This is the first fic I have ever written and I was just interested in some feedback. Just a fictional one shot on the beginning of Frank and Gerard's friendship-like relationship. (I'm only sayin...
These were the first words out of my mouth after we had gotten off an amazing yet insane set at a small venue in New Jersey. The whole band had dispersed, everyone sweaty and tired, but invigorated after playing to another crowd of cheering fans from all over the area. I should have been super pleased with the fact that we’ve been doing so well since we just started up touring for the Three Cheers album, but today was a different story. Even though I was drenched and sweltering, my body shook as if in the throes of a cold chill. My sweat soaked, black hair clung to my face, only aggravating my mood. I pulled it back behind my ears only to have my attempts show fruitless. My warm face was red and really showed off my anger through my pale skin. Fortunately, Mikey noticed.
“Gee, what’s wrong? You act like your hair is going to strangle you which is odd because when you’re done with a set it’s a wonder you even get back to the bus.”
Mikey is my only brother and he knows me inside and out so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when he noticed my strange attitude. I figured it would be best to just let him know what was going through my head but my body and mouth had no intention to cooperate with each other. My brain wanted to start explaining the events that unfolded and instead, a steady slew of cursing and Frank’s name sprang forth.
“Asshole… Frank… being a jerk… doing inappropriate things… I can‘t believe him…”
I could tell I was making no sense whatsoever, but the tension was so great I felt like I was going to explode with emotion. I began to feel a little better once my temper had let loose some but when I finally looked over at my suddenly quiet younger brother his demeanor slightly drew me back into reality. I had never seen Mikey so confused and scared. His eyes had grown wide and he stopped talking, probably in hopes he could slip away since he has no chance in hell to stop my fright train of profanity. But considering what Frank had done, this rage is well justified. No person has ever left me angry, frustrated, disappointed, and slightly turned on all at the same time.
It all began earlier in the afternoon, a simple sound check in the venue just to be sure all our equipment was sound and working properly. Our prep habits had followed us from the Bullets tour over to now, everyone having their own method of getting ready. I was up front messing with my microphone, working with the crews to get my voice coming across clearly. I would sing random bits of our songs or just sing some warm up style exercises. These would sometimes be accompanied by a couple drinks or so, just to loosen up the old vocal cords I swear.
I glanced back at my bandmates to make sure everything was going alright. Frank was back gently strumming at his guitar making it look so easy. Even though he’s a bit of a crazed beast about playing on stage, he really enjoys his guitars. Sometimes he looks so blissful back there it’s almost like he has some sort of forbidden romance going on with his Pansy. Continuing with my scan of the stage, Mikey is sitting on one of the enormous amps recently purchased messing with that ridiculous beanie he always wears.
“Mikey, this isn’t a fashion show and we’re not divas, we’re rockstars. Start acting like one!” I shot at him, friendly yet with a touch of authority to get my point across. We’re family, I can’t help but cut him a little slack.
“Gerard, I’m sorry to tell you this, but rockstars don’t flaunt around in pink boas or strut the stage like Freddie Mercury either. You might want to take your own advice.”
Damn, he’s good. We laugh together for a short while, then I hear a loud crash coming from farther back in the set. Bob was kind of messing with his drums, but his favorite pre-show activity is pissing off Ray. Ray can be up front jamming on his guitar, practicing chords and progressions he thinks he doesn’t have down but does, and Bob will come out of nowhere with a crazy random drum solo. The only thing that enrages Ray more than the idea of somebody straightening his ‘fro is the fact that he thinks he should always be better, and Bob kind of gets in the way of that sometimes. We all knew what was going to happen, but Frank came over next to me and we decided to watch.
“Goddamnit Bob seriously! I really don’t have this solo down and I want to be sure it’s perfect!” Ray shouted. This is always an amusing part of prep.
“Dude chill, you have that solo. Just relax okay?”
Bob is so chill, an asteroid could be heading right for him and he’d be cool as can be. Ray however, stomped over to the drum set and was set to kill when Bob just started slamming on his cymbals, making the loudest crashes I’ve ever heard. I started laughing hysterically and Frank followed suit; we ended up a heap on the ground. We laughed for what felt like forever, only forced to quit by stitches in our sides that hurt like hot daggers.
“Man, if I were Ray I would have cut him up into a million pieces in his sleep. I think I’ll go split them up before someone winds up killed or worse, unable to play.”
I picked myself up off the ground and dusted off my already disgusting show clothes, a pointless gesture but one none the less. I strode over and tried to get their attention but things had gotten really heated and I didn’t feel it was a good idea to jump into the fiery pits of Hell.
“Jesus tap-dancing Christ, these distractions are going to lead to disaster one day. I hate when these distractions!”
I was a peeved, my furrowed brow and hand pinching the bridge of my nose really gave it away. The next thing I know I feel a hand on my side, a finger gently caressing a white patch of skin just above my belt. It was Frank. Frank and I have always been close, completely trusting of the other. Unfortunately, he also knew how to push my buttons.
“Hey Gee, how about a distraction from this one?” he whispered, a sultry look in his eye and a mischievous grin on his face. I loved that sexy face of his, but right now was not a good time.
“Maybe later Frank, the last thing we all need right now is to get too sidetracked, I really need to get those two back on track or we’re never going to get this sound check done.” I whispered back. Despite my words, nothing at all showed that I didn’t enjoy or want his touch. He loved that feeling of power and I hated that he took advantage of it. Well, maybe I didn’t hate it, but still. I pulled his hand away and turned to my arguing band mates, who have started to scare Mikey with how violent they were. I knew I had to save him from their crazed fighting, so I sprinted across the stage and began yelling, something I didn’t want to do since it might hurt my voice, but Mikey is very important to me. While I was getting the situation under control, Frank had returned to his amp and guitar thinking about our little encounter on the stage.
“Okay then Gerard,” he said to himself, a pleased look upon his face, “ I will wait until later.”
Time had wore on and before we knew it, we were on the stage jamming as if our lives depended on it. The crowd was going wild, a hot and sweaty mass of people we barely knew jumping around like the waves of the ocean during a storm. The band was also feeling this crowd’s endless energy because Bob had broken three sets of sticks, Ray almost fell off stage, Mikey actually moved around more than a few feet and Frank had almost broken his neck about ten times (a new record) due to throwing himself against or off anything and everything, as well as his intense, seizure like writhing on the floor.
I felt like I could go all night, carrying on with a swag that could put David Bowie to shame. I strutted the stage singing out to the fans making it a memorable night for them all, but I had no idea how great it would be for them. I had climbed up on a small amp in the front of the stage and was belting out a chorus when I felt a hand grab a tuft of my long hair and tug backwards half pulling me off the box. My hair is pretty sensitive so I turned to see who the fuck decided it was a good idea to grab a hold of it, when Frank grinned up at me. I shot him a dirty look because he should know better than to mess with my hair, so I pulled away from the mic long enough to tell him “Hey Frankie, you know that doing that is a bad idea so I suggest you knock that smirk off your face and get back to playing.”
Instead of backing off, his smile only grew and he tugged me down by my jeans and slipped a finger in the front, running it along the edge of my pants and belt. Frank then seductively whispered in my ear, “ But I thought I was allowed to do things to you later and well, this is later…”
Curses. This is one place that loopholes should not be allowed. My body gave way to his touch anyway, a shiver down my spine and that warm familiar feeling of heated pleasure. I knew he noticed because of his little giggle as he walked off, heading back to his familiar place on the stage. Not one to be undone so easily, I decided if Frankie wanted war, that’s what it would be.
During the next song, I decided to sneak up on Frank while he was adjusting his pedals and surprise him. He had turned away from me back to the hordes of people and I crammed myself up right behind him and ran a hand up his inner thigh and bit into his ear. Softly enough to make it pleasant but hard enough so he knew I meant business. I knew this had quite an effect on him because his hips worked forward into his guitar and his head came back towards me, looking for more before he even realized what was going on.
Back and forth our little duel of sexy wits went, more tugs on hair and sucking on ears to raunchier things like Frank playing in between my legs and rubbing his head against my upper thigh. Things were getting tense and people were noticing. The last song before encore, I decided to give this battle one last hurrah and prove to Frank he couldn’t get the best of me. I rushed over to him in the middle of Ray’s solo and snaked a hand up his shirt so I could pull it down then connected my teeth with his neck: hard. I stayed there awhile and just kept working the area until when I pulled back I already saw a huge purple bruise and teeth marks left behind. The expression on his face was priceless, a look of shock and amazement. I knew then and there I had won. I strutted away, a shit eating grin upon my face.
We then started into our encore song since the crowd was absolutely fantastic. It felt like I was in ecstasy, winning the battle with Frank and the hearts of our fans yet again. I let the music help me drift into my head and sing like I never had before. About mid-song, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Before I could yield to its pressure, I felt it jerk me around in an almost comical style and then all I knew was rough, warm lips on mine. I went limp and all I could think is “Wow, this is amazing. What the fuck?” I felt teeth catch my lower lip and bite, a satisfying pain sinking into my lip. All I could hear was a roar of screaming and cheering mixed with a few whistling cat-calls. When it pulled away it was almost disappointing. Then I opened my eyes and realized it was Frank. That jerk had a smirk pasted across his face and he looked me in the eyes and giggled, mouthing “I won.” I was half speechless and wanted nothing more than to rip his clothes off and keep kissing him. It was just so damn good. Then I remembered we were onstage and I had to finish the song. All I could do is get back to singing. The rest of the band exchanged looks and Frank thrashed around like it was his last show.
“Gee, I get that’s what happened and all, but why the hell are you so upset about it?”
God, sometimes Mikey can be so oblivious.
“Because Frank has always had a special place in my heart Mikey. His silly attitude and incredible love of being himself and making things better for others has helped me feel better about myself. His presence makes me happy. I just wish that I could share that with him instead of him toying me around constantly. All he does is flirt with me, give me those longing looks and never does anything about it!” I knew my temper at Mikey was not right, but damn. What more could I do to make him realize? I thought it was pretty obvious how much I cared for that adorable guy. I’m not getting all gushy on you, I promise.
Mikey saw I was deep in thought, giving myself a mental shake up for what had happened. He was gone before I could say goodnight. I came out of my head and worked myself up to walking to the bunks since we would be leaving soon and I really just wanted sleep. Actually, I wanted more than that but I suppose I wasn’t getting that anytime soon. Feeling dead and defeated, I stumbled up the stairs of our tour bus and made it to the bunk area when I found no one other than Frank sitting on my bunk. He stared at me intently, with a look of concern mixed with amusement.
“I heard you. Every last thing you said. You’re really loud when you get mad, you know that?” My blood froze. I couldn’t believe I let our little battle make me so angry. How was this gonna affect the band? What if he leaves? Should I just cry and beg him not to worry about any of it? That’s when he stands up and throws himself at me, giving me a huge hug. He snuggled right in the crook of my neck and just hugged me and the cold went away, being replaced with a warm feeling. But then he pulled away and jumped in my bunk, stripped off his shoes and pulled the curtain closed. “What are doing? That’s my bunk and… I am so confused and want to go to sleep.” I felt a small prick of anger fill my head again. All I wanted was some freaking sleep! I yanked open the curtain and found a surprise: Frank had taken off his shirt and was working on his jeans. Before I could say anything, snuck up close to my ears and whispered, “I know sleep isn’t on your mind honey, so I suggest you shut your mouth and get in here.”
“Thought you would never ask” were the only words I could choke out before I jumped in the bunk on top of him and pulled the curtains shut.