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Five Days

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It's been five days since Gerard has had a cigarette.

Five days since he stood over the studio trash can, throwing half empty packets of Marlboro Reds onto the remains of last night's dinner, Frank watching on with distress at the waste of it all.

Five days since he pulled each of them aside one by one, telling them it's real this time, he's really going to do it and asking for their unwavering support. He refuses to use the word 'quitting', it's too negative. He's 'transitioning' and this time it's going to work. He's even told the fans.

Five days since Gerard took Frank's hands in his, looked at him with big eyes and made him swear, holding their joined hands over Frank's heart, not to give him any cigarettes. Ever. Under any circumstances.

This is why Frank is here, in the cold alley behind the studio, when he could be in the nice sheltered courtyard just down the hall and in direct line of sight from the studio foyer, bracing himself against the icy wind while he takes his hit of nicotine.

He actually feels guilty about it.

He sucks in a lungful of smoke, clasping his lips around the cancer stick and shoving his hands into his pockets for warmth.

He shouldn't feel guilty. Gerard never asked him to give up the smokes, he wouldn't do that. But Gerard's not coping today. Not at all. The first few days were all right. So Gerard talked a little more, if that's even possible, waxing poetic on how he could smell again, how he was tuning back into the world of scent or some shit. So he was drinking more coffee, a lot of coffee in fact, even for Gerard. And when he's not drinking coffee he's chewing gum. Stick after stick of it. So much that it's become the PA Nick's responsibility to be on gum watch, reminding Gerard to spit it before he steps into the booth to record.

Nothing major. Nothing traumatic.

Not until today.

Today, Gerard's nearly drowned himself in coffee, so much that he can't sit still. His fingers keep drumming away on any nearby surface like some kind of morse code speed freak. He keeps snapping at people, then apologizing, then snapping at himself for apologizing. It's starting to drive everyone slightly crazy, and Frank can tell that promises or no, it's only a matter of time until someone leaves an open pack out and hopes Gerard will cave.

So Frank's taking his smoke break outside in the windy street, feeling like he's got something to hide. Feeling like a weak link. Like a traitor.

He takes another draw from his cigarette, watching the cherry flare warmly. It helps. It calms him. He closes his eyes, slipping into a zen place.

"They need you back inside." Frank's eyes pop open to find Gerard five feet from him. He didn't even hear the door open.

"Sure." Frank mutters, snatching the cigarette from his mouth too fast, feeling suddenly guilty, like he's been caught disobeying by his parents. The hand holding the cigarette wants to tuck itself behind his back, but he fights the urge. He shouldn't have to feel bad about this.

Gerard hasn't moved an inch and when Frank's eyes flick up to meet his bandmate's he knows why. Gerard is staring at Frank's still-burning cigarette like a starving man looking at a three course meal. This is not good.

It's like Frank can see the moment Gerard's resolve falters - no, not falters, falls to the ground and shatters into tiny, microscopic pieces - and he actually makes a grab for the cigarette. It's lucky Frank is paying attention because the little fucker is fast. Frank barely gets the cigarette behind his back and out of reach in time, pulling a disappointed noise from the singer that could break his heart.

"What the fuck man?" Frank settles on his feet strongly, making his body a firm barrier between Gerard and the object of his addiction. He can't believe it's come to this.

"Come on Frank, just a drag. I wont tell anyone." The pleading look Gerard's giving him should be illegal. It's lucky Frank has a measure of immunity to it through years of exposure.

"Fuck no, Gee. You made me promise." Frank's holding the cigarette behind him at arm's length now and Gerard's making grabby hands at it, flashing him giant, pleading puppy dog eyes. It's seven kinds of pathetically adorable, but Frank refuses to cave. He will not bend. He adopts his best "fuck off" expression and shakes his head sadly at his desperate bandmate.

He's not ready when Gerard resorts to foul play, catapulting himself at Frank and grabbing for the smoke. Frank barely gets a hand onto Gerard's shirt in time, holding him back as he stretches his other arm behind him as far as he can, keeping the cigarette just out of Gerard's reach, the impact sending a shower of ash to the ground.

Gerard's smiling cheekily like this is some kind of game and not him putting Frank up against his word, his sworn fucking promise. Frank tightens his grip on the front of Gerard's hoodie, shaking his head and frowning hard. No way is he backing down.

Gerard pouts mightily and pushes against him, struggling for purchase, trying to shake off Frank's hand. He's panting, eyes bright and manic, tiny white teeth flashing a demented grin and there's a madness in him, something wicked about how physical he's making this.

Frank shoves back, pushing his arm out straight so he's holding Gerard at arm's length. He quickly steals a puff from his cigarette before the wind smokes it down, feeling defiant as he blows the smoke out his nose, watching it float across his view of Gerard's disapproving face.

"Tease," Gerard accuses. Frank just shrugs, but before he's even finished the movement Gerard's slammed into him, knocking him off balance as he reaches past him for the cigarette. Frank's got his arm stretched out again and it wavers mere inches from Gerard's fingertips, just out of reach.

Gerard gives frustrated whine, pressing in closer to Frank as he strains to cover the last short distance. The whole situation strikes Frank suddenly funny and he starts chuckling maniacally at Gerard's sulky face and reaching hands. The laughter carries smoke-tinged breaths across Gerard's face, drawing the singer's gaze back to Frank.

And Gerard just breathes in. Deeply and slowly, searching for the scent, his eyes falling shut as he does. It's obviously not enough though, because the next thing Frank's aware of is Gerard's face pressing into his neck, under his chin. Gerard abandons his grab for the cigarette, planting his hands on Frank's face instead and inhaling deeply. Frank nearly drops the cigarette when that simple action sets his body on fire in a completely unexpected way.

He doesn't really have time to process any of it because Gerard's not stopping. He keeps shoving his face into Frank's space, his neck, behind his ears, across his cheek, sniffing and sighing like he can't get enough.

Suddenly Gerard's pressing his mouth over Frank's and pushing his tongue inside and really, Frank should be offended, he should be really pissed off that Gerard would just use him this way, like some kind of nicotine proxy. But he can't. He's too busy kissing back, sliding his tongue in to find Gerard's because fuck, Gerard's mouth was made to do this. Gerard was fucking born for it.

Gerard's grabbing handfuls of Frank's shirt, shoving him back against the cold bricks and just devouring him. A needy noise escapes Frank's mouth. He can't help it, it feels too good, he's lost the fight. He gives himself over to Gerard's lips, his plundering tongue. Gerard's body is flattened up against him now, soft and warm at his front, the wall hard and cold at his back. Frank knows this is going too far now. They have to stop because fuck, he's hard, so hard already just from kissing and it's about to become all too obvious.

He can't break it off, though. Gerard is not letting up his sensual assault for a second. He shoves a hand into Frank's hair and holds him there, lip-locked and groaning, as his other hand slides down Frank's arm, over bicep, elbow, wrist... tracking down to the cigarette Frank is somehow still clutching.

"No." Frank manages to choke out, tossing his head to the side to break the kiss. He's trying to wrench his arm from Gerard's strong grip, hanging onto his sworn word like a thread - refusing to let the cigarette be seduced from him. "No." Frank repeats, stronger this time, like he's telling off one of his dogs.

The look Gerard gives him, all big eyes and curled lip, would destroy a lesser man's will.

"No, that's not..." Gerard starts to explain, tugging on Frank's wrist, pulling his arm up to guide the cigarette towards Frank's mouth. "Not for me. For you." Gerard's eyes are bright and pleading as he pants the words out. "It's fading, just... take another drag. Please."

Frank shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. But at that moment Gerard's pointed tongue flicks out to moisten his lips and their bodies are still pressed so intimately he can feel their shared heat and the throb of Gerard's over-caffeinated heartbeat. And he can't, he won't give this up right now. Fucked if he has any blood left in his brain to think with anyway.

"This is sick, you know." He mutters as he shoves the cigarette in his mouth, drawing in so deeply he nearly gives himself a headspin. "This is seriously messed up." The words come out in a cloud of smoke. It wafts between them like a veil as he watches Gerard breathe in, eyes falling shut, head tipping back, smile curving those soft pink lips like Gerard's hit nirvana. Like he's getting everything he needs.

"Fuck it." Frank mutters, more to himself than anyone, as he drops the dying cigarette to the ground, leaning forward to capture Gerard's mouth. Because if Gerard's getting what he wants, fucked if Frank isn't going to take his too.

Gerard gives a surprised "Mmmph" as Frank's mouth covers his, but he's only taken aback for a microsecond before he switches back into the kiss, tongue slipping between Frank's lips immediately, searching out a taste and moaning when he finds it. He throws his arms around Frank's neck energetically, clutching at his hair, his neck, his back and the way Gerard's body is arching into his, Frank knows he's not the only one getting dangerously turned on by this.

With a hesitancy he should be well past, Frank's hands slip around Gerard's waist, resting on the cool studs of his belt before sliding higher, up under the warm cocoon of his shirt to stroke the bare skin of his back. Gerard shivers against him, nipping and sucking Frank's lower lip, breathing loudly and nasally like he can't get enough scent into his nose.

Frank flattens his hands against Gerard's back, tightening their bodies impossibly close, shoving a thigh between Gerard's legs and there. Fuck, he can feel it, Gerard's hard-on pressed against him. It uncurls a heat inside him, a headspin inducing pride that he could do this to Gerard. Beautiful, sensual, confident Gerard is mashing his hard-on into Frank's leg and moaning throatily into his warm wet mouth. Fuck. It's almost hot enough to make him pass out. But Frank's not going to, no fucking way. He is going to ride this out as long as he can and commit it to fucking memory, it's so good. He refuses to miss a second.

Frank arches back, his head bumping the wall as he breathes in cool air, the curve of his body pushing his hips into Gerard's, drawing a moan from him, and a slow hip roll that makes them both pant breathlessly. Gerard latches onto Frank's neck, his hot mouth working at the spot just under Frank's ear and it's a spot so Frank's moaning and bucking into Gerard and Gerard is clutching harder on Frank's shoulders and pushing forward, mashing them into the wall, rubbing on Frank with a mind-blowingly delicious friction.

It's all too much, Frank is getting dangerously close. Without any conscious thought he reaches for his belt, thinking only to unbuckle, to relieve the tightness, to keep from coming in his pants like a fucking teenager. But Gerard's hands join his and before he can process, he's feeling cool air on his cock and Gerard's hands gentle and firm, shaping him and knowing him with sure strokes. And fuck, fuck, Frank's not going to last, not with Gerard's firm touch pulling his pleasure from him like it's second nature. Not with Gerard's mouth suckling his, tongue stroking inside, teeth grazing his lips. Fuck.

Gerard knows this. Like some kind of fucking psychic he slides his fingers down Frank's aching hard-on, forming a tight ring at the base, holding Frank in thrall, keeping him from his release like a human cockring. Frank groans, head tipping back to bang on the wall painfully but it doesn't even register, his whole being is focused on the heat, the pressure, the absolute need Gerard's holding in his hand.

He stays like that, breathing slow and shallow, watching as Gerard watches him, his hair all fucked up, his eyes molten pools, staring and assessing. Gerard undoes his own belt one-handed like some kind of fucking magician, unbuttons, unzips and when his cock springs free Frank's mouth is watering, his cock is aching, and this whole situation is so fucking out of control he can't even fathom what the next step will be.

As it turns out, the next step is trying not to choke as Gerard palms his own pale cock and kneels - fucking kneels down on the hard, cold pavement, stroking his own cock and leaning forward to swallow Frank's down in one smooth movement. The feeling of being sucked into a warm wet mouth after the coolness of the street air is simply heaven. Having the additional titillation of Gerard's lust-glazed eyes staring up at him as he sucks his cock - as Gerard motherfucking Way sucks Frank's cock - is too much. Way too much. Gerard barely loosens his grip on the base of his erection before Frank's ready to pop.

He tries tugging on Gerard's hair to warn him, but Gerard just presses down lower and closes his eyes, looking so blissed out and debauched with a mouthful of cock that Frank can't deal anymore. His hands fall from Gerard's hair as his hips buck forward once, twice, then fuck - whiteout - he's coming with a groan, pulsing out into Gerard's hot mouth and Gerard just takes it all, humming and groaning and breathing through his nose.

When Frank's mind returns to his body, Gerard's head is pressed into his hip, forehead smushed into one of Frank's bluebird tattoos. Gerard's moaning, head rolling side to side and when Frank's eyes can focus he sees Gerard working himself over, stroking his own cock with quickfire motions. Frank can't help but find it hideously unfair, so he grabs Gerard under the arms and yanks him to his feet, pulling him into a one armed hug as he bats Gerard's busy hand away, replacing it with his own.

He nuzzles Gerard's neck, tilting his head to find his lips in a kiss, then he presses the singer back into the wall, devouring his mouth and stroking his cock in tandem, swallowing moans of appreciation. Gerard's close, Frank can feel it, in the pulse of the unfamiliar cock in his hand, in the tremble of his body crushed between Frank's and the wall. He quickens his strokes, deepens the kiss, drawing it out, forcing it out of him. Soon Gerard's breaking the kiss to keen into Frank's neck, high pitched and needy, his hips bucking erratically as Frank finds the rhythm that'll break him. Gerard cries out, high and throaty, spattering the pavement and collapsing against Frank as he does.

It takes a long time for them both to come down. When they do it's a shock. They're half-dressed in an alleyway and Frank hopes like hell they're not being recorded on security camera somewhere, somehow.

Gerard looks up at him, dazed and dopey, smiling and relaxed in a way Frank hasn't seen him for, oh, at least five days.

"I think I needed that." Gerard's voice is a little hoarse, but he's grinning wide enough to split his face in two.

Frank just chuckles, pressing a kiss over Gerard's delirious smile.

"Well then, anytime Geeway. I'm here to support you, you know?"

In lieu of reply, Gerard just butts his head into Frank's gently. They fumble back into their clothes and dawdle their way back to the studio..

Gerard doesn't chew any gum or snap at anyone for the rest of the day, and his fingers are surprisingly silent on all hard surfaces.

Frank knows everyone thinks he caved and gave Gerard a smoke. He lets them think it. No one is about to argue with Gerard's newly content demeanor.

They're also not about to argue when Gerard starts accompanying him on his smoke breaks.

Or when the smoke breaks take, possibly, far longer than they should.