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Meet you here and there

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Title: Meet you here and there
Pairing(s): Gerard/Frank
Rating: PG-13
Summary: This is sort of a time-travel fic about pining and explains nothing at all, because Ways keep their secrets.
Gerard smiled. His hair was filthy looking, gritty, and his grip was still strong around Frank's arm. “Hi, Frank,” Gerard said. Frank's name rolled from his tongue like a familiar friend, like he had said it a million times. Frank was pretty sure it was only the second time Gerard had ever said his name in Frank's presence.
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: Written for roxy_palace.
Word count: 2.167
Beta: bandomstuffsit-mod 
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, not real


Frank was minding his own business, thinking about the hot tattooed chick he'd talked up yesterday at the Midtown show Mikey dragged him to, when it happened. He passed the bathroom door and then BAM! He just stood in the hallway staring.

Someone was washing their hair at Mrs. Way's sink. Door half open or half closed. Frank stared at reddish-orange water running down a pale throat. It looked like candy mixed with spit, dripping on the curve of a shoulder and staining everything from skin to tile.

Frank's breath caught. It was just so- Frank didn't have words, not even in his head. He finally got a grip and headed to the basement, where Mikey always hung out when Gerard was away from home for weeks or months.

“A – dude is washing his hair at your sink.” Frank had nearly said hot, but if it was one of Mikey's random hook-ups it could get awkward from there.

“Oh, it's Gee,” Mikey answered, not looking up from a pile of video cassettes he was looking through.

“Your brother,” Frank said, and even to his own ears it sounded stupid, wrong, suspicious, “is back,” he added hastily.


“So the marathon is history then?” Frank asked, even though he knew Gerard wasn't someone who cared if they used his room when he wasn't there -- or that's what Mikey always said.

“Are you kidding? Who do you think made me watch it the first time, the seventh? The twentieth?”

“And you loved every single one of them,” someone said from the door.

Frank turned around so fast he nearly fell over some of the crap on the floor. Gerard stood in the door, leaning against the frame and smiling hugely. He looked back to Mikey, whose mouth curled up at one corner. He was happy, and Frank... Frank was kinda maybe a bit overwhelmed.

“Hi, Frank,” Gerard said.

“Uhm, hi,” Frank answered because what the fuck? How could this be Gerard, the shy hermit that Frank only saw on special occasions and never during daylight hours.

“Found them!” Mikey said triumphantly, and Frank focused on him instead. But his mind was still stuck on pale skin and reddish water.

Frank woke up hard and with a hand between his legs, already rubbing. There was no way in hell he would stop now, even if the dream was already slipping away, paling at the edges. The only thing he could remember was red and white and pale and water.
He groaned into his pillow and came thinking about sharp teeth. What the fuck?

Gerard was gone when Frank came over three days later.

“He's gone already?” Frank tried to keep the disappointment away from his voice, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. Not at all.

Mikey heaved a sigh. One that was somehow long suffering. For no good reason. “Yeah, he's gone already.”

Frank had the feeling Mikey was keeping something from him. It was disturbing, because he and Mikey had been friends for so long that Frank couldn't even remember how and when they met. He trusted Mikey with everything – well, almost. He kept his wet dream about Gee to himself.

Frank fell onto the bed gracelessly and Mikey handed him a cigarette, already lit.

“He'll be back,” Mikey said.

Frank shrugged awkwardly and stared at the ceiling. It really didn't matter.

Except it did. Somehow Frank's universe had suddenly expanded. A new world was added to it. A small new world, one in pearl white, blood red and shades of black. But that was okay. Frank always kind of liked the gothic rainbow.


Frank didn't see Gerard again for more than half a year. When he did it was by pure chance. It was a chick-flick moment. He was walking down the street, nose buried in the latest issue of a weird Japanese comic he'd started reading a few months back, when he ran into someone. He stumbled and would've landed on his ass if a strong arm hadn't grabbed him.

“What?” he said, blinking. “Gee?”

Gerard smiled. His hair was filthy looking, gritty, and his grip was still strong around Frank's arm. “Hi, Frank,” Gerard said. Frank's name rolled from his tongue like a familiar friend, like he had said it a million times. Frank was pretty sure it was only the second time Gerard had ever said his name in Frank's presence.

“Hi,” Frank answered. Gerard was still holding on to his arm, and there was something light and happy shining behind his eyes, looking at Frank like they knew him. Frank felt hot. Any freaking second now he was going to blush like a – whatever blushed very hard.

Gerard let go of his arm, one finger after another – like he needed to make himself do it. He stepped away a bit and lit a cigarette. Frank followed the movements of Gerard's fingers to his mouth.

"On your way home?” Gerard asked, exhaling smoke.

Frank nodded. “Can I have one?” he asked. He really needed something to, well, put in his mouth, to be honest. Something about Gerard, this Gerard (whatever that meant), was making Frank horny as fuck.

“Sure.” Gerard took out his pack again, his own cigarette dangling between his lips, and handed the pack and matches over. There was some weird pill smiley face on the box of matches. Yellow and black. It looked cool. Frank pocketed the matches and only gave back the smokes, and Gerard grinned like he knew Frank would do it. It was unsettling. Everything about this was unsettling, weird, and Frank wasn't sure it was in a good way.

Gerard walked him home, talking with his mouth, his hands, his whole body, really. His body was a bit too close to Frank's; it made Frank's skin tingle with want. Frank had no idea what they had been talking about when Gerard delivered him on his doorstep.

“See you around, Frank,” Gerard said. He bent over like he wanted to kiss Frank, but then Gerard caught himself, leaned back sharply, smiled sheepishly and waved instead as he backed away.

What the fuck? It was a big red lettered sign in Frank's head.

“So, Gee is back,” Frank said upon entering the basement. Mrs. Way had let him in and waved him through.

“What?” Mikey asked, distracted. “He isn't.”

“I saw him just yesterday. I have no idea why you're lying to me,” Frank said, frustrated. He had been jerking off to the smell – for god's sake – of Gerard's skin. Five fucking times yesterday, once before school and twice after, then once again before he'd made himself come over here today.

“'m not,” Mikey said and turned around sharply. “You saw him?”

“Yeah. We shared a smoke.” Frank thought a moment and then decided to barrel on. He might as well. “Something is not right with him.”

Mikey laughed. It sounded a bit hysterical. “What?”

“His smell,” Frank said.

“Oh,” Mikey said and nothing else. Frank waited him out, until Mikey said, “I can't.”

“Can't what?” Frank asked.

“Tell you what you want to know.”

Fucking Ways, Frank thought.

It happened again, and again and again. Random meetings at street corners, running into Gerard in the park or in front of a coffee shop. Gerard always walked him home afterward, and Frank waited for him to lean over and just fucking kiss him, but Gerard never did. He held himself back, hands in his pockets or behind his back, playing with a pen, a lighter, matches, a cigarette. Distracting himself every time, like he needed something to remind him that he wasn't allowed to kiss Frank.

Frank wanted it so badly he was going insane. Every time after it was over he ran up the stairs and jerked off to images of Gerard. Vivid images like memories forgotten and rediscovered. Burned into his skin, things Frank had no idea how his brain even came up with, doing stuff he only ever heard of vaguely.

And then there were the really out-there things he'd imagine, like sitting with Gerard on a couch, Gerard's head on Frank's shoulder, spinning a pen in his hand idly while Gerard's warm breath hit Frank's skin.

He'd imagine Gerard's fingers in his hair, or pulling Gerard's head back sharply while he bit down on Gerard's shoulder, red strands between Frank's fingers, the letters on his own skin a stark contrast to it, faded a bit, older, not new ink, but Frank could feel how they were a part of him. How Gerard was a part of him.

It was insane.

“Fucking Ways,” Frank said, exhaling smoke and looking at his watch. They were late again. Twenty minutes, twenty-one now. He leaned against the wall and took another drag. He had no idea why he even showed up on time anymore. Probably because his mother raised him right. He sighed, closing his eyes.

“Hi, Frank,” Gerard said, and Frank turned his head to look at him. Gerard was smiling.

“Hi, Gee,” he answered, handing his cigarette over. This version was his own, he realised, some three years ago. This was not Mikey's real brother. This was the bathroom version.

He wanted to reach out and grab Gerard by his hair, pull him in like he knew Gerard liked it. Pull him against his body and kiss him senseless, but for all the years he knew Gerard, it never happened. Frank was resigned to a faith of waiting. And waiting and waiting. And the worst part was that he knew, he knew that he would do it. He would wait until the world exploded.

“Frank,” Gerard breathed. His mouth was only inches away from Frank's. He could see the lines at the corners of Gerard's eyes. Gee didn't have them. Yet, maybe.

“I'll be waiting,” Frank said. Gerard nodded.

“Okay, I know this is some weird-” he waved his hand, because he had no words and Mikey knew him and knew Gerard, and Gee always talked with his hands and didn't even use words at times, and Mikey got it.

“Shit?” Mikey supplied.

Frank glared at him, but nodded. It was. “You're Ways, I get it. You're just special-”

“Charming, Frank,” Mikey interrupted.

“Stop it,” Frank said firmly. He knew what Mikey was doing.

Mikey sighed. “I can't. I told you years ago that I can't.”

Frank wanted to punch something or someone. “Do I have to wait for--” he stopped. “I'm not insane. I didn't make him up because you saw him too, and I know he is Gerard, but he is not Gerard.”

“Do you want to?”


“Wait?” Mikey asked seriously.

“What the hell do you think I've been doing for years now?” Frank asked and leaned against the desk. It was littered with Gerard's drawings.

“So what does it matter?” Mikey said.

He had a point, and Frank hated it.

Life didn't stand still for Frank while he waited. He lived it because it was the only thing to do, but he was still waiting. He'd been waiting for years now.

Gerard came out of the bathroom, his hair dripping on his pale shoulders. Candy pink, fat, sluggish droplets like sweat mixed with spit.

“Fucking finally,” Frank breathed, getting up from the hotel bed and crowding Gerard against the door.

“What?” Gerard asked, but he was breathing hard like Frank knew he would. Frank knew every little thing about Gerard's reactions to kisses, bruises, tongue, fingers inside him, pulling at his hair – but only in theory.

“I've been waiting,” Frank said and kissed Gerard

As their lips touched something clicked inside him, and something snapped inside Gerard too (snapped into place maybe). Frank could feel the moment stretch endlessly between them, between here and there. It was like he knew it would be, but so much better.