Hi, man,” Maybe-Aaron says, sliding in closer. He is way shorter than Ray, maybe even shorter than Frankie. “Loud, huh?”
“Very,” Ray replies, trying to take up less room already.
He is looking at Gerard, watching the way his hands move when he talks, when Gerard looks back at him from the corner of his eye. A passing glance, and then another, sharper one, surprised.
Ray sends him a little smile, shrugging a little too. They sometimes check in on each other like this, especially in spaces where either of them might feel overwhelmed.
Ray’s feeling mostly fine though, if a little tired, and he can tell that Gerard isn’t too bothered either.
When he turns his gaze to the rest of the room, and lastly on Aaron, he sees him looking up at Ray and blushing a little, like something caught him off guard, tan skin gone a deep pink.
“You okay?” he asks, keeping his voice low.
Aaron nods a little hurriedly, biting down on his bottom lip. “Yeah-huh,” he says, still staring.
Maybe Ray has something in his nose. He sniffs to make sure but he can’t feel anything but he doesn’t want to put a hand up there with Aaron staring.
Or maybe he stinks real bad, like Gerard says they do, and it might be bothering Aaron who to Ray, smells mostly like a flower garden.
Ray’s ears go warm in embarrassment and his eyes helplessly find Frank’s who wiggles his eyebrows at him from across the room before making a stupid face.
Blushing even harder, Ray looks for Gerard. Gerard would tell Ray if he has a booger in his nose—they have a deal and everything.
But Gerard just looks at him, only half listening to Mikey who keeps shoving him in the shoulder gently as he speaks, and then at Aaron, and then to the ceiling.
Aaron, right at that moment, makes a small, broken noise Ray can’t quite place, like a breath catching wrong, and then starts coughing, thumping himself on the chest. His face goes even redder.
“Woah,” Ray says, rubbing Aaron’s hunched back to try and feel like he’s helping. “Take it easy, man.”
Aaron nods, his coughs dying down. He clears his throat. “Uh huh,” he says, voice gone raspy from coughing so much.
He is pretty sweaty, shirt a little damp under Ray’s palm where he is still rubbing the guy’s back. Ray can feel him breathe.
“Ray,” Gerard says out of nowhere, suddenly standing next to them. Even though he is talking to Ray, he is looking at Aaron. “Mikey wants to ask you something, man.”
“He does?” Ray asks, pulling his hand back from Aaron and wiping it on the thighs of his jeans, hoping Aaron doesn’t take offence.
He doesn’t seem to notice though, staring at the ground intensely all the while he is still flushed a bright red.
“Over there,” Gerard replies, jabbing a thumb towards where Mikey is standing.
“Okay?” Ray says, and he looks at Aaron to say goodbye. “See you, man.”
“See, uh, see you!” Aaron says brightly and hunches in on himself some more, arms crossed over his chest.
Gerard grabs Ray by the wrist, his grip so tight that Ray almost grunts. “C’mon,” and then, after a tiny beat, “Alpha.”
Ray’s whole body gives in instantly, bones turning to soup, feet moving before his brain can catch up.
His face, already hot, goes even hotter, and his belly too, like his blood turned to fire in his veins, his heart pounding inside his chest.
He feels like giggling or jumping up and down a little, filled with this nervous, giddy energy that makes his lips tremble, confused from wanting to smile and frown at the same time.
“Okay!” he says, way too fucking late, and Gerard gives him a weird look. “Lead the way!”
That gets him a smile, like Gerard can’t believe how much of a loser he is. Ray can’t either, really. But he is working with half a brain, considering the rest turned to mush as soon as Gerard called him alpha.
“Mikey,” Gerard says once they are there, still holding onto Ray’s wrist. “Ask him your question.”
“My question?” Mikey asks, looking up from his phone with furrowed brows.
“Your question,” Gerard replies, “That you wanted to ask Ray.”
“Uh,” Ray says, as nothing else comes to mind.
Mikey takes at least a few seconds before he lights up, nodding at Gerard very seriously before turning to Ray.
Gerard leans in, his hand still around Ray’s wrist, and puts his head on Ray’s shoulder. He is looking away, maybe at Frank, his eyes narrowed.
“So, like, in a zombie apocalypse, right, how would you survive if you were a zombie, man?” Mikey asks, words fumbling out a little too quickly. “People always talk about surviving as, y’know, people, but nobody considers the aspect of being a zombie, and what you would do then.”
“Well, I figure zombies don’t really think about it,” Ray replies. “But I would just, like, use all the information I had from when I was a human, since I would know all their tactics even when I was a zombie.”
“Or think like, that one book—I Am Legend, y’know?” Gerard says. “Those zombies were smart.”
“They weren’t zombies, though,” Ray replies, “They were vampires.”
“But you gotta consider the, like, intent, y’know?”
“I guess…” Ray says. “You guys were talking about football helmets?”
Mikey nods. “Yeah, or like, molten metal on my head, so nobody can get my brain and stuff, since it won’t kill me, y’know?”
“But then they could cut off your arms and legs and then you would have to live like that forever, man. That’s no good.”
Gerard hums thoughtfully. Finally, he looks at Ray, “Molten metal all over my body, then. I’m gonna be an Iron Man zombie.”
Ray pretends to think about it. “I think we could make that work,” he says, and then, “Even if I were still human, I’d help you guys. Since I’d have more dexterity and stuff, and then you could just turn me, and help me do that, and you’d have a better chance working together doing it.”
Gerard’s fingers move on Ray’s wrist, caressing the inside of it maybe unconsciously. “Fuck yes, alpha,” he says, and Ray can’t control the way he smiles so wide his cheeks hurt.
He tries to look down and hide it, hoping his hair curtains his face a little, even though it isn’t that long. He knows, though, that Gerard notices anyway.