FicWad

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, don't own the basic plot and quotes you recognise from Californication.

WARNINGS: This story is based on the television series "Californication", if you didn't like it or were offended by it, please do not read. I have changed a lot of the plot to suit my own wicked ways but it still includes a lot of swearing, alcohol and drug use, sex in every shape and form and some volgarity. Please do not read if this offends.

Chapter Twelve: That's a great fucking name ... If you're a hooker! (Part One)

When the neighbours knocked on Frank's door that morning to complain about the noise, he took it for what it was. A fucking compliment.

For the past few nights Frank had done nothing but sit down and write and play his fucking heart out. Somehow Gerard's little mishap with the bottle of vodka a week ago spurred his new found inspiration boost. It was a shame it took something so terrible to inspire something so good, but Frank knew that Gerard wouldn't object.

He was the one that always forced the band to take breaks and separate for a while, if only to go and live so that they would finally have something new to write about when they re-grouped. To Frank, this long time apart was now just another break. Something inside told him that their ultimate regrouping was only just around the corner.

Soon ... They would all be together again soon.

Now that it was morning once more and his musical streak had been disturbed by the neighbours knocking down his door, he was suddenly aware that he was uncertain when his last good nights sleep had actually been. Did he even sleep last night? He couldn't remember! But the small, yawning puppy at his feet told him otherwise. She looked as exhausted as Frank felt.

As he glanced around his lounge room all he saw was hundreds of sheets of paper, all with notes and lyrics and even pathetic little sketches that helped inspire him in some way or other. The site alone made him smile. It was the mess of creation. It was his music space.

Somehow in the past few days he had created music.

It felt wonderful, he was certain his heart was going to explode through his chest from the mere excitement of it all. Frank had to tell someone, anyone. He was sure that Mikey would be just as thrilled as he would be, he would probably drive straight over with his bass, just so they could see what the broken pieces of song would be like finally coming together as a whole.

He couldn't fucking wait ... but first, he figured he should get some rest. Now that he was back into reality he suddenly realised just how raw his eyes seemed and just how dead his brain felt. His body was sucked dry ... he officially had no energy left. Frank was exhausted.

Somehow he managed to lift himself onto his unused feet and for a moment he thought they weren't going to support him. When he finally managed to balance himself properly, he stretched out his back and prepared himself for the best sleep he would ever have ... but at that moment, as usual, the phone rang.

"Fuck you," Frank shouted at the flashing object, giving it an evil stare as though hoping that would shut it up. Pansy cocked her head at him, confused by the sudden shouting.

When the small object kept ringing, he gave up and reached out for it. Letting out an extremely loud yawn the moment he picked it up, just to let whoever it was know that they had disturbed his thoughts of sleep. He muttered what was supposed to be a hello and listened for the reply.

"Frank ..."

It was Gerard ... and he sounded terrible. Frank was on instant alert. What the fuck had happened now? Surely after last week’s episode he wasn't drinking again!

"Gee ... what's wrong? You alright?" he asked, all thoughts of sleep instantly leaving his mind as he realised that Gerard was crying.

It was quiet at first, that was why it had gone unnoticed, but now that Frank's senses were back on full alert, he could here the dull sobs and the breaking in the other mans voice.

He braced himself, this couldn't be good.

"I-it's dad," Gerard sobbed, speaking slowly as he struggled to say the words. "It's Don Frank ... he h-had another heart attack."

Frank waited patiently for Gerard to explain and the moment he heard the words 'Don' and 'Heart Attack' he put two and two together. If Gerard was crying then it couldn't be good news. Somehow he could figure just what the fuck had happened. But, it couldn't be ... there was no way. Even though he already knew, he asked anyway.

"Shit ... Gee, is he alright?"

The question had to be asked, because there was no way. Don was the kind of guy who was supposed to live forever!

"No ... he's not alright. Frank ... h-he's dead."

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"So Iero, give it to me straight. What's it like touring around America in a beat up little van with a whole bunch of guys and not one woman in site," Don said as he sat himself down next to Frank and passed him a beer.

"Honestly Don, I'm having the time of my fucking life!" Frank admitted, tapping the tip of his drink against Don's enthusiastically.

"You fucking fairy Iero, what happened to that tuff punk-kid I used to know and love?" Don continued, nudging Frank gently to show that he was only teasing.

"He went on tour with four other men in a beat up little van with not one woman in site ... it really changes a person, you know."

The area around them was instantly filled with Don's hearty laugh. Frank liked Don, Don liked Frank, they got each other pure and simple. Don often said that Frank was the only person he could joke with and actually have jokes thrown back at him. It made Frank smile with pride every time Don spoke about him in a positive light.

Sure, Frank had a father, a father who loved him dearly, but Don was different. For some reason, ever since Frank had met the man, he had felt it was his duty to try and impress him. He seemed such a hard man to please, just like Gerard. Still, it was only skin deep - once you broke past that initial first barrier, you were well on your way to being one of the most important people in either man's life.

"Seriously though Frankie ... my boy's getting any?" Don asked, lowering his voice and staring at Frank with as much seriousness as he could muster.

"What? I don't know. We don't exactly go around picking up groupies," Frank explained, still unsure if Don was joking around or not. What sort of a question was that to ask?

"A father just likes to know these things Frank, if you can't take it seriously then I'll find someone else to ask."

Frank just shook his head in disbelief. The man could still be such a pain in the ass when he wanted to be.

"I'm sure they're getting plenty," Frank decided on saying, rolling his eyes at what he had been reduced to.

"That's the answer I was looking for. Now what about you Iero, you still with Jamie? Married her yet?" Don always asked Frank about Jamia. Always, without fucking fail.

Since the moment Gerard had introduced the band to Don and they had all become fast friends, Frank had become the sort of favourite. From the day he and Don decided that they shared something special together, the older man had demanded to know everything and anything there was to know about Frank. When Jamia had been dragged into the conversation, Don demanded to meet her. The moment Don met Jamia, he made it his duty to ask Frank every single time he saw him if they were married yet. Even if Frank was only twenty two.

"Not yet, I'm actually thinking we might take a break ... just for a while," Frank said, lowering his head slightly as he spoke.

"You bloody well will not! What's in your head boy?" Don boomed out, his voice suddenly a force to be reckoned with.

Instantly Frank turned back to him and smiled.

"You idiot! I can't believe you fell for that," Frank teased, slapping his knee as he started laughing.

"Oh very funny Iero. Still got that girly laugh I see, all those cigarettes haven't manned it up any," Don shot back. Always getting the upper hand.

"It's not a girly laugh," Frank said, instantly defending himself.

Two things got under his skin. One was the mention of his height disorder. The other was how high-pitched and feminine his laugh could come across as.

"It fucking is Iero, don't be such a little girl about it," Don continued to push. But suddenly, the laughing stopped, the mock tough guy look faded and a smile broke through. Don's demeanor instantly changed as Mikey stepped onto the scene.

"What are you two talking about?" Mikey asked, staring between his father and Frank suspiciously.

"Nothing Mikey, come sit next to me. I do miss you boys when you leave all the time, you know that right?" Don told his youngest son, the moment he did as he was told and took a seat by his side.

Frank smiled at the very different conversation that was now going on next to him. Don was like a two sided coin. When he was around Frank, it was like they were old friends. He swore, he spoke roughly, he joked around, he talked dirty; for a while, it was just who Frank assumed he was. Then, he saw the other side.

When Don was around his sons he was a completely different man. It was like something just seemed to crack in his tough exterior and he was instantly this complete and utter mess of emotions. The only way to describe it was love. Don fucking loved his boys so much.

Frank struggled to remember a time when Don actually swore in front of either Gerard or Mikey and there was certainly no talk of sex or pointless little taunts like having a girls laugh or being a fairy. Don had a side for friends and a side for family and Frank kind of admired him for that.

There was also, he was certain, a side to Don that he had not yet witnessed. One thing was for certain, Don was a strong man. He would often talk about how he used to be a boxing champion and how he beat up a man just for looking at his wife one day at a bar. Frank had no idea if the story was true, but he was certain that he would not have liked to run into Don in a dark alley.

It was strange because Gerard and Mikey were so placid, but once again Frank just put it down to the fact that people changed when they became parents. Don was living proof. He was lucky enough to see the man that Don used to be, he let his hair down around Frank, but for Gerard and Mikey, they got to see that special side of their dad, that side no one else really got to see long enough to understand. The softer side, the vulnerable side.

And that was why Frank got along with Don so much. His family was always very much the same, to relatives and to friends. One personality for every day of the week. None of them were as intricate and interesting as Don Way.

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"Oh fucking fuck it - I'm a so sorry," Frank slurred out as he over emphasised whatever he had just been speaking about with his hands and managed to knock his glass over.

"It's okay," the women he was talking too said as she chuckled at him.

Frank looked at the spilt drink and at the women staring in fascination at him and for some unknown reason he burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"What's so funny?" she asked, taking a sip of her own potent poison.

"I've no fucking idea! J-just -" and Frank couldn't say anything else because he was incapable of speaking through the hysterical high pitched laughter that he so often used.

Don had always said he had a girls laugh and he did! He fucking did and he found it hilarious.

"You're really drunk," the girl said, watching him doubled over in a fit of laughter and smiling nervously at the act. "What are your thoughts on rehab?"

"It's for fucking quitters!" Frank practically shouted, raising his hand to the bartender as a sign that he was ready for another.

By all rights, he was sure he was drunk enough to get kicked out of that bar in a second, but he knew the bartender. 'Pledge for the broken' often played at this particular bar, 'Leathermouth' had done a few shows there many years back. The bartender was a fan, the owner of the club was a fan and Frank knew they respected him enough not to kick him out just because he was drunkenly having a good time.

Somewhere deep inside, he felt a pang of shame. Here he was, laughing hysterically and enjoying himself at some bar when merely hours ago he had found out that Don Way was dead. He was certain he should have been paying his respects, but really, what the fuck did that even mean? The only way he knew to deal with anything bad was to drink all the bad feelings away.

"What's your name anyway?" Frank finally asked the women he had been drinking and talking to for the past couple of hours or so. He really had no sense of time anymore.

She was a pretty young woman, the kind of women that Frank could honestly say he had never, ever been with before. Truth was, she looked like one of those upper-class snobs who wouldn't even give his heavily tattooed skin and punk-styled hair cut a second glance. With beautiful brown curls bouncing all around her tanned face and in her blue, almost green eyes, he couldn't help but think he was with the sexiest women in the whole place.

If he wasn't so wasted, he probably would have wondered why she had come up and started talking to him in the first place.

"My name is Trixy," she said, slowly and clearly as though unsure whether the answer would register in his drunken mind or not.

Frank had his Vodka and coke pressed tightly to his lips when she had told him her name. The moment the word left her lips; Frank removed the glass, spitting whatever he had in his mouth back in it, before doubling over once again and cracking up into another fit of giggles.

"That's a great fucking name ... If you're a hooker!"

The laughter didn't stop, he couldn't help it - everything was just too fucking funny when he was that wasted. It was hysterical, it was crazy and even though the bartender was watching him bury his head in the arms he had resting on the bar, he still didn't kick him out.

For some reason, in his drunken mind, Frank knew why. Everyone pitied him. He had lost someone; he was grieving, even if he did have tears in his eyes only from all the laughing.

"Maybe I am a hooker," Trixy managed to say between the snorting noises that Frank was making as he tried to calm himself.

"That's fucking awesome!" Frank said and for some reason he found himself wrapping an arm around her shoulder and muttering words of congratulations. "Just fucking fantastically good."

She rolled her eyes as though she was used to this sort of behaviour, but she still sat there, watching him with great interest. Frank couldn't deny that he was fucking grateful for her company. The reason he had gone to the bar was because he needed someone to talk to. He needed someone to grieve with because he had no one.

After Gerard had shakily told Frank that his father was dead, Frank had taken a moment to digest the words before taking a deep breath and announcing that he was going around to Gerard's place. There was no way he was going to let him be alone at a time like that. Gerard needed him now more then ever.

But, Frank was immediately shut down by the sobbing Gerard and told to stay where he was. Basically, Gerard didn't need him; he already had his support group.

"It's alright Frank ... L-Lindsey came back - when she heard the news, she came back. We're f-flying out soon - I think, maybe ... I'm not sure anymore. B-but Mum needs me ... stuff to arrange - I d-don't want her to be alone. P-plus there's Mikey ... I don't know how he'll - I'm not even sure if he's heading out there yet ... how he's taken the news..."

Gerard sounded so disorientated by his grief that for a second Frank thought about ignoring every word he had said and simply driving over to his house and banging down the door until he was allowed in. He hated hearing Gerard so lost, he hated that he wouldn't be the one to hold him and comfort him.

At that moment when Gerard said a flimsy goodbye and hung up the phone, Frank despised Lindsey more then ever. She got to be there for him, Frank had to step back. Gerard wasn't his responsibility anymore and he fucking hated that.

The moment Gerard's voice faded from his phone's speaker, he felt strangely empty. Don was dead, he loved Don, but it seemed he had no right at all to grieve. He wasn't family, it didn't matter how he felt, it was nothing to how the Way's were feeling.

Even though Frank felt cold, felt empty and felt fucking numb, something told him that he was over-reacting. There was this little voice inside his head that told him to stop thinking about comforting Gerard, he didn't belong by his side. Gerard didn't need him this time.

He was heading off to see his Mum and he was taking his girl friend, his fiancé with him. There Gerard would stay, being consolidated by Lindsey and grieving with his mother. Then perhaps he and Mikey would sit together, trying to remember all the good memories they had of their father.

But Frank wanted to do all those things too and at that moment he realised that he was no longer part of that family. He didn't belong there. He had no one to grieve with and therefore he had no right to.

Without a moments hesitation he had pulled on some socialably acceptable clothes, jumped into his car and sped off to the nearest bar. It was early when he got there but he drank and drank as the hours ticked by until one young woman finally picked him out from the crowd and came over to join him.

That was many hours ago and Trixy was still there by his side.

"Trixy," Frank repeated, smiling at her with what he hoped was affection, he wanted her to know that he was happy she was there. "Trixy, Trix - fucking Trixsta."

A smile broke through her stern features and she finally laughed at his drunken antics.

"Do you wanna get out of here or what?" Trixy finally asked, letting out a deep breath as though she had been holding it since the moment she had started talking to him.

"Wait!" he announced, holding up a finger to silence her. "Just one more drink."

"I dunno man, I'd say you've had enough," a new voice said, breaking through the disorientated dribble that rose up from other tables all around them.

Trixy looked at the owner of the voice with great disinterest, but Frank's drunken mind only registered excitement. Finally making it onto his extremely unstable legs, he knocked over the stool he had been sitting on as he threw himself onto the two men that had crept up behind them.

"BOB! Fucking - look at you ... you're all muscley," Frank practically screamed to the room as he gripped his friend's bicep and squeezed.

Bob smiled warmly at him and looked to the person standing on his other side. There was no mistaking that humongous head of hair. Ray was there as well!

"What the fuck you coming to my pub for?" Frank slurred as he patted Ray on the shoulder by way of greeting before returning to hug Bob.

Not only had he not seen Bob in such a long time, but the larger man was also nice to hug because he was strong enough to support him as his drunken legs were barely keeping him steady.

"Look at you man ... you're fucking trashed," Ray said, inspecting him closely.

"Stand fucking still when you talk to me," Frank shot-back, giving his friend a serious glance.

Ray's afro had been drifting backwards and forwards as though it sat on the edge of a rocky boat. It didn't even occur to Frank that Ray wasn't even moving at all and that it was just him.

Bob let out a heavy sigh as he looked from Ray to Frank again, that kind smile still on his face. He looked sympathetic as he gripped Frank tightly, picked up his fallen stool and sat him back down on it. Suddenly both Bob and Ray were slightly more stable, it was a nice feeling.

"Gerard called," Bob finally said, still staring at Frank with pity etching every inch of his features. "He told us about his dad."

"I'm sorry Frank," Ray hurriedly joined in, reaching out a hand to grip Frank's shoulder tightly.

Frank just shook his head around violently. If it hadn't of been for Bob quickly shooting out a hand to straighten him up, he probably would have tumbled straight off the stool at the effort.

"He's not my fucking Dad Bray," Frank started to explain, accidentally mixing his friends names together but not particularly noticing. "What the fuck you two are doing here? Go and see Gee or something - he's the sad one."

Bob and Ray just exchanged one of their knowing looks again as they nervously licked their lips. It was clear they we're trying to figure out how best to approach the next few things they were going to say. Frank just looked at Trixy and rolled his eyes as though appologising for the disturbance.

"Frank ... Gerard called us straight after he got off the phone with you," Ray explained patiently. "He was worried about you. Once he'd calmed down he realised that, well that you had a habit of not dealing with this sort of stuff all that well. He knew how close you and Don where ... he didn't want you doing anything stupid."

When Ray was done explaining, Bob just nodded his head in agreement. Frank just stared at the messengers with a new fury. If Gerard was so fucking worried about him, he could get off his ass and see him himself, not send security to check up on him.

"I'm fucking fine," Frank shot back, suddenly quite bored of the conversation. He was drunk, alcohol made him happy but only if he wanted to be. If the occasion called for it, then the drink could also send him to the other extreme, immense misery. Bob and Ray were bringing him down, he didn't want that right now.

"You're not fine, you're drunk!" Bob said, the parenting side of him suddenly coming through as he sounded quite stern. "Get up, we're taking you home. You have a plane to catch."

"I'm not getting on no plane," Frank whined, looking at Ray in confusion rather then at Bob. He was already making no sense.

"What? Frank ... the funeral is tomorrow. You need to get on the plane so you can get there in time," Ray explained as Bob tried to wrestle Frank to his feet.

"I'm not going to the funeral, I have other shit to do," he explained, pushing Bob away and giving him a wary glare. "Trixy and I are in the middle of a hot date."

Both Ray and Bob turned to inspect Trixy who was now on her feet and had an arm wrapped tightly around Frank's. They looked at each other with that same knowing, concerned look again but Frank just ignored it and brushed past his two friends.

"You can tell Gerard that I will see him on the flip side," Frank called back as he realised that neither Bob nor Ray were following him.

They knew him too well; they knew this was how he dealt with things. He was lucky he had such patient friends. But he didn't want their care, he didn't want their support.

Frank wasn't ready to grieve, he was ready to take Trixy home and continue to party.

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Frank had done a lot of difficult things in his life time, but for some reason, moving in with Gerard seemed to be the hardest thing he had ever done.

It was nobodies fault, it was just hard.

Emotionally, he still wasn't sure if he was completely over Jamia. He was in love with Gerard, there was no doubt about it, but he had been with his wife for so long that he still felt shell-shocked whenever he realised that they weren't together anymore.

Plus, he was living with a guy! That in itself didn't really bother him, but it bothered other people. His family was still begging him to reconsider, apparently convinced that the whole thing with Gerard was just a silly little experimental phase and that he would be back with Jamia again in no time.

Then, of course, there were the fans of the band that the two of them had single handedly destroyed. Their curious questions and desire to know every answer to every question sometimes caused them to rip out their hair in frustration. They had to stop agreeing to do interviews explaining the break-up because rumors were spreading; they no longer knew how to lie to the cameras and explain that there was no fucking relationship between Gerard Way and Frank Iero.

It was hard, it was draining and Frank was surprised that neither he nor Gerard had given up on the whole thing already. That in itself was enough to keep him going. If Gerard still let him stay, if Gerard still woke up every morning and smiled at him; then it was all fucking worth it.

They were in love. That was the only explanation, although neither of them had really used the word yet, Frank knew it was true.

Perhaps they had always been in love, maybe they just didn't realise it until recently. Frank had no idea and he actually didn't like to dwell on it. At this current point in his life, he was finding it easier just to put a shutter over any emotions that he had, good or bad. Gerard seemed to understand, but Frank wondered for how long.

One month, that's how long they had lasted so far. Frank had been living with Gerard for four whole weeks and despite his fears, Jack still loved him as much as he ever did. Whilst he had single-handedly broke the young boys two parents apart, the toddler seemed incapable of hate.

Of course the two year old didn't live with them all the time, one week he would be at Lindsey's, the next he would be at Frank and Gerard's.

That particular part in their relationship was easy for Gerard. He had been Jack's parent for two years, since the day the boy was born. Frank, well, he was thrown right into the whole parent equation and he was discovering just how difficult it was to take care of an extremely small child.

Naturally, Gerard didn't expect him to get it first go, but Frank tried his hardest, if anything, just to impress Gerard. So when Gerard came to him and explained that he had a meeting in New York to go to, which included an over night stay, regarding the promising future of his comic-book series, Frank had agreed to taking care of the two year old Jack all on his own.

And Gerard had allowed him to do so. For Frank, that was an important step. Gerard trusted him, Gerard was giving him room to grow and learn to be a parent on his own ... that meant a lot to Frank.

The first few hours had been hard. Jack had cried and cried because Gerard was missing. He knew Frank, he loved Frank, but he didn't understand why Frank was there when neither his Mum nor Dad was. Finally he discovered the beauty of a young child’s mind; it could be won over with material things ... and food.

Once he discovered how quite eating junk food made Jack, he loaded him up on the stuff. Once he discovered how happy playing with toys made Jack, Frank surrounded the small boy with more toys then any kid would know what to do with.

Frank made a great parent, at least for the first few hours. Then it all came crashing down. After all, toddlers have a short attention span.

Jack didn't want to nap, he was done sleeping. Jack didn't want to use the grown-up toilet when Frank wanted him to so he went in his nappy when he wanted to instead. Jack didn't want to stop eating food he wanted to keep going and going until he threw up all over the floor. Jack didn't want to play with his toys, he wanted to run outside and play in the mud.

For the first time ever, Frank had met his match. He was no longer the hyperactive little guitar player that liked to push boundaries and hurt and piss everyone off; he was an exhausted parent.

"Come on Jack, bath time," Frank said, finally deciding that it was really not healthy for a two year old to be sitting there in a dirty nappy with dirt all over every inch of his tiny body.

"No!" Jack replied rather simply, crossing his arms over his filthy chest and shaking his head.

To anyone else, Jack looked like some beautiful little angel. He had these huge, shinning brown eyes that looked up at you with trust and love through the thickest and messiest mop of black hair that anyone had ever seen on a baby. His skin was pale and yet flawless; he was the perfect kid.

But right now, Frank wanted to strangle him. He had had enough and it wasn't just Jack's fault. The phones hadn't stopped ringing all day. Magazines, calling for interviews or quick little conversations, just so they could put something, anything about My Chemical Romance in their latest issue.

Frank was stressed and Jack wasn't helping. He could just imagine what sort of a person he would look like if anyone walked in. There was Jack dressed only in a nappy and a little blue singlet top. Frank had given him a pacifier to shut him up, even though Gerard was desperately trying to wean him off them. His hair was a mess, his skin was no longer white but brown with mud and he smelt as bad as he looked.

Then there was Frank. Cleaning up Oreo's and chocolate and whatever other remains of food that Jack had recently spewed up. Unfortunately it had been right on Frank, so he was cleaning the floor in his tracksuit pants, shirtless, his heavily tattooed chest on display for the whole world to see.

He looked like some drug-addict who couldn't take care of his child. It was pathetic.

"Why do you hate me?" Frank whined, as Jack merely giggled and scrambled down from the lounge.

Then, he promptly ran right past Frank, laughing through his pacifier as Frank made a dive for him and missed.

"Come back here! Jack! Right, that's it ... you're going straight to bed!"

His warning fell on deaf ears; Jack was already back in the muddy back yard. It was clear Frank didn't hold much authority just yet, he would work on that. First, he needed a moment and as he was already sprawled across the floor he figured it wouldn't hurt anyone if he just lay there for a few more minutes.

But at that moment, as luck would have it, there was a knock on the door.

"Fucking hell ... now what," he complained as he pushed himself off the ground and shuffled over to the front door.

For a fleeting moment he wondered if it was the nice lady that lived down the street. Perhaps Gerard had given her a heads up and she was coming to make sure everything was alright.

Naturally, it wasn't. He was unlucky; he should have seen it coming. There, in the doorway, looking him up and down with nothing but hatred painted across his face was Don Way, Gerard's father.

"I'm here to see my grandson. Is Gerard here?" Don asked abruptly, pushing past Frank as though he wasn't even there and stepping straight into the house.

He inspected the wet floor, the mop and bucket, the lounge with mud all over it and the excessive amount of toddler toys scattered all over the lounge room. Frank watched him looking at everything and knew he was judging every single thing he laid eyes on.

"Gerard's away for the night," Frank stated simply as Don's eyes now fell upon him and took in his rather exposed appearance. "I'm taking care of Jack."

Immediately Frank knew what Don would say. That he was a horrible parent, that he had no idea how to take care of a child. He even had scenarios in his head of Don taking Jack away with him and calling Gerard or social services even. Would Gerard loose Jack because Frank couldn't take good enough care of him when they were left alone?

"POPPY!" came Jack's excited little squeal as he raced in through the front door and practically leapt into Don's outstretched arms.

Despite the fact the child was an absolute mess; Don held him close to his chest and even kissed him on his dirt covered forehead. It was a sign of a parent, it was a sign of a grandparent, it was a sign of being grown-up enough to not give a shit. Frank envied that already Don seemed to have more control over the situation then he did.

Jack seemed right in the older man's arms. Like he belonged there. Don was strong, he was older, he just seemed to know what he was doing and already everything just seemed calmer. There was no doubt about it; Frank was a failure.

"Look at you Jacky, been playing in the mud?" Don asked the small boy in a kind enough voice, even though he glanced back over at Frank again, eyeing him dangerously.

"I found dinosaur!" Jack exclaimed, clutching tightly onto Don.

"Dinosaurs!" Don exclaimed, widening his eyes dramatically. "Wow!"

"Lizards ... h-he means lizards ... he's not high or anything," Frank explained nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Don gave him an odd sort of look before placing Jack back on the floor and encouraging him to go back out side and play. Jack ran back out the door making siren noises as he did. Instantly a silence filled the kitchen and Frank felt all kinds of wild explanations running through his head. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Look, I know what you're going to say and I know alright. But it's my first time alone with him and I'm fucking trying okay!" Frank shouted, frustration getting the better of him. He didn't deserve this, he didn't want a lecture.

"Shut up Frank! I didn't come here to see you, I came here to see my grandson, I don't even want to hear what you have to say. You ruined my son’s marriage, you ruined his life and in turn you're ruining that little boys out there."

The words hit Frank like a fist across the face. This was Don, he used to look up to this man, he used to demand his respect. They used to have so much in common, that special something that they shared that neither of them could really explain. Now, that was all gone; replaced by hatred and anger.

For the first time in a long time, Frank didn't know what to say. Don was right, he had ruined Gerard's marriage, ruined his life and now he was going to ruin Jack's. Tiny, little, innocent Jack. How could he defend himself when he knew that he deserved everything he got?

"You dragged my boy down to your level Frank! You manipulated him, twisted his mind - I just can't believe you two could fucking do this!" Don continued to yell.

His words were choppy, they almost made no sense now, but Frank knew they were coming from a very deep place. Don was angry, he had every right to be, it was his turn to vent and Frank was merely the human bystander that copped the whole blow.

For some reason, Frank still loved Don, he still respected him and he couldn't stand the resentment and the disappointment. He wanted Don to understand, he needed his approval, he just had to explain it to him. It may have been a mistake, Gerard was probably better off without him, but Frank couldn't let him go - he needed Don to understand that he needed Gerard.

"B-but," Frank stammered, trying to find the right words that would make him understand. "I love him. I fucking love him so much."

It was pathetic and weak, but he meant every word. Frank was almost astonished that the words had left his mouth because he hadn't even told Gerard them yet! And now, of all the people to say it to first, it was his disagreeable father.

"If you really fucking loved him Frank, you would have just left him the hell alone!" was all Don said as he continued to stare at Frank with that same look of disgust.

There was nothing else to say. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Was Don right? Sure, he loved Gerard, but hadn't it been very selfish of him to take that ultimate step and take a chance. Just because he couldn't help himself, didn't mean he had to drag Gerard down to his level. Gerard had resisted him, hadn't he?

Don's words manipulated the truth, twisted his memory of the first time he had pinned Gerard against that wall and wrapped his hands around his dick. Did Gerard consent to it? Was he too pushy?

"Look at you Frank ... what the fuck are you doing?" Don finally finished, shaking his head at the lack of response from Frank. He was a fighter after all; he always had something to say back to Don's words. But not this time. This time, he was defeated.

With a heavy sigh and a still shaking head, Don turned away from Frank and marched back out the front door. There was no looking back and Frank just stood there feeling strangely numb as he heard Don's car start up and make it's way out of the drive way.

A mind full of thoughts, full of questions, Frank found his feet and marched purposefully towards the fridge. He pulled out a beer - he had bought some to have whilst Gerard was away, he hated having them in the fridge when he was home, in case the temptation was still too much for him.

Twisting off the lid he tossed it in the sink and collapsed onto the ground, sipping at the liquid in the bottle with great eagerness.

He closed his eyes, he could still see Gerard staring at him questionably as Frank pushed him against the wall, kissed him passionately for the first ever time off the stage. Gerard moaned into his ear, thrusted into him and kissed back - but did he really? Or was that just what Frank wanted to believe? If Frank hadn't of made the first move, would Gerard have?

Did he really ruin Gerard's life?

There was no sense of time for Frank as he just sat against the cupboard, sipping at the beer in his hand. He had no idea how long he was down there before he felt a slight tug at his beer-free hand. When he found the strength to turn his head and peer at the culprit, he saw the mud covered face of a baby Gerard ... Jack.

"Snails Frankie!" he squealed, tugging on Frank's arm excitedly, desperately trying to find the strength to make him move. "Snails!"

Frank diverted his eyes away again as he lifted the beer back to his trembling lips and took another sip. He didn't cry, that wasn't his thing, but right now, his brain was begging him to do it. If ever there was a time, it was now. He had lost his wife, the women he had loved since he was fucking fifteen years old! And at that moment he realised that he had never really even had time to grieve that loss.

He had sacrificed everything too, it wasn't just Gerard. Don didn't understand, he didn't know, he was just another judgmental human being, he didn't get to have the final say.

The tugging on his arm stopped and for a moment he thought Jack had given up on him, but as though sensing that something wasn't right, the small boy that had caused him so much fucking stress that whole day wrapped his tiny, pale arms as far around Frank's broad shoulders as he could manage. Feathery hair tickled Frank's cheeks and soft fingers twirled around his neck and played with the collar of his shirt.

There was no denying the gesture; it was love and trust, pure and simple. Despite all he had done, despite the horrible person he was told he was, Jack still loved him enough to sense that something was wrong and comfort him.

A two year old fucking toddler could forgive and forget. Jack didn't blame him. It wasn't his fault, he wasn't to blame.

Gerard had kissed him back that day, Gerard had been the first to curl his fingers around the waist band of Frank's jeans, begging for them to be removed. Gerard was the one to return the favour the second time around. They were in this together, they were both to blame. They both did it out of love.

Gerard loved him back ... and Gerard trusted him with his son.

"Okay Jacky," Frank finally said, sniffing loudly and rubbing at his eyes even though he hadn't shed a single tear. "Let's go and see this snail."

Beer in one hand, he hoistered himself to his feet with the other before letting Jack's pale little fingers clasp on tightly to Frank's heavily tattooed ones.

Together, they made their way outside and went to go and play in the mud.

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Frank blocked one side of his nose, stuck the rolled up note in the other and with shaking hands, due to the mass amounts of liquor he had already consumed, he ran the note along the white line of powder, snorting it all up his nostril and sending it straight to his brain.

It made him forget all about the fact that he was lying naked on his bed with this women he didn't even really know. It made him forget all about the fact that he had ditched his friends, who were only trying to help, to fuck this woman he knew wouldn't stick around loner then she had to. And, most importantly, it made him forget all about the news he had received that morning. The news about poor old Don.

"God Frank, do you ever stop?" Trixy asked, staring at his once again fully erect cock.

Frank just chuckled drunkenly. It was the drugs fault, when that powder reached his brain, it didn't just mess around with it and manipulate everything to be better then what it really was. No, the drugs ... they didn't just make-out or make love to his brain, they fucked his brain, long and hard.

It was the strongest cocaine he had ever had.

"Do you want a blow-job?" she questioned, surprising him slightly. It was odd being asked for permission to do something sexual to him. He was a fucking male, what did he care.

"Is the pope catholic?" Frank replied, still just lying back lifelessly on his pillow. There was not a single coherent thought running through his head. He was just docile.

"The price is going up ... hope you've got enough cash," Trixy said as she pressed herself on top of him and kissed his stomach.

"Stop saying that ... the prostitute joke is getting old," Frank shot back, still staring at his ceiling, transfixed by how white and clean it looked. It strangely looked like a cloud and he reached up as though hoping to touch it and see if it felt like one to.

Trixy watched him and laughed, after all he was trying to touch a ceiling that was well out of his reach. He knew he must have looked pretty stupid. She kissed his stomach again and then rested her chin on his bare chest as she stared at him thoughtfully.

"I don't know what you mean Frank. Who told you it was a joke?" she said, still smiling at him. But there was something different now, there was power behind that look and Frank instantly felt his stomach drop somewhere into his feet.

He sat himself up and wriggled away from the naked women on his bed. She was joking right? There was no way she could have been a prostitute. She was well-dressed, she was clean, she was definitely well-educated. Weren't you supposed to be able to tell a prostitute, who would only sleep with you for cash, from a normal woman that just wanted a one-night stand?

Frank had never, in his whole life, had to pay for sex. What the fuck had he been reduced to?

"Alright that's it. Stop messing around with me," Frank announced, still eyeing her with some suspicion. Even though he had consumed a lot of alcohol and snorted at least two lines of what he assumed was cocaine, he suddenly felt quite sober by this sudden revelation.

Trixy just raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms over her naked chest and stared at him in disbelief.

"Come on Frank, I told you at the bar I was," Trixy reminded him, a hint of impatience in her voice now.

"No! You said 'maybe I am a hooker' ... maybe ... That's not telling me that you're actually going to sleep with me for a payment, that's just playing along with my joke ... Fuck!"

If it was still a joke, it was a cruel one. Trixy just sat there with that same serious look on her face and Frank knew that she wasn't messing around. Somehow he had known back at the bar too, he had just been far too drunk to care.

"God, don't get all pissy with me, you're the one that took me home. It's nothing to be ashamed about Frank, you have no idea how many American men pay for sex every day. Plus, you're lucky I like you - there's just something about you - so I'll give you discount rates." Trixy winked and Frank continued to pout.

After all, there was nothing else for it. He knew how these things could go down if you refused to pay. Last thing he wanted was for some pimp to come in and shoot him dead because he refused to hand over the money, even if he did technically not realise what he had been buying. Frank was suddenly quite glad that Trixy had never given him that second blow-job ... he was sure that these those things weren't cheap.

"Fucking hell! How much do I owe you then?" he asked, finally defeated. All he felt was shame at the fact that those words were leaving his mouth. He had really stooped to an all knew level of low.

"I won't include the few hours we spent chatting, you can have those for free," she began, sitting back and suddenly looking quite professional despite the fact she was still completely naked.

"Well thanks a lot," Frank muttered sarcastically. And there he was thinking she had stayed and had a few drinks with him because he looked like he needed company. Turns out he did look like he needed company, just not the talking kind.

"So I've been here for two hours, one blow-job, then the sex and of course, the heroine," Trixy explained, ticking off all the services she had provided on her fingers.

Frank froze, staring at her as though waiting for the laughter or for her to yell "just kidding". But it never came.

"Heroine? You mean the cocaine right ... it was powder," Frank shouted, instantly defending himself. Because Heroine? He wasn't like that, he didn't do that shit.

"It's China White Heroin Frank," Trixy said with a simple shrug as though he should have known. "Less mess, I don't agree with sticking a fucking needle in your arm."

Frank felt sick, he felt ill. Not only did he have a fucking prostitute in his bed, but he also had a whole line of Heroine floating around in his skull. No wonder that high had felt so fucking good.

"So how about we say seven hundred and call it even," Trixy finished up as though Frank was merely purchasing groceries at the local supermarket.

"Seven hundred! Fuck me dead! You're not that good," he instantly shot out. There was no way he was going to pay that. But, then again, what choice did he have?

"Good enough for you to want to pay for me," she said, ignoring the insult as only a prostitute could do. "After all, you brought me back here."

"Fuck!" Frank exclaimed, rolling out of bed and pulling on his pants.

He wanted to fight this, he wanted to argue, but he was still slightly relaxed from the drugs and as he wondered over to his wallet he realised he was still extremely drunk, despite the sobriety he had recently felt at Trixy's words.

There was nothing for it, he was going to have to pay. He should have seen this coming.

Grabbing his wallet, he let out a heavy sigh as he opened it up. Then, he felt that great sense of dread again ... he had no cash.

"Um ... do you take Amex?" he questioned, almost laughing at the bad luck he seemed to continually have lately.

Trixy looked at him in disbelief.

"You mean to tell me you have no cash whatsoever?" she asked, staring at him as though he should have been prepared.

Frank shook his head.

"Oh Frank," she said simply, shaking her head at him.

With a sigh that was even longer and deeper then Frank's, Trixy reached for her hand bag and pulled out her mobile phone. She dialed a number.

All Frank could do was sit back down on the bed and await whatever fate was going to throw at him now.

One thing was for certain, he had watched enough movies to know that this would not end well.

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Jack slapped the back of his spoon down onto the large bowl of ice-cream in front of him causing the chocolate flavoured desert to splash up onto his face and all over Gerard's shirt. The second he recovered from the unexpected effect of what he had done, Jack burst into a fit of high-pitched laughter.

"Here," Frank said, passing Gerard a serviette as he let out his own laugh at his misfortune.

"Thanks ... wanna trade seats?"

"Ummm ... no."

There was a moment, it was a nice moment. Gerard cleaned his shirt whilst Frank watched closely, making sure he got it all. It was habit pure and simple that he did it, but apparently they must have looked like a typical couple because Donna Way, Gerard's Mum, let out a small clicking noise with her tongue as she watched the scene in front of her with misty eyes.

From the minute they had arrived for the offered family dinner, Donna had not stopped beaming at them. Whilst Don was still far from warming up to Gerard's family adjustments, Donna was head over heals in love with them all, no matter what any of them had done.

"You two look ... settled," Don suddenly said, breaking through the laughter. Frank looked up at him but quickly looked away. He still couldn't stand that expression of disappointment that constantly lined his features.

"You look much happier, is what he's trying to say," Donna explained, resting a loving hand on Don's arm as though trying to express how proud of him she was.

"Look Frankie, look," Jack squealed quite excitedly as he lifted up his spoon with a chocolate covered fist and thrusted it towards the silent Frank.

Frank did as the boy instructed and had to squint to see the small sprinkles that Jack was pointing to on the very top of the ice-cream in his spoon. Jack looked at him with wide eyes as though waiting for Frank to tell him how proud of him he was for his discovery.

"Wow! That's cool Jack, eat it quick before it melts," he instructed, wanting to say something else to the bright-eyed kid. But, no other words would leave his mouth under the judgmental eyes of Don.

Jack inspected him for a second as though a little disappointed by Frank's rather unenthusiastic reaction, then he just went about making plane noises as he forgot all about it and shoved the spoon into his mouth.

"You're a good boy Jacky," Donna chimed in, smiling warmly at Frank. Frank forced a small smile back, still keeping his eyes as down turned as possible, he could still feel Don's eyes on him.

Under the table he could feel Gerard's fingers snake around his thigh and give it a reassuring squeeze. His stomach flipped and he swallowed hard. It was alright ... Gerard was there, he didn't judge ... After all, it didn't matter what Don thought anymore - at least, that's what he liked to tell himself.

When Jack was finished eating his desert, Don took his hand and led him to the kitchen to get cleaned up before taking him into the Way's lounge room to play with his toys. Frank breathed a little easier knowing he no longer had the impossible task of trying to impress Don on his hands.

"Frank, what's bothering you?" Donna asked kindly, apparently noticing how unnaturally quite he was.

"He still hates me," Frank explained quite simply, gesturing to the lounge room with his eyes. He didn't have to keep his feelings from Donna, she still cared about him, he still felt love radiate from her.

Donna let out a heavy sigh as she locked eyes with Gerard for a moment before speaking.

"You've got to understand Frank; no old fashioned man wants to hear that their son is in love with another man. It makes it especially difficult when said son throws everything he had away to be with that particular man. Don had a different upbringing, he doesn't understand just yet."

And suddenly Frank didn't blame him. The way Donna said it all so simply, it stung. Did she blame him to? Did she secretly resent him for tearing Gerard away from his perfect family as well? Instantly, he hung his head in shame, unable to even look at her anymore.

"Stop it Frank, look at me," she instructed, reaching across the table with an outstretched arm. "I don't mean it like that. My son is as much to blame in this as you. You both took a chance and you ran with it. You've pulled through it all and look at the family you've created. I've never seen Jack so happy, he adores you Frank. I'm proud of both of you."

Frank still felt guilty, he still felt responsible and worthy of Don's immense hatred, but for now, Donna's words had lifted his spirits immensely. He was wrong, she didn't resent him, there was no mistaking that smile; she loved him like a son.

"Thanks Donna," Frank said, smiling weakly at her as Gerard gave his thigh one last reassuring squeeze before standing up and clearing the table of dirty plates.

"Leave that Gee honey, I'll get them," Donna intervened, but Gerard just rolled his eyes and continued to clean the table.

"God Mum, you cooked, it's the least I can do ... just sit down. Besides, I'm not washing up, I'm just clearing the table so it looks like I've done something," Gerard explained, simply shrugging his shoulders as Donna returned his previous gesture and rolled her eyes at him.

When Gerard loaded up his arms and walked off to the kitchen, Frank felt an awkward silence spread between him and Donna. He had known her for years, many, many years before any of this had even happened. Yet, for some reason, he was just finding everything so much more difficult now.

"You make him happy Frank," Donna suddenly said, making him look at her with the hint of confusion on his features.

In the lounge room, Jack cheered loudly as Don clapped his hands and congratulated the small boy. Frank couldn't see what they were doing, but his heart sank when Don's smile faded as their eyes locked for a second or two.

"Gerard, Frank ... you make him so happy. And you give my grandson so much love. That's all I can expect of you. Whatever is going through that head of yours, know that I will never think badly of you," Donna continued, apparently noticing the look between Frank and her husband.

Frank smiled genuinely at her and let out a heavy sigh. The words were everything and anything he had ever wanted to hear and yet, somehow, he wished they had come from Don instead.

For some reason, it still mattered what Don thought of him.

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AN: Sorry it's taking so long. It's been a busy week and I'm slowly but surely updating all my stories whilst trying to write more stuff (I should really just stop LOL). And here it is, part one of my favourte chapte - just writing part two now so it could be up today. Also, if anyone notices, I've changed Pansy's sex so many times. First she was a girl, then a boy and now a girl again! She's a girl, I'm just a retard. I will fix one day xx