Pure, unadulterated fluff. Drugs/alcohol involved.
The tinny, sultry sounds of a flute sneaked it's way up the dark and dusty stairs of a New Jersey apartment. It snaked around half-finished canvases and stacks of music and marked out lyrics. Finally, it slipped under a door, into a room filled with photographs and early morning sunlight.
And let me play among the stars
A trumpet joined in, stirring awake a man concealed in shadow, his dark hair plastered to one side of his face. He yawned widely, pressing a hand over his eyes to keep the golden stream of sunlight out of eyes. He glanced over at the worn clock dangling above the window. 9:47. Certainly no record, but far better than yesterday. He missed lunch by 2 hours.
In other words, hold my hand
From downstairs, he could hear the sounds of his record player warbling out oldies, and the sound of his fiance crooning along as he scraped together breakfast. He yawned again, now sitting up in bed and and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He tossed back the fuschia sheets (Frank's idea) and swung his legs to the side of the bed. There was the sound similar to bells jingling, and he smiled as a white chihuahua emerged from the sheets, stretching luxuriously. He plopped down onto the hardwood floor, shivering slightly as his bare feet slid towards the bathroom.
Fill my heart with song, and let me sing forever more
In the kitchen, the younger of the two was laying generous portions of bacon into a cast iron skillet, nudging away an impatient bulldog with his foot. He'd been up for hours now, and in that time, had written two new songs, cleaned out his inbox and managed to cook french toast with out setting the apartment on fire. Again.
You are all I long for
He was pulled out of his stupor at the sound of creaking stairs, and a smile broke out onto his face as the familiar black hair and pale skin graced his vision.
"About damned time you woke up, I thought I'd be eating alone again," he said, turning away from the oven.
The elder grumbled and leaned against the kitchen table, eyeing the stack of records next to him. The chihuahua yipped softly, joining the bulldog in the kitchen and waiting for scraps to magically fall down from the stove.
"Stupid sun woke me up. Asshole." he groaned, rubbing his eyes again in an attempt to wake up.
Frank just laughed and pushed a mug of coffee into his hands, "It's not the sun's fault you need like, 15 hours of sleep."
Gerard just sneered and took a long draught of his coffee, "It's hard work staying this pretty," he finally retorted.
Frank just laughed and scooped the now crispy bacon onto a paper towel, before adding in a few more slices. Gerard gave a hearty groan, settling into his usual seat at the table and laying his head down, "So is there a reason you have my record player out?"
Frank shrugged, walking to the fridge to grab the butter, "Felt like listening to some 50's music."
Gerard snorted, "Fag."
Frank rolled his eyes, setting the butter on the table, along with the cutlery, "Call me what you want, sir, they're your records."
He opened his mouth to argue back, but couldn't find a suitable rebuttal. The record skipped onto the next song, a blast of trumpets and trombones filling the tiny space. Frank walked over, carrying the plate of bacon and setting it next to the older man, "I had good intentions, it was to get me in the mood for tonight."
Gerard choked on the fried pork he'd stuffed in his mouth, "Wha?"
Frank chuckled and slapped him hard on the back, before taking his seat across from him, "Would you get your mind out of the gutter? I was talking about the party."
Gerard sighed and turned his attention to his coffee. He'd forgotten all about that stupid party. It wasn't that he didn't want Frank to have fun, or promote the record label, but Gerard really hated public appearances, and he hated theme parties even more. It was the idea of the newest band to join the label. They had come up from Kentucky and were playing a handful of shows in New York. They wanted to show their gratitude towards Frank by bringing liquor and throwing a little shindig. They had also decided the theme was a 50's sock hop, and everyone had to dress accordingly. Frank was all for the idea, but Gerard was a little more than reluctant to go and hang out with a bunch of drunk party goers in poodle skirts.
The finished breakfast in semi-silence, Gerard handing most of his bacon to the eager dogs laying at his feet, his appetite vanishing the longer he thought about the impending doom that was the 50's party. Frank, however, couldn't shut up about it.
"I was thinking of doing like, a greaser kinda look, you know? Ripped jeans, striped shirt, leather jacket. And you could do like, Johnny Cash meets Elvis, dark and brooding, but still hot and sexy..."
Gerard tried his best to drown him out, maybe he'd forget about it and they'd just go out and have a nice dinner instead. After breakfast, Gerard creeped back into the office, sitting down in front of his laptop and began to stumble around the Internet, looking for inspiration for his newest painting. He could hear Frank rummaging around in the bedroom, no doubt looking for the right outfit to wear tonight.
"Hey babe, can I borrow your leather jacket for the party?" he shouted, followed by the sounds of metal hangers clanging to the floor.
"S-Sure." Gerard croaked, focusing intently on trying to find something, anything, to distract him.
Frank came into the room, his hair slicked back into a stylish coiffure, and all the looks of a hot shot greaser. He had on the tightest pair of blue jeans he could find, a red and black striped t-shirt, and his faded black converses wrapped around his feet.
"How do I look?" he cooed, flinging the leather jacket over his shoulders and lighting up a cigarette.
Gerard was at a loss for words. He was the punk version of James Dean if he's ever seen one, the way he puffed on his cigarette and leaned against the door frame with a cool rebelliousness.
Frank smirked and walked into the office, sitting on Gerard's lap, cigarette still dangling between his lips, "Hot enough for ya?"
Gerard moaned involuntarily and made a move to stand up, his hands gripped onto the chair for support. Frank just growled and pushed him back down, now stradling his lap. He blew the smoke out of his nose, and goddamn, it was beautiful, but Gerard shuddered and tried his best to remember he was on a mission to avoid going out tonight.
"You should come with me tonight... and maybe we can do something extra special afterwards."
The way he purred those last three words made Gerard's stomach tremble and cock twitch. Damn that man for knowing exactly which buttons to press to get him all riled up and completely distracted at the same time. Finally, after a few seconds of Frank's lips gnawing away at his collarbone, he cried out, "Okay! Okay... I'll go to the stupid party."
Frank grinned and hopped down off his lap, clearly satisfied with his work. He sauntered back into the bedroom and Gerard fell back onto the office chair.
Great, now he was anxious and horny.
Girl, girl, girl, You gonna set me on fire
Gerard sighed as Frank dragged him into the warehouse, the sounds of chatter and Elvis pouring outside onto the sidewalk. As they walked in, he had to admit, he was impressed with the decor. The lights were a pleasant shade of lilac, and the floor was a polished white. In one corner the band's equipment was set up, no doubt for a surprise set during the party. A red-head girl flounced over, wrapped in a blue dress straight out of a pin-up calender, and a bourbon in her hand.
"Frank! I'm so glad you could make it!" she smiled, extending a bangled hand for him to shake.
Frank laughed softly, holding out his hand while pulling Gerard close to him, "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Sam."
She smiled and set her eyes on Gerard, grinning at his outfit, "Love the hair," she said, flicking her eyes up to gelled pompadour he was sporting.
Gerard just smiled awkwardly, "Er, yeah. Frankie did it for me."
Sam clapped her hand against her glass and bit down on her brightly painted lip, "Well, the booze is on the table, there's some guys in the back with a little smokage, if y'know what I'm saying," At this she gave Frank a very noticeable wink, "And, uh, just have fun!"
She bounced away, singing along with Elvis.
You light my morning sky with burnin' love
Frank turned to Gerard, smiling in the now dim green lighting, "You wanna dance?"
Gerard just shook his head, before walking over to an empty table a sitting down, running his fingers along the tablecloth. Frank sighed and put his hands on his hips, "Well, you can just sit here and mope then, I'm gonna go have some fun."
Gerard grumbled, pulling out his cigarettes and lighting one up. Frank groaned and walked away, following the direction Sam had taken towards the back room. 30 minutes and a bourbon shot later, Gerard spotted Frank coming out from the back, laughing heartily at some joke while a skinny blonde boy clapped him on the back.
"Shit, Frankie, you gotta party with us more often!"
Gerard sighed and looked down at his glass, it was mostly ice now, and the alcohol had left his stomach reeling. Maybe he could just convince Frank he was sick and had to go home. Frank walked over, blonde boy still in tow, and giggled as he took a seat next to Gerard.
"Babe, this is Johnny, he's the singer of the band. You already met Sam, she's their drummer." he grinned, his breath and clothes absolutely reeking of pot.
Gerard mumbled a weak hello and shifted his gaze to the ground. Frank's smile fell and he pressed the back of his hand to Gerard's forehead, "You feelin' okay, Gee?"
There was so much concern and tenderness in his voice Gerard wanted to cry. No, he wasn't okay. The bourbon made his stomach hurt and all these people were making him nervous. But he couldn't tell Frank that. Shows and parties and bands were all his Frankie knew. And if Gerard revealed just how much he hated it all, it would break Frank's heart. He just couldn't bring himself to do such a thing.
He shrank away from his touch, pushing his glass away from his and laying his head down on the table. He heard Frank mumble something to the Johnny kid, and soon felt a pair of arms encircling his waist.
"C'Mon Gee," his voice breathed into his ear, "There's a couch in the back you can lay on."
He barely felt Frank pull him from the seat and lead him to the back, where he soon found himself in a room that was empty save for a couple of couches and a lime-green bong on the ground. He sank down onto the nearest couch, a beat up red one with a rip in the middle cushion, and looked up at Frank with watery eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Frank just smiled sweetly, "For what? Not wanting to be here? You should've just said something,baby, I wouldn't have made you come..."
Gerard shook his head, tears now threatening to fall, "No, it's not that, you're having such a good time and I feel like shit to take that away from you."
Frank cooed and hugged Gerard closely, "You don't have to stay though, I wouldn't have cared either way."
Gerard sniffled, "I care... I wanna be here with you."
Frank's smiled stretched wider and he pressed his lips to Gerard's, pulling the older man into his chest. Gerard pulled away, though, rubbing his eyes.
"Fuckin' liquor. I always turn into a pussy." he grumbled, wiping away the tear marks on his cheeks.
Frank just laughed, "I thought you were allergic to cats."
Gerard grinned at Frank's sardonic humor and sat up a little on the couch, pulling the younger man closer for a more passionate kiss. They stayed like this for what seemed like hours, kissing softly in the silence, surrounded by the smells of stale smoke and fresh paint. They didn't even hear the door open, but both jumped when Sam stifled a shriek.
"Sorry guys, thought the room was vacant." Her eyes were cast down, in case she were to see something inappropriate.
Frank pecked Gerard's cheek and fell back on his haunches, smiling up at the flustered girl, "It's fine... he's just got a bit of a headache."
Sam moved her hand from her eyes, and grinned, "We're about to play a few songs off the new EP, thought you might like to hear them."
While she was looking at Frank, her invitation seemed to be for Gerard, who smiled and stood up from the couch, "That sounds awesome."
I want to see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars
Gerard sighed softly in the darkness of the bedroom, eyes closed but ears open to the soft music coming from the radio. He rolled on his side, taking in his lover's naked form. He curled closer, nuzzling his shoulders and breathing in the scent of sandlewood, and a faint whiff of ganga.
In other words, darling, kiss me
Yes, life was good. Despite the boring parties and lame press conferences, and Frank's constant need to be doing something, life was good. The chihuahua crawled out from under the covers, yawning and giving her owner a quizzical look. Gerard stroked her behind her ears, falling back onto the fluffy pillows. Frank stirred, cracking open one eye and staring at Gerard.
"Can't sleep?" he croaked, making a move to sit up.
Gerard shook his head, "No... just thinking about tonight."
Frank rolled over and looked at the clock. 3:23. "What about tonight?"
"How much I love you. How much you do for me and give me. And how fuckin' hot you look as James Dean."
Frank smiled, and ran a hand along Gerard's bare chest, "There's another party on the 13th. It's a blacklight party."
Gerard smiled and closed his eyes, already thinking of what outfit to wear.