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“Gee, where the fuck are we going?” Frank asks. He’s slouched in the passenger seat of someone’s car. He honestly isn’t sure whose it is. One of the techs who doesn’t ride with them in the bus, maybe? All he knows is that Gerard had poked his head into Frank’s bunk, where he’d been trying to get to sleep a little early, waved car keys in his face and announced they were going for a ride, just the two of them.
“I just needed to get away, ok?” Gerard sighs, sparing a glance at Frank but quickly locking his eyes back on the road. Frank thinks he looks stressed, and he doubts Gerard has slept much at all in the last few days, if the bags under his eyes are anything to go by. The line of his shoulders is tense and hunched up practically to his ears. Frank feels his annoyance melt away. He's glad, at least, that Gerard had sought him out to take a second away from the chaos of touring instead of going off on his own and doing something stupid. He’s also glad that he has a clear head right now. The shit his psychiatrist prescribed him left him feeling out of it most of the time these days. Usually that’s better than being unable to sleep and puking his guts out from anxiety, but Frank hadn’t taken anything today, tired of feeling fuzzy and confused. Frank sighs and reaches out to brush his hand on Gerard’s thigh, just above his knee.
“Alright,” Frank says, patting the denim of Gerard’s jeans over his thigh, “Let’s just drive around a while?”
“Uh huh,” Gerard responds, distracted. He’s leaning forward and squinting at a road sign that’s emerging from the dark. Frank rolls his eyes to himself, not unfondly, and removes his hand to start messing with the radio, trying to find a station that’s playing something worth listening to. It’s mostly static, but he thinks he’s found a local oldies station by the time he looks up and realizes Gerard has pulled off the highway and around the back of some rest stop.
“Gee, seriously, where the fuck are we—,” he’s cut off by Gerard’s hand on his chin guiding him into a harsh, bruising kiss. Frank makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, and then melts into it.
In the back of his mind, he’s confused. He and Gerard hadn’t done anything like this in months. The last time, he’d freaked Gerard out somehow, probably by being himself— too pushy and affectionate and obsessed. Since then, Gerard had been avoiding him as much as possible without raising too many eyebrows among their bandmates and everyone else on tour. Frank has been trying to be normal about everything. These last couple of months were hardly the first time they’d been “off” over the years, after all. But the truth is, Frank has missed him so fucking much. He misses sitting on the couch and watching whatever old movies Ray puts on and letting their shoulders pressed together. He misses messing with Gerard in dressing rooms and the back studio on the bus until his whole face is red and they both finally devolve into honking laughter. He misses running his hands over Gerard’s hips, misses the hot press of their mouths together in stolen moments in janitor’s closets and bus bunks.
Frank should probably put his foot down one of these days. Demand that Gerard talk to him about what he actually wants or leave him alone for good. He’s thought about it, obviously, when they’re rehearsing or hanging out with everyone and they lock eyes, only for Gerard’s gaze to slide over him to focus on something else, like Frank isn’t there with every cell in his run-down, tired body begging Gerard to pay attention to him. Sometimes Frank thinks his feelings are pooling in his gut and bubbling up out of every pore in his skin for everyone to see. That everyone is reading it all on his face and thinking Poor Frankie, can’t let go of anything, can he? And the thing is that they’d be right, he really fucking can’t.
Gerard bites his lip teasingly, and Frank lets out a small but uncontrollable little sound in response, like he always does when Gerard applies just a little bit of pain. Frank snaps out of his head and pulls back, opening his eyes and taking in Gerard’s spit-slick lips and pale face, just barely illuminated by a distant lamp post across the dark parking lot.
“Gee,” Frank starts to say, but then Gerard is leaning forward and brushing his nose down Frank’s neck and following it with his hot tongue, and finally latching on with his teeth. Frank forgets whatever it is he wanted to say and just gasps, breathless and hopeless.
“Frankie,” Gerard mumbles into Frank’s neck, tracing his tongue over his scorpion tattoo and around to the front of Frank’s throat, where he takes more of the thin skin between his teeth and sucks until Frank starts panting and tangles a hand in Gerard’s hair to keep him there, “Can we just—”
“Yes, fuck, yes,” Frank gasps, feeling mindless as Gerard snakes a hand up his thigh to his hip and lets a few fingers brush his bare stomach under his t-shirt. As soon as the agreement is out of Frank’s mouth, Gerard is pulling back and climbing out of the driver’s side door, pausing to shed the stupid jean jacket he’s been wearing nonstop lately before slamming the door and clambering into the back seat gracelessly.
Frank watches him, still reeling from the shift in Gerard’s attitude towards him. It isn’t like this hasn’t happened before. Sometimes, Frank wants to stop everything and talk things out with him. He wants to know what’s going through his mind, if he’s actually ok or just putting on a brave face. Frank knows that Gee will talk to Ray and Mikey and even Brian about what he’s thinking and feeling, but whenever Frank starts to ask, he usually gets the brush off or this. It isn’t like Frank minds, really, because he’s always been a physical guy, whether it’s on stage or with the people he loves. He’s all wrestling and bear hugs and head banging and desperate, rushed fucking. Usually he likes things that way. He thinks it’s more honest. But sometimes he wonders if it’s doing him any good.
Frank is still staring at Gerard from the passenger’s seat, feeling blindsided and swept up in the heat that always seems to spark between them from nothing. Fifteen minutes ago he’d been about to fall asleep in his bunk on the bus after a long travel day, and now Gerard is undoing his own belt in the backseat of some random car, looking at him with dark eyes and saying:
“Are you coming back here or what?”
Frank snaps into action, quickly sliding out of his seat and opening the back door. Gerard pulls him in by the waistband of his stupidly long cargo shorts and Frank is tumbling forward, narrowly avoiding smashing his foot in the car door as he shuts it behind him and swings his legs so his knees are planted on either side of Gerard’s hips. He slumps forward so he doesn’t knock his head on the car ceiling and plants his hands on the seat on either side of Gerard’s head. Gerard grins wickedly up at him and pushes his palms up under Frank’s shirt. Frank crushes their mouths together again, letting their teeth gnash together because of the awkward angle. It shouldn’t be good, really, but Gerard is digging his nails into the skin of Frank’s hip and his tongue is in Frank’s mouth and Frank can’t help but groan and grind down, unsurprised to find them both half hard in their pants.
Gerard breaks the kiss to hurriedly push Frank’s shirt up and off of him, immediately applying his mouth to the lettering framing his collar bone and sighing against Frank’s skin.
“Missed you,” Gerard gasps, “’M sorry, I just…”
He trails off, but Frank doesn’t care, he’s heard enough. He suddenly feels heat behind his eyes, like he’s gonna fucking cry, so he just chokes out,
“Me too,” and slides down Gerard’s body and down onto his knees in the narrow space of the footwell. He trails his hand down Gerard’s chest and past his waistband before finally palming his hardening cock over his jeans. Gerard groans and sinks his fingers into Frank’s hair, tugging a little at the long strands. His hair has grown a lot since the last time they did this.
“Can I?” Frank asks, aware that he’s teasing and unable to keep the corners of his mouth from lifting a little as he leans forward to nuzzle Gerard’s length. When Gerard just looks down at him with his mouth hanging open, Frank continues, “You want me to?”
“Yes, fuck please,” Gerard gasps, rolling his hips up against Frank’s face obscenely and tightening his grip on his hair, “Want it so bad, baby, please.”
Frank shudders as he works on Gerard’s button and zipper and slides his stupidly tight and clingy jeans down his hips. Gerard knows how worked up he gets at the pet names and the fucking begging, the asshole. Frank fucking loves it. Eventually, the two of them manage to get Gerard’s pants and underwear down around his thighs and Frank swallows hard at the sight of Gerard’s cock, fully hard now and laying thick and long on Gerard’s stomach. He reaches out and gets a hand around him, touch too gentle to be anything but a maddening tease. Gerard uses his harsh grip on Frank’s hair to bring his face closer to the head of his dick, and really Frank doesn’t have it in him to keep teasing.
He bends the rest of the way forward and sucks the head into his mouth and keeps it there, swirling his tongue along the sensitive underside and humming contentedly. Above him, Gerard lets out a high, breathy moan. Encouraged, Frank takes more of him into his mouth, listening to the punched out sounds Gerard lets out as he does. Spit collects and drips down to the base of Gerard’s dick. Frank stays there, bobbing his head as Gerard mumbles praise into the now muggy car air.
“Feels so fucking good, Frankie, your perfect mouth,” he gasps, running his mouth as always. Frank pulls back, running his tongue along the underside as he pulls off, and looks up at Gerard, who removes one of his hands from Frank’s hair to run it through his own, mussing it in that particular way Frank finds hopelessly adorable.
“Want you to fuck my face, Gee, make me choke on it,” Frank pleads, words coming out thick and raw. Gerard closes his eyes and breathes in, like just the idea being spoken out loud takes him that much closer. When he opens his eyes again, they are hot and dark, staring down at Frank like he’s the only thing worth looking at. Frank never gets enough of that look, that singular focus that only Gerard has. Frank opens his mouth and lets his tongue loll out, spit collecting on his lower lip.
Gerard swears and puts both hands back on Frank’s head, pushing him down until Frank is swallowing his cock down again. This time, Frank just lets go, focusing on his breathing and the feeling of Gerard going deeper. He places both his hands on Gerard’s thighs and squeezes, encouraging him. Gerard holds Frank in place and works up a steady roll of his hips, the head of his cock slipping into Frank’s tight throat. Frank suppresses his gag reflex, but his throat still spasms as he chokes around the intrusion. Each time it does, he and Gerard groan in unison. The car is full of the wet, sloppy noises of Frank’s mouth and Gerard’s panting and rambling above him. He closes his eyes as tears brought on by the force of the dick in his throat clump on his eyelashes.
“Frankie, so close,” Gerard gasps, pulling at Frank’s hair again. The sting sends bolts of lightning down Frank’s spine. He slides one hand down from Gerard’s thigh and palms himself over his jeans where he’s painfully hard. He can feel Gerard tensing all over, can taste the salt on the back of his tongue as Gerard starts thrusting for real, shallow but harsh and clearly chasing his orgasm with abandon.
Finally, he lets out a high moan and pushes Frank’s head down so his nose is touching the thick hair at the base of his cock. He gasps and writhes as he comes, not letting Frank up for air as he shakes and shoots down his throat. Frank can’t help but moan as he swallows, feeling dizzy and hot all over from the lack of oxygen. After a beat, Gerard pulls him off. Thick strings of saliva still connect his dick to Frank’s red and used mouth.
“So perfect, baby,” Gerard mutters, greedily taking in Frank’s fucked out expression and dragging the head of his cock over Frank’s wet and swollen lips before releasing Frank’s head and letting him bury his face in his bare thigh. Frank stays there for a second, letting Gerard bask and taking in the warmth of his skin as he catches his breath.
Before long, Gerard is grasping at his shoulders and coaxing him back up into his lap. Frank goes easily and immediately presses his face up against Gerard’s, wanting to feel him close. They don’t so much kiss as breathe heatedly into each other’s faces as their noses mash together and their lips brush. Gerard gets a hand between them and makes quick work of Frank’s button and zipper. He reaches in and gets his hand around Frank’s length, which is hard and leaking. He's so close already.
“Please,” Frank pants, moaning into Gerard’s mouth as he presses his thumb into the slit of Frank’s cock and starts jerking him off fast and tight. He uselessly grasps at Gerard’s t-shirt and twitches his hips up into Gerard’s palm.
“I’ve got you,” Gerard murmurs, and Frank feels something unwind inside his chest, “Come for me, baby, let me see you.”
Frank mouths at Gerard’s jaw as a punched out moan escapes him and his orgasm hits him hard. He shuts his eyes as it pulses through him and he covers Gerard’s hand in cum, hips rocking unconsciously until the sharp sting of overstimulation has him shivering and pulling back.
Gerard pulls his hand out of Frank’s pants and wipes the cum on Frank’s stomach, laughing softly when Frank scrunches his nose at him and slides off his lap and into the seat next to him. Frank finds his t-shirt and puts it back on, suddenly cold even though all the windows are fogged over and the air inside is thick. Gerard hikes up his pants and Frank mourns the loss of all that pale skin on display. They look at each other for a second, shoulders pressed together in the close quarters of the cramped back seat. Gerard looks better than he did at the beginning of their little car ride, but the ghost of all the stress of touring and sobriety and all the other shit building up in their lives is still there.
“Gee,” Frank starts, even though he’s not sure what he wants to say. He could ask why they’re doing this again, or try to find out what’s up with him, or just pour his heart out and beg him not to shut him out again. He doesn’t do any of those things, because after a beat of silence Gerard’s lips are back on his. It’s less frantic this time, but no less consuming.
Frank surrenders easily and kisses him back, curling his arm around Gerard’s neck. Gerard reaches up to brush his thumb against Frank’s cheek, petting his face tenderly. Frank melts against the seat behind him as Gerard leans forward to press him against it. Frank missed this too, just kissing without the urgency of getting off. It feels so fucking good just to be close, which is what Frank’s clingy ass always wants, deep down. Pressed between Gerard’s warm body and the smooth leather of the seat, Frank feels tension bleed out of him, like it doesn’t matter that Gerard won’t talk to him, or that Frank can’t remember last week, or that they need to be back on the bus and in separate bunks and back on the road to yet another fucking show soon. They only snap apart when a beam of light comes streaming in through the car window and a knuckle raps on the glass.
“Fuck,” Gerard says, looking above Frank’s head and out the window behind him. Frank doesn’t need to look to know it’s the fucking cops. He locks eyes with Gerard, whose wide-eyed expression makes him snicker.
“Dude, we just got caught hooking up in a parking lot,” Frank states unnecessarily, laughing harder now, “Jesus, it’s high school all over again.”
“We had very different high school experiences,” Gerard replies, grimacing. The cop outside knocks on the window again.
“Alright, roll down the window, please,” a gruff male voice says from outside the car. Frank giggles as Gerard reaches around him to wind the window down with the manual crank. Frank wonders again whose fucking car this is. With the fogged up window out of the way, Frank turns to see not just one but at least three cops standing there, shining flash lights into their faces. Frank squints but puts on his best Catholic school voice to ask,
“Everything alright, officer?”
The cop closest to the window, a tall guy with a big mustache and a frown on his face, does not seem to be mollified by Frank’s innocent question. He guesses that the ‘cooperative citizen act’ would go a lot better for him if he weren’t heavily tattooed and sitting in the back seat of a car with out of state plates and fogged up windows.
“There’s no parking here after eight o’clock,” the cop says, gruff and no-nonsense.
‘Oh, sorry,” Gerard says. He’s talking out of the side of his mouth as always and dragging his hand through his hair nervously. “We can head out right now.”
“Where are you guys headed?” the cop asks. Frank doesn’t think cops are supposed to ask you that, but Gerard answers,
“Just out for a drive, man.”
“Uh-huh,” the cop says. He clicks off his flashlight and crosses his arms, leaning down to look at them closer. One of the cops behind him bends down so that he too is peering into the back seat. The other cop has small, beady eyes that scan over the back seat, no doubt looking for some contraband. Frank left all his pot on the bus, so take that, he thinks to himself. The mustache cop looks over Frank, eyes lingering on his neck, then at Gerard, who’s all pale skin and dark hair.
“You a vampire or something?” he asks. Frank and Gerard lock eyes and suppress matching grins. Frank reaches up unconsciously to brush his fingers along his neck where Gerard had bitten his skin earlier.
“Uh, no,” Gerard replies, still fighting not to laugh and failing at staving off his smile.
“You got licenses on you?” the small-eyed cop asked. Gerard and Frank both fish their wallets out and hand them over.
“Jersey, huh?” One cop muses. He brings Gerard’s ID closer to his face and studies it. Frank knows that Gerard had his ID photo retaken when they were back in Jersey last, and he’d apparently not bothered to wash off his show makeup from the night before when he did it. The guys had teased him for days once they caught a glimpse of the picture, in which Gerard’s eyes are rimmed with red eye-shadow and he’s sporting a grimace that only a Way can have when asked to go to the DMV at nine in the morning. The cop squints at the photo, then asks, “You sure you’re not some kinda vampire, son?”
“Pretty sure, yeah,” Gerard says, openly laughing this time. Frank snickers to himself, too. He knows Gee is gonna be riding this high for the rest of his fucking life. The cops exchange looks. One of them shrugs, and mustache guy turns back to them, handing their IDs back.
“We’re gonna let you off with a warning,” he says, with a tone that clearly says they ought to be really grateful that’s all they're getting. Frank wonders how much a ticket for parking after-hours could possibly be, but he’s not about to push their luck. “You guys better get on outta here, back to wherever you’re staying at, alright?”
“Sure thing,” Gerard replies, smiling magnanimously at the guy. This is why he’s the front man.
The mustache cop turns away and starts walking back to one of the several cruisers Frank can now see parked under the light a little ways across the parking lot, but beady-eyes puts his fingers on his chin like he’s deep in thought and asks.
“Are you satan-worshippers or something?”
At that, Frank can’t contain his laughter. As Gerard devolves into strangled giggles beside him, Frank says, between his own embarrassingly high-pitched giggles,
“No, dude.”
“Hey, don’t call me ‘dude’, kid. I have half a mind to write you that damn ticket, or decide there was some public indecency happening here and have you both sitting in jail for the night,” the cop barks, brows furrowed and arms crossed tightly. Frank and Gerard look at each other dumbly. Jesus, what a fucking asshole. Wisely, Gerard jumps in before Frank can talk them into trouble.
“Sorry, officer, we’ll be on our way.”
Frank and Gerard get back into the front seat, and Gerard quickly starts the car and gets them out of the parking lot, leaving the surprisingly big group of cops in the parking lot. Once they are back on the highway and it’s clear that they won’t be coming back to throw them in jail, they both dissolve into helpless laughter.
“A vampire! He asked if I was a vampire,” Gerard says, breathless between peals of laughter. He reaches out to grip Frank’s thigh for emphasis and leaves his hand there, heavy and comforting. “God, I have to tell everyone this happened, what the fuck.”
“Oh yeah?” Frank asks, snorting, “What are you gonna tell them we were up to?”
“Oh,” Gerard says, pausing to consider, “I’ll say we were speeding.”
“You think they’re gonna buy that?” Frank snorts. It’s funny, and he’d rather Gerard tell people that then the truth, but it also stings a little. “Where are we supposed to have been going?”
“I dunno, it’s not like anyone’s gonna ask any follow ups,” Gerard says. His hand twitches like he’s gonna move it off of Frank’s leg, but Frank covers it with one of his own before he can.
“Why’d you bring me out here?” Frank asks. He feels his stomach churning and swallows. Acid creeps up his throat. When Gerard doesn’t answer, he adds, “You ice me out, then make sure we’re alone. I just wanna understand.”
“Don’t act like you haven’t pushed me away before, too,” Gerard bites, a bitter and defensive note in his voice. Frank slumps back into his seat, but squeezes Gerard’s hand.
“I know that,” Frank replies, voice weak. The thing is that he’s fucking tired all the time. Between his health and the medication and the constant grind of touring, he’s fucking exhausted. And being tired makes him honest apparently, because next he says, “You know I love you, right?”
Gerard looks away from the road for a moment to look at him, eyes searching and earnest. He doesn’t look surprised, it’s not anything Frank hasn’t told him before, but there’s something else in his expression that Frank can’t pinpoint.
“Of course,” Gerard says after a pause. He flips his hand so it’s palm up and squeezes Frank’s fingers, “I love you too, Frankie.”
“Why, then? I’m not mad. It just doesn’t make sense,” Frank asks, swallowing thickly and staring at their hands in his lap like they’re gonna disappear if he so much as blinks.
“I just…” Gerard sighs and looks at Frank again before continuing, “I’m a mess, Frankie. And I think you are too.”
Frank lets the words wash over him. They aren’t meant to be mean, and Frank doesn’t take it that way. It’s the most honest and true thing Gerard has said to him all night, maybe all fucking year. He doesn’t say anything, but he holds Gerard’s hand tightly and stares out the front windshield at the dark road in front of them. They’re getting closer to where the bus is parked. His stomach cramps, a familiar and sharp ache.
“Will you lay down with me when we get back?” Frank asks, honestly not sure what Gerard will say and if it’s even alright for him to ask, “I feel sick.”
Gerard, who knows him better than maybe anyone else alive, hums sympathetically and nods.
“Sure, baby.”
Frank closes his eyes and lets Gerard drive them back in silence that is almost totally comfortable. It’s only when he’s finally parking the car in the lot with all the tour buses and gear trailers that Gerard breaks the silence.
“A vampire, dude,” he says with no small amount of glee, “He asked if I was a fucking vampire.”
Frank lets out an amused snort of his own, “Don’t forget the part about us being satan worshipers.”
Gerard laughs as they finally let go of each other's hands to get out of the car and back to the bus.