The day Frank wakes up with tentacles where his legs used to be is the day he's pretty sure he's lost his motherfucking mind.
At least until Gerard barges into his hotel room, all wide-eyed and vaguely panicked and sporting a crest of bedraggled feathers in his hair, at which point he wonders if maybe he's still sane and the world's the one that's gone fucking nuts.
Gerard has never been one for feathers, so Frank kinda stares until the crest flattens - imperfectly, because apparently the feathers are as ill-kempt as Gerard's hair - and Gerard folds his arms, all defensive, and says, "What?"
Frank thinks about teasing him, because feathers, but all he says is, "I'm pretty fucking sure you didn't have those last night."
Gerard raised a hand to his head, and frowned. "Yeah, me too. Which makes it really fucking weird I've got them now." He pauses, then moves all the way into the room, shutting the door behind him. "You know what else is really fucking weird, Frankie?"
Frank dithers for a second, weighing the merits of letting Gerard see his new, er, limbs versus pretending he's still perfectly normal, thanks, then says, "Me?" and twitches aside the blankets.
"No," Gerard responds - then actually registers what he's seeing. "Okay, well, yes, but also no, because— Frank, everyone is waking up all changed. Everyone."
"Nice to know I'm not a freak alone," Frank says, after a minute. Then, after another minute of silence, wherein Gerard ogles his tentacles curiously - the tilt of the head would give it away, even if his crest wasn't half raised, and man, he wonders if Gee's realised he fucking telegraphs now - and Frank wonders if he should try, you know, actually getting out of bed, he adds, "So, everyone? Like, you, me, Mikey, Ray, Dewees, and all the roadies type of everyone, or everyone-everyone?"
"Everyone-everyone," Gerard replies. He sits down next to Frank's tentacles - and that sounds so fucking messed up, Jesus Christ - and pokes at them curiously. "I think this is, uh, a little more than most people though. But it's, like, all over the fucking news, and all over the world, and no one knows what the fuck is going on."
"Yep," Gerard agrees. "Are you feeling this? Like, really feeling?"
"Fucking weird," Frank confirms. "And, you know, shouldn't I be, like, hauling myself into water or something?"
"They don't feel like they're drying out," Gee says, slowly, stroking a hand thoughtfully down the length of one of Frank's new appendages. "They feel kinda, I dunno, silky? But faintly moist. It's weird."
"So are your feathers. Which, by the way, feathers?" Frank asks, unable to resist anymore.
Gerard grimaces. "I know, right? You'd think, like, cat. Or dog. Or something, but no. Feathers." He huffs. "I look fucking insane."
Frank snorts, then giggles. "We all do, Gee."
Gerard brightens, crest rising. "True," he agrees. Then, "Mikey's got feathers, too. All, like, speckled brown and grey."
Frank giggles harder. "Are you shitting me?"
"Right?" Gerard says, and it's like he doesn't realise his feathers are red and black and just a little bit white, and it's like all his favoured hair colors smooshed together, and Frank finds himself wondering if feathers take hair dye.
And thinking that, just maybe, tentacles may end up being a lot less fucking conspicuous. (And there's a line for the "never thought he'd say-slash-think that" annals, seriously.)